Free Secret Archives of Sherlock Holmes, The, The by June Thomson Page B

was carrying, which he posted in the nearest pillar box.’ Seeing my puzzled expression, he continued with the kindly air of a schoolmaster explaining some abstruse mathematical equation to a not-overly-bright pupil. ‘He is a screever, Watson, a writer of begging letters to you and me, or, if you prefer a more succinct description, a professional cadger. He probably has other methods of persuading innocent citizens to part with their money. Gagging, for example.’
    ‘Gagging?’
    ‘Convincing a complete stranger that they are old acquaintances and, on the strength of that supposed friendship, borrowing money from him. Here is a possible scenario. The gagger pretends to recognise the victim, perhaps just a passer-by in the street, as an old acquaintance and, to celebrate their reunion, invites him to join him in a tavern or a hotel bar for a celebratory drink. However, when he is presented with the bill, hediscovers, on searching through his coat, that he must have lost his wallet. The victim, of course, offers to pay not only for the drinks but to supply a little extra cash so that his “friend” has the fare for a cab home. They exchange addresses so that the cadger can reimburse his victim. Of course, he never does but the cadger makes a pound, say, from the “lay”.’
    Seeing my puzzled expression, Holmes hastened to explain.
    ‘A “lay”, my dear fellow, refers to the particular method used to deceive or defraud. In this case, it would be a “gagging lay”, which could bring in an extra bounty on top of the original “gag” because the cadger now knows the address of the victim, which he can then sell on to a “screever”, who in turn makes money from the innocent citizen.’
    ‘Oh, Holmes! How despicable! Is there nothing we can do? I hate the thought of a bounder like that preying on the members of the Kandahar.’
    ‘Well, I suppose I could speak to Lestrade about him. He may already be known to the police. But better still, I could approach Sammy Knox, an old acquaintance of mine, who used to be a “shofulman”, and before you ask, Watson, that is someone who passes on counterfeit money; banknotes, in Knox’s case. He used to buy them from a pair of brothers, the Jacksons, who were experts in producing false banknotes, or “gammy soft”, as they are known in the trade. They owned a smallbut apparently respectable printing firm in New Cross producing visiting cards, invitations, that sort of thing. Sammy, who was a keen gambler on the horses, used to pass on the “soft” at the various race meetings, not just on the course itself, but at various public houses which flourished in the neighbourhood. If anyone knew about any unlawful business involving money it would be Sammy.’
    ‘Is he still a – what was the word? – a “shofulman”?’ I asked, fascinated by my old friend’s knowledge of the sporting underworld.
    ‘Officially, no,’ he replied. ‘He was arrested a couple of times and had spent time in “stir”, but when I last met him he was adamant he had given up his old, bad ways, although I rather doubt it. Leopards and spots, Watson, if you take my meaning.’
    ‘Should I warn Thurston and the other members of the Kandahar about Carruthers? He seems a thoroughly bad lot.’
    ‘Heavens, no! That would send him running for cover. Give me time to find out where Sammy Knox is living these days and to ask for his help in the matter before we speak to Thurston and the club members, even Lestrade. Now we have the man in our sights, it would be a pity to lose him through hasty action. As the old saying goes: “Softly, softly catchee monkee”.’
    I do not know how Holmes set about finding out Knox’s whereabouts but within four days he had evidently beensuccessful, for on the Tuesday afternoon I was invited by Holmes to a rendezvous at the Crooked Billet in Castle Street, off Holborn, to meet Sammy Knox.
    It was a discreet public house partitioned off by wooden panels into