‘Oh yes, she was very pleased and is sure to tell everyone how well I did.’
‘And Dr Hamid says he saw you distributing cards.’
‘Yes — invitations to a special free exhibition. Portraits of the notable residents of Brighton, and a novelty, a picture taken inside a cave lit by the new metal ribbon that Beckler is so excited about.’
‘Is the inside of a cave so very interesting?’
‘It is not interesting at all. I can imagine all sorts of reasons why one might want to take photographs in the dark, but a cave is not one of them. Beckler, however is convinced that the public will flock to see the exhibition if he includes a demonstration of the action of the metal ribbon. They are bound to come even if only for the hope that he might set fire to himself.’
Mina smiled, but Richard, seeing that there was a tea tray nearby, inspected it, ate a stray biscuit, helped himself from the milk jug, and launched into his account which promised to be thirsty work.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Mina was unsurprised to learn that on leaving the shop with his bundle of cards Richard had not felt inclined to hurry about his task. There were some opportunities to hand out cards in Ship Street, a narrow busy thoroughfare, with its shops and inns and post office, but the traffic did not encourage idlers and strollers, so he had decided to cut through Prince Albert Street to Market Street, where there were butchers, bakers and fruit sellers, and the Market Hall, where there was sure to be a lot of people. There, he could dispose of the cards easily and quickly, leaving some free time to explore the more inviting possibilities of the cigar shop. He was approaching Bartholomew Square and its bustling vegetable market when he was attracted by the sight and sound of a large gathering of gentlemen outside the Town Hall and went to see what all the excitement was about.
‘That is where the police offices are,’ prompted Mina.
‘Yes, they were all standing about the front steps, and there were any number of discussions and debates going on. You might wonder why they didn’t go in but there were two constables standing on the top step guarding the doors. I think the constables had been specially chosen for their general largeness which was quite extraordinary and went in all directions.
On the other side of the square, people were going about their daily business at the vegetable stalls but they also kept watch on the unusual assembly and I could see them talking about it with lots of shrugs and amusement.
‘Hallo, what’s the to-do?’ I asked weaving my way into the crowd. I tried to distribute some cards, but everyone was too engaged with other matters to care about photography, so I soon abandoned the attempt.
‘Haven’t you heard?’ said a short man with a round hat. ‘That miscreant Holt who ran off owing thousands and tried to pretend he was dead — he has just turned up as large as life and given himself up to the police.’
‘And then his wife came and had a look at him and said it isn’t him!’ added another man. He had red whiskers like a wild boar which trembled with indignation, even when he wasn’t speaking.
‘Yes, she and her brother were both here,’ said round hat. ‘They were hardly inside more than five minutes. I don’t think they looked at him at all. In fact, I think they made up their minds before they went in to say it wasn’t him.’
‘Oh, but do have some sympathy for the lady,’ said a third man, imploringly. He was a nervous looking type with a stiff collar and thinning hair. ‘If that is her husband then she is living in a sinful situation which she has not brought upon herself. I would not wish for any relative of mine to be placed in such a position.’
‘I’ve no sympathy for her!’ said round hat with a nasty sneer. ‘If you ask me, she knew from the start that he was a cheat. I think she helped him run off, and knew he was alive all the time. And then what does she do? Maybe she thinks he isn’t coming back, so first chance she gets she kills him off, legal-like, and takes up with some young fancy man. She probably got her brother to make him a partner in the business. That’s women, for you! I think that’s why Holt turned up again. To put her to shame.’
‘Who are all these people?’ I asked them. The gathering of men in their good suits looked like an outdoor business convocation.
‘Why they are all those to whom Holt owes money or at least an explanation,’ said red whiskers.
‘I used to work for him’ said round hat. ‘He owes me a month’s wages. Not that I’ll ever get to squeeze it out of him.’
‘And see that fellow over there?’ said the nervous man, pointing out a young gentleman in dark grey. ‘He is Mr Stephen Westbury the accountant. There were all sorts of nasty allegations against his father when Holt disappeared. He lost business because of it. He was never the same man after.’
‘I still think old Westbury knew more than he was admitting,’ muttered red whiskers. ‘I wouldn’t trust him.’
‘See those two?’ said round hat, pointing to a mournful pair of shabby gentlemen, talking in close proximity and glancing over their shoulders. ‘Businesses collapsed when Holt’s cheques weren’t honoured. They’d punch him on the nose if they got close enough. Or worse.’
‘What about Livermore?’ said red whiskers. ‘Holt owes him thousands.’
‘And Cobbe, the banker,’ said round hat. ‘He won’t feel friendly towards him. I think they’re both here.’ He craned his neck, and seeing both the gentlemen in question, nodded. ‘Oh yes,’ he rubbed his hands together and chuckled, ‘this could get very interesting!’
‘Oh dear,’ said the nervous man. ‘I hope things don’t turn to violence.’
The I saw a man in a plain suit begin to push importantly through the crowd, creating a trail of annoyed exclamations, and when he reached the top of the steps, he tried to march into the Town Hall, but his boldness didn’t help him. He was stopped by the constables before he could pass through the doors and interviewed very closely. It was a rapid conversation, with much energetic waving of hands by the man, and dignified tolerance from the constables, which I was too far away to hear. The result was that the man was very firmly motioned to leave. He protested, but the constables remained solid, like twin statues. Eventually he gave up and stamped away unwillingly, but he only went as far as the base of the steps. I saw him pull out a notebook and pencil and start writing.
‘Who is that fellow?’ I asked.
‘Gazette,’ said round hat with a snort of derision.
Well I had been thinking about this, so I had to ask, ‘If Holt owes all these people money, does he have the means to pay them? Is that why there are all here?’
‘No. Bankrupt,’ said red whiskers, derisively. ‘Not a penny to his name. I think his creditors would just like to see him in prison.’
‘Or hanging from a nail,’ said round hat and he laughed, but I don’t think it was a joke.
‘Oh dear!’ said the nervous man again.
‘Perhaps his wife has money,’ I said.
‘What do you mean?’ asked red whiskers. ‘If she does, then it would be his in any case. And the receiver would have found it and paid it out. She doesn’t have anything.’