The Opal Serpent Part 35

Hokar's face lighted up, and he showed his teeth disdainfully. "Oh, you Sahibs know nozzin'!" said he, spreading out his lean brown hands. "Ze shops--ah, yis. I there, yis. But I use no roomal."

"Not then, but you did later."

Hokar shook his head. "I use no roomal. Zat Sahib one eye--bad, ver bad.

Bhowanee, no have one eye. No Bhungees, no Bhats, no--"

"What are you talking about?" said Hurd, angrily. His reading had not told him that no maimed persons could be offered to the G.o.ddess of the Thugs. Bhungees meant sweepers, and Bhats bards, both of which cla.s.ses were spared by the stranglers. "You killed that man. Now, who told you to kill him?"

"I know nozzin', I no kill. Bhowanee no take one-eye mans."

For want of an interpreter Hurd found it difficult to carry on the conversation. He rose and determined to postpone further examination till he would get someone who understood the Hindoo tongue. But in the meantime Hokar might run away, and Hurd rather regretted that he had been so precipitate. However, he nodded to the man and went off, pretty sure he would not fly at once.

Then Hurd went to the village police-office, and told a bucolic constable to keep his eye on Miss Junk's "fureiner," as he learned Hokar was called. The policeman, a smooth-faced individual, promised to do so, after Hurd produced his credentials, and sauntered towards "The Red Pig," at some distance from the detective's heels. A timely question about the curry revealed, by the mouth of Miss Junk, that Hokar was still in the kitchen. "But he do seem alarmed-like," said Matilda, laying the cloth.

"Let's hope he won't spoil the curry," remarked Hurd. Then, knowing Hokar was safe, he went into the bar to make the acquaintance of his other victim.

Captain Jarvey Jessop quite answered to the description given by Pash.

He was large and sailor-like, with red hair mixed with grey and a red beard that scarcely concealed the scar running from temple to mouth. He had drunk enough to make him cheerful and was quite willing to fall into conversation with Hurd, who explained himself unnecessarily. "I'm a commercial gent," said the detective, calling for two rums, plain, "and I like talking."

"Me, too," growled the sailor, grasping his gla.s.s. "I'm here on what you'd call a visit, but I go back to my home to-morrow. Then it's ho for Callao," he shouted in a sing-song voice.

Hurd knew the fierce old chanty and sized Captain Jarvey up at once. He was of the buccaneer type, and there was little he would not do to make money and have a roaring time. Failing Hokar, with his deadly handkerchief, here was the man who might have killed Aaron Norman.

"Drink up," shouted Hurd in his turn, "we'll have some more.

"On no condition, is extradition, Allowed in Callao."

"Gum," said Captain Jessop, "you know the chanty."

Hurd winked. "I've bin round about in my time."

Jessop stretched out a huge hand. "Put it there, mate," said he, with a roar like a fog-horn, "and drink up along o' me. My treat."

Hurd nodded and became jovial. "On condition you join me at dinner. They make good curries here."

"I've had curry," said Captain Jessop, heavily, "in Colombo and Hong-Kong frequent, but Hokar's curries are the best."

"Ah!" said Hurd in a friendly curious way, "so you know this shanty?"

Jessop looked at him with contempt. "Know this shanty," said he, with a grin, "why, in coorse, I do. I've been swinging my hammock here time in and out for the last thirty year."

"You'll be a Christchurch man, then?"

"Not me, mate. I'm Buckinghamshire. Stowley born."

Hurd with difficulty suppressed a start. Stowley was the place where the all-important brooch had been p.a.w.ned by a nautical man, and here was the man in question. "I should have thought you'd lived near the sea," he said cautiously, "say Southampton."

"Oh, I used t'go there for my ship," said the captain, draining his gla.s.s, "but I don't go there no more."

"Retired, eh?"

Jessop nodded and looked at his friend--as he considered Hurd, since the invitation to dinner--with a blood-shot pair of eyes. "Come storm, come calm," he growled, "I've sailed the ocean for forty years. Yes, sir, you bet. I was a slip of a fifteen cabin-boy on my first cruise, and then I got on to being skipper. Lord," Jessop smacked his knee, "the things I've seen!"

"We'll have them to-night after dinner," said Hurd, nodding; "but now, I suppose, you've made your fortune."

"No," said the captain, gloomily, "not what you'd call money. I've got a stand-by, though," and he winked.

"Ah! Married to a rich wife?"

"Not me. I've had enough of marriage, having been the skipper of a mermaid with a tongue. No, sir," he roared out another line of some song floating in his muzzy head, "a saucy bachelor am I," then changed to gruff talk, "and I intends being one all my days. Stand-by, I have--t'ain't a wife, but I can draw the money regular, and no questions asked." Again he winked and drank another gla.s.s.

Hurd reflected that perhaps Jessop had killed Aaron Norman for Mrs.

Krill, and she was paying him blood-money. But he did not dare to press the question, as Jessop was coming perilously near what the Irish call "the cross drop." He therefore proposed an adjournment to the sitting-room. Jessop agreed quite unsuspectingly, not guessing he was being trapped. The man was so large and uncouth that Hurd felt behind his waist to see that his revolver was loose and could be used should occasion arise.

Miss Junk brought in the dinner with her own fair hands, and explained that Hokar had made the curry, but she didn't think it was as good as usual. "The man's shakin' like a jelly," said Matilda. "I don't know why."

The detective nodded, but did not encourage conversation. He was quite sure that Hokar was being watched by the smooth-faced policeman, and could not get away. Besides, he wished to talk to Captain Jessop. Miss Junk, seeing that she was not needed, retreated, after bringing in the curry, and left the gentlemen to help themselves. So here was Hurd in a pleasant room, seated before a well-spread table, and with a roaring fire at his back, waiting his opportunity to make Captain Jarvey Jessop confess his share in the dual murders of Lady Rachel Sandal and Aaron Norman.

CHAPTER XX

PART OF THE TRUTH

Captain Jessop ate as greedily as he drank strong waters, and did full justice to the curry, which was really excellent. Hurd did not broach any unpleasant topic immediately, as he wished the man to enjoy his meal. If Jessop was guilty, this dainty dinner would be the last of its kind he would have for many a long day. Moreover, Hurd wished to learn more of the mariner's character, and plied him with questions, which the unsuspecting sailor answered amiably enough.

"Me an' you might become mates, as it were," said Jessop, extending his large hand again and again. "Put it there."

"Well, we'd want to know something more about one another to become real mates," laughed Hurd.

"Oh, you're a commercial traveller, as you say, and I'm the captain of as fine a barkey as ever sailed under Capricorn. Leastways I was, afore I gave up deep-sea voyages."

"You must miss the ocean, living at Stowley."

"Inland it is," admitted the mariner, pulling out a dirty clay pipe, at the conclusion of the meal, "and ocean there ain't round about fur miles. But I've got a shanty there, and live respectable."

"You are able to, with the stand-by," hinted Hurd.

Jessop nodded and crammed black tobacco, very strong and rank, into the bowl of his pipe with a shaking hand. "It ain't much," he admitted; "folks being stingy. But if I wants more," he struck the table hard, "I can get it. D'ye see, Mister Commercial?"

"Yes, I see," replied Hurd, coolly. Jessop was again growing cross, and the detective had to be careful. He knew well enough that next morning, when sober, Jessop would not be so disposed to talk, but being muzzy, he opened his heart freely. Still, it was evident that a trifle more liquor would make him quarrelsome, so Hurd proposed coffee, a proposition to which the sailor graciously a.s.sented.

"Cawfee," he observed, lighting his pipe, and filling the room with evil-smelling smoke, "clears the 'ead, not as mine wants clearing, mind you. But cawfee ain't bad, when rum ain't t' be 'ad."

"You'll have more rum later," hinted Hurd.

"Put it there," said Jessop, and again the detective was forced to wince at the strong grip of a h.o.r.n.y hand.