They Hanged My Saintly Billy (44 page)

Mr
Stevens
met
Dr
Palmer
in
a
corridor
at
The
Talbot
Arms Hotel,
and
at
once
asked
to
be
shown
the
body.
It
is
important
to
observe
that
Dr
Jones,
who
had
been
Mr
Stevens's
constant
companion
for
the
past
two
days,
made
no
suggestion
to
him
of
foul play,
but
only
mentioned
the
mysterious
disappearance
of
the betting-book.
Thus
Mr
Stevens
was
the
first
to
suspect
that
the death
had
been
caused
by
poison.

When
informed
of
the
arrival
of
Cook's
stepfather,
the
story goes,
Dr
Palmer
exclaimed:'
Good
God!
But
he
has
no
relatives!' This,
however,
is
a
plain
fabrication.
Dr
Palmer
had
met
Mr Stevens,
briefly,
at
Lutterworth
in
1854,
and
told
The
Talbot Arms
maids
of
his
existence
shortly
before
Cook
died.
He
also knew
that
Cook
had
a
sister
and
a
half-brother
living,
and
a maternal
uncle
who
owed
him
money.

Mr
Stevens
went
upstairs
with
Dr
Palmer
to
view
the
body; and
the
door,
locked
on
the
morning
of
the
death,
was
opened
for
him.
The
sole
visitor
since
then
had
been
Dr
Palmer
himself when
he
borrowed
the
key,
on
the
excuse
of
retrieving
a
silver paper-knife
which
he
had
lent
to
Cook,
and
rummaged
awhile in
the
chest-of-drawers
and
cupboard.
Dr
Palmer
now
removed the
sheet
from
the
corpse.
The
tightly
drawn
skin
across
the
face surprised
Mr
Stevens,
though
a
corpse's
appearance
sixty
hours after
death
can
be
but
a
poor
indication
of
how
it
looked
at
the time
of
death.
He
came
down
to
one
of
the
sitting-rooms,
where he
called
for
drinks,
and
presently
addressed
Dr
Palmer:
'I
hear from
Jones
that
you
know
something
of
my
stepson's
affairs.'

'Indeed
I
do,'
was
the
ready
answer,
'and
I'm
sorry
to
say
he had
four
thousand
pounds'
worth
of
bills
out
with
moneylenders. The
Devil
is
that
they
bear
my
name.
Fortunately,
however,
Mr Cook
signed
a
paper
drawn
up
by
our
lawyer,
which
proves
that I
never
received
any
money
from
him
to
cover
this
friendly accommodation.'

'Four
th
ousand
pounds!'
exclaimed
Mr
Stevens.
'Impossible! How
could
he
have
incurred
so
large
a
debt?'

'By
betting
heavily
and
unwisely,'
the
Doctor
replied.

'Well,'
said
Mr
Stevens,
'I
fear
there
won't
be
four
thousand sh
illings
to
pay
you
from
his
bank
account
or
mercantile
investments.
Moreover,
his
house
is
entailed
and
reverts
to
a
sister.
Tell me:
has
he
no
horses?
And
no
sporting
debts
owing
to
him?'

'Why,
yes,
he
has
some
horses,'
Dr
Palmer
sighed,
'but
they are
mortgaged;
and
his
sporting
creditors
outnumber
the
debtors. I
do
know
of
three
hundred
pounds
owed
him
by
an
uncle,
which may
be
recoverable;
yet
this
is
not
a
racecourse
debt,
and
I
understand
the uncle to be in poor health and circumstances.'

Mr Stevens said: 'Well, I suppose his creditors had better take his sporting effects. I want nothing to do with the business myself, having always set my face against the Turf and, so long ago as 1852
,
warned him that it would prove his undoing. But whether he has left money or not, John must be buried.'

'Oh, I'll bury him myself, if that's all,' cried Dr Palmer.

Mr Stevens protested: 'My dear Sir, I certainly couldn't think of your doing that, since you stand to lose so much by his death. I shall see to everything.'

Meanwhile, Cook's brother-in-law, Mr Bradford, had arrived and also expressed a wish to undertake this melancholy task, yet Mr Stevens, as executor, would not budge from his resolution. 'No,' he said, 'I shall arrange it, though the funeral cannot take place immediately, because he must go to London for burial in his mother's grave. I'm sorry to inconvenience the landlord by keeping the corpse here a little longer, but all arrangements will be made as soon as possible.'

Dr Palmer shrugged his shoulders, saying: 'Oh, that's of no consequence for a day or two. Nevertheless, he surely ought to be fastened up at once? The poor beggar was diseased.'

Dr Palmer and Dr Jones then went away, leaving Mr Stevens in earnest talk with his son-in-law. Half an hour later, they returned, and Mr Stevens asked: 'Can you give me the name of a reputable undertaker in this town? I should like to order a coffin.'

Dr Palmer smiled amiably. 'Keeyes is the very man,' he said, 'and I have already been and done what you suggest. I ordered a shell and a strong oak coffin.'

'Humph!' ejaculated Mr Stevens, in surprise and displeasure. 'I gave you no authority for that. I must see Keeyes and instruct him myself.'

The Doctor had, in fact, gone to Keeyes and told him: 'My friend Mr Cook has died of a nasty disease, and needs a strong oak box. I advise you to screw him down quick.'

Mr Stevens, having already ordered dinner at The Talbot Arms for himself, his son-in-law, and Dr Jones, invited Dr Palmer to join them. Meanwhile, he went out and strolled through the town. They all dined together at three o'clock. Afterwards he asked Dr Jones to be so good as to get him Cook's betting-book and whatever other papers might be in the death-room. Dr Jones climbed upstairs, followed by Dr Palmer, and about ten minutes later both came down again. Dr Jones reported: 'I regret to say, Sir, that the betting-book is still missing, nor can we find any personal papers.'

'No betting-book!' exclaimed Mr Stevens. 'But he always carried one: a long, green-covered book with gilt edges, a clasp, and a pencil-holder.' Turning to Dr Palmer, he asked abruptly: 'How is this?'

The Doctor said: "Why, Sir, the betting-book will be no manner of use even if you find it.'

'No use, Sir?' Mr Stevens expostulated. 'Pray don't try to gammon me. I am the best judge of its use, I believe. Dr Jones informs me that my stepson won a large sum of money at Shrewsbury, and calculated his winnings from the book in his presence. I ought to know something about that.'

The Doctor repeated: 'It is no manner of use, I assure you. When a man dies, his sporting bets
the
with him, and Mr Cook received the greater part of his money on the course at Shrewsbury.'

"Then where is it now?' asked Mr Stevens. 'He will have carried the notes in his money-belt.'

'I should hope, Sir, you're not accusing
me
,' Dr Palmer cried in menacing tones.

'Gentl
emen, gentlemen, pray let us all be civil!' pleaded Dr Jones.

'I accuse nobody for the present,' said Mr Stevens. 'But the betting-book must be found.

Dr Palmer replied in a quieter voice: 'Oh, it will be found, no doubt.'

'Sir, it
shall
be found,' Mr Stevens insisted. He opened the door and calling to Mrs Bond, the housekeeper, who stood behind the bar, announced: 'Madam, it is my desire as the executor of the late John Parsons Cook that everything in the room where his corpse lies shall be locked up. No persons whatsoever must be admitted until I either return or send someone with authority to take possession. And before I catch the London express, I shall view the corpse once more; for I'm by no means satisfied that my stepson met his end fairly.'

He went upstairs to the death-room where, at his instructions, Mr Keeyes the undertaker had measured the body for a coffin and, with the help of his assistant, already placed it inside a shell. Mr Stevens knelt down beside the corpse for a last farewell, taking one cold hand in his. He noticed that it was tightly clenched, and so also was the other hand. Then he descended, bade Dr Palmer a curt good-bye, adding: 'You shall hear from me again, Sir!' and strode briskly off to the railway station.