Bindle: Some Chapters in the Life of Joseph Bindle Read online

  CHAPTER XV

  BINDLE AND THE GERMAN MENACE

  I

  "One of the points about this perfession, Ginger," Bindle remarked, "isthat yer sometimes gets an 'oliday."

  The two men were seated on the steps leading up to Holmleigh, ahandsome house standing in its own grounds in the village of LittleCompton, in Suffolk.

  "Fancy you an' me sittin' 'ere drinkin' in the sunshine," continuedBindle with a grin.

  Ginger grunted.

  "Though, Ginger, sunshine ain't got no froth, an' it ain't altogethergood for yer complexion, still it's good for vegetables and most likelyfor you too, Ginger. 'Ere we are, 'edges, trees, and no temptation.The village beauties is nearly as ugly as wot you are, Ginger. Puts mein mind o' one of the ole 'Earty 'ymns:

  "Where every prospect pleases, And only man is vile."

  When they wrote that 'ymn, Ginger, they must 'ave been thinkin' o' youat Little Compton.

  "Well, I'm orf for a drink; I can't eat me dinner dry, same's you. Thefurther yer goes for yer beer the more yer enjoys it. Sorry you're tootired, ole son. S' long!"

  Bindle and Ginger, among others, had been selected by the foreman toaccompany him on an important moving job. A Mr. Henry Miller, wellknown throughout the kingdom as possessing one of the most valuablecollections of firearms in the country, was moving from London intoSuffolk. He had stipulated that only thoroughly trustworthy men shouldbe permitted to handle his collection, and insisted on the contractorssupplying all the hands instead of, as was usual, sending one man andhiring the others locally. Thus it came about that Bindle and thegloomy Ginger found themselves quartered for a few days at Lowestoft.

  As Bindle approached the Dove and Easel, famous as being the only innin the kingdom so named, Mr. John Gandy stood reading a newspaperbehind the bar. When business was slack Mr. Gandy always read thenewspaper, and in consequence was the best-informed man upon publicaffairs in Little Compton.

  As if sensing a customer, Mr. Gandy laid down the paper and gazedseverely over the top of his gold-rimmed spectacles at nothing inparticular. He was a model publican, from his velvet skullcap andimmaculate Dundreary whiskers to his brilliantly polished and squeakyboots.

  As he pursued his contemplation Mr. Gandy saw the outer doors pushedopen, admitting a stream of yellow sunshine and with it a littlebald-headed man with a red nose and green baize apron. It was Bindle.He approached the counter, eyed Mr. Gandy deliberately, and ordered apint of ale.

  Mr. Gandy drew the beer as if it were a sacred office, wheezing thewhile. He was a man with a ponderous manner, and a full bar or anempty bar made no difference to the sacred flow of the liquor. He hadan eye that could cower a "drunk" more effectually than the muscle of abarman.

  "Dry work, movin'," said Bindle pleasantly.

  Mr. Gandy wheezed.

  "I'm a stranger 'ere," Bindle continued, as he produced some bread andcheese from a piece of pink newspaper. "Funny little 'ole I calls it.Nothin' to do, as far as I can see. No street accidents 'ere, wot?"and he laughed genially at his own joke.

  "You're one of the pantechnicon-men from Holmleigh?" queried Mr. Gandywith dignity.

  "Right, first time!" laughed the irrepressible Bindle with his mouthfull of bread and cheese. "I'm up at the fort, I am."

  "The fort?" queried Mr. Gandy. "The fort?"

  "Yes, the fort," grinned Bindle. "That's what I calls it. Never sawso many guns in all me puff--millions of 'em."

  Bindle was obviously serious, and Mr. Gandy became interested. At thatmoment a carter entered. Bindle immediately proceeded to get intoconversation with the newcomer. Presently he caught Mr. Gandy's eyeand read in it curiosity. Mr. Gandy then slowly transferred his gazeto the door of the bar-parlour. Bindle followed Mr. Gandy's eye, andwith a nod, sauntered towards the door, looked round, saw that he wasright and passed through, softly closing it behind him.

  A minute later Mr. Gandy moved in the same direction, lifted the flapof the bar and passed into the room, also closing the door behind him.As he left the bar he touched a bell which produced Mrs. Gandy, inblack, wearing much jewellery and a musical-comedy smile as persistentas Mr. Gandy's wheeze.

  When Bindle went forth from the bar-parlour it was with a joyous lookin his eye and half-a-crown in his pocket. Outside the Dove and Easelhe lifted his green baize apron, a finger and thumb at each corner, andmade a few shuffling movements with his feet; then he winked, grinned,and finally laughed.

  "I shouldn't be surprised if things was to 'appen in this funny little'ole," he remarked, as he passed on his way up the road.

  Mr. Gandy left the bar-parlour, spoke to Mrs. Gandy, and disappearedthrough the glass door into the private parlour. Two hours later Mr.Gandy reappeared. He had made up his mind.

  Bindle's mind was working busily. He was obviously in possession of asecret that other people thought worth paying for. As he walked downthe village street he pondered deeply. He paused and slapped his greenbaize apron-covered leg. He walked over to where Mrs. Grinder wasstanding at the door of her little general shop. A remark of Mr.Gandy's had set him thinking.

  "Mornin', mother," he called out in salutation.

  "Good-morning," responded Mrs. Grinder with a smile.

  "'Oo's the biggest bug 'ere?"

  "The what?"

  "The swells; them as grind you an' me down an' make us un'appy," Bindleexplained.

  "There's Sir Charles Custance at The Towers, up on the left where thepoplars are, and Mr. Greenhales at the Home Farm, and----"

  "That's enough. I'm stayin' in this neighbour'ood, and if I wasn't tocall on the nobs they might be 'urt in their private feelin's. Glad tosee yer lookin' so merry an' bright. Mornin'." And cap in hand,Bindle made an elaborate bow and passed on his way, leaving the buxomMrs. Grinder wreathed in smiles.

  Half an hour later he walked down the drive of The Towers, theresidence of Sir Charles Custance, J.P., a sovereign richer than whenhe entered.

  At the gates of The Towers he paused. Coming towards him was adog-cart, driven by a small, fierce-looking little man. It was Mr.Roger Greenhales, who farmed as a hobby, at a considerable yearly loss,to prove that the outcry against the unprofitableness of Englishland-culture was ridiculous.

  Bindle spoke to Mr. Greenhales, and in ten minutes received fiveshillings. He then proceeded to Holmleigh, where he found his foreman,and also that he had extended his dinner hour into two.

  II

  "It's a national affair, I tell you, Wrannock!"

  Sir Charles Custance, J.P., leaned back in his library chair, andsurveyed the impassive features of Sergeant Wrannock, as if searchingfor some contradiction; but Sergeant Wrannock of the Suffolk CountyConstabulary merely shuffled his feet and said:

  "Yes, sir!"

  "I'll call at the house this afternoon, and see if there's anything tobe discovered. I'll go now; damme, if I don't. We'll both go."

  Sir Charles jumped up forthwith. He was a short, stout man, withbushy, magisterial eyebrows, a red complexion, a bald head, a monocle,and a fierce don't-argue-with-me-sir manner.

  He was a man who had but one topic of conversation--the coming Germaninvasion. It would not be his fault if the Germans found LittleCompton unprepared. He had pointed out that, being an East Coastvillage, it lay in the very centre of the battle-ground. At firstLittle Compton had felt uncomfortable; but later it had apparentlybecome reconciled to its fate. It did nothing.

  No village in England knew better what invasion would mean. SirCharles had drawn a vivid picture of what would be the fate of thewomen of Little Compton unless their men-folk repelled the invaders,with the result that the Dorcas Society, with the full approval of thevicar, wrote to Sir Charles protesting against such things being saidon a public platform.

  As he trotted towards the door, Sir Charles turned to the sergeant andsaid:

  "This is a big business, Wrannock, a big business. We'll find out morebefore we communicate with headquarters. See?" And Sir C
harles glaredfiercely at the sergeant.

  Sergeant Wrannock did see. He saw many things, including promotion forhimself, and he replied, "It is indeed, sir!" And the two men went out.

  From The Towers to Holmleigh is not more than half a mile. Sir Charleswent first, leaving the sergeant to follow on his bicycle. If theywere seen together it might arouse suspicion.

  Sir Charles was to go to Holmleigh, making the best excuse he couldthink of, and spy out the land, and the sergeant, who fortunately wasnot in uniform, was to follow half an hour later. At six o'clock theywere to meet at The Towers and compare notes.

  On his way up the drive of Holmleigh Sir Charles met Mr. Gandy comingaway with a flushed and angry face. For the first time in history his"look" had failed. He had been insulted, and that by a foremanpantechnicon-man.

  Sir Charles acknowledged Mr. Gandy's salute, attaching no significanceto the presence of the host of the Dove and Easel in the grounds ofHolmleigh. Most probably he had called to solicit the new tenant'scustom. So Mr. Gandy passed down the drive with a stormy face, and SirCharles walked up with a determined one.

  The hall door was open, and men were passing to and fro carryingvarious articles of furniture. Sir Charles's eyes greedily devouredall that was to be seen--in particular some long, coffin-like woodencases.

  He stood at the door for a minute; it seemed unnecessary to ring withso many men about. Presently a man came up and stared at him, ratheroffensively Sir Charles thought; but, remembering the delicate natureof his mission, he adjusted his monocle and said politely:

  "I--er--want to see one of the er--er--moving men."

  "Certainly, sir," responded the man; "'ave you any choice?'"

  Sir Charles fixed his monocle more firmly in his left eye, and staredat the man in astonishment.

  "We've got 'em from twenty-three to sixty-five. I'm forty-eightmeself, but p'r'aps you'd like a young 'un. Fair or dark, sir, tall orshort?"

  Sir Charles gazed at the man as if dazed, then went very red, butcontrolling his wrath he replied:

  "I do not know his name, I'm afraid. He has a green baize apron andis--er--bald, and--er--has a rather red nose."

  The man smiled broadly, insolently, intolerably, Sir Charles thought.

  "That won't 'elp us much, sir. Blessed if you 'aven't described the'ole blessed perfession. Hi! Ginger?" This to Ginger, who waspassing. He approached. "This is rather a tasty little lot, sir.'E's got a red 'ead as well as a red nose. Not 'im? Well, let me see.Tell Bindle to come 'ere. I think Bindle may be your man, sir; 'e'sgot some pals in these 'ere parts, I think."

  For nearly half a minute Sir Charles glared at the man before him, whogrinned back with perfect self-possession.

  "This 'im, sir?" he queried, as Bindle approached.

  "Damn your insolence!" burst out Sir Charles. "I'll report you to youremployers!" But the foreman had disappeared to give an order, andBindle also had slipped away.

  Sir Charles raged back down the drive, striving to think of some meansof punishing the insolence of the foreman pantechnicon-man.

  A quarter of an hour later Mr. Greenhales arrived at the hall door ofHolmleigh. The foreman was there to receive him.

  "Good-afternoon," said Mr. Greenhales pleasantly.

  "You want to see one of our men; you don't know 'is name, but 'e's arather bald little man, with a green baize apron an' a red nose?"replied the foreman blandly.

  "Exactly!" responded Mr. Greenhales genially. "Exactly! Kindly tellhim."

  "I'm sorry, sir, it was 'is reception-day, but 'e's been took ill; 'easked me to apologise. 'E's got a lot of pals about 'ere. I shouldn'tbe surprised if that was the cause of his illness. Good-arternoon,sir. I'll tell 'im you called."

  The foreman shut the door in Mr. Greenhales' face, and for the thirdtime that afternoon anger strode down the drive of Holmleigh.

  In the hall the much-wanted Bindle was listening intently to hisforeman.

  "You seem to be holdin' a levvy to-day, Bindle. Seem to 'ave a lot o'blinkin' pals 'ere, too! Didn't know you was a society man, Bindle.They're all so fond of you, so it 'pears. 'Adn't you better give upthis line o' business, you with your gif's, and take to squirin' it?You'd look fine follerin' the 'ounds, you would. Now, it's about timeyou decided wot you really are. Two hours you take for yer dinner, an'spend the arternoon receivin' callers, me a-openin' the scarlet door.Now you get back to the brilliant furniture removin', and give up yerstutterin' ambitions. If I was you----"

  Bindle was never to know what the foreman would do if in his place. Atthat moment a loud peal at the bell caused the foreman to pause. Hegazed from Bindle to the door, from the door to Bindle, and back againto the door. During the two seconds that his superior's eyes were offhim Bindle slipped stealthily away.

  The foreman went slowly to the door and opened it. He found there amiddle-aged, rather stout man, dressed in tweeds, with trousers clippedfor cycling. Behind him he held a bicycle. It was Sergeant Wrannock.

  The foreman eyed the caller aggressively, his hands movingconvulsively. There was that about his appearance which caused hiscaller to step suddenly back. The bicycle overturned with a clatter,and the sergeant sat down with great suddenness on the front wheel.

  The foreman eyed him indifferently. The tears were streaming from thesergeant's eyes, for he had sat with considerable force upon one of thecoasters. When he had picked himself up and replaced the bicycle theforeman spoke.

  "If you've come 'ere to show me that trick, you've bloomin' well wastedyer time. You ain't no Cinquevalli, ole son! If, 'owever, you'rea-lookin' for a bald little man with a green apron and a red nose"--thesergeant's eyes brightened beneath the tears--"well, 'e's bin took ill,an' 'is mother's took 'im 'ome.

  "Now you'd better go, cockie, 'fore I set the dog on yer. I'm prettydamn well sick of the 'sight of yer, comin' 'ere with yer bicycletricks, interruptin' o' the day's work. 'Ere, Bindle--where's Bindle?"he shouted into the house.

  But the sergeant did not wait. He mounted his machine and disappeareddown the drive. Before Bindle came--and Bindle was uneager torespond--he was a quarter of a mile up the road.

  Sergeant Wrannock was stunned at the treatment he had received. Fromsuch men he was accustomed to respect, deference, and blind obedience.To be called "cockie" by a workman astonished him. Soon he becameannoyed, in time his annoyance crystallised into anger, and eventually,passing through the alembic of professional discretion, it becamedistilled into a determination to teach this man a lesson.

  He had no intention of letting him know that it was a police sergeantwhom he had thus rudely treated, as if he were some ordinary person.He could not quite understand the reference to the "bald little manwith a green apron and a red nose." The particulars seemed, however,to tally with the description of the man of whom Sir Charles had spoken.

  At six o'clock he presented himself at The Towers, told his story, andwas bidden by Sir Charles to leave the matter until the morning, whenit would probably be better to report the whole affair to thesuperintendent at Lowestoft. Sir Charles had his reasons forsuggesting delay.