THE COMPLETE FOUR JUST MEN SERIES (6 Detective Thrillers in One Edition). Edgar Wallace
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flashy man nodded genially, and one of the circle pushed his chair back to give place to Jessen.
‘I was just a-saying—’ said the flashy man, then looked at Charles.
‘All right,’ signalled Jessen.
‘I was just a-sayin’ to these lads,’ continued the flashy one, ‘that takin’ one thing with the other, there’s worse places than “stir”.’
Jessen made no reply to this piece of dogmatism, and he of the rings went on.
‘An’ what’s the good of a man tryin’ to go straight. The police will pull you all the same: not reportin’ change of address, loitering with intent; it don’t matter what you do if you’ve been in trouble once, you’re sure to get in again.’
There was a murmur of assent.
‘Look at me,’ said the speaker with pride. ‘I’ve never tried to go straight — been in twice an’ it took six policemen to take me last time, and they had to use the “stick”.’
Jessen looked at him with mild curiosity.
‘What does that prove, except that the policemen were pretty soft?’
‘Not a bit!’ The man stood up.
Under the veneer of tawdry foppery, Charles detected the animal strength of the criminal.
‘Why, when I’m fit, as I am now,’ the man went on, ‘there ain’t two policemen, nor four neither, that could handle me.’
Jessen’s hand shot out and caught him by the forearm.
‘Get away,’ he suggested, and the man swung round like lightning, but Jessen had his other arm in a grip of iron.
‘Get away,’ he said again; but the man was helpless, and knew it, and after a pause Jessen released his hold.
‘How was that?’ he asked.
The amused smiles of the men did not embarrass the prisoner.
‘The guv’nor’s different,’ he explained easily; ‘he’s got a knack of his own that the police haven’t got.’
Jessen drew up a chair, and whatever there was in the action that had significance, it was sufficient to procure an immediate silence.
He looked round the attentive faces that were turned toward him. Charles, an interested spectator, saw the eager faces that bent in his friend’s direction, and marvelled not a little at the reproductive qualities of the seed he had sown.
Jessen began to speak slowly, and Charles saw that what he said was in the nature of an address. That these addresses of Jessen were nothing unusual, and that they were welcome, was evident from the attention with which they were received.
‘What Falk has been telling you,’ said Jessen, indicating the man with the rings, ‘is true — so far as it goes. There are worse places than “stir”, and it’s true that the police don’t give an old lag a chance, but that’s because a lag won’t change his job. And a lag won’t change his job, because he doesn’t know any other trade where he gets money so quickly. Wally’ — he jerked his head toward a weedy-looking youth—’Wally there got a stretch for what? For stuff that fetched thirty pounds from a fence. Twelve months’ hard work for thirty pounds! It works out at about 10s, 6d. a week. And his lawyer and the mouthpiece cost him a fiver out of that. Old man Garth’ — he pointed to the white-headed man with the gin—’did a five stretch for less than that, and he’s out on brief. His wage works out at about a shilling a week.’
He checked the impatient motion that Falk made.
‘I know that Falk would say,’ he went on smoothly, ‘that what I’m saying is outside the bargain; when I fixed up the Guild, I gave my ‘davy that there wouldn’t be any parson talk or Come All-ye-Faithful singing. Everybody knows that being on the crook’s a mug’s game, and I don’t want to rub it in. What I’ve always said and done is in the direction of making you fellows earn bigger money at your own trade.
‘There’s a man who writes about the army who’s been trying to induce soldiers to learn trades, and he started right by making the Tommies dissatisfied with their own trade; and that is what I am trying to do. What did I do with young Isaacs? I didn’t preach at him, and I didn’t pray over him. Ike was one of the finest snide merchants in London. He used to turn out half-crowns made from pewter pots that defied detection. They rang true and they didn’t bend. Ike got three years, and when he came out I found him a job. Did I try to make him a wood-chopper, or a Salvation Army ploughboy? No. He’d have been back on the crook in a week if I had. I got a firm of medal makers in Birmingham to take him, and when Ike found himself amongst plaster moulds and electric baths, and discovered he could work at his own trade honestly, he stuck to it.’
‘We ain’t snide merchants,’ growled Falk discontentedly.
‘It’s the same with all branches,’ Jessen went on, ‘only you chaps don’t know it. Take tale-pitching—’
It would not be fair to follow Jessen through the elaborate disquisition by which he proved to the satisfaction of his audience that the ‘confidence’ man was a born commercial traveller. Many of his arguments were as unsound as they could well be; he ignored first principles, and glossed over what seemed to such a clearheaded hearer as Charles to be insuperable obstacles in the scheme of regeneration. But his audience was convinced. The fringe of men round the fire was reinforced as he continued. Men came into the room singly, and in twos and threes, and added themselves to the group at the fire. The news had spread that Jessen was talking — they called him ‘Mr. Long,’ by the way — and some of the newcomers arrived breathlessly, as though they had run in order that no part of the address should be missed.
That the advocate of discontent had succeeded in installing into the minds of his hearers that unrest and dissatisfaction which he held to be the basis of a new moral code, was certain. For every face bore the stamp of introspective doubt.
Interesting as it all was, Charles Garrett had not lost sight of the object of his visit, and he fidgeted a little as the speaker proceeded.
Immediately on entering the room he had grasped the exact relationship in which Jessen stood to his pupils. Jessen he knew could put no direct question as to their knowledge of the Four Just Men without raising a feeling of suspicion which would have been fatal to the success of the mission, and indeed would have imperilled the very existence of the ‘Guild’.
It was when Jessen had finished speaking, and had answered a dozen questions fired simultaneously from a dozen quarters, and had answered the questions that had arisen out of these queries, that an opening came from an unexpected quarter.
For, with the serious business of the meeting disposed of, the questions took the inevitable facetious turn.
‘What trade would you give the Four Just Men?’ asked Falk flippantly, and there was a little rumble of laughter.
The journalist’s eyes met the reformer’s for one second, and through the minds of both men flashed the answer. Jessen’s mouth twitched a little, and his restless hands were even more agitated as he replied slowly:
‘If anybody can tell me exactly what the Four Just Men — what their particular line of business is, I could reply to that.’
It was the old man sipping his gin in silence who spoke for the first time.
‘D’ye remember Billy Marks?’ he asked.
His voice was harsh, as is that of a man who uses his voice at rare intervals.
‘Billy Marks is dead,’ he continued, ‘deader than a doornail. He knew the Four Just Men; pinched the watch an’ the notebook of one an’ nearly pinched them.’
There was a man who sat next to Falk who had been regarding Charles with furtive attention.
Now