the matter of successfully instituting private inquiries, he was justly considered to be a match for any two Christians who might try to put obstacles in his way. His name was Moses Jackling.
Entering the cigar-shop, the Jew discovered that he had presented himself at a critical moment.
A girl and a man were standing behind the counter. The girl looked like a maid-of-all-work: she was rubbing the tears out of her eyes with a big red fist. The man, smart in manner and shabby in dress, received the stranger with a peremptory eagerness to do business. 'Now, then! what for you?' Jackling bought the worst cigar he had ever smoked, in the course of an enormous experience of bad tobacco, and tried a few questions with this result. The girl had lost her place; the man was in 'possession'; and the stock and furniture had been seized for debt. Jackling thereupon assumed the character of a creditor, and ask to speak with the mistress.
'She's too ill to see you, sir,' the girl said.
'Tell the truth, you fool,' cried the man in possession. He led the way to a door with a glass in the upper part of it, which opened into a parlor behind the shop. As soon as his back was turned, Jackling whispered to the maid, 'When I go, slip out after me; I've got something for you.' The man lifted the curtain over the glass. 'Look through,' he said, 'and see what's the matter with her for yourself.'
Jackling discovered the mistress flat on her back on the floor, helplessly drunk. That was enough for the clerk —so far. He took leave of the man in possession, with the one joke which never wears out in the estimation of Englishmen; the joke that foresees the drinker's headache in the morning. In a minute or two more the girl showed herself, carrying an empty jug. She had been sent for the man's beer, and she was expected back directly. Jackling, having first overwhelmed her by a present of five shillings, proposed another appointment in the evening. The maid promised to be at the place of meeting; and in memory of the five shillings she kept her word.
'What wages do you get?' was the first question that astonished her.
'Three pounds a year, sir,' the unfortunate creature replied.
'All paid?'
'Only one pound paid—and I say it's a crying shame.'
'Say what you like, my dear, so long as you listen to me. I want to know everything that your mistress says and does—first when she's drunk, and then when she's sober. Wait a bit; I haven't done yet. If you tell me everything you can remember—mind
Madly excited by this golden prospect, the victim of domestic service answered inarticulately with a scream. Jackling's right hand and left hand entered his pockets, and appeared again holding two sovereigns separately between two fingers and thumbs. From that moment, he was at liberty to empty the maid-of-all-work's memory of every saying and doing that it contained.
The sober moments of the mistress yielded little or nothing to investigation. The report of her drunken moments produced something worth hearing. There were two men whom it was her habit to revile bitterly in her cups. One of them was Mr. Evelin, whom she abused—sometimes for the small allowance that he made to her; sometimes for dying before she could prosecute him for bigamy. Her drunken remembrances of the other man were associated with two names. She called him 'Septimus'; she called him 'Darts'; and she despised him occasionally for being a 'common sailor.' It was clearly demonstrated that he was one man, and not two. Whether he was 'Septimus,' or whether he was 'Darts,' he had always committed the same atrocities. He had taken her money away from her; he had called her by an atrocious name; and he had knocked her down on more than one occasion. Provided with this information, Jackling rewarded the girl, and paid a visit to her mistress the next day.
The miserable woman was exactly in the state of nervous prostration (after the excess of the previous evening) which offered to the clerk his best chance of gaining his end. He presented himself as the representative of friends, bent on helping her, whose modest benevolence had positively forbidden him to mention their names.
'What sum of money must you pay,' he asked, 'to get rid of the man in possession?'
Too completely bewildered to speak, her trembling hand offered to him a slip of paper on which the amount of the debt and the expenses was set forth: L51 12s. 10d.
With some difficulty the Jew preserved his gravity. 'Very well,' he resumed. 'I will make it up to sixty pounds (to set you going again) on two conditions.'
She suddenly recovered her power of speech. 'Give me the money!' she cried, with greedy impatience of delay.
'First condition,' he continued, without noticing the interruption: 'you are not to suffer, either in purse or person, if you give us the information that we want.'
She interrupted him again. 'Tell me what it is, and be quick about it.'
'Second condition,' he went on as impenetrably as ever; 'you take me to the place where I can find the certificate of your marriage to Septimus Darts.'
Her eyes glared at him like the eyes of a wild animal. Furies, hysterics, faintings, denials, threats—Jackling endured them all by turns. It was enough for him that his desperate guess of the evening before, had hit the mark on the morning after. When she had completely exhausted herself he returned to the experiment which he had already tried with the maid. Well aware of the advantage of exhibiting gold instead of notes, when the object is to tempt poverty, he produced the promised bribe in sovereigns, pouring them playfully backward and forward from one big hand to the other.
The temptation was more than the woman could resist. In another half-hour the two were traveling together to a town in one of the midland counties.
The certificate was found in the church register, and duly copied.
It also appeared that one of the witnesses to the marriage was still living. His name and address were duly noted in the clerk's pocketbook. Subsequent inquiry, at the office of the Customs Comptroller, discovered the name of Septimus Darts on the captain's official list of the crew of an outward bound merchant vessel. With this information, and with a photographic portrait to complete it, the man was discovered, alive and hearty, on the return of the ship to her port.
His wife's explanation of her conduct included the customary excuse that she had every reason to believe her husband to be dead, and was followed by a bold assertion that she had married Mr. Evelin for love. In Moses Jackling's opinion she lied when she said this, and lied again when she threatened to prosecute Mr. Evelin for bigamy. 'Take my word for it,' said this new representative of the unbelieving Jew, 'she would have extorted money from him if he had lived.' Delirium tremens left this question unsettled, and closed the cigar shop soon afterward,
