The Comforters

‘Slight abrasions, I understand, nothing serious.’

‘Such a relief. I hear everything in this shop but my informants always exaggerate. They are poets on the whole or professional liars of some sort, and so one has to make allowances. I’m glad to know that Caroline’s head has no permanent cavity. I’ve known her for years. I am going to visit her next week.’

‘If you will pardon my mentioning, Baron, if you intend to be in our part of the country, I think at the moment you should not make occasion to call on Mrs Jepp. The Hogarths have had to cancel their trip to the Continent and they frequently call at the cottage.’

‘What was the trouble? Why didn’t they go?’

‘Mrs Jepp had the feeling that the Manders were about to investigate her concerns. She thinks there should be no further trips till the spring. The Hogarths were ready to leave, but she stopped them at the last minute. She is not at all worried.’

‘It sounds fairly worrying to me. The Hogarths do not suspect that I am involved in your arrangements?’

‘I don’t think you need fear that. Mrs Jepp and I are very careful about mentioning names. You are simply Mrs Jepp’s “London connexion”. They have never shown further curiosity.’

‘And the Manders? I suppose Laurence has put them up to something, he is so observant, it’s terrifying. I am never happy when he goes to that cottage.’

‘Mrs Jepp is very fond of him.’

‘Why, of course. I am very fond of Laurence, I’ve known the Manders for years. But Laurence is most inquisitive. Do you think the Manders are likely to suspect my part in the affair?’

‘If anything, their interest would reside in myself and the Hogarths. I do not think you need worry, Baron.’

‘I will tell you why I’m anxious. There is no risk of exposure either from the Hogarths or from the Manders. In the one case they themselves are involved. In the other case the old lady is involved and the Manders would of course wish to hush up anything they found out. But it happens that I am interested in Mervyn Hogarth in another connexion. I have arranged to be introduced to him, and I do not wish to confuse the two concerns.

Mr Webster thought, Ah, to do with the woman, Hogarth’s former wife, but he was wrong.

‘Hogarth is up in London today,’ he informed the Baron, ‘I saw him on the train, but I thought best to remain unseen.

‘Sure he didn’t see you? No chance of his having followed you here out of curiosity?’

‘No, in fact I kept him in sight until he disappeared into a club in Piccadilly. Ho, ho, Baron.’

He handed the Baron a small neat package. ‘I had better not forget to give you this,’ he said, still chuckling in an old man’s way.

The Baron opened it carefully, taking out a tin marked in Louisa Jepp’s clear hand, ‘Soft herring roes.’

‘Mrs Jepp was particularly anxious that you should eat the actual herring roes,’ Mr Webster said. ‘She bade me say that they are very nourishing and no contamination can possibly arise from the other contents of the tin.’

‘I shall,’ said the Baron, ‘I shall.’

He slid the tin into his brief case, then opening a double-locked drawer took out a bundle of white notes. These he counted. He took another bunch and did likewise, then a third; from a fourth lot he extracted a number of notes which he added to the three bundles. He replaced the remainder of the notes in his drawer and relocked it before handing the bundles to Mr Webster. Then he wrote three cheques and handed them over.

‘They are dated at three-weekly intervals. Please check the amount,’ he said, ‘and then I will give you this good strong envelope to put them in.’

‘Much the safest way,’ said Mr Webster as he always did, referring, not to the envelope but to the method of payment. ‘Much the safest in case of inquiries,’ he added as always.

When this business was done, and the notes packed into their envelope and locked away in Mr Webster’s bag, the Baron said, ‘Now, a cigar, Mr Webster, and a sip of Curacao.’

‘Very well, thank you. But I mustn’t delay long because of the time of year.’

The shop door tinkled. ‘Tinkle,’ said the Baron, and rising, he peered through a chink in the partition that separated the grey-carpeted front shop from the warm and shabby inside. ‘A barbarian wanting a book,’ the Baron remarked as he went forth to serve his customer.

Returning within a few seconds, he said, ‘Do you know anything of diabolism?’

‘I’ve seen witchcraft practised, many times in the olden days; that was before your time, Baron; mostly in South American ports.’

‘You are a sail-or,’ said the Baron. ‘I have always thought you were a sail-or.’

‘I was a merchant seaman. I have seen witchcraft, Baron. In those countries it can be fearful, I can tell you.’

‘I am interested in diabolism. In a detached way, I assure you.’

‘Ho, I am sure, Baron. It isn’t a thing for a temperate climate.’

‘That is why,’ said the Baron, ‘I am interested in Mervyn Hogarth. You would call him a mild and temperate man?’

‘Well, Baron, he doesn’t say much though he talks a lot. Myself I don’t care for him. But Mrs Jepp tolerates, she tolerates. She is thinking perhaps of the poor son. This trading of ours, it gives him something in life. Poor lad, poor lad.’

‘Would it surprise you, Mr Webster, to know that Mervyn Hogarth is the foremost diabolist in these islands?’