had not attained and therefore munched upon the apple of love.
‘Greed,’ came the response.
‘I have plenty of money. Unlike so many.’
There was a mocking edge to his voice as if implying that Mulholland might be numbered amongst the paupers of the world, and it, possibly as intended, rubbed the constable up the wrong way to a considerable extent.
‘For a type like you, there’s never enough.’
Mulholland followed that remark with an equally injudicious addition.
‘Greed. The filthy lucre.’
This insult apparently stung Oliver into abandoning the goddess and replying in kind.
‘And for a type like you. Jealousy.’
‘What?’
‘Emily Forbes. You fear that she prefers my company to yours.’
‘That’s not true!’ Mulholland exclaimed hotly.
Garvie smiled, as if he felt sorry for the harsh realities with which he had to acquaint the constable.
‘No doubt she finds you amusing enough … like a dog strayed in from the street.’
For a second Mulholland could not believe his ears, then he let out an enraged bellow; this of course was hardly the behaviour of an arresting officer.
‘You’re a liar!’ he roared, shaking a bony clenched fist in the direction of Garvie who was not in the least part disturbed by the sight.
‘You know it to be true,’ he murmured apologetically. ‘You are not of her class and because I am, you would seek to destroy my reputation for your own jealous ends.’
The man’s effrontery almost robbed Mulholland of speech and though the constable would never dream of acknowledging the fact, perhaps there was the smallest trace of truth in Garvie’s observation that also contributed to his initial lack of response.
Finally Mulholland found the words and bit them off like bullets.
‘I care for Emily and she for me. There is no jealousy here, only a man doing his job and by God I’ll do it!’
‘You care for her, do you?’ riposted Garvie with a glint in his eye.
‘I do indeed.’
The entrepreneur hooked one thumb into the high pocket of his silk waistcoat and wagged the forefinger of the other hand in the air as if delivering a speech from a courtroom drama.
Indeed it was as if he spoke the words for a larger audience than the constable before him.
‘Then consider this before you let loose your vile slanders. The documents and invoices for the cargo have been examined and certified genuine by the very top man. Head of the Providential branch in Edinburgh.’
Adding a rhetorical flourish to proceedings, he whipped the thumb from its moorings and raised both hands in the air to emphasise the next salvo.
‘Chief insurance adjuster, Mister Robert Forbes!’
In his rush to judgment Mulholland had pushed that thought to the back of his head but it had been abruptly brought to the forefront now. For the first time, he felt the ground shift under his feet, like a man out of balance hurtling down a slope.
Garvie continued his bombardment.
‘The contents of the warehouse have been sifted as well. The tobacco fragments scrupulously and scientifically examined. D’you think I could pull the wool over his eyes? A man of his ability and experience?’
‘I don’t know,’ the constable muttered defensively.
‘Indeed,’ Garvie hammered home, ‘you do!’
Mulholland was mute.
Oliver abandoned the theatrical delivery and spoke, as it were, more in sorrow than in anger, which imbued the words with a sobering formality.
‘It is not possible my friend. And if I am to be slandered with this accusation, then so must he. With, at worst, collusion and, at best, downright incompetence. Throw the mud and it will stick to both.’
Again Mulholland made no answer. He was wedged in a cleft stick of his own making.
Garvie turned away from him, looked into the glowing coals and added another load from the ornate brass scuttle; he picked up a heavy iron poker and thrust it in so that the flames leapt upwards; fire was a natural element that would burn anybody. It made no distinction.
‘If I am to be accused then so is he,’ Oliver said softly. ‘His reputation ruined and that of his daughter in society quite shamefully defiled.’
He turned back to face the constable, poker hanging loosely in his hand.
‘Are you willing to put Emily through such an ordeal in order to satisfy what I regret to describe as your own petty jealousy?’
The words were said almost under his breath but Mulholland flushed as they struck home.
‘I will do my job,’ he finally retorted.
Garvie nodded as if they had reached agreement.
‘Then do it,’ he replied, gathering energy as he spoke. ‘Go to the house of Robert Forbes, lay before him your suspicions, evaluate his response and then?’ Oliver shook his head as if the enormity of what Mulholland contemplated was beyond belief. ‘Charge two innocent men if that is your decision, but for Emily’s sake and your own, talk first with Robert Forbes.’
Mulholland made an impulsive movement as if to leave then hesitated.
It provoked a wry smile from the other who knew what was passing through the constable’s mind.
‘Don’t perturb yourself, I shall be here whenever you return, but for now, I must ask you to give me leave to retire to my bed, I have a long day of business tomorrow.’
The alternative was cuff the man and haul him to the station and Mulholland realised the impossibility of that; Lieutenant Roach would have a major fit at what he would perceive as a respectable merchant being treated worse than a common criminal. For a moment he wished that he had McLevy here to advise him then realised that, as well as his other dubious motives, he wanted, for once, to solve a case without the hot breath of the inspector on the back of his neck. The constable’s head was in a spin; what had he hoped for here anyway, that Garvie would break down and confess?
In one thing the fellow was correct, for Emily’s sake he must talk to her father. Robert Forbes was the man.
‘I will be back in the before long,’ he threatened.
‘And I shall be waiting,’ was the calm response.
And so having already made one wrong decision, the constable compounded his error and departed.
Garvie took a deep breath and held it until he heard the front door slam safely shut.
He slowly then replaced the poker; if necessary he would have felled the constable where he stood, but the bluff had worked.
Not many had this past year; the cards had treated him unkindly, however thank God for the blindness of love, which could always be exploited by the sly man.
He had little time to waste.
All their plans were in ruins but something might yet be retrieved.
He would send word by messenger.
It all depended upon his cunning little vixen.
24
But, children, you should never let
Such angry passions rise;
Your little hands were never made
