off to be the paramour of one whose notions of carnal love were utterly perverted? Yet had she known that of him? What Katy Tiddle had said suggested she had not. But reporting Maggie as a stolen child to Mr. Patley indicated that she suspicioned that something was not right about the unnamed recipient of her child. And why, if she truly believed she were bettering Maggie’s life, had she accepted money for her child?
Such questions always seemed to be clouded over with moral considerations of this sort, so why, indeed, should I feel guilty? And why, for a final why, must all be so damnably complicated?
In point of fact, we did lose her just as she came to the Good Queen Bess, yet that was because she had circled round it that she might enter respectably by the front door of the place.
She was leaning forward over the desk, speaking in a rather distraught manner to him in charge. Indeed, she was repeating our names over and over again. Then did he glimpse us with obvious relief as we entered.
“Ah, but here they are now. What a happy coincidence!”
She whirled round and, seeing us, ran to us.
“I heard you had a message from my daughter,” said she, wheezing slightly from her trip downhill.
“No,” said I, “that’s not quite right.”
She turned from me in disappointment and looked hopefully at Constable Patley. “It was you who said it, wasn’t it? But-but I know you from before, don’t I?”
“That’s right, Alice. You and me talked together.”
“About Maggie, wasn’t it?”
“Maybe we could step inside the tap-room. We could sit in there and talk,” I suggested.
She frowned at me in a somewhat befuddled way.
“Would you like something to drink?”
“A glass of gin would be nice.”
“Well, then.” I gestured toward the door to the tap-room, and she nodded and followed. I noticed the deskman continuing to look at us with considerable curiosity.
We must have made a strange-looking trio as we entered the room. And though I cared little what the many who gaped might think of us, I did wish to keep our conversation with this poor woman as private as might be possible. I directed the other two over to that same table in the corner, where Mr. Patley had seen her first. Then did I hasten to the serving woman and order two coffees and a glass of gin.
“Who’s the gin for?” she asked suspiciously.
“For her,” said I.
“This ain’t that kind of place. They won’t let you upstairs with her.”
“I’ll keep that in mind. Now, if you permit, we’ll have two coffees and a glass of gin.”
Without another word, she turned away from me and made for the bar.
I went to the table and found Alice and Mr. Patley engaged in the sort of talk that I can only call neighborly. Though I should have, I’d never really noticed what a personable manner he had. He seemed to get people to do what he wished them to do simply by being agreeable, kind, or what they had taken lately to calling “nice.” What was it they were discussing as I sat down with them? As I recall, it was something to do with how and when he had happened to see her out the window.
“When was that, yesterday? or the day before? I ain’t sure about that, but I am sure I looked right out the window, and there you were.” He tapped it. “This very window,” said he.
“Is that how it was?” said she. “Just imagine!” She managed a smile.
It was strange to see him so. I realized that there were things that I could learn from him.
“I think,” said she, “that must have been day before yesterday.”
“Is that so? You’ve got a pretty good memory. You know that?”
“Better’n some people think.”
He chuckled at that. “How long have you been up here?”
“A long time, but I ain’t sure just how long.”
“Well, take a guess at it, why don’t you?”
“It was right after I talked to you about. . about Maggie. That’s when I left London and come here-near a month ago.”
“But you didn’t tell anybody where you’d gone. If we’d found Maggie, how could we let you know?”
“Well, I knew you wouldn’t find her, because she got adopted.”
The serving woman came then with what I had ordered. She insisted on immediate payment, an interruption in the flow of the interrogation that could cost us dear. But at last she accepted payment and was away. Alice drank greedily from the glass of gin, and Mr. Patley judged her ready to begin again.
“Who told you about this practice of adopting, Alice?” he asked.
“Well, first it was Katy next door, and then it was Walter.”
“Walter? Who’s he?”
“He was the one took my Maggie away to the good couple who couldn’t have a child all by themselves. Never did find out his last name. But I told Maggie all about how her new family would love her and have money enough to take good care of her, like I never could. And so when Walter took her away she didn’t make no fuss nor nothin’. Just kissed me goodbye and waved.”
“Did Walter give you the name of this couple he took Maggie to?”
“No, not hardly. He said it had to be a secret because if it weren’t, sometime when I got to missin’ her bad, I might go and try to steal her back. Oh, and I might, because even now I get to missing her so bad I can’t hardly stand it.” There she paused and looked up winningly at Mr. Patley. “Could I have another gin?”
He glanced over at me, and I, feeling that the interrogation had gone well thus far with a glass of gin to loosen her tongue, decided that a second glass might make it go even better. I signaled for another gin to the serving woman who pulled a sour face but passed it on to the man behind the bar. It was most quickly forthcoming. Alice took it from the serving woman with polite thanks and treated herself to a hasty sip. Then, with a smile, she returned her attention to the constable.
“There is only a couple more questions we got to ask you,” said he to her. “You’re doin’ fine so far, Alice.”
She smiled foolishly at that. “All the right answers?”
“No mistakes yet. I’d like you to tell me, though, just how it was you came into all that money?”
“All what money?”
“Well you came up here from London on the mail coach, didn’t you?”
“Certain’y. It was the onliest way I could get here, ’cept walk.” She remained silent for a moment, then said playfully, “Oh,
“Yes, Alice,
“Well,” said she, “I never asked for a penny-truly I never. But the day that Walter came for Maggie he brought me a proper bag of coins and said that the couple wanted me to have this money, ’cause they were so grateful. I never did get a proper count on it in pounds and pence, but it’s a lot, and it’s lasted me a long time. Course I knew where I’d go just as soon as ever I got that much money in hand.”
“And where was that?”
“Why, right here-right in Newmarket-to see my sweetheart, Stephen. He’s been my sweetheart for years and years.”
“Did you two write letters to each other? Did he invite you to come?”
“Stephen? Oh no, he didn’t know where I was, and I couldn’t write to tell him, because I never had any learning. But I just came to him, and we picked up just where we left off. It was beautiful. Course he’s angry-now, maybe a mite jealous, because I came down here to see you two.” She said nothing more for a moment, but thrust out her lower lip in a pout. “When are you two going to give me that message from Maggie I been waiting to hear?”
“In a while, Alice. It won’t be long,” said the constable. “Just one more question.”
“All right, what is it?”
“Whose idea was it to report Maggie as missing? Was it yours?”
“Oh no, nothing of the kind. Katy Tiddle thought it up. It was all her idea. She said it would keep people from asking a lot of questions when they noticed that Maggie was gone. I could just say she was stolen and I’d reported it to the constable.”
