Refreshed by sleep, Mr. Bucket rises betimes in the morning andprepares for a field-day. Smartened up by the aid of a clean shirtand a wet hairbrush, with which instrument, on occasions ofceremony, he lubricates such thin locks as remain to him after hislife of severe study, Mr. Bucket lays in a breakfast of two muttonchops as a foundation to work upon, together with tea, eggs, toast,and marmalade on a corresponding scale. Having much enjoyed thesestrengthening matters and having held subtle conference with hisfamiliar demon, he confidently instructs Mercury "just to mentionquietly to Sir Leicester Dedlock, Baronet, that whenever he's readyfor me, I'm ready for him." A gracious message being returned thatSir Leicester will expedite his dressing and join Mr. Bucket in thelibrary within ten minutes, Mr. Bucket repairs to that apartmentand stands before the fire with his finger on his chin, looking atthe blazing coals.
Thoughtful Mr. Bucket is, as a man may be with weighty work to do,but composed, sure, confident. From the expression of his face hemight be a famous whist-player for a large stake--say a hundredguineas certain--with the game in his hand, but with a highreputation involved in his playing his hand out to the last card ina masterly way. Not in the least anxious or disturbed is Mr.
Bucket when Sir Leicester appears, but he eyes the baronet aside ashe comes slowly to his easy-chair with that observant gravity ofyesterday in which there might have been yesterday, but for theaudacity of the idea, a touch of compassion.
"I am sorry to have kept you waiting, officer, but I am ratherlater than my usual hour this morning. I am not well. Theagitation and the indignation from which I have recently sufferedhave been too much for me. I am subject to--gout"--Sir Leicesterwas going to say indisposition and would have said it to anybodyelse, but Mr. Bucket palpably knows all about it--"and recentcircumstances have brought it on."As he takes his seat with some difficulty and with an air of pain,Mr. Bucket draws a little nearer, standing with one of his largehands on the library-table.
"I am not aware, officer," Sir Leicester observes; raising his eyesto his face, "whether you wish us to be alone, but that is entirelyas you please. If you do, well and good. If not, Miss Dedlockwould be interested--""Why, Sir Leicester Dedlock, Baronet," returns Mr. Bucket with hishead persuasively on one side and his forefinger pendant at one earlike an earring, "we can't be too private just at present. Youwill presently see that we can't be too private. A lady, under thecircumstances, and especially in Miss Dedlock's elevated station ofsociety, can't but be agreeable to me, but speaking without a viewto myself, I will take the liberty of assuring you that I know wecan't be too private.""That is enough.""So much so, Sir Leicester Dedlock, Baronet," Mr. Bucket resumes,"that I was on the point of asking your permission to turn the keyin the door.""By all means." Mr. Bucket skilfully and softly takes thatprecaution, stooping on his knee for a moment from mere force ofhabit so to adjust the key in the lock as that no one shall peep infrom the outerside.
"Sir Leicester Dedlock, Baronet, I mentioned yesterday evening thatI wanted but a very little to complete this case. I have nowcompleted it and collected proof against the person who did thiscrime.""Against the soldier?""No, Sir Leicester Dedlock; not the soldier."Sir Leicester looks astounded and inquires, "Is the man incustody?"Mr. Bucket tells him, after a pause, "It was a woman."Sir Leicester leans back in his chair, and breathlessly ejaculates,"Good heaven!""Now, Sir Leicester Dedlock, Baronet," Mr. Bucket begins, standingover him with one hand spread out on the library-table and theforefinger of the other in impressive use, "it's my duty to prepareyou for a train of circumstances that may, and I go so far as tosay that will, give you a shock. But Sir Leicester Dedlock,Baronet, you are a gentleman, and I know what a gentleman is andwhat a gentleman is capable of. A gentleman can bear a shock whenit must come, boldly and steadily. A gentleman can make up hismind to stand up against almost any blow. Why, take yourself, SirLeicester Dedlock, Baronet. If there's a blow to be inflicted onyou, you naturally think of your family. You ask yourself, howwould all them ancestors of yours, away to Julius Caesar--not to gobeyond him at present--have borne that blow; you remember scores ofthem that would have borne it well; and you bear it well on theiraccounts, and to maintain the family credit. That's the way youargue, and that's the way you act, Sir Leicester Dedlock, Baronet."Sir Leicester, leaning back in his chair and grasping the elbows,sits looking at him with a stony face.
"Now, Sir Leicester Dedlock," proceeds Mr. Bucket, "thus preparingyou, let me beg of you not to trouble your mind for a moment as toanything having come to MY knowledge. I know so much about so manycharacters, high and low, that a piece of information more or lessdon't signify a straw. I don't suppose there's a move on the boardthat would surprise ME, and as to this or that move having takenplace, why my knowing it is no odds at all, any possible movewhatever (provided it's in a wrong direction) being a probable moveaccording to my experience. Therefore, what I say to you, SirLeicester Dedlock, Baronet, is, don't you go and let yourself beput out of the way because of my knowing anything of your familyaffairs.""I thank you for your preparation," returns Sir Leicester after asilence, without moving hand, foot, or feature, "which I hope isnot necessary; though I give it credit for being well intended. Beso good as to go on. Also"--Sir Leicester seems to shrink in theshadow of his figure--"also, to take a seat, if you have noobjection."None at all. Mr. Bucket brings a chair and diminishes his shadow.
"Now, Sir Leicester Dedlock, Baronet, with this short preface Icome to the point. Lady Dedlock--"Sir Leicester raises himself in his seat and stares at himfiercely. Mr. Bucket brings the finger into play as an emollient.
"Lady Dedlock, you see she's universally admired. That's what herladyship is; she's universally admired," says Mr. Bucket.
"I would greatly prefer, officer," Sir Leicester returns stiffly,"my Lady's name being entirely omitted from this discussion.""So would I, Sir Leicester Dedlock, Baronet, but--it's impossible.""Impossible?"Mr. Bucket shakes his relentless head.
"Sir Leicester Dedlock, Baronet, it's altogether impossible. WhatI have got to say is about her ladyship. She is the pivot it allturns on.""Officer," retorts Sir Leicester with a fiery eye and a quiveringlip, "you know your duty. Do your duty, but be careful not tooverstep it. I would not suffer it. I would not endure it. Youbring my Lady's name into this communication upon yourresponsibility--upon your responsibility. My Lady's name is not aname for common persons to trifle with!""Sir Leicester Dedlock, Baronet, I say what I must say, and nomore.""I hope it may prove so. Very well. Go on. Go on, sir!"Glancing at the angry eyes which now avoid him and at the angryfigure trembling from head to foot, yet striving to be still, Mr.
Bucket feels his way with his forefinger and in a low voiceproceeds.
"Sir Leicester Dedlock, Baronet, it becomes my duty to tell youthat the deceased Mr. Tulkinghorn long entertained mistrusts andsuspicions of Lady Dedlock.""If he had dared to breathe them to me, sir--which he never did--Iwould have killed him myself!" exclaims Sir Leicester, striking hishand upon the table. But in the very heat and fury of the act hestops, fixed by the knowing eyes of Mr. Bucket, whose forefinger isslowly going and who, with mingled confidence and patience, shakeshis head.
"Sir Leicester Dedlock, the deceased Mr. Tulkinghorn was deep andclose, and what he fully had in his mind in the very beginning Ican't quite take upon myself to say. But I know from his lips thathe long ago suspected Lady Dedlock of having discovered, throughthe sight of some handwriting--in this very house, and when youyourself, Sir Leicester Dedlock, were present--the existence, ingreat poverty, of a certain person who had been her lover beforeyou courted her and who ought to have been her husband." Mr.
Bucket stops and deliberately repeats, "Ought to have been herhusband, not a doubt about it. I know from his lips that when thatperson soon afterwards died, he suspected Lady Dedlock of visitinghis wretched lodging and his wretched grave, alone and in secret.
I know from my own inquiries and through my eyes and ears that LadyDedlock did make such visit in the dress of her own maid, for thedeceased Mr. Tulkinghorn employed me to reckon up her ladyship--ifyou'll excuse my making use of the term we commonly employ--and Ireckoned her up, so far, completely. I confronted the maid in thechambers in Lincoln's Inn Fields with a witness who had been LadyDedlock's guide, and there couldn't be the shadow of a doubt thatshe had worn the young woman's dress, unknown to her. SirLeicester Dedlock, Baronet, I did endeavour to pave the way alittle towards these unpleasant disclosures yesterday by sayingthat very strange things happened even in high families sometimes.
All this, and more, has happened in your own family, and to andthrough your own Lady. It's my belief that the deceased Mr.
Tulkinghorn followed up these inquiries to the hour of his deathand that he and Lady Dedlock even had bad blood between them uponthe matter that very night. Now, only you put that to LadyDedlock, Sir Leicester Dedlock, Baronet, and ask her ladyshipwhether, even after he had left here, she didn't go down to hischambers with the intention of saying something further to him,dressed in a loose black mantle with a deep fringe to it."Sir Leicester sits like a statue, gazing at the cruel finger thatis probing the life-blood of his heart.
"You put that to her ladyship, Sir Leicester Dedlock, Baronet, fromme, Inspector Bucket of the Detective. And if her ladyship makesany difficulty about admitting of it, you tell her that it's nouse, that Inspector Bucket knows it and knows that she passed thesoldier as you called him (though he's not in the army now) andknows that she knows she passed him on the staircase. Now, SirLeicester Dedlock, Baronet, why do I relate all this?"Sir Leicester, who has covered his face with his hands, uttering asingle groan, requests him to pause for a moment. By and by hetakes his hands away, and so preserves his dignity and outwardcalmness, though there is no more colour in his face than in hiswhite hair, that Mr. Bucket is a little awed by him. Somethingfrozen and fixed is upon his manner, over and above its usual shellof haughtiness, and Mr. Bucket soon detects an unusual slowness inhis speech, with now and then a curious trouble in beginning, whichoccasions him to utter inarticulate sounds. With such sounds henow breaks silence, soon, however, controlling himself to say thathe does not comprehend why a gentleman so faithful and zealous asthe late Mr. Tulkinghorn should have communicated to him nothing ofthis painful, this distressing, this unlooked-for, thisoverwhelming, this incredible intelligence.
"Again, Sir Leicester Dedlock, Baronet," returns Mr. Bucket, "putit to her ladyship to clear that up. Put it to her ladyship, ifyou think it right, from Inspector Bucket of the Detective. You'llfind, or I'm much mistaken, that the deceased Mr. Tulkinghorn hadthe intention of communicating the whole to you as soon as heconsidered it ripe, and further, that he had given her ladyship soto understand. Why, he might have been going to reveal it the verymorning when I examined the body! You don't know what I'm going tosay and do five minutes from this present time, Sir LeicesterDedlock, Baronet; and supposing I was to be picked off now, youmight wonder why I hadn't done it, don't you see?"True. Sir Leicester, avoiding, with some trouble those obtrusivesounds, says, "True." At this juncture a considerable noise ofvoices is heard in the hall. Mr. Bucket, after listening, goes tothe library-door, softly unlocks and opens it, and listens again.
Then he draws in his head and whispers hurriedly but composedly,"Sir Leicester Dedlock, Baronet, this unfortunate family affair hastaken air, as I expected it might, the deceased Mr. Tulkinghornbeing cut down so sudden. The chance to hush it is to let in thesepeople now in a wrangle with your footmen. Would you mind sittingquiet--on the family account--while I reckon 'em up? And would youjust throw in a nod when I seem to ask you for it?"Sir Leicester indistinctly answers, "Officer. The best you can,the best you can!" and Mr. Bucket, with a nod and a sagacious crookof the forefinger, slips down into the hall, where the voicesquickly die away. He is not long in returning; a few paces aheadof Mercury and a brother deity also powdered and in peach-blossomedsmalls, who bear between them a chair in which is an incapable oldman. Another man and two women come behind. Directing thepitching of the chair in an affable and easy manner, Mr. Bucketdismisses the Mercuries and locks the door again. Sir Leicesterlooks on at this invasion of the sacred precincts with an icystare.
"Now, perhaps you may know me, ladies and gentlemen," says Mr.
Bucket in a confidential voice. "I am Inspector Bucket of theDetective, I am; and this," producing the tip of his convenientlittle staff from his breast-pocket, "is my authority. Now, youwanted to see Sir Leicester Dedlock, Baronet. Well! You do seehim, and mind you, it ain't every one as is admitted to thathonour. Your name, old gentleman, is Smallweed; that's what yourname is; I know it well.""Well, and you never heard any harm of it!" cries Mr. Smallweed ina shrill loud voice.
"You don't happen to know why they killed the pig, do you?" retortsMr. Bucket with a steadfast look, but without loss of temper.
"No!""Why, they killed him," says Mr. Bucket, "on account of his havingso much cheek. Don't YOU get into the same position, because itisn't worthy of you. You ain't in the habit of conversing with adeaf person, are you?""Yes," snarls Mr. Smallweed, "my wife's deaf.""That accounts for your pitching your voice so high. But as sheain't here; just pitch it an octave or two lower, will you, andI'll not only be obliged to you, but it'll do you more credit,"says Mr. Bucket. "This other gentleman is in the preaching line, Ithink?""Name of Chadband," Mr. Smallweed puts in, speaking henceforth in amuch lower key.
"Once had a friend and brother serjeant of the same name," says Mr.
Bucket, offering his hand, "and consequently feel a liking for it.
Mrs. Chadband, no doubt?""And Mrs. Snagsby," Mr. Smallweed introduces.
"Husband a law-stationer and a friend of my own," says Mr. Bucket.
"Love him like a brother! Now, what's up?""Do you mean what business have we come upon?" Mr. Smallweed asks,a little dashed by the suddenness of this turn.
"Ah! You know what I mean. Let us hear what it's all about inpresence of Sir Leicester Dedlock, Baronet. Come."Mr. Smallweed, beckoning Mr. Chadband, takes a moment's counselwith him in a whisper. Mr. Chadband, expressing a considerableamount of oil from the pores of his forehead and the palms of hishands, says aloud, "Yes. You first!" and retires to his formerplace.
"I was the client and friend of Mr. Tulkinghorn," pipes GrandfatherSmallweed then; "I did business with him. I was useful to him, andhe was useful to me. Krook, dead and gone, was my brother-in-law.
He was own brother to a brimstone magpie--leastways Mrs. Smallweed.
I come into Krook's property. I examined all his papers and allhis effects. They was all dug out under my eyes. There was abundle of letters belonging to a dead and gone lodger as was hidaway at the back of a shelf in the side of Lady Jane's bed--hiscat's bed. He hid all manner of things away, everywheres. Mr.
Tulkinghorn wanted 'em and got 'em, but I looked 'em over first.
I'm a man of business, and I took a squint at 'em. They wasletters from the lodger's sweetheart, and she signed Honoria. Dearme, that's not a common name, Honoria, is it? There's no lady inthis house that signs Honoria is there? Oh, no, I don't think so!
Oh, no, I don't think so! And not in the same hand, perhaps? Oh,no, I don't think so!"Here Mr. Smallweed, seized with a fit of coughing in the midst ofhis triumph, breaks off to ejaculate, "Oh, dear me! Oh, Lord! I'mshaken all to pieces!""Now, when you're ready," says Mr. Bucket after awaiting hisrecovery, "to come to anything that concerns Sir Leicester Dedlock,Baronet, here the gentleman sits, you know.""Haven't I come to it, Mr. Bucket?" cries Grandfather Smallweed.
"Isn't the gentleman concerned yet? Not with Captain Hawdon, andhis ever affectionate Honoria, and their child into the bargain?
Come, then, I want to know where those letters are. That concernsme, if it don't concern Sir Leicester Dedlock. I will know wherethey are. I won't have 'em disappear so quietly. I handed 'emover to my friend and solicitor, Mr. Tulkinghorn, not to anybodyelse.""Why, he paid you for them, you know, and handsome too," says Mr.
Bucket.
"I don't care for that. I want to know who's got 'em. And I tellyou what we want--what we all here want, Mr. Bucket. We want morepainstaking and search-making into this murder. We know where theinterest and the motive was, and you have not done enough. IfGeorge the vagabond dragoon had any hand in it, he was only anaccomplice, and was set on. You know what I mean as well as anyman.""Now I tell you what," says Mr. Bucket, instantaneously alteringhis manner, coming close to him, and communicating an extraordinaryfascination to the forefinger, "I am damned if I am a-going to havemy case spoilt, or interfered with, or anticipated by so much ashalf a second of time by any human being in creation. YOU wantmore painstaking and search-making! YOU do? Do you see this hand,and do you think that I don't know the right time to stretch it outand put it on the arm that fired that shot?"Such is the dread power of the man, and so terribly evident it isthat he makes no idle boast, that Mr. Smallweed begins toapologize. Mr. Bucket, dismissing his sudden anger, checks him.
"The advice I give you is, don't you trouble your head about themurder. That's my affair. You keep half an eye on the newspapers,and I shouldn't wonder if you was to read something about it beforelong, if you look sharp. I know my business, and that's all I'vegot to say to you on that subject. Now about those letters. Youwant to know who's got 'em. I don't mind telling you. I have got'em. Is that the packet?"Mr. Smallweed looks, with greedy eyes, at the little bundle Mr.
Bucket produces from a mysterious part of his coat, and identiflesit as the same.
"What have you got to say next?" asks Mr. Bucket. "Now, don't openyour mouth too wide, because you don't look handsome when you doit.""I want five hundred pound.""No, you don't; you mean fifty," says Mr. Bucket humorously.
It appears, however, that Mr. Smallweed means five hundred.
"That is, I am deputed by Sir Leicester Dedlock, Baronet, toconsider (without admitting or promising anything) this bit ofbusiness," says Mr. Bucket--Sir Leicester mechanically bows hishead--"and you ask me to consider a proposal of five hundredpounds. Why, it's an unreasonable proposal! Two fifty would bebad enough, but better than that. Hadn't you better say twofifty?"Mr. Smallweed is quite clear that he had better not.
"Then," says Mr. Bucket, "let's hear Mr. Chadband. Lord! Many atime I've heard my old fellow-serjeant of that name; and a moderateman he was in all respects, as ever I come across!"Thus invited, Mr. Chadband steps forth, and after a little sleeksmiling and a little oil-grinding with the palms of his hands,delivers himself as follows, "My friends, we are now--Rachael, mywife, and I--in the mansions of the rich and great. Why are we nowin the mansions of the rich and great, my friends? Is it becausewe are invited? Because we are bidden to feast with them, becausewe are bidden to rejoice with them, because we are bidden to playthe lute with them, because we are bidden to dance with them? No.
Then why are we here, my friends? Air we in possession of a sinfulsecret, and do we require corn, and wine, and oil, or what is muchthe same thing, money, for the keeping thereof? Probably so, myfriends.""You're a man of business, you are," returns Mr. Bucket, veryattentive, "and consequently you're going on to mention what thenature of your secret is. You are right. You couldn't do better.""Let us then, my brother, in a spirit of love," says Mr. Chadbandwith a cunning eye, "proceed unto it. Rachael, my wife, advance!"Mrs. Chadband, more than ready, so advances as to jostle herhusband into the background and confronts Mr. Bucket with a hard,frowning smile.
"Since you want to know what we know," says she, "I'll tell you. Ihelped to bring up Miss Hawdon, her ladyship's daughter. I was inthe service of her ladyship's sister, who was very sensitive to thedisgrace her ladyship brought upon her, and gave out, even to herladyship, that the child was dead--she WAS very nearly so--when shewas born. But she's alive, and I know her." With these words, anda laugh, and laying a bitter stress on the word "ladyship," Mrs.
Chadband folds her arms and looks implacably at Mr. Bucket.
"I suppose now," returns that officer, "YOU will he expecting atwenty-pound note or a present of about that figure?"Mrs. Chadband merely laughs and contemptuously tells him he can"offer" twenty pence.
"My friend the law-stationer's good lady, over there," says Mr.
Bucket, luring Mrs. Snagsby forward with the finger. "What mayYOUR game be, ma'am?"Mrs. Snagsby is at first prevented, by tears and lamentations, fromstating the nature of her game, but by degrees it confusedly comesto light that she is a woman overwhelmed with injuries and wrongs,whom Mr. Snagsby has habitually deceived, abandoned, and sought tokeep in darkness, and whose chief comfort, under her afflictions,has been the sympathy of the late Mr. Tulkinghorn, who showed somuch commiseration for her on one occasion of his calling in Cook'sCourt in the absence of her perjured husband that she has of latehabitually carried to him all her woes. Everybody it appears, thepresent company excepted, has plotted against Mrs. Snagsby's peace.
There is Mr. Guppy, clerk to Kenge and Carboy, who was at first asopen as the sun at noon, but who suddenly shut up as close asmidnight, under the influence--no doubt--of Mr. Snagsby's suborningand tampering. There is Mr. Weevle, friend of Mr. Guppy, who livedmysteriously up a court, owing to the like coherent causes. Therewas Krook, deceased; there was Nimrod, deceased; and there was Jo,deceased; and they were "all in it." In what, Mrs. Snagsby doesnot with particularity express, but she knows that Jo was Mr.
Snagsby's son, "as well as if a trumpet had spoken it," and shefollowed Mr. Snagsby when he went on his last visit to the boy, andif he was not his son why did he go? The one occupation of herlife has been, for some time back, to follow Mr. Snagsby to andfro, and up and down, and to piece suspicious circumstancestogether--and every circumstance that has happened has been mostsuspicious; and in this way she has pursued her ob............