Murderer’s Trail - J. Farjeon Jefferson

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God, it isn’t!’ cried the third officer angrily. ‘You’ll learn what sort of a party it is before you’re many minutes older.’ He held up the bottle of chloroform. ‘This isn’t going to help you, you know!’

      ‘Wotcher mean?’ asked Ben uneasily.

      ‘Clear enough, I should think! Stowaway! We’ll see about that!’

      Ben blinked at the bottle, and backed a little. The third officer was brandishing it rather close. That, however, was not the point that worried him most.

      ‘That ain’t nothing ter do with me!’ he declared, with vehemence.

      ‘Oh, isn’t it?’

      ‘No, it ain’t!’

      ‘I thought it dropped from your button hole?’

      ‘Go on! I was bein’ funny! Doncher know a joke when yer sees one?’

      The third officer suddenly grinned. Apparently he was seeing some joke at that moment.

      ‘I tell yer, w— I fahnd it on the grahnd!’ He just saved himself from saying ‘we.’ ‘I was lookin’ at it when you come along.’

      ‘Really, now?’ responded the third officer, still grinning. ‘Without a spot-light?’

      Ben perspired. The joke had passed out of his hands. Staring at the grin in front of him, he wondered how hard he could hit, if he really tried. But he did not hit the grin. He suddenly interpreted it, instead. And perspired more freely afterwards.

      ‘So that’s yer gime, is it?’ he thought. ‘You dropped it ’ere, did yer, and now you’re puttin’ it on me! Orl right, Sunny Boy, I got a gime too, that’ll send the sun in!’

      Aloud he said:

      ‘’Oo wants a spot-light fer clorridgeform? I got a nose, ain’t I?’

      ‘Yes, and you’ll feel something on it, if I have any more of your back chat!’ exclaimed the third officer. ‘Now, then—up the ladder with you. And step lively!’

      Ben hesitated. ‘I gotter go fust?’ he asked.

      ‘Bet your life, you have!’ retorted the third officer. ‘Well, what are you waiting for?’

      He was waiting because he didn’t want to go first. He wanted to see the third officer out of the place before he followed. Those movements among the coal were troubling him. He knew who was making them. She’d nipped into cover somehow … Lummy! There was another one!

      ‘Have I got to help you?’ cried the third officer angrily.

      ‘No, you ain’t!’ shouted Ben suddenly. ‘I don’t want no ’elp, not from you—no, nor not from hanyone. See? Not from hanyone!’

      The third officer thought Ben was speaking to him. As a matter of fact, Ben was addressing the coal. A piece of coal responded, by dislodging itself and toppling to the ground.

      ‘Hey! What’s that?’ exclaimed the officer, and flashed his torch towards the spot.

      ‘Gawd—now ’e’s got ’er!’ thought Ben, and clenched his fist, just to give the world one good bash before it crushed you.

      Two bright eyes gleamed from the illuminated coal heap. Then their owner sprang at the third officer.

      ‘Damn these blasted rats!’ he cried.

      Ben felt himself feeling sick.

       7

       The Faggis Jigsaw

      More ladders. More dark passages. More climbing and squeezing through the tubes and arteries of the ship’s stomach. But this time Ben did not have to select the tubes and arteries himself. They were selected for him by the third officer.

      And thus he was free to grope among other dark passages—the dark passages of his mind. He tried to illuminate them. Some of them needed illumination badly. To avoid further tripping.

      Where was he going now? That was one question. What was he going to do when he got there? That was another. Answer to the first question—captain. Answer to the second—Gawd knows!

      Other questions: How was he going to re-establish contact with the strange little pickpocket down among the coal? If she were caught, what would happen to her? And if he were caught, and had prevented her from being caught, what would happen to him?…

      ‘Now, then, look where you’re going!’ barked the third officer.

      Then there was that murdering chap. Faggis, she’d called him, hadn’t she? Where was Faggis now, and what new game was he up to?

      In order to obtain some clarity on this particularly vital question, Ben took his mind back to Hammersmith, and tried to piece together Faggis’s actions and motives. Perhaps if he could complete the first part of Faggis’s story, he might make something out of the second part …

      ‘Of course, if you want to step straight into a hole, it’ll be your funeral, not mine,’ said the third officer.

      Faggis had been working on his own. Right. Fell in with the girl, and got her to join forces with him. Right! And this Hammersmith affair had been their first job together. The girl had said so. Right. All clear so far.

      Why hadn’t Faggis continued to work alone? P’r’aps he had had his eye on the old miser’s crib but required a partner to help him crack it. P’r’aps he needed someone small, like this girl, to shinny up a water-pipe, and then slip in through a window. P’r’aps he was tired of his own company, and liked the girl’s face. Anyway, into the house they get, and start collecting. Find plenty of new money. (The chap at the coffee-stall, who had left in a hurry, had paid in new money.) Then the old miser comes down, the girl does a bunk into the garden, Faggis attacks the old man, and kills him. Didn’t mean to kill him. But kills him. And, once you’ve started killing, you ain’t too pertickler if you have to go on …

      ‘Turn to the right, man, unless you want to get your face scorched off!’

      Faggis rushes out into the garden. The girl scoots. Faggis follows. She gives him the slip, runs back to the house for a quick squint—plucky, that was!—and then off she goes again, with Faggis after her.

      P’r’aps Faggis never let her out of his sight at all. That might be. Anyhow, he must have stuck pretty close, and he gave her a scare when she came barging round that corner, and bumped into Ben. Then Faggis probably lost sight of her till he picked her up again near the coffee-stall. That was why he slipped away from the coffee-stall so quickly. And after that, one by one, all three of them—the girl, Faggis, and Ben went into dockland through that open gate!

      The girl got into the ship. Either to escape from Faggis, or from the police, or from both. By this time, she’d probably decided not to tell the police, but to concentrate on her own get-away. Her mind would be in a terrible tangle.

      Yes, but something happened to Faggis before he got into the ship!

      Ben’s mind grew dark, and he shuddered, for now he was dealing with the evidence of his own eyes, and not with mere theory. In spite of the unpleasantness of the business, however, he grappled with it, and tried to complete the story. He realised that his future actions, and possibly his future fate, might depend upon the extent of his knowledge.

      Now, then! Get on with it! Girl in the ship. Faggis, not yet. Ben, asleep against a post. What happens?

      Faggis wants to get into the ship, if he knows the girl has got in. If he doesn’t know, then he’s still poking around for her. Along comes a man.

      ‘Who

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