The Barker's Dozen - Reminiscences of an Early Police Dog (40 page)

‘My saucer! My milk! My fire!’

  ‘I had treated the woman and her children several years earlier when they had been very ill with one of the local diseases. The youngest child especially was very close to death when I intervened but within a few days all of the family were well on the road to recovery. I do not claim to have any great medical knowledge but I realised that with the mother’s illness, the family was not eating or drinking and they were in danger of dying from a minor ailment that anyone in good health would just ignore.

‘I tried to get one of the local women to nurse the family but they refused to help. I asked why and was told that the woman was not only of very low caste but was also unworthy as her husband had left her. As no one else would help, I took on the job of nursing the family myself and, as I said, they all recovered.

‘The woman asked me why I, a Sahib, was prepared to nurse her family and I explained to her about Christianity and told her that to Our Saviour the poor and meek are of equal worth to the most exalted. She listened well and soon after her family had recovered, they asked me to baptise them. I then arranged for her to be given a job at a larger mission station some twenty miles to the North, where there was a school for native children.

‘I was slightly surprised when she turned up at my bungalow and concluded that she had come for my help. I greeted her and asked her how I could be of service. She stunned me by saying that she had found a sick baby angel and it needed my help. With that, she thrust a bundle she was carrying into my hands and then hastened from the room.

‘I opened the bundle and saw what I first took to be a kitten. Its colouring reminded me of one of the local spotted jungle cats and I was smiling over the woman’s description when the little thing moved weakly and I saw its wings. As its eyes were fully open, I took the risk that it had been properly weaned and started to feed it on small scraps of bacon.

‘The kitten was suffering badly from an infestation of ticks that had caused it to become very malnourished. I gradually built her up and was both surprised and gratified when she stayed with me rather than returning to the wild. We were very happy together although the locals were in two minds, half of them believed that she was my guardian angel while the others called her a demon and shunned me.

‘I had told my society that my health was failing and they advised me to return to England and retire. They told me that I could still be of great service to them if I lectured and wrote about the missions when I returned home. With some regrets I agreed to return and the society arranged my passage.

‘A week before I was due to leave my mission I heard the sound of hooves outside my bungalow. I looked out of the window and saw a cavalry officer dismounting from his horse and walking up to the house. This proved, of course, to be your brother who, having been told of my imminent departure by one of my fellows, had ridden out to see if I needed any help.

‘While he was talking to me, Tiger Moth flew into the house and landed on my shoulder. The colonel was enchanted and warmly congratulated me on my unusual pet. He asked how I was going to take her back to England and I told him that she would travel in my cabin and on still days I would let her exercise on the deck.

‘The colonel sighed deeply and then spoke to me as if I were a naïve youngster rather than a man many years his senior. As I listened, it occurred to me that I am rather unworldly in certain ways and that I should heed the advice of this good man. Your brother explained that quite a few people would view Tiger Moth not as my pet but as a way to become rich. If I was not careful she would be stolen and either displayed in a circus or sold secretly to a collector of the strange.

‘I was aghast and asked him if there was anything I could do to safeguard her. He told me to carry her in an enclosed bag that people could not see into and when I was on the ship to bind a bandage round her as if she was recovering from some injury.

‘We travelled home like that and I thought that I had managed to carry it off perfectly. Unfortunately, just before we docked one of the cabin stewards, a weasel like man called Williamson, entered my cabin and tried to buy Tiger Moth for ten shillings. Apparently he had chanced upon my cat while he was straightening my cabin one morning while I was breaking my fast. When I refused he left my cabin muttering nastily that I would regret rejecting his generosity.

‘I was in a panic as I left the ship but fortunately the Dowager Countess Hezenbury, seeing that no one had come to meet me, offered me a lift up to Town in her carriage and had her footman arrange for my baggage to be sent to my hotel.

‘I arrived in
London about seven thirty yesterday and once I had booked into the hotel I wrote a short note to the missionary society to tell them that I had arrived. I then had an early supper and went to bed. I did not have a peaceful night and it took me some time to realise that I no longer enjoy great crowds of people. I resolved to ask the missionary society if I could retire in the country, close enough to town to attend their meetings but somewhere quietly rural.

‘This morning when I went down early to breakfast I was handed a reply to my note of the evening before. The missionary society asked if I would mind attending at their offices at
eleven o’clock where a Mr Scrivener would be delighted to see me.

‘Just before I left for my meeting the manager knocked on my door and told me that he had some bad news for me. My baggage had just arrived by carrier and it was obvious that all the locks had been broken. The carter had a letter from the ship’s captain that said that as the damage appeared to have been done before the bags left the ship the company would refund any loses that I had occurred. The manager thought it was simple theft but I was not so certain. Whatever the truth of the matter, it occurred to me that I should make arrangements to leave the hotel as soon as possible.

‘I went to my meeting with Mr Scrivener and received my second unpleasant shock of the day. The society, I was told, had rented a room for me in Brighton, where the sea air would do my health good. I told Mr Scrivener that I wanted to live in the country but he rudely interrupted me and said that if I did not take the offered room then I could not expect any help.

‘As Mr Scrivener spoke I looked at him and then around his office. The man himself was expensively dressed but without any innate good breeding; the office was ostentatiously well furnished and spoke more of deep coffers than good taste. It was apparent that while better men and women went out into the world and lived in abominable conditions while using every penny they could raise for the betterment of their charges, men like Mr Scrivener waxed fat on the society’s money. I stood abruptly and bidding him good day and told him that while I regretted none of my service in
India I would rather not have any further dealings with the society.

‘If Mr Scrivener had been rather more polite I would have told him that I am not without my own resources and all I wanted was their help in finding a suitable property for me to purchase. Several years ago, my sister and her husband died and I was the only beneficiary. Wisely knowing that I would have given my inheritance to the society my sister had willed that it should be put into trust until I retired. I received regular statements and was aware that I could afford the seclusion that I now craved.

‘I went to see the solicitor and was very gratified by my reception. Once I had proved my identity to their satisfaction, they could not have been more cooperative and I left their office confident in my future and with sufficient money for my immediate needs thanks to a generous advance.

‘The solicitor had recommended a property agency and had kindly written a letter of introduction. I decided to put off seeing them until tomorrow and instead purchased some food and took a train to Clapham Common. Once clear of the houses I soon found a secluded stand of woodland where I could sit and think while Tiger Moth enjoyed herself among the trees.

‘I returned in good heart to my hotel, just as it started raining, only to be met by the manager who was in a state of some agitation. While I had been out my room had been broken into although nothing appeared to have been disturbed. I asked if they had reported the matter to the police. The manager said that just as he was about to do so a Police Inspector called Thompson had called at the hotel to see me and on being told of the break in had reassured the manager that it would be taken care of. The manager then told me that the officer had promised to return at seven o’clock to speak to me.

‘I was rather surprised that any police officer would want to see me but concluded that either the ship or the hotel had reported the attempt on my baggage. I found that I did not want to go up to my room alone and seeing that it lacked but ten minutes to the time of my appointment decided to wait in the lounge until the Inspector arrived.

‘I was reading the evening paper when I heard a familiar voice ask for me. Quickly I glanced round the paper and saw the steward Williamson standing by the reception desk. The manager called him “Inspector Thompson” and after a brief conversation, the false policeman left the desk and walked purposefully towards the stairs.

‘There was no time to lose. Picking up Tiger Moth’s bag, I stood and walked briskly through past the reception desk and out into the street. I heard the Manager call out after me but kept walking. Unfortunately, the steward must have heard the Manager as well because he raced through the doors and rushed up behind me.

‘I had barely turned the first corner when the villain knocked into me, obviously trying to throw me off balance and onto the wet pavement but I managed to put my right arm through some railings and hung on to my bag with both hands, shouting as I did so.

‘On seeing my predicament, a passing cab driver reined in and leapt from his vehicle to succour me. Seeing that I had help, the steward suddenly punched me hard in the side while desperately trying to wrench the bag from my fingers. Then realising that I would not release my grip Williamson suddenly took to his heels. My rescuer helped me into the cab and I gave your address.

‘The rest you know,’ the elderly man sighed as he finished his story.

‘That was an interesting tale,’ my master remarked. ‘There are several details that I would like to clarify but we can deal with them tomorrow morning. Now I think you would benefit from a good warm meal.’

‘Very good sir,’ Cook said obviously pleased by my master’s decision. ‘I’ll ask Short to prepare a fire in the guest room while I start cooking.’

My master stood, obviously about to suggest to our guest that they went back upstairs, when the tradesman’s bell rang and there was a knock on the area door. Tiger Moth, startled by the noise, sprang from her pet’s shoulder and once more sought sanctuary among the vases on top of the dresser.

The Cook walked over to the door and opened it letting the cold wet air into the kitchen. A man wearing a dark raincoat with his hat low over his eyes pushed past her and into the room. I saw the Reverend Bullock react with alarm and allowed myself to tense.

‘Good evening, my name is Inspector Thompson of Scotland Yard, and I am on the trail of a determined and despicable fraudster,’ the stranger said with an insincere friendliness. Suddenly he pointed at our guest. ‘I was going to ask if you had seen the man but I perceive that he is in this very room.’

Cook was about to say something when my master made a quick shushing motion. He walked round the table and approached our visitor.

‘Welcome, Inspector,’ my master greeted him. ‘I was just about to send my man out to find a policeman and you fortuitously arrive. You say that this reverend gentleman is a fraud. What has he done and how did he come to be injured?’

‘He was arrested earlier this evening by Constable Smith, who apprehended him trying to sell, of all things, a winged cat in one of the local public houses,’ our unwanted guest sounded quite believable. ‘When the constable took out his whistle to summon assistance the villain drew a knife and it is only through extreme good luck that Smith was able to turn the knife back on his attacker. Unfortunately, the constable was hurt and this miscreant escaped. I have been making enquiries at all the houses in attempt to find him.’

‘A flying cat!’ my master exclaimed, slightly overdoing the wide-eyed enthusiasm in my opinion. Our unwanted guest, however, did not notice the overacting or Short circling around behind him.