Red Money - Fergus Hume (warren buffett book recommendations TXT) 📗

Chapter 14 (Miss Greeby, Detective) Pg 129

Fists Came Into Play,  While The Gypsies Gathered Round The Tent Of The

Old Woman And Listened To The Duet Between Her And The Younger Aspirant

To This Throne Of Brentford. Miss Greeby,  With Crossed Legs And Leaning

On Her Bludgeon,  Listened To The Voluble Speech Of Mother Cockleshell,

Which Was Occasionally Interrupted By Chaldea. The Oration Was Delivered

In Romany,  And Miss Greeby Only Understood Such Scraps Of It As Was

Hastily Translated To Her By A Wild-Eyed Girl To Whom She Had Given A

Shilling. Gentilla,  Less Like A Sober Pew-Opener,  And More Resembling

The Hecate Of Some Witch-Gathering,  Screamed Objurgations At The Pitch

Of Her Crocked Voice,  And Waved Her Skinny Arms To Emphasize Her Words,

In A Most Dramatic Fashion.

 

"Oh,  Ye Romans," She Screeched Vehemently,  "Are Ye Not Fools To Be

Gulled By A Babe With Her Mother's Milk--And Curses That It Fed

Her--Scarcely Dry On Her Living Lips? Who Am I Who Speak,  Asses Of The

Common? Gentilla Stanley,  Whose Father Was Pharaoh Before Her,  And Who

Can Call Up The Ghosts Of Dead Egyptian Kings,  With A Tent For A Palace,

And A Cudgel For A Sceptre,  And The Wisdom Of Our People At The Service

Of All."

 

"Things Have Changed," Cried Out Chaldea With A Mocking Laugh. "For Old

Wisdom Is Dead Leaves,  And I Am The Tree Which Puts Forth The Green Of

New Truths To Make The Gorgios Take Off Their Hats To The Romans."

 

"Oh,  Spawn Of The Old Devil,  But You Lie. Truth Is Truth And Changes

Not. Can You Read The Hand? Can You Cheat The Gentile? Do You Know The

Law Of The Poknees,  And Can You Diddle Them As Has Money? Says You,  'I

Can!' And In That You Lie,  Like Your Mother Before You. Bless Your

Wisdom"--Mother Cockleshell Made An Ironical Curtsey. "Age Must Bow

Before A Brat."

 

"Beauty Draws Money To The Romans,  And Wheedles The Gorgios To Part With

Red Gold. Wrinkles You Have,  Mother,  And Weak Wits To--"

 

"Weak Wits,  You Drab? My Weakest Wits Are Your Strongest. 'Wrinkles,'

Says You In Your Cunning Way,  And Flaunts Your Brazen Smoothness. I Spit

On You For A Fool." The Old Woman Suited Her Action To The Word. "Every

Wrinkle Is The Mark Of Lessons Learned,  And Them Is Wisdom Which The

Romans Take From My Mouth."

 

"Hear The Witchly Hag," Cried Chaldea In Her Turn. "She And Her Musty

Wisdom That Puts The Romans Under The Feet Of The Gentiles. Are Not

Three Of Our Brothers In Choky? Have We Not Been Turned Off Common And

Out Of Field? Isn't The Fire Low And The Pot Empty,  And Every Purse

Without Gold? Bad Luck She Has Brought Us," Snarled The Girl,  Pointing

An Accusing Finger. "And Bad Luck We Romans Will Have Till She Is Turned

From The Camp."

 

"Like A Dog You Would Send Me Away," Shrieked Mother Cockleshell,

Glancing Round And Seeing That Chaldea's Supporters Outnumbered Her Own.

"But I'm Dangerous,  And Go I Shall As A Queen Should,  At My Own Free

Will. I Cast A Shoe Amongst You,"--She Flung One Of Her Own,  Hastily

Snatched Off Her Foot--"And Curses Gather Round It. Under Its Heels

Shall You Lie,  Ye Romans,  Till Time Again And Time Once More Be

Chapter 14 (Miss Greeby, Detective) Pg 130

Accomplished. I Go On My Own," She Turned And Walked To The Door Of Her

Tent. "Alone I Go To Cheat The Gentiles And Win My Food. Take Your New

Queen,  And With Her Sorrow And Starvation,  Prison,  And The Kicks Of The

Gorgios. So It Is,  As I Have Said,  And So It Shall Be."

 

She Vanished Into The Tent,  And The Older Members Of The Tribe,  Shaking

Their Heads Over The Ill-Omen Of Her Concluding Words,  Withdrew

Sorrowfully To Their Various Habitations,  In Order To Discuss The

Situation. But The Young Men And Women Bowed Down Before Chaldea And

Forthwith Elected Her Their Ruler,  Fawning On Her,  Kissing Her Hands And

Invoking Blessings On Her Pretty Face,  That Face Which They Hoped And

Believed Would Bring Prosperity To Them. And There Was No Doubt That Of

Late,  Under Mother Cockleshell's Leadership,  The Tribe Had Been

Unfortunate In Many Ways. It Was For This Reason That Chaldea Had Raised

The Standard Of Rebellion,  And For This Reason Also She Gained Her

Triumph. To Celebrate Her Coronation She Gave Kara,  Who Hovered

Constantly At Her Elbow,  A Couple Of Sovereigns,  And Told Him To Buy

Food And Drink. In A High State Of Enjoyment The Gypsies Dispersed In

Order To Prepare For The Forthcoming Festivity,  And Chaldea,  Weary But

Victorious,  Stood Alone By The Steps Of The Caravan,  Which Was Her

Perambulating Home. Seizing Her Opportunity,  Miss Greeby Approached.

 

"My Congratulations To Your Majesty," She Said Ironically. "I'm Sorry

Not To Be Able To Stay For Your Coronation,  Which I Presume Takes Place

To-Night. But I Have To Go Back To London To See A Friend Of Yours."

 

"I Have No Friends,  My Gentile Lady," Retorted Chaldea,  With A Fiery

Spark In Each Eye. "And What Do You Here Amongst The Gentle Romany?"

 

"Gentle," Miss Greeby Chuckled,  "That's A New Word For The Row That's

Been Going On,  My Girl. Do You Know Me?"

 

"As I Know The Road And The Tent And The Art Of Dukkerhin. You Stay At

The Big House,  And You Love The Rye Who Lived In The Wood."

 

"Very Clever Of You To Guess That," Said Miss Greeby Coolly,  "But As It

Happens,  You Are Wrong. The Rye Is Not For Me And Not For You. He

Marries The Lady He Worships On His Knees. Forgive Me For Speaking In

This High-Flowing Manner," Ended Miss Greeby Apologetically,  "But In

Romantic Situations One Must Speak Romantic Words."

 

Chaldea Did Not Pay Attention To The Greater Part Of This Speech,  As

Only One Statement Appealed To Her. "The Rye Shall Not Marry The Gentile

Lady," She Said Between Her White Teeth.

 

"Oh,  I Think So,  Chaldea. Your Plotting Has All Been In Vain."

 

"My Plotting. What Do You Know Of That?"

 

"A Certain Portion,  My Girl,  And I'm Going To Know More When I See

Silver."

 

Chapter 14 (Miss Greeby, Detective) Pg 131

Chaldea Frowned Darkly. "I Know Nothing Of Him."

 

"I Think You Do,  Since You Gave Him A Certain Letter."

 

"Patchessa Tu Adove?" Asked Chaldea Scornfully; Then,  Seeing That Her

Visitor Did Not Understand Her,  Explained: "Do You Believe In That?"

 

"Yes," Said Miss Greeby Alertly. "You Found The Letter In Pine's Tent

When He Was Camping Here As Hearne,  And Passed It To Silver So That He

Might Ask Money For It."

 

"It's A Lie. I Swear It's A Lie. I Ask No Money. I Told The Tiny Rye--"

 

"Silver,  I Presume," Put In Miss Greeby Carelessly.

 

"Aye: Silver Is His Name,  And A Good One For Him As Has No Gold."

 

"He Will Get Gold From Lady Agnes For The Letter."

 

"No. Drodi--Ah Bah!" Broke Off Chaldea. "You Don't Understand Romanes. I

Speak The Gorgio Tongue To Such As You. Listen! I Found The Letter Which

Lured My Brother To His Death. The Rani Wrote That Letter,  And I Gave It

To The Tiny Rye,  Saying: 'Tell Her If She Gives Up The Big Rye Free She

Shall Go; If Not Take The Letter To Those Who Deal In The Law.'"

 

"The Police,  I Suppose You Mean," Said Miss Greeby Coolly. "A Very

Pretty Scheme,  My Good Girl. But It Won't Do,  You Know. Lady Agnes Never

Wrote That Letter,  And Had Nothing To Do With The Death Of Her Husband."

 

"She Set A Trap For Him," Cried Chaldea Fiercely,  "And Hearne Walked

Into It Like A Rabbit Into A Snare. The Big Rye Waited Outside And

Shot--"

 

"That's A Lie," Interrupted Miss Greeby Just As Fiercely,  And Determined

To Defend Her Friend. "He Would Not Do Such A Thing."

 

"Ha! But I Can Prove It,  And Will When The Time Is Ripe. He Becomes My

Rom Does The Big Rye,  Or Round His Neck Goes The Rope; And She Dances

Long-Side,  I Swear."

 

"What A Bloodthirsty Idea,  You Savage Devil! And How Do You Propose To

Prove That Mr. Lambert Shot The Man?"

 

"Aha," Sneered Chaldea Contemptuously,  "You Take Me For A Fool,

Saying More Than I Can Do. But Know This,  My Precious Angel"--She

Fumbled In Her Pocket And Brought Out A More Or Less Formless Piece

Of Lead--"What's This,  May I Ask? The Bullet Which Passed Through

Hearne's Heart,  And Buried Itself In A Tree-Trunk."

 

Miss Greeby Made A Snatch At The Article,  But Chaldea Was Too Quick For

Her And Slipped It Again Into Her Pocket. "You Can't Prove That It Is

The Bullet," Snapped Miss Greeby Glaring,  For She Dreaded Lest Its

Production Should Incriminate Lambert,  Innocent Though She Believed Him

Chapter 14 (Miss Greeby, Detective) Pg 132

To Be.

 

"Kara Can Prove It. He Went To Where Hearne Was Shot And Saw That There

Was A Big Tree By The Blue Door,  And Before The Shrubbery. A Shot Fired

From Behind The Bushes Would By Chance Strike The Tree. The Bullet Which

Killed My Brother Was Not Found In The Heart. It Passed Through And Was

In The Tree-Trunk. Kara Knifed It Out And Brought It To Me. If This,"

Chaldea Held Up The Bullet Again Jeeringly,  "Fits The Pistol Of The Big

Rye He Will Swing For Sure. The Letter Hangs Her And The Bullet Hangs

Him. I Want My Price."

 

"You Won't Get It,  Then," Said Miss Greeby,  Eyeing The Pocket Into

Which The Girl Had Again Dropped The Bullet. "Mr. Lambert Was Absent In

London On That Night. I Heard That By Chance."

 

"Then You Heard Wrong,  My Gentile Lady. Avali,  Quite Wrong. The Big Rye

Returned On That Very Night And Went To Lundra Again In The Morning."

 

"Even If He Did," Said Miss Greeby Desperately,  "He Did Not Leave The

Cottage. His Housekeeper Can Prove--"

 

"Nothing," Snapped Chaldea Triumphantly. "She Was In Her Bed And The

Golden Rye Was In His Bed. My Brother Was Killed After Midnight,  And If

The Rye Took A Walk Then,  Who Can Say Where He Was?"

 

"You Have To Prove All This,  You Know."

 

Chaldea