The Lodger - Marie Belloc Lowndes (story books for 5 year olds txt) š
- Author: Marie Belloc Lowndes
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āThe culprit, according to my point of view, is a quiet, pleasant-looking gentleman who lives somewhere in the West End of London. He has, however, a tragedy in his past life. He is the husband of a dipsomaniac wife. She is, of course, under care, and is never mentioned in the house where he lives, maybe with his widowed mother and perhaps a maiden sister. They notice that he has become gloomy and brooding of late, but he lives his usual life, occupying himself each day with some harmless hobby. On foggy nights, once the quiet household is plunged in sleep, he creeps out of the house, maybe between one and two oāclock, and swiftly makes his way straight to what has become The Avengerās murder area. Picking out a likely victim, he approaches her with Judas-like gentleness, and having committed his awful crime, goes quietly home again. After a good bath and breakfast, he turns up happy, once more the quiet individual who is an excellent son, a kind brother, esteemed and even beloved by a large circle of friends and acquaintances. Meantime, the police are searching about the scene of the tragedy for what they regard as the usual type of criminal lunatic.
āI give this theory, Sir, for what it is worth, but I confess that I am amazed the police have so wholly confined their inquiries to the part of London where these murders have been actually committed. I am quite sure from all that has come outāand we must remember that full information is never given to the newspapersāThe Avenger should be sought for in the West and not in the East End of London āBelieve me to remain, Sir, yours very trulyāā
Again Daisy hesitated, and then with an effort she brought out the word āGab-o-ri-you,ā said she.
āWhat a funny name!ā said Bunting wonderingly.
And then Joe broke in: āThatās the name of a French chap what wrote detective stories,ā he said. āPretty good, some of them are, too!ā
āThen this Gaboriyou has come over to study these Avenger murders, I take it?ā said Bunting.
āOh, no,ā Joe spoke with confidence. āWhoeverās written that silly letter just signed that name for fun.ā
āIt is a silly letter,ā Mrs. Bunting had broken in resentfully. āI wonder a respectable paper prints such rubbish.ā
āFancy if The Avenger did turn out to be a gentleman!ā cried Daisy, in an awe-struck voice. āThereād be a how-to-do!ā
āThere may be something in the notion,ā said her father thoughtfully. āAfter all, the monster must be somewhere. This very minute he must be somewhere a-hiding of himself.ā
āOf course heās somewhere,ā said Mrs. Bunting scornfully.
She had just heard Mr. Sleuth moving overhead. āTwould soon be time for the lodgerās supper.
She hurried on: āBut what I do say is thatāthatāhe has nothing to do with the West End. Why, they say itās a sailor from the Docks āthatās a good bit more likely, I take it. But there, Iām fair sick of the whole subject! We talk of nothing else in this house. The Avenger thisāThe Avenger thatāā
āI expect Joe has something to tell us new tonight,ā said Bunting cheerfully. āWell, Joe, is there anything new?ā
āI say, father, just listen to this!ā Daisy broke in excitedly. She read out:
āBLOODHOUNDS TO BE SERIOUSLY CONSIDEREDā
āBloodhounds?ā repeated Mrs. Bunting, and there was terror in her tone. āWhy bloodhounds? That do seem to me a most horrible idea!ā
Bunting looked across at her, mildly astonished. āWhy, ātwould be a very good idea, if ātwas possible to have bloodhounds in a town. But, there, how can that be done in London, full of butchersā shops, to say nothing of slaughter-yards and other places oā that sort?ā
But Daisy went on, and to her stepmotherās shrinking ear there seemed a horrible thrill of delight; of gloating pleasure, in her fresh young voice.
āHark to this,ā she said:
āA man who had committed a murder in a lonely wood near Blackburn was traced by the help of a bloodhound, and thanks to the sagacious instincts of the animal, the miscreant was finally convicted and hanged.ā
āLa, now! Whoād ever have thought of such a thing?ā Bunting exclaimed, in admiration. āThe newspapers do have some useful hints in sometimes, Joe.ā
But young Chandler shook his head. āBloodhounds aināt no use,ā he said; āno use at all! If the Yard was to listen to all the suggestions that the last few days have brought ināwell, all I can say is our work would be cut out for usānot but what itās cut out for us now, if it comes to that!ā He sighed ruefully. He was beginning to feel very tired; if only he could stay in this pleasant, cosy room listening to Daisy Bunting reading on and on for ever, instead of having to go out, as he would presently have to do, into the cold and foggy night!
Joe Chandler was fast becoming very sick of his new job. There was a lot of unpleasantness attached to the business, too. Why, even in the house where he lived, and in the little cook-shop where he habitually took his meals, the people round him had taken to taunt him with the remissness of the police. More than that one of his pals, a man heād always looked up to, because the young fellow had the gift of the gab, had actually been among those who had spoken at the big demonstration in Victoria Park, making a violent speech, not only against the Commissioner of the Metropolitan Police, but also against the Home Secretary.
But Daisy, like most people who believe themselves blessed with the possession of an accomplishment, had no mind to leave off reading just yet.
āHereās another notion!ā she exclaimed. āAnother letter, father!ā
āPARDON TO ACCOMPLICES.
āDEAR SirāDuring the last day or two several of the more Intelligent of my acquaintances have suggested that The Avenger, whoever he may be, must be known to a certain number of persons. It is impossible that the perpetrator of such deeds, however nomad he may be in his habitsāā
āNow I wonder what ānomadā can be?ā Daisy interrupted herself, and looked round at her little audience.
āIāve always declared the fellow had all his senses about him,ā observed Bunting confidently.
Daisy went on, quite satisfied:
āāhowever nomad he may be in his habit; must have some habitat where his ways are known to at least one person. Now the person who knows the terrible secret is evidently withholding information in expectation of a reward, or maybe because, being an accessory after the fact, he or she is now afraid of the consequences. My suggestion, Sir, is that the Home Secretary promise a free pardon. The more so that only thus can this miscreant be brought to justice. Unless he was caught red-handed in the act, it will be exceedingly difficult to trace the crime committed to any individual, for English law looks very askance at circumstantial evidence.ā
āThereās something worth listening to in that letter,ā said Joe, leaning forward.
Now he was almost touching Daisy, and he smiled involuntarily as she turned her gay, pretty little face the better to hear what he was saying.
āYes, Mr. Chandler?ā she said interrogatively.
āWell, dāyou remember that fellow what killed an old gentleman in a railway carriage? He took refuge with someoneāa woman his mother had known, and she kept him hidden for quite a long time. But at last she gave him up, and she got a big reward, too!ā
āI donāt think Iād like to give anybody up for a reward,ā said Bunting, in his slow, dogmatic way.
āOh, yes, you would, Mr. Bunting,ā said Chandler confidently. āYouād only be doing what itās the plain duty of everyoneāeveryone, that is, whoās a good citizen. And youād be getting something for doing it, which is more than most people gets as does their duty.ā
āA man as gives up someone for a reward is no better than a common informer,ā went on Bunting obstinately. āAnd no man āud care to be called that! Itās different for you, Joe,ā he added hastily. āItās your job to catch those whoāve done anything wrong. And a manād be a fool whoād take refugeālike with you. Heād be walking into the lionās mouthāā Bunting laughed.
And then Daisy broke in coquettishly: āIf Iād done anything I wouldnāt mind going for help to Mr. Chandler,ā she said.
And Joe, with eyes kindling, cried, āNo. And if you did you neednāt be afraid Iād give you up, Miss Daisy!ā
And then, to their amazement, there suddenly broke from Mrs. Bunting, sitting with bowed head over the table, an exclamation of impatience and anger, and, it seemed to those listening, of pain.
āWhy, Ellen, donāt you feel well?ā asked Bunting quickly.
āJust a spasm, a sharp stitch in my side, like,ā answered the poor woman heavily. āItās over now. Donāt mind me.ā
āBut I donāt believeāno, that I donātāthat thereās anybody in the world who knows who The Avenger is,ā went on Chandler quickly. āIt stands to reason that anybodyād give him upāin their own interest, if not in anyone elseās. Whoād shelter such a creature? Why, ātwould be dangerous to have him in the house along with one!ā
āThen itās your idea that heās not responsible for the wicked things he does?ā Mrs. Bunting raised her head, and looked over at Chandler with eager, anxious eyes.
āIād be sorry to think he wasnāt responsible enough to hang!ā said Chandler deliberately. āAfter all the trouble heās been giving us, too!ā
āHangingād be too good for that chap,ā said Bunting.
āNot if heās not responsible,ā said his wife sharply. āI never heard of anything so cruelāthat I never did! If the manās a madman, he ought to be in an asylumāthatās where he ought to be.ā
āHark to her now!ā Bunting looked at his Ellen with amusement. āContrary isnāt the word for her! But there, Iāve noticed the last few days that she seemed to be taking that monsterās part. Thatās what comes of being a born total abstainer.ā
Mrs. Bunting had got up from her chair. āWhat nonsense you do talk!ā she said angrily. āNot but what itās a good thing if these murders have emptied the public-houses of women for a bit. Englandās drink is Englandās shameāIāll never depart from that! Now, Daisy, child, get up, do! Put down that paper. Weāve heard quite enough. You can be laying the cloth while I goes down the kitchen.ā
āYes, you mustnāt be forgetting the lodgerās supper,ā called out Bunting. āMr. Sleuth donāt always ringāā he turned to Chandler. āFor one thing, heās often out about this time.ā
āNot oftenājust now and again, when he wants to buy something,ā snapped out Mrs. Bunting. āBut I hadnāt forgot his supper. He never do want it before eight oāclock.ā
āLet me take up the lodgerās supper, Ellen,ā Daisyās eager voice broke in. She had got up in obedience to her stepmother, and was now laying the cloth.
āCertainly not! I told you he only wanted me to wait on him. You have your work cut out looking after things down hereāthatās where I wants you to help me.ā
Chandler also got up. Somehow he didnāt like to be doing nothing while Daisy was so busy. āYes,ā he said, looking across at Mrs. Bunting, āIād forgotten about your lodger. Going on all right, eh?ā
āNever knew so quiet and well-behaved a gentleman,ā said Bunting. āHe turned our luck, did Mr. Sleuth.ā
His wife left the room, and after she had gone Daisy laughed. āYouāll hardly believe it, Mr. Chandler, but Iāve never seen this wonderful lodger. Ellen keeps him to herself, that she does! If
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