“Your job,” Telliford said. “Well, this time you’ll get well paid for your job, Mr. Ehrengraf. And your system is perfect for my case, let me tell you.”
“How do you mean?”
“If I’m found innocent, I’ll inherit all the money Robin inherited from her father. She made me her beneficiary. So I’ll be able to pay you whatever you ask — eighty thousand dollars or even more.”
“Eighty thousand will be satisfactory.”
“And I’ll pay it with pleasure. But if I’m found guilty — well, I won’t get a dime.”
“Because one cannot legally profit from a crime.”
“Right. So if you’ll take the case on your usual terms—”
“I work on no other terms,” Ehrengraf said. “And I would trust no one else with your case.” He took a deep breath and held it in his lungs for a moment before continuing. “Mr. Telliford,” he said, “your case is going to be a difficult one. You must appreciate that.”
“I do.”
“Of course I’ll do everything in my power on your behalf, acting always in your best interest. But you must recognize that the possibility exists that you will be convicted.”
“And for a crime I didn’t commit.”
“Such miscarriages of justice do occasionally come to pass. It’s tragic, I agree, but don’t despair. Even if you’re convicted, the appeal process is an exhaustive one. We can appeal your case again and again. You may have to serve some time in prison, Mr. Telliford, but there’s always hope. And you know what Lovelace had to say on the subject.”
“Lovelace?”
“Richard Lovelace. Born 1618, died 1658. To Althea from Prison, Mr. Telliford.
Telliford shuddered. “Stone walls and iron bars,” he said.
“Have faith, sir.”
“I’ll try.”
“At least you have your poetry. Are you sufficiently supplied with paper and pencil? I’ll make sure your needs are seen to.”
“Maybe it would help me to write some poetry. Maybe it would take my mind off things.”
“Perhaps it would. And I’ll devote myself wholeheartedly to your defense, sir, whether I ever see a penny for my troubles or not.” He drew himself up to his full height. “After all,” he said, “it’s my obligation. I could not love thee, dear, so much, loved I not Honour more.’ That’s also Lovelace, Mr. Telliford. To Lucasta, Going to the Wars.’ Good day, Mr. Telliford. You have nothing to worry about.”
Detectiverse
Worthy of His Hire by Horace Bull[8]
The Piper Caper
by William Bankier[9]
Meet one of the earliest “investigators of mysterious events, usually of a criminal nature”... a charming story — and if we say another word, your pleasure will be diluted...
In Hamelin Town, in Brunswick, by famous Hanover City, on the banks of the river Weser, it was another grim day at City Hall. The Mayor and the Corporation were sitting around in their ceremonial robes looking and feeling guilty, and rightly so.
“I blame you,” one of the Corporation said to the Mayor. “All he wanted was one thousand guilders to get rid of the rats. So we make a deal, he delivers, and then you try to offer him fifty.”
“Easy to be wise after the fact,” the Mayor said. “But I had to consider the safety of this administration. If we’d given that long tall drink of water the thousand, there’d have been nothing left in the kitty to meet the town payroll. So we’d have our semi-annual outcry, then in come the auditors after which you and I, gentlemen, would have to find new jobs.”
Nobody had an answer to this, so silence came in through the open windows and filled the chamber. It was a heavy silence in Hamelin these days with the kids all gone. The Mayor tongued his back teeth for a while and then said, “I admit we’re in deep trouble. Remember when the people came in a body to see us after the rats got out of hand? Remember what they said to us?”
One of the Corporation closed his eyes and intoned, “To think we buy gowns lined with ermine for dolts that can’t or won’t determine what’s best to rid us of our vermin.”
“Right,” the Mayor said. “So you can imagine how poetic they’ll be when we run for re-election.”
They were thinking of adjourning the meeting in despair when they heard a sound of footsteps in the hall followed by a sharp rap at the chamber door. The Corporation shaped themselves up into a circle of reasonably alert figures around the table and the Mayor said, “Come in!”
The man who opened the door and entered the room was bent almost double and walked with the aid of a stick. His eyes were heavy-lidded and his cheeks and chin were covered with an unkempt gray beard. The Corporation detested him on sight because he was a walking advertisement for the only future they could anticipate.
“Yes, what is it?”
“Mr. Mayor,” the old man said, “I have heard of the calamity that has overtaken your town. And I have come to bail you out. For a price.”
“What are you talking about? Who are you?”
“I am an investigator of mysterious events, usually of a criminal nature. I sell my services to individuals and to groups for a fee. In effect, you may hire my eyes — privately.”
“Never heard of such a thing. We have a sheriff who deals with crime.”
“I am the only one in my profession at this time,” the stranger said. “Some day I expect there will be many.”
A Corporation member said, “You claim you can help us? How?”
“By solving the mystery of this fellow who calls himself the Pied Piper.”
“What mystery? It’s all perfectly clear. He came and played the flute and all the rats followed him and drowned in the river. Then he led the children away and into a cavern that opened in the side of Koppelberg Hill.”
“I know all that,” the old man said. He squinted at the Mayor. “By the way, I shall require payment in advance.”
“Payment? How much, and what for? My colleague is right. There is no mystery to be solved; the Piper did what he did.”
“My fee is ten guilders a day, plus expenses.” He held out a cupped hand at the end of a remarkably long arm.
“It’s little enough,” the Mayor said, and the Treasurer took ten guilders from petty cash.
With the money in his purse, the stranger said, “You say this Piper did what he did. But did he? I find the whole story unbelievable and I would say, gentlemen, that you have been conned.”
“Conned?”
“Had a confidence trick played on you. Been fooled, duped, gulled. I mean a man walks along your High Street playing a piccolo or whatever and gets a lot of wild rats to follow him? And then he does the same thing and all the children come storming out and march after him into the side of a mountain? I don’t believe a word of it.”