It was still early in the morning, and he had no expectation of seeing Mr. Babbacombe, with whose matutinal habits he was familiar; but when he arrived at the Blue Boar he found the landlord and his wife, the boots, and a flustered chambermaid all anxiously engaged in assembling on several trays a breakfast which it was hoped would not be thought unworthy of the most distinguished traveller the inn had ever housed. Until this Lucullan repast had been conveyed to Mr. Babbacombe’s bedchamber no one had more than a distracted nod to bestow upon John, so he left the back premises for the tap, and, finding this empty, penetrated to the small coffee-room. Here he was more fortunate. Seated in solitary state at the head of the table, and partaking of a meal which bore all the signs of having been hastily prepared and served, was Mr. Stogumber. He was looking far from well, and when he was obliged to use his left arm he did so stiffly, and as though it pained him. At sight of John his furrowed brow cleared a little, and he seemed pleased, bidding him an affable good-morning.
“You see I ain’t stuck my spoon in the wall yet, big ’un!” he remarked, adding, with a darkling glance at the muddy coffee in his cup: “Not but what I very likely will, if that out and-outer upstairs means to stay here much longer! They tell me he’s a friend of the Squire’s, but not putting up at the Manor on account of the Squire’s being so poorly. I don’t know how that may be, but what I do know is that there ain’t a soul in this ken as can think of anything else but what he’d fancy for his breakfast, or who’s to ride to Tideswell for special blacking for his boots. It’s took me the best part of an hour to get the Admiral of the Blue out there to let me have anything young Top-of-the-Trees don’t happen to want for my breakfast!”
“A swell cove, eh?” grinned John.
“Ah! Of course, you wouldn’t know him, would you, big ’un?”
John laughed. “On the contrary! I know him well.”
“Well, now!” said Mr. Stogumber, surprised and gratified. “I disremember that you’ve ever been so nice and open afore. If it ain’t too much to ask, who might he be?”
“Not in the least: there’s no secret about that! His name Is Wilfred Babbacombe, and he is a son of Lord Allerthorpe. In London, he lives In chambers, in Albany; at this season he may be found at Edenhope, near Melton Mowbray.”
“Fancy that!” marvelled Stogumber. “Friend of yours, big ’un?”
“A close friend of mine.”
Mr. Stogumber, after surveying him with an unblinking stare, pushed his coffee-cup away, and said: “And you a trooper!”
John shook his head. “No. I was a Captain in the 3rd Dragoon Guards.”
“I know that,” replied Stogumber placidly. “And you lives at Mildenhurst, in Hertfordshire. What I would like to know is why you’ve took it into your noddle all on a sudden to give over trying to flam me?”
“You know that too. I saw your Occurrence Book the other evening.”
“I suspicioned you did,” said Stogumber, quite unperturbed. “I don’t deny it had me in a bit of a quirk at the time, but that was afore I’d had a report on you. I did think it might be a longish time before they’d be able, in London, to discover who you was, if they could do it at all, but since you was so obliging as to tell me your true monarch, and the very regiment you was in, it seems there wasn’t no trouble about it.”
“Lord, has Bow Street being asking questions about me at the Horse Guards? I shall never hear the end of it!”
“I don’t know about that, but by what I can make out nothing you done wouldn’t surprise the gentleman which supplied the information,” said Stogumber dryly. “But, Capting Staple, I’d take it very kind in you if you was to explain to me why, since it seems you’ve took to gatekeeping by way of knocking up a lark, you was so careful not to let me think as you’d seen my Occurrence Book t’other night?”
“You’re fair and far off,” John replied. “I didn’t turn myself into a gatekeeper for any such reason. Nor did I know, when I saw your book, what had brought you here.”
The unblinking stare was once more bent upon him. “Oh! And do you now—if I ain’t taking a liberty?”
“Yes, I know now, which is why I’ve come to see you. You are trying to find a certain consignment of currency, which was stolen about three weeks ago at the Wansbeck ford.”
“How might you have discovered that?” demanded Stogumber, his stare hardening.
“Partly through you, partly through the man to whom you owe your life. You asked me once if I knew the Wansbeck ford. I didn’t, but when I mentioned it to—Jerry—he told me what had happened there. He reads the newspapers; I don’t. No, he had nothing to do with the robbery: in fact, his ambition is to leave his present calling, and settle down to pound dealing and married life.”
“It is, is it? P’raps he knew where the baggage was hid?”
“He didn’t know, but he knows this district,” said John significantly.
Stogumber half started up from his chair, and sank back again, wincing a little. “Are you telling me that bridle-cull has boned the fence?” he gasped.
“If you mean, has he discovered where the treasure is hidden, yes. He tells me it is where no one would ever find it who did not know this district very well.”
Mr. Stogumber breathed heavily.
“However,” continued John, sternly repressing a twitching lip, “the knowledge is perfectly safe with him. He seems to think that this currency is far too dangerous to be touched.” He watched the effect of this pronouncement, and was satisfied. “What he is anxious to do is to reveal its whereabouts to the proper authorities.”
“Tell him,” said Mr. Stogumber earnestly, “that there’s a fat reward for the cove as does that!”
“He knows it. But what he doesn’t know is how safe it may be for a bridle-cull to meddle in such matters.”
“Who’s to say as he’s a bridle-cull?” demanded Stogumber.
“He never gave me no reason to think he was! Come to think of it, I’d say he weren’t, because he never took nothing off me, and he might have, easy!” He added, after a pause for thought: “Besides which, bridle-culls ain’t none of my business. I’m a Conductor—sent on this task special!”
“Where’s your patrol?” asked John, surprised.
“That’s my business, Capting. Don’t you fret: I can summon my patrol fast enough, even though I don’t see fit to have ’em taking up their quarters in this here village so as everyone can wonder how there come to be so many strangers suddenly wishful to visit Crowford!” said Mr. Stogumber, with asperity.
“Well, you won’t need them,” said John cheerfully. “I am going to be your patrol.”
“Thanking you kindly, sir, I don’t know as I need trouble you.”
“But I do. Without me, Stogumber, you won’t find the treasure, or lay your hands on the man who stole it—and I fancy you wish to do that. Of course, if I’m mistaken, and you’re content to recover the currency, I’ll tell Jerry to disclose his information to you with no more ado. But if you want the thief as well, then you must leave it to me to bring you to him.”
“Ho! And p’raps, Capting Staple, sir, I know already who stole it!”
“I should think, undoubtedly you must have at least a strong suspicion,” agreed John. “And I am quite certain that you have no proof, and no possibility of finding proof, unless I take a hand. Would you consider it proof enough if you found the thief and the treasure together?”
“I don’t ask no more!” said Stogumber, fixedly regarding him.
“Then nurse that shoulder of yours until you hear from me again,” said John. “Let it be known that you are a great deal weaker than you are, and in no case to stir out of doors. It would be an excellent notion if you were to put your arm in a sling. You have been recognized: if you are thought to have been too badly hurt to be dangerous, my task will be the easier. I believe I may be able to deliver your man into your hands, but you must let me go to work in my own way. I shan’t keep you waiting for long, I hope.”