That I have quoted to you already, reader, yet what I have not told is that, having said his piece, he became, all of a sudden, most interested in something or someone just beyond the window. He stared. Then did he rub his chin and stare once again.
“By God,” said he aloud yet to himself, “I believe it’s her. I really do believe it’s her.”
Then did my own eyes turn most immediate to the crowd outside the window. “Where?” said I. “Which one? You mean Alice Plummer, don’t you?”
Yet Constable Patley was already on his feet and running out the door. I pursued him, hesitating just long enough to tell the serving woman to leave all upon the table, for we would be back.
But when?
SEVEN
I rushed out the inn expecting to find Mr. Patley in hot pursuit of Alice Plummer, yet found him just beyond the door, standing, looking about scratching his head. He’d been flummoxed, confused utterly by the great number of women he saw. They were all, it seemed, heading off in three or four different directions, but in general, most moved toward the race course, whence we had just come. Oh, there were men, as well, as many or more than the women. But just at that moment, since it was a woman we searched for, there seemed to be a superabundance of them about. I approached Mr. Patley warily, for he seemed at that moment to be reasoning out in which direction she might have gone. I stood beside him, hesitating. At last, feeling I could wait no longer, I spoke up.
“Constable Patley,” said I, “was it Alice Plummer you spied through the window?”
“What? Oh yes, indeed it was. I seen her a number of times round Seven Dials. I’m just sure it was her. And of course when she reported her little girl missing, too.”
“How was she dressed? What was she wearing?”
“Oh, I don’t know. I’ll have to think about that.” And that he proceeded to do, placing a hand over his eyes that he might better concentrate. “Truth of it is, I was looking at her face and not at her clothes, but it seems to me that her dress was a sort of dark red going into blue. Plum-colored, you might call it.”
“That’s a pretty rare color for a dress. Why don’t you go off in one way, and I’ll take another, and let’s see if we can’t find her.”
“But you don’t even know what she looks like,” he objected.
“That may be,” said I, “but I know what color her dress is. I’ll just stop every woman in a plum-colored dress and ask if her name is Alice Plummer. There couldn’t be too many in such a color.”
“I s’pose not.”
And so it was agreed. He would follow the crowd moving off toward the right, and I the column moving along to the left. We would mix all through and keep our eyes open for the dress of the right color. We would keep going in such a manner until we met at the place where we had viewed the horses out upon the track. If, after a few minutes’ wait, we failed to meet there, then we would go back the way we had come and meet again at the tap-room of the Good Queen Bess. We started upon our separate ways.
Like so many things in life, this plan, so simple in the telling, proved much more difficult in its execution. The chief problem lay in the number of individuals to be struggled through, around, and, ultimately, past. The inertia of the crowd resisted and dominated my every push and squeeze, so that I could finally do little more than find a place and move my feet along at the same rate as the rest. In this way, I reached the rail fence at approximately the same point that we had left earlier. There I waited, quite exhausted by my struggles against the multitude.
Needless to say, I saw no woman in a plum-colored dress.
Whilst resting against the fence, I became aware that, when I left it, I would have to struggle up the hill against the tide, which would be even more difficult. I decided to wait a bit longer for Constable Patley-at least as long as it took for the sweat to dry upon my brow.
I gave my attention to the horses out upon the course. They were still out there, learning the ups and downs, the jumps and full-out gallops. And of course the second-rank was there still, following at a respectful trot; and if anything, its number had grown.
Of the owners there was little more to say. They were yet standing, spy-glasses in hand; their number had also grown-or so it seemed. One of them looked quite familiar, a newcomer, I was sure. He was as well-dressed as any in that line of observers, but fat enough that he had wisely avoided the roof of his coach; if he had managed to climb up upon it, the weight of him might indeed have collapsed it. And so, he stood at the rail not much more than ten feet away. Who was he? I knew that I had seen him before my arrival at Newmarket. As I studied him, I even recalled the sound of his voice-a sort of whining drawl that perfectly matched his rude manner. Then I had it! He was the owner of Pegasus and the employer of Deuteronomy Plummer. I knew him not by name but by title-Lord Lamford he was, and a less likeable man I had never met. I looked round him and saw no sign of Mr. Deuteronomy about, and that was just as well, it seemed to me, for if he were, I’d feel obliged to speak to him, and that seemed wrong here and now.
Ah well, said I to myself, there’s naught for me to do but return to the Good Queen Bess and the tankard of flat ale which awaited me there. Taking one last look about for Mr. Patley and failing to see him, I plunged ahead into the great crowd and kept an eye open for any color that might be judged plum. Thus did I reach the inn at the top of the hill.
Entering the tap-room, I found the constable sitting where he had formerly sat, a new tankard of ale before him, and deep in talk with the serving woman. As I took my place at the table, he ended his conversation and asked for a fresh ale “for my young friend.” Then did he push the plate of bread and cheese toward me.
“I fear I’ve had more than my share,” said he. “We can order some more, if you want it.”
I could not but notice that Patley seemed far more rested and relaxed than I. How long could he have sat here talking with the serving woman? Could he really have made the same arduous journey that I had just made? Yet, just as I was searching for the right words with which to express my doubts to him, the serving woman returned with my dark ale. After I sweated the way to the race course and back, I confess, my thirst was so great that I quaffed off half the tankard in a few gulps. Then did I dig into the Stilton, slicing off a generous chunk and piling it upon the bread. That took some chewing, and as I chewed, I thought, and by the time I finished it, I had devised my approach.
“Mr. Patley,” said I, “you must have reached the rail fence round the race course long before I did-been there and gone. Sorry to have missed you, but I was wondering: did you happen to notice Lord Lamford there?”
“Uh, no, I can’t say as I did,” he replied uneasily.
“I was going to ask if you’d seen Mr. Deuteronomy with him. But of course, if you didn’t see Lord Lamford, then you couldn’t have seen Deuteronomy with him, now could you?”
“Well. . yes, that’s good thinking on your part, Jeremy.”
I gave him a look of a certain kind. I tucked in my chin and gave him a frown. I’d meant it to seem dubious, suspicious, and it must have, for it wrung from him this confession:
“I suppose I really ought to tell you, Jeremy, old friend, that I never really made it down as far as the rail fence.”
“Oh? And how did that come about, Mr. Patley?”