Suspicion Aroused - ebook

1. SPOILING THEIR GAME

ONE autumn evening I was waiting on the railway platform at Edinburgh for the train to London, having about a quarter of an hour to spare, and, in accordance with my wont, I was deeply interested in the many different types of my fellowmen who constantly passed and repassed before me. I don’t know of any place where the leading characteristics of individuals display themselves so prominently as they do at a railway station. It is a place where less politeness and more selfishness is shown than anywhere else. I was particularly amused with a lady of uncertain age, and of the gorilla order of beauty, who, surrounded by many parcels, bundles, an wraps, had button-holed a porter, who, in view of the probable “tip,” was exercising his patience as best he could.

“Is this the London train, porter?” asked the lady.

“Yes, mum.”

“When does it start?”

“In ten minutes, mum.”

“From here?”

“Yes.”

“Will you get me a seat?”

“What class, mum?”

“Third, of course.”

Here the porter began to gather up her many packages when she exclaimed–

“Oh, porter, don’t handle those things as if they were sacks of coal; and, look here, be sure you don’t let that brown paper parcel fall, because there is something in it that will break.”

The porter made no response, but opened the door of a third class compartment, when the lady inquired–

“Is this a third class?”

“Yes, mum.”

“It’s not smoking, I hope?”

“No, mum.”

“You are quite sure it’s not a smoking carriage?

“Perfectly sure.”

“I think it is an abominable shame that the railway companies permit smoking at all on their railways.”

“Will you sit with your back or face to the engine?” asked the porter.

“Which way does the train go?”

“That way.”

“Then I’ll sit with my back to the engine. No, I won’t; I’ll sit the other way.” Here she almost broke into a scream as she exclaimed–

“Porter, you told me this wasn’t a smoking carriage.”

“No more it isn’t,” answered the man, with a growl.

“But I am sure somebody has been smoking in it.”

“Very likely, mum, we can’t keep our eyes on everybody.”

“Well, it’s shameful, that it is If I had my way I’d shoot all the men that smoked.”

“Then there would be none left, mum, except a few male old women.”

“And a good job too,” said the lady snappishly.

“But the ladies wouldn’t think so perhaps,” suggested the porter slyly.

“Oh, women are fools!”

“Yes, mum, some of ’em are.”

This particular lady did not notice the irony in the man’s speech, and she insisted on having all her things removed into another compartment; and having again catechized the porter as to whether it was third class, non-smoking, and if he was sure it was the right train, how often did it stop, would she have to change carriages, what time did it arrive in the morning, &c., she fumbled in her pocket for her purse, and having found it, she presented the man with the munificent sum of a penny. Then she proceeded to settle herself in the scat, trying first one way, then another, next she banged the door and spread a rug over her knees, then she began to hunt about for her ticket, and having searched every place where it was not, and got very excited, she found it at last in her glove. Now a porter came up with another lady, and number one glowered and scowled as though she thought that the entrance of any one else into that particular compartment, in which she had a right to one seat only, was an outrageous intrusion not to be tolerated.

While I stood watching this scene and feeling highly amused, the stationmaster, with whom I was well acquainted, approached me.

“Good evening, sir,” he remarked. “You are going up to the village, I think?”

“Yes; I have some business there.”

“Well, your presence is very opportune.”

“Indeed. Anything on?”

“Yes. I think, with your aid, we can accomplish now what we have been long trying to accomplish; but you will appreciate the difficulties that lie in our way.”

“Well, if I can be of any service, pray command me.”

“I knew we could count on you, and you can, I believe, render the railway company a very great service indeed.”

“Pray explain.”

“Will you walk down the platform with me?” he answered. “There are still eight minutes to spare before the train starts.”

Agreeable to this request, I strolled along with him for about fifty yards, when he stopped and pointed to a well-dressed man, wearing a handsome coat trimmed with fur at collar and cuffs, and carrying a costly railway rug over his arm. He was buying some papers at the bookstall, and had all the appearance of a well-to- do gentleman.

“You see that fellow?” whispered the stationmaster.

“Yes.”

“Well, he is one of the most notorious cardsharpers in the whole of Great Britain, perhaps. He travels all over the country, and makes a fat living. He came down here a few days ago. He travelled here by the Great Northern, and fleeced some of the passengers. He is going up to town again to-night, and has a London and North-Western ticket. He has booked for Euston, but, of course, it is probable he may get out somewhere on the road if he has a good haul.”

“If you know all this, why have you not arrested him before now?” I asked.

“Ah, that’s where the difficulty is. Passengers who have been fleeced won’t take the trouble, or are too much ashamed of themselves to appear against him; and he is so cute and so sharp, that though we have set traps for him he has nosed them out, and would not be trapped.”

“I understand. And so you want me to try what I can do?”

“Precisely.”

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