en-fr  THE BISHOP'S SECRET by FERGUS HUME - Chapter 16 Hard
Bienvenue chers traducteurs, c'est un roman que nous avons commencé à traduire sur Duolingo. Si vous vous joignez à nous sans avoir déjà travaillé sur ce roman, vous trouverez ici des informations intéressantes sur les personnages, les anciens chapitres et le synopsis sur Google Docs (merci Gaëlle pour votre aide): https://docs.google.com/document/d/1pB5g37PK96irsx4gJPb9CgXR8zlPKPb_N7YD-zrbp5o/edit# THE BISHOP'S SECRET by FERGUS HUME (LE SECRET DE L'ÉVÊQUE par FERGUS HUME) (1900).
Chapitre XVI - Le zèle de l'inspecteur Tinkler.
L'étrange affaire du meurtre de Jentham continua à occuper l'attention de la population de Beorminster tout au long de la semaine, et le jour où l'enquête débuta, l'excitation populaire grimpa comme la fièvre. L'inspecteur Tinkler, sentant que le comté s'attendait à ce qu'il fasse de grandes choses dignes de sa réputation d'officier zélé, travailla de son mieux pour recueillir des preuves susceptibles d'élucider le mystère cette mort, mais malgré ses efforts les plus acharnés, le résultat fut un échec total. Les détails recueillis se révélèrent être totalement insignifiants, et lorsque le coroner se pencha sur le corps, rien ne lui indiqua son nom, ni même l'identité de l'assassin qui lui avait fourni ce corps sur lequel se pencher. Il semblait vraisemblable que le meurtre de Southberry finisse par être relégué dans la liste des crimes non élucidés.
— Car je ne peux pas faire de miracles, expliqua Tinkler, indigné, lorsqu'on lui reprocha ce résultat, et d'une certaine façon, l'affaire a échappé à tout contrôle. Il est impossible de découvrir le motif du coup de feu, le pistolet utilisé ne peut être trouvé, peu importe l'importance des recherches ; et quant au scélérat meurtrier qui a fait feu, s'il n'est pas là-dessous où il devrait être, je donnerais ma parole de soldat qu'il n'est pas sur terre. Prenez-le comme vous le voulez, cette affaire est sans aucun doute remarquable.
Il était certainement venu à l'esprit préoccupé de Tinkler que Mademoiselle Whichello aurait dû être appelée comme témoin, ne serait-ce que pour prouver que le défunt avait occupé une meilleure situation dans le monde, mais après un court entretien avec elle, il avait abandonné cette idée.* Miss Whichello déclara qu'elle ne pouvait en rien éclaircir cette affaire et qu'elle avait perdu de vue cet ancien violoniste depuis plus de trente ans. Son identification du personnage comme étant Amaru avait été entièrement due à la description de son air gitan et à la cicatrice visible sur son visage, et elle signala à Tinkler qu'elle n'avait pas vu le soi-disant Jentham avant sa mort. De plus, il était peu probable que les événements qui s'étaient produits trente ans auparavant aient pu entraîner, maintenant, la mort violente de cet homme, et mademoiselle Whichello insista sur le fait qu'elle ne connaissait rien au sujet des derniers évènements ou dernières relations du personnage. Étant ainsi ignorant, il ne fallait pas s'attendre à ce que ses preuves aient une valeur quelconque, alors, à sa demande sérieuse, Tinkler a retenu sa langue et l'oblige à la convoquer comme témoin. En son for intérieur, Miss Whichello fut terriblement soulagée quand l'inspecteur arriva à cette conclusion, mais elle n'en laissa rien voir à Tinkler.
L’officier avait appris par Mosk que le vagabond qui se faisait appeler Jentham était arrivé au Derby Winner quelques trois semaines avant sa mort. Il n'avait donné aucune information quant à l'endroit où il avait séjourné avant et, d'après ce que Mosk savait, il semblait être tombé du ciel. Il est certain que sa conversation alors qu'il était sous l'influence de l'alcool montrait qu'il avait beaucoup voyagé et que son passé était marqué par le vol, les effusions de sang et l'illégalité ; mais l'homme avait parlé globalement comme tout voyageur aurait pu, s'était gardé de mentionner des noms, et, somme toute, avait parlé si vaguement que rien susceptible de conduire à un résultat tangible ne pouvait être rassemblé de ses propos décousus. Il avait payé son ardoise et son loyer pour la première semaine mais il avait vécu à crédit par la suite et, au moment de sa mort, il devait deux livres sterling à Mosk, principalement pour des boissons alcoolisées. Il dormait habituellement au Derby Winner et trainait dans les rues toute la journée mais il allait parfois jusqu'au camp de gitans près de Southberry et sympathisait avec les bohémiens. C'était là l'essentiel des informations apportées par Mosk mais, à la réflexion, il avait ajouté que Jentham avait promis de le payer lorsque certaines sommes supplémentaires qu'il attendait entreraient en sa possession.
—Qui allait lui verser cet argent ? demanda Tinkler, tendant l'oreille.
—Vous p'vez pas demander queque chose d' plus simple ? grommela Mosk, comment je le saurais ? Il a dit qu'il allait avoir le fric mais de qui, j'sais pas car il avait tenu sa langue jusque là.
— Il n'y avait pas d'argent dans les poches des vêtements portés par le corps, dit pensivement Tinkler.
— Je n'saurais pas le dire, M. l'inspecteur. Je ne crois pas que le type attendait le moindre argent, vraiment pas. C'tait seulement de la poudre aux yeux... son boniment, pour que lui procure un lit et de la bouffe, et j'ai été un parfait idiot de le faire, grommela Mosk.
— Ses poches avaient été retournées cependant.
— Oh, elles l'étaient, vraiment, M. l'inspecteur ? Eh bien, ça parait bizarre. Mais s'il y avait le moindre chapardage à faire, ces gitans ont que'chose à voir là'dedans, si j'peux m'permettre.
— L'homme s'est-il rendu au campement gitan dimanche soir ?
— Bell dit qu'il l'a fait, répondit M. Mosk, mais je suis allé à Southberry dans l'après-midi au sujet d'un petit âne pour lequel j'ai le béguin, alors je ne sais pas ce qu'il a fait, sauf par ouï-dire.
Bell, interrogée par l'inspecteur, déclara que Jentham avait traîné aux abords de l’hôtel la plus grande partie du dimanche mais qu'il s'était mis en route vers cinq heures. Il n'avait pas dit qu'il allait au campement mais comme il s'y rendait fréquemment, elle avait présumé que c'était là qu'il s'était rendu ce soir-là. — D'autant plus que vous avez trouvé le corps sur le terrain communal, M. Tinkler, dit Bell, sans doute que le pauvre misérable revenait de chez les gitans.
— Hum ! Ce n'est pas une mauvaise idée, dit Tinkler, grattant son menton rasé de près. Il me semble nécessaire de passer voir la Mère Jael.
Le résultat d'une entrevue avec cette vieille femme inique a prouvé que Jentham avait certainement été l'invité des gitans dimanche soir mais était rentré à Beorminster peu après neuf heures. Il avait déclaré qu'il était rentré au Derby Winner, et comme il avait l'habitude d'aller et venir quand il le voulait, les gitans n'avaient pas vraiment fait attention à son départ. Un vagabond comme Jentham n'avait pas du tout d'horaire.
—Il était un des vôtres, je suppose ? demanda l'inspecteur en prenant des notes dans son carnet, un petit objet secret muni d'un fermoir protégé.
—Oui, mon cher, oui ! Que Dieu le bénisse, marmonna la Mère Jael, plissant ses petits yeux vifs, il faisait effectivement partie des bons tziganes.
—Est-il resté longtemps avec vous, grand-mère ?
— Trois semaines, mon cher, juste trois semaines. Il est venu à Beorminster et il en a eu assez de vous autres gadjés, alors il s'est mis à l'aise avec nous.*
— Les canailles avec les canailles, et qui se ressemble s'assemble, murmura Tinkler ; puis il demanda si Jentham avait dit quoique ce soit à propos de lui-même à la Mère Jael.
— Lui ! croassa la vieille chouette, il ne m'a jamais rien dit. Il venait et repartait mais il gardait vraiment ses propres affaires pour lui seul. Diable ! C'était un rusé, ce Jentham.
— Son nom était-il Jentham, la mère, ou était-ce un autre ?
— C'est ainsi qu'il se faisait appeler, mon cher, mais je n'ai jamais connu un de ces bons tziganes qui ait eu un nom de gadgé. * On garde les nôtres en général. Job ! J'pense bien.
— Êtes-vous sûre qu'il était gitan ?
— Évid'mment que j'le suis, mon noble Gorgio ! Il pouvait causer calo jib avec les meilleurs d'entre nous. Il connaissait beaucoup d'mots que les gadgés ne connaissent pas, e' il avait le nez busqué e' les yeux perçants. Oh, petit Jésus, c'était un gars gitan, j'en mettrais ma tête à couper !
— Vous savez qui l'a tué ? demanda brusquement Tinkler.
— Non, trésor. C'est pas l'un d' nous, bien que vous nous mettiez toujours la faut' sur le dos. Job ! les chiens ne se mangent pas entr' eux, autant que je sache, mon cher.
— Il a quitté votre campement à neuf heures ?
— Par là, mon agneau; just'après neuf heures !
— Était-il sobre ou ivre ?
— Ni l'un ni l'autre, mon cher, il p'vait marcher droit et parler clair, et faire attention à lui.
— Hum ! il semble bien qu'il n'en a pas été capable, dit sèchement l'inspecteur.
— Diable ! c'est bien vrai, dit la Mère Jael en hochant la tête, mais je n'sais pas c' qu'il lui est arrivé, mon cher.
La Mère Jael comparut à l'audience comme témoin et répéta au jury à peu près la même que ce qu'elle avait raconté à Tinkler, avec plus de détails quant aux déplacements des gitans ce soir-là. Elle déclara que personne de leur groupe n'avait quitté le camp, que Jentham était parti seul, relativement sobre, et qu’elle n'avait pas entendu parler de son assassinat avant le lendemain soir. Malgré un interrogatoire et un contre-interrogatoire, le Mère Jael ne put apporter aucun indice relatif au véritable nom de Jentham, ni au sujet de son passé, ni pourquoi il trainait aux alentours de Beorminster. — Il allait et v'nait, déclara la Mère Jael parlant comme un oracle, et ce fut là l'ensemble de ses informations, croassées d'une façon trouble et peu convaincante.
Le charretier, Giles Crake, qui avait trouvé le corps, était un paysan stupide dont les connaissances se limitaient à son environnement immédiat. Du haut de sa charrette, il avait vu le corps gisant dans le fossé à moitié sous eau, de l'autre côté d'un monticule de terre, qui s'étend le long de la route principale. L'endroit où il le découvrit se trouvait près de Beorminster et à environ cinq miles du camp gitan. L'homme avait été touché en plein cœur, ses poches vidées et retournées, et de toute évidence, après le meurtre, le voleur avait trainé le corps du monticule dans le fossé. Giles n'avait pas touché au corps, de peur d'avoir des ennuis, mais il était allé immédiatement à Beorminster pour informer la police de sa découverte.
C'était le docteur Graham qui avait examiné le corps après sa découverte, et selon ses déclarations, l'homme avait été tué d'une balle en plein cœur dimanche soir peu avant dix heures. Le coup de feu avait été tiré si près que le vêtement du défunt, à la place du cœur, avait été brulé et noirci par la poudre de cartouche. — Et de ce fait, ajouta Graham avec un regard judicieux, j'en conclus que le meurtrier devait être connu de Jentham.
— Comment cela, docteur ? demanda un des jurés.
— Parce qu'il devait être en train de discuter avec lui au moment de commettre son crime, monsieur. Le meurtrier et sa victime devaient être très près l'un de l'autre, et pendant que l'attention de ce dernier a été détournée par un moyen quelconque, l'assassin lui a tiré dessus à bout portant.
— Ce n'est qu'une supposition, docteur Graham, dit le coroner qui était un praticien rival.
— Il me semble que toute cette affaire ne repose que sur des hypothèses, rétorqua Graham et il haussa les épaules.
Avant d'en finir avec l'exposé des indices concernant cette affaire, l'inspecteur Tinkler expliqua combien il avait été difficile de collecter même ces petits détails que le jury venait d'entendre. Il déclara également que bien que des fouilles minutieuses aient été entreprises à proximité du lieu du crime, l'arme avec laquelle il avait été commis n'avait pu être retrouvée. Comme le coup de feu avait été tiré pendant une averse, les empreintes de pas de l'assassin et de la victime étaient bien visibles dans l'argile meuble du chemin, de plus il y avait également des empreintes de sabots de cheval laissant penser que l'assassin avait une monture. Si c'était le cas, ni les gitans ni les cultivateurs n'auraient pu tuer ce malheureux car ni les uns ni les autres ne possédaient de chevaux et...
— Les gitans ont des chevaux pour tirer leurs caravanes ! l'interrompit un juré élégant.
— Pour tirer leurs caravanes, je l'admets, répondit imperturbablement Tinkler, mais pas pour les chevaucher. De plus, je vous rappelle, M. Jobson, que comme l'a déclaré la Mère Jael, aucun des gitans n'a quitté le camp ce soir-là.
— Oh ! elle raconte n'importe quoi, murmura Jobson qui n'avait pas une haute opinion des facultés intellectuelles de Tinkler. Les empreintes de pas ont-elles été mesurées ?
— Non, elles ne l'ont pas été, M. Jobson !
— Elles auraient dû l'être, Monsieur l'inspecteur, j'ai entendu dire que l'on pouvait tirer beaucoup d'informations à partir d'empreintes de pas. C'est ce que les Français appellent le système d'identification Bertillon, voilà ce que c'est.
— Je n'ai pas besoin d'aller en France pour apprendre mon métier, répondit Tinkler d'un ton acide, et si j'avais pris les mesures des empreintes de pas, comment pourrais-je savoir lesquelles étaient celles de Jentham et lesquelles celles de son meurtrier. et comment aurais-je pu arpenter tout Beorminster pour voir à qui elles correspondaient ? Je vous pose la question Monsieur Jobson.
À ce moment, estimant que la conversation avait assez duré, le coroner intervint et dit que monsieur l'inspecteur avait fait de son mieux pour démêler cette affaire très délicate. Qu'il n'y soit pas parvenu n'était pas dû à l'inspecteur mais à l'affaire, et il pensait quant à lui que les remerciements des citoyens de Beorminster devaient récompenser les efforts d'un officier aussi zélé et intelligent que Tinkler. Ce discours sagace réduisit le récalcitrant Jobson au silence, mais il continua de penser que le trop confiant Tinkler avait bousillé l'affaire, et dans cette optique il avait silencieusement mais chaleureusement soutenu l'avisé docteur Graham qui en privé pensait que l'inspecteur Tinkler était à peine plus intelligent qu'un âne. Néanmoins, il ne donna écho à cette opinion injurieuse.
La synthèse du coroner appelait peu de remarque. * C'était un brave médecin de campagne qui avait une cervelle pas plus grande qu'une pièce de six pence, et cette affaire le dépassait complètement. Ses remarques aux jurés, tous parfaitement stupides sauf Jobson, indiquaient qu'il était à l'évidence impossible de découvrir qui avait tué Jentham, que cet homme était un vagabond querelleur avec sans doute beaucoup d'ennemis, qu'ivre il avait rencontré un gars dans le même état que lui, et en étaient venus à se disputer, et que l'inconnu, armé, avait sans aucun doute tiré sur lui dans un accès de rage. — Il a détroussé le corps si j'ose dire, messieurs, conclut le coroner, et il l'a jeté dans le fossé pour dissimuler son crime. Comme nous ne connaissons pas cet individu et ne le connaitrons sans doute jamais, je peux seulement vous suggérer de rendre un verdict en accord avec les preuves qui vont ont été présentées grâce au zèle de l'inspecteur Tinkler. L'homme a tout entrepris pour découvrir ce Caïn, mais ses efforts ont été vains et nous devons nous en remettre à la justice divine pour punir le meurtrier, et comme il est dit dans les Saintes Ecritures que "le crime sera puni", je ne doute pas que le criminel sera traduit en justice.
Après ce discours avisé, il ne fut pas surprenant que le jury rendit son verdict en déclarant que Jentham, la victime, était décédé de mort violente, lors d'un crime perpétré par une ou plusieurs personnes non identifiées. C'est en général le genre de verdict que rend un jury sans cervelle comme dans le cas présent. Ayant donc réglé la question de leur propre satisfaction bovine, le jury partit après avoir été remerciés pour leur zèle par le coroner. Cet homme était d'un grand zèle.
— Hum ! Hum ! Hum ! dit le Dr Graham lui-même, « il y a trop de zèle globalement. Je me demande ce que M. de Talleyrand aurait pensé de ces personnes ennuyeuses et de leurs zèle. Bien, monsieur l'inspecteur, ajouta-t-il à haute voix, donc vous avez bien réglé l'affaire.
— Nous avons fait de notre mieux, Dr Graham.
— Et vous ne savez pas qui a tué l'homme ?
— Non, monsieur, je ne sais pas ; et de surcroît, je ne crois pas que quelqu'un le saura jamais
— Hum, c'est votre avis, n'est-ce pas ? Avez-vous beaucoup lu, monsieur I'inspecteur ?
— Un roman de temps en temps, monsieur. J'apprécie un bon roman.
— Alors, permettez-moi de vous recommander les travaux d'un auteur français, du nom de Gaboriau. Il y a un homme dedans appellé Lecoq, qui aurait découvert la vérité, monsieur I'inspecteur.
— Fiction, Dr Graham ! Fiction.
— C'est vrai, monsieur l'inspecteur, mais la majeure partie de la fiction est fondée sur la réalité.
— Eh bien, monsieur, dit Tinkler avec un sourire hautain et avisé, j'aimerais voir notre affaire entre les mains de votre M. Lecoq.
— Moi aussi, monsieur I'inspector, ou entre les mains de Sherlock Holmes. Pardonnez-moi, Tinkler, ils auraient fait presque autant que vous avez fait. C'est dommage que vous ne soyez pas un personnage de fiction, Tinkler .
— Pourquoi, monsieur ? Pourquoi, puis-je savoir ?
— Parce que votre auteur aurait pu vous retouché dans les points faibles et vous avoir offert un peu de cervelle. Bonne journée Mr l'inspecteur.
Pendant que Graham s'éloignait en riant de ses railleries sur ces formalités administratives, le fonctionnaire lui-même résistait comme un poisson hors de l'eau et essayait de comprendre l'insulte à sa dignité. Jobson, un petit homme, se faufila jusqu'à lui et fit une remarque sur la situation.
— Tout vient du fait de ne pas avoir mesuré leurs empreintes de pieds, déclara Jobson. Dans les romans policiers, les enquêteurs malins le font toujours, mais vous, vous ne figurerez jamais dans un livre, jamais.
— Je vais vous mettre en prison, s'écria l’inspecteur outragé.
— Ce serait plutôt à l'assassin de Jentham de s'y trouver si vous l'aviez attrapé, dit Jobson, et il tourna les talons.
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Welcome dear translators, This is a novel we started to translate on Duolingo.
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CHAPTER XVI - THE ZEAL OF INSPECTOR TINKLER.
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Take it how you will, this case is a corker and no mistake’.
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'Who was going to pay him this money?'
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asked Tinkler, pricking up his ears.
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'Carn't y'arsk me somethin' easier?'
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growled Mosk; 'how should I know?
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'There was no money in the pockets of the clothes worn by the body,' said Tinkler, musingly.
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'I dessay not, Mr Inspector.
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I don't b'lieve the cove was expecting any money, I don't.
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'The pockets were turned inside out, though’.
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'Oh, they was, was they, Mr Inspector?
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Well, that does look queer.
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'Did the man go to the gipsy camp on Sunday night’?
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'Humph!
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it's not a bad idea,' said Tinkler, scratching his well-shaven chin.
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'Strikes me as I'll go and look up Mother Jael’.
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A vagrant like Jentham was quite independent of time.
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'He was one of your lot, I suppose?'
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'Yes, dearie, yes!
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'Was he with you long, granny’?
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'Three week, lovey, jus' three week.
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He cum to Beorminster and got weary like of you Gentiles, so he made hisself comforbal with us’.
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'He!'
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screeched the old hag, 'he niver tol' me a word.
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He cum an' he go'd; but he kep his red rag to himself, he did.
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Duvel!
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he was a cunning one that Jentham’.
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'Was his name Jentham, mother; or was it something else’?
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'He called hisself so, dearie, but I niver knowed one of that gentle Romany as had a Gentile name.
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We sticks to our own mos'ly.
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Job!
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I shud think so’.
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'Are you sure he was a gipsy’?
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'Course I am, my noble Gorgio!
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He could patter the calo jib with the best of 'um.
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He know'd lots wot the Gentiles don' know, an' he had the eagle beak an' the peaked eye.
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Oh, tiny Jesus was a Romany chal, or may I die for it’!
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'Do you know who killed him?'
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asked Tinkler, abruptly.
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'No, lovey.
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'Tweren't one of us, tho' you puts allays the wust on our backs.
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Job!
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dog do niver eat dog, as I knows, dearie’.
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'He left your camp at nine o'clock’?
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'Thereabouts, my lamb; jes' arter nine’!
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'Was he sober or drunk’?
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'Humph!
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seems as though he couldn't,' said Mr Inspector, dryly.
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'Duvel!
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that's a true sayin',' said Mother Jael, with a nod, 'but I don' know wot cum to him, dearie’.
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The spot where he discovered it, was near Beorminster, and about five miles from the gipsy camp.
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'How is that, doctor?'
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asked one of the jury.
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'Because he must have held him in talk while contemplating the crime, sir.
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'This is all theory, Dr Graham,' said the coroner, who was a rival practitioner.
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'It seems to me that the whole case rests on theory,' retorted Graham, and shrugged his shoulders.
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'The gipsies have horses to draw their caravans!'
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interrupted a sharp-looking juryman.
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'To draw their caravans I admit,' said the undaunted Tinkler, 'but not to ride on.
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'Oh, she'd declare anything,' muttered Jobson, who had no great opinion of Tinkler's brains.
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'Have the footmarks in the road been measured’?
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'No, they haven't, Mr Jobson’!
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'Then they should have, Mr Inspector; you can tell a lot from a footmark, as I've heard.
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It's what the French call the Bertillon system of identification, that's what it is’.
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and how can I go round the whole of Beorminster to see whose feet fit 'em?
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I ask you that, Mr Jobson, sir’.
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However, he did not give vent to this offensive opinion.
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The summing-up of the coroner called for little remark.
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That gentleman was great on zeal.
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'Hum!
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Hum!
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Hum!'
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said Dr Graham to himself, 'there's too much zeal altogether.
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I wonder what M. de Talleyrand would have thought of these cabbages and their zeal.
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Well, Mr Inspector,' he added aloud, 'so you've finished off the matter nicely’.
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'We have done our best, Dr Graham, sir’.
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'And you don't know who killed the man’?
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'No, sir, I don't; and what's more, I don't believe anybody ever will know’.
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'Humph, that's your opinion, is it?
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Do you read much, Mr Inspector’?
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'A novel at times, sir.
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I'm fond of a good novel’.
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'Then let me recommend to your attention the works of a French author, by name Gaboriau.
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There's a man in them called Lecoq, who would have found out the truth, Mr Inspector’.
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'Fiction, Dr Graham, sir!
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Fiction’.
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'True enough, Mr Inspector, but most fiction is founded on fact’.
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'So should I, Mr Inspector, or in the hands of Sherlock Holmes.
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Bless me, Tinkler, they'd do almost as much as you have done.
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It is a pity that you are not a character in fiction, Tinkler’.
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'Why, sir?
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Why, may I ask’?
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'Because your author might have touched you up in weak parts, and have gifted you with some brains.
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Good-day, Mr Inspector’.
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Jobson—a small man—sidled round to the front of him and made a comment on the situation.
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'It all comes of your not measuring them footmarks,' said Jobson.
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'You'll be put into jail,' cried the outraged inspector.
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Gabrielle • 13957  translated  unit 132  1 year, 3 months ago
Gabrielle • 13957  translated  unit 131  1 year, 3 months ago
francevw • 14094  commented  1 year, 3 months ago
francevw • 14094  translated  unit 79  1 year, 4 months ago
gaelle044 • 5148  translated  unit 73  1 year, 4 months ago
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gaelle044 • 5148  translated  unit 40  1 year, 4 months ago

THE BISHOP'S SECRET by FERGUS HUME (1900)

This text will be uploaded on Translatihan, one chapter at a time, starting from chapter XVI, as the former chapters were translated on Duolingo before. Please follow each chapters’ link to the Translatihan text. Good translation.

List of the characters:
1. Miss Daisy Norsham, Belgravian spinster
2. Mrs. Pansey, an archdeacon's widow
3. Mr. George Pendle, Bishop, Dr. Pendle
4. Mrs. Amy Pendle, the bishop's wife, formerly Mrs. Creagth (widow)
5. Mr. George Pendle, bishop's son, officer, in love with Mab Arden
6. Mr. Gabriel Pendle, bishop's son, curate, allegedly chasing Miss Mosk
7. Miss Lucy Pendle, bishop's daughter
8. Sir Harry Brace, engaged to Lucy Pendle
9. Miss Mab Arden, most beautiful girl in Beorminster
10. Miss Whichello, Mab Arden's aunt
11. Mr. Michael Cargrim, bishop's chaplain, also likes Mab Arden
12. Dr. Graham, doctor, atheist, sceptic
13. Mr. William Mosk, the owner of the The Derby Winner pub
14. Mrs Mosk, his wife
15. Miss Bell Mosk, their daughter
16. Mr. Alder, dean, Dr. Alder
17. Miss Tancred, keeps telling the story about her lost purse
18. John, bishop's servant
19. Mr. Jentham, the man with the scar, the bearer of the bad news

Synopsis:
Bishop Pendle is the Church of England bishop in a small fictitious English cathedral town. Several years into his work, he receives a visit from a disreputable-looking visitor. The bishop is much upset. What transpired between them that has so upset the good churchman? And then there is the murder. Fergus Hume was one of the most prolific and most popular of 19th century novelists. "Mr. Hume won a reputation second to none for plot of the stirring, ingenious, misleading, and finally surprising kind, and for working out his plot in vigorous and picturesque English. In "The Bishop's Secret," while there is no falling off in plot and style, there is a welcome and marvelous broadening out as to the cast of characters, representing an unusually wide range of typical men and women. These are not laboriously described by the author, but are made to reveal themselves in action and speech in a way that has, for the reader, all the charm of personal intercourse with living people…."

TABLE OF CONTENTS https://en.wikisource.org/wiki/The_Bishop%27s_Secret
PREFACE.
CHAPTER I. 'Enter Mrs Pansey As Chorus'
CHAPTER II. The Bishop Is Wanted
CHAPTER III. The Unforeseen Happens
CHAPTER IV. The Curiosity Of Mr Cargrim
CHAPTER V. The Derby Winner
CHAPTER VI. The Man With The Scar
CHAPTER VII. An Interesting Conversation
CHAPTER VIII. On Saturday Night
CHAPTER IX. An Exciting Adventure
CHAPTER X. Morning Service In The Minster
CHAPTER XI. Miss Whichello's Luncheon-party
CHAPTER XII. Bell Mosk Pays A Visit
CHAPTER XIII. A Stormy Night
CHAPTER XIV. 'Rumour Full Of Tongues'
CHAPTER XV. The Gipsy Ring
CHAPTER XVI. The Zeal Of Inspector Tinkler
CHAPTER XVII. A Clerical Detective
CHAPTER XVIII. The Chaplain On The Warpath
CHAPTER XIX. The Bishop's Request
CHAPTER XX. Mother Jael
CHAPTER XXI. Mrs Pansey's Festival
CHAPTER XXII. Mr Mosk Is Indiscreet
CHAPTER XXIII. In The Library
CHAPTER XXIV. The Bishop Asserts Himself
CHAPTER XXV. Mr Baltic, Missionary
CHAPTER XXVI. The Amazement Of Sir Harry Brace
CHAPTER XXVII. What Mother Jael Knew
CHAPTER XXVIII. The Return Of Gabriel
CHAPTER XXIX. The Confession Of Bishop Pendle
CHAPTER XXX. Blackmail
CHAPTER XXXI. Mr Baltic On The Trail
CHAPTER XXXII. The Initials
CHAPTER XXXIII. Mr Baltic Explains Himself
CHAPTER XXXIV. The Wages Of Sin
CHAPTER XXXV. The Honour Of Gabriel
CHAPTER XXXVI. The Rebellion Of Mrs Pendle
CHAPTER XXXVII. Dea Ex Machinâ
CHAPTER XXXVIII. Exit Mr Cargrim
CHAPTER XXXIX. All's Well That Ends Well

by francevw 1 year, 3 months ago

Welcome dear translators, This is a novel we started to translate on Duolingo. If you join us without having already worked on this novel, you will find some interesting informations about the characters, the former chapters and the synopsis, on Google Docs, here (thanks, Gaëlle, for your help): https://docs.google.com/document/d/1pB5g37PK96irsx4gJPb9CgXR8zlPKPb_N7YD-zrbp5o/edit#

THE BISHOP'S SECRET by FERGUS HUME (1900).
CHAPTER XVI - THE ZEAL OF INSPECTOR TINKLER.
The strange affair of Jentham's murder continued to occupy the attention of the Beorminster public throughout the week; and on the day when the inquest was held, popular excitement rose to fever heat. Inspector Tinkler, feeling that the County expected him to do great things worthy of his reputation as a zealous officer, worked his hardest to gather evidence likely to elucidate the mystery of the death; but in spite of the most strenuous exertions, his efforts resulted in total failure. The collected details proved to be of the most meagre description, and when the coroner sat on the body nothing transpired to reveal the name, or even indicate the identity of the assassin who had provided him with a body to sit on. It really seemed as though the Southberry murder would end in being relegated to the list of undiscovered crimes.
'For I can't work miracles,' explained the indignant Tinkler, when reproached with this result, 'and somehow the case has got out of hand. The motive for the shooting can't be got at; the pistol used ain't to be picked up, search how you may; and as for the murdering villain who fired it, if he ain't down below where he ought to be, I'll take my oath as a soldier he ain't above ground. Take it how you will, this case is a corker and no mistake’.
It had certainly occurred to Tinkler's bothered mind that Miss Whichello should be called as a witness, if only to prove that at one time the dead man had occupied a better position in the world, but after a short interview with her he had abandoned this idea. Miss Whichello declared that she could throw no light on the affair, and that she had lost sight of the quondam violinist for over thirty years. Her recognition of him as Amaru had been entirely due to the description of his gipsy looks and the noticeable cicatrice on his face; and she pointed out to Tinkler that she had not seen the so-called Jentham till after his death; moreover, it was unlikely that events which had occurred thirty years before could have resulted in the man's violent death at the present time; and Miss Whichello insisted that she knew nothing of the creature's later circumstances or acquaintances. Being thus ignorant, it was not to be expected that her evidence would be of any value, so at her earnest request Tinkler held his tongue, and forebore to summon her as a witness. Miss Whichello was greatly relieved in her own mind when the inspector came to this conclusion, but she did not let Tinkler see her relief.
From Mosk, the officer had learned that the vagabond who called himself Jentham had appeared at The Derby Winner some three weeks previous to the time of his death. He had given no information as to where he had last rested, but, so far as Mosk knew, had dropped down from the sky. Certainly his conversation when he was intoxicated showed that he had travelled a great deal, and that his past was concerned with robbery, and bloodshed, and lawlessness; but the man had talked generally as any traveller might, had refrained from mentioning names, and altogether had spoken so loosely that nothing likely to lead to a tangible result could be gathered from his rambling discourses. He had paid his board and lodging for the first week, but thereafter had lived on credit, and at the time of his death had owed Mosk over two pounds, principally for strong drink. Usually he slept at The Derby Winner and loafed about the streets all day, but at times he went over to the gipsy camp near Southberry and fraternised with the Romany. This was the gist of Mosk's information, but he added, as an afterthought, that Jentham had promised to pay him when certain monies which he expected came into his possession.
'Who was going to pay him this money?' asked Tinkler, pricking up his ears.
'Carn't y'arsk me somethin' easier?' growled Mosk; 'how should I know? He said he was goin' to get the dibs, but who from, or where from, I dunno', for he held his tongue so far’.
'There was no money in the pockets of the clothes worn by the body,' said Tinkler, musingly.
'I dessay not, Mr Inspector. I don't b'lieve the cove was expecting any money, I don't. 'Twas all moonshine—his talk, to make me trust him for bed and grub, and a blamed fool I've bin doin' so,' grumbled Mosk.
'The pockets were turned inside out, though’.
'Oh, they was, was they, Mr Inspector? Well, that does look queer. But if there was any light-fingered business to be done, I dessay them gipsies hev somethin' to do with it’.
'Did the man go to the gipsy camp on Sunday night’?
'Bell ses he did,' replied Mr Mosk, 'but I went over to Southberry in the arternoon about a little 'oss as I'm sweet on, so I don't know what he did, save by 'earsay’.
Bell, on being questioned by the inspector, declared that Jentham had loitered about the hotel the greater part of Sunday, but had taken his departure about five o'clock. He did not say that he was going to the camp, but as he often paid a visit to it, she presumed that he had gone there during that evening. 'Especially as you found his corpse on the common, Mr Tinkler,' said Bell, 'no doubt the poor wretch was coming back from them gipsies’.
'Humph! it's not a bad idea,' said Tinkler, scratching his well-shaven chin. 'Strikes me as I'll go and look up Mother Jael’.
The result of an interview with that iniquitous old beldame proved that Jentham had certainly been the guest of the gipsies on Sunday evening but had returned to Beorminster shortly after nine o'clock. He had stated that he was going back to The Derby Winner, and as it was his custom to come and go when he pleased, the Romany had not taken much notice of his departure. A vagrant like Jentham was quite independent of time.
'He was one of your lot, I suppose?' said Mr Inspector, taking a few notes in his pocket-book—a secretive little article which shut with a patent clasp.
'Yes, dearie, yes! Lord bless 'ee,' mumbled Mother Jael, blinking her cunning eyes, 'he was one of the gentle Romany sure enough’.
'Was he with you long, granny’?
'Three week, lovey, jus' three week. He cum to Beorminster and got weary like of you Gentiles, so he made hisself comforbal with us’.
'Blackguards to blackguards, and birds of a feather' murmured Tinkler; then asked if Jentham had told Mother Jael anything about himself.
'He!' screeched the old hag, 'he niver tol' me a word. He cum an' he go'd; but he kep his red rag to himself, he did. Duvel! he was a cunning one that Jentham’.
'Was his name Jentham, mother; or was it something else’?
'He called hisself so, dearie, but I niver knowed one of that gentle Romany as had a Gentile name. We sticks to our own mos'ly. Job! I shud think so’.
'Are you sure he was a gipsy’?
'Course I am, my noble Gorgio! He could patter the calo jib with the best of 'um. He know'd lots wot the Gentiles don' know, an' he had the eagle beak an' the peaked eye. Oh, tiny Jesus was a Romany chal, or may I die for it’!
'Do you know who killed him?' asked Tinkler, abruptly.
'No, lovey. 'Tweren't one of us, tho' you puts allays the wust on our backs. Job! dog do niver eat dog, as I knows, dearie’.
'He left your camp at nine o'clock’?
'Thereabouts, my lamb; jes' arter nine’!
'Was he sober or drunk’?
'Betwix' an' between, lovey; he cud walk straight an' talk straight, an' look arter his blessed life’.
'Humph! seems as though he couldn't,' said Mr Inspector, dryly.
'Duvel! that's a true sayin',' said Mother Jael, with a nod, 'but I don' know wot cum to him, dearie’.
At the inquest Mother Jael was called as a witness, and told the jury much the same story as she had related to Tinkler, with further details as to the movements of the gipsies on that night. She declared that none of the tribe had left the camp; that Jentham had gone away alone, comparatively sober; and that she did not hear of his murder until late the next day. In spite of examination and cross-examination, Mother Jael could give no evidence as to Jentham's real name, or about his past, or why he was lingering at Beorminster. 'He cum'd an' he go'd,' said Mother Jael, with the air of an oracle, and that was the extent of her information, delivered in a croaking, shuffling, unconvincing manner.
The carter, Giles Crake, who had found the body, was a stupid yokel whose knowledge was entirely limited to his immediate surroundings. Perched on his cart, he had seen the body lying in a ditch half full of water, on the other side of an earthen mound, which extended along the side of the main road. The spot where he discovered it, was near Beorminster, and about five miles from the gipsy camp. The man had been shot through the heart; his pockets had been emptied and turned inside out; and evidently after the murder the robber had dragged the body over the mound into the ditch. Giles had not touched the corpse, being fearful of getting into trouble, but had come on at once to Beorminster to inform the police of his discovery.
It was Dr Graham who had examined the body when first discovered, and according to his evidence the man had been shot through the heart shortly before ten o'clock on Sunday night. The pistol had been fired so close that the clothing of the deceased over the heart was scorched and blackened with the powder of the cartridge. 'And from this fact,' added Graham, with one of his shrewd glances, 'I gather that the murderer must have been known to Jentham’!
'How is that, doctor?' asked one of the jury.
'Because he must have held him in talk while contemplating the crime, sir. The murderer and his victim must almost have been breast to breast, and while the attention of the latter was distracted in some way, the assassin must have shot him at close quarters’.
'This is all theory, Dr Graham,' said the coroner, who was a rival practitioner.
'It seems to me that the whole case rests on theory,' retorted Graham, and shrugged his shoulders.
Before the evidence concerning the matter closed, Inspector Tinkler explained how difficult it had been to collect even the few details which the jury had heard. He stated also that although the strictest search had been made in the vicinity of the crime, the weapon with which it had been committed could not be found. As the shooting had been done during a downfall of rain, the assassin's and his victim's footmarks were visible in the soft clay of the roadway; also there were the marks of horses' hoofs, so it was probable that the murderer had been mounted. If this were so, neither gipsies nor harvesters could have killed the wretched man, as neither the one lot nor the other possessed horses and—‘.
'The gipsies have horses to draw their caravans!' interrupted a sharp-looking juryman.
'To draw their caravans I admit,' said the undaunted Tinkler, 'but not to ride on. Besides, I would remind you, Mr Jobson, as Mother Jael declares, that none of her crowd left the camp on that night’.
'Oh, she'd declare anything,' muttered Jobson, who had no great opinion of Tinkler's brains. 'Have the footmarks in the road been measured’?
'No, they haven't, Mr Jobson’!
'Then they should have, Mr Inspector; you can tell a lot from a footmark, as I've heard. It's what the French call the Bertillon system of identification, that's what it is’.
'I don't need to go to France to learn my business,' said Tinkler, tartly, 'and if I did get the measurements of them footmarks, how am I to know which is which—Jentham's or his murderer's? and how can I go round the whole of Beorminster to see whose feet fit 'em? I ask you that, Mr Jobson, sir’.
At this point, judging that the discussion had gone far enough, the coroner intervened and said that Mr Inspector had done his best to unravel a very difficult case. That he had not succeeded was the fault of the case and not of Mr Inspector, and for his part, he thought that the thanks of the Beorminster citizens were due to the efforts of so zealous and intelligent an officer as Tinkler. This sapient speech reduced the recalcitrant Jobson to silence, but he still held to his opinion that the over-confident Tinkler had bungled the matter, and in this view he was silently but heartily supported by shrewd Dr Graham, who privately considered that Mr Inspector Tinkler was little better than an ass. However, he did not give vent to this offensive opinion.
The summing-up of the coroner called for little remark. He was a worthy country doctor, with as much brains as would cover a sixpence, and the case was beyond him in every way. His remarks to the jury—equally stupid, with the exception of Jobson—were to the effect that it was evidently impossible to find out who had killed Jentham, that the man was a quarrelsome vagabond who probably had many enemies; that no doubt while crossing the common in a drunken humour he had met with someone as bad as himself, and had come to high words with him; and that the unknown man, being armed, had no doubt shot the deceased in a fit of rage. 'He robbed the body, I daresay, gentlemen,' concluded the coroner, 'and then threw it into the ditch to conceal the evidence of his crime. As we don't know the man, and are never likely to know him, I can only suggest that you should find a verdict in accordance with the evidence supplied to you by the zeal of Inspector Tinkler. Man has done all he can to find out this Cain, but his efforts have been vain, so we must leave the punishment of the murderer to God; and as Holy Scripture says that "murder will out," I have no doubt that some day the criminal will be brought to justice’.
After this wise speech it was not surprising that the jury brought in a verdict, 'That the deceased Jentham met with a violent death at the hands of some person or persons unknown,' that being the kind of verdict which juries without brains—as in the present instance—generally give. Having thus settled the matter to their own bovine satisfaction, the jury went away after having been thanked for their zeal by the coroner. That gentleman was great on zeal.
'Hum! Hum! Hum!' said Dr Graham to himself, 'there's too much zeal altogether. I wonder what M. de Talleyrand would have thought of these cabbages and their zeal. Well, Mr Inspector,' he added aloud, 'so you've finished off the matter nicely’.
'We have done our best, Dr Graham, sir’.
'And you don't know who killed the man’?
'No, sir, I don't; and what's more, I don't believe anybody ever will know’.
'Humph, that's your opinion, is it? Do you read much, Mr Inspector’?
'A novel at times, sir. I'm fond of a good novel’.
'Then let me recommend to your attention the works of a French author, by name Gaboriau. There's a man in them called Lecoq, who would have found out the truth, Mr Inspector’.
'Fiction, Dr Graham, sir! Fiction’.
'True enough, Mr Inspector, but most fiction is founded on fact’.
'Well, sir,' said Tinkler, with a superior wise smile, 'I should like to see our case in the hands of your Mr Lecoq’.
'So should I, Mr Inspector, or in the hands of Sherlock Holmes. Bless me, Tinkler, they'd do almost as much as you have done. It is a pity that you are not a character in fiction, Tinkler’.
'Why, sir? Why, may I ask’?
'Because your author might have touched you up in weak parts, and have gifted you with some brains. Good-day, Mr Inspector’.
While Graham walked away chuckling at his banter of this red-tape official, the official himself stood gasping like a fish out of the water, and trying to realise the insult levelled at his dignity. Jobson—a small man—sidled round to the front of him and made a comment on the situation.
'It all comes of your not measuring them footmarks,' said Jobson. 'In detective novels the clever fellows always do that, but you'd never be put into a book, not you’!
'You'll be put into jail,' cried the outraged inspector.
'It's more than Jentham's murderer will if you've got the catching of him,' said Jobson, and walked off.