The Gambling Man

‘Well.’ Joe stretched his feet downwards until his toes touched the carpet; then he leant forward towards the desk and, gripping it, he said under his breath, ‘They’re up to something. I just got wind of it a while ago. They’re gona get at you through your brother. I’ve . . . I’ve seen him. He’s not much bigger than me, and he’s got his own handicap, and . . . and I didn’t think it was fair ’cos of that, so I thought I’d come and tell you, ’cos you always played straight by me, never mean like some of them. And . . . and after that business when you didn’t drag me into it, and you could ’ave, oh aye, you could ’ave, I thought to meself, if ever . . .’

‘Get on with it, Joe. What are they up to?’ Joe now brought his hands from the table and, joining them together, he pressed them between his knees before he announced, ‘They’re gona burn you out.’

‘Burn me out? Here?’

‘Oh no, not here; they wouldn’t dare come up this way. No, the boatyard and the boathouse. Steve Mackin let it drop. They’d been to him for paraffin.’

‘What!’ Rory was on his feet and around the desk. ‘When?’

‘Oh, late on’s afternoon. I . . . I was payin’ him a bet and he said, “Poor little bastard.” ’ Joe now looked from one side to the other as if to apologize to someone for his language, then went on, ‘I said, “Who?’’ and he said, “Connor. Little bandy Connor. But what can you do against those three buggers?”

Rory was going towards the door now. ‘What time was this?’

‘Oh, an hour gone or more. I took a stroll by that way ’cos I thought if I saw him, I mean your brother, I would tip him off to keep clear like, but I saw big Pittie standing at the corner. He was talking to a fellow, just idling like, standing chattin’. But he doesn’t live down that end, and so I thought it wasn’t fair, Mr Connor, an’ so I came . . .’

They were in the hall now and the drawing-room door was opening.

‘What is it?’

‘I. . . I’ve got to go down to the boatyard. Nothing, nothing.’

Charlotte came up to him as he was taking his coat from the hall wardrobe and again she asked, ‘What is it?’ then added, ‘Oh, what is it now, Rory?’

‘Nothing.’ He turned to her, a faint smile on his face. This chap here, well—’ he thumbed towards Joe—‘he’s been kind enough to come and give me a warning. The Pitties mean business; I think they’re going to loosen the boats.’

‘Don’t go.’ Her voice was stiff now. ‘Don’t go, please. Let us go straight to the station; the police will deal with it.’

‘Now, now.’ He put his hands on her shoulder and turned her about, then led her towards and into the drawing-room. Once inside he closed the door, then whispered to her, ‘Now look, it’s nothing. All right, all right—’ he silenced her—‘I’ll get the police. I promise I’ll get the police.’

‘It’s dark; anything could happen; it’s dark.’

‘Look, nothing’s going to happen. Richardson’ll be there with him. He’s a tough fellow is Richardson. Now look, I’ve got to go. You stay where you are.’

‘No, let me come with you. Please let me . . .’

‘No. No. Now don’t you dare move out of here.’ He opened the door and called, ‘Jessie!’ and when the maid appeared he said, ‘See that your mistress doesn’t leave the house until I get back. Now, that’s an order.’

The girl looked from one to the other, then said, ‘Yes, sir. Yes, sir.’

He turned again to Charlotte and, putting his hand out, he cupped her chin and squeezed it before hurrying towards the door, where little Joe was standing.

The little fellow cast a glance back towards Charlotte, touched his forelock and said, ‘Evenin’, ma’am,’ and she replied, ‘Good evening.’ Then he sidled out quickly after Rory.

They hadn’t reached the bottom of the steps before Charlotte’s voice came after them, crying, ‘Wait for the carriage!’

‘I don’t need the carriage. Go back inside. Do what you’re told.’ His voice trailed away as he hurried down the drive.

Once in the lane, he began to run and little Joe kept up with him, but by the time they had reached Westoe village the little fellow was lagging far behind.

Fire. It only needed a can of oil and a match and the whole place would go up like dried hay lit by lightning, and they mightn’t be able to get out in time. If Jimmy was up in the loft he could be choked with smoke. There were so many books and papers up there, and all that wood, oiled wood inside and out, and the tarred beams underneath in the covered slipway . . . He’d kill those Pitties; one or all of them he’d kill them. It had to come sooner or later; it was either them or him. If they hurt Jimmy . . . And she was there an’ all, Janie. To come back from the dead and then be burned alive. And that’s what could happen, if they’d both gone to bed. Those buggers! They were murderers, maniacs.

He was racing down the bank towards the market. Dark-clothed figures stopped and looked after him, then looked ahead to see if he was being chased.