Bones in London by Edgar Wallace

Author:Edgar Wallace
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub, pdf
Tags: Fiction, Mystery & Detective, General
ISBN: 9780755114733
Publisher: Nabu Press
Published: 2008-01-11T21:13:39+00:00

A COMPETENT JUDGE OF POETRY

There were times when Mr Cresta Morris was called by that name; there were other moments when he was “Mr Staleyborn.” His wife, a placid and trusting woman, responded to either name, having implicit faith in the many explanations which her husband offered to her, the favourite amongst them being that businessmen were seldom known by the names they were born with.

Thus the eminent firm of drapers Messrs Lavender & Rosemary were – or was – in private life one Isadore Ruhl, and everybody knew that the maker of Morgan’s Superfatted Soap – “the soap with foam” – was a certain member of the House of Lords whose name was not Morgan.

Mrs Staleyborn, or Morris, had a daughter who ran away from home and became the secretary to Augustus Tibbetts, Managing Director of Schemes Limited, and there were odd moments of the day when Mrs Staleyborn felt vaguely uneasy about her child’s future. She had often, indeed, shed tears between five o’clock in the afternoon and seven o’clock in the evening, which as everybody knows, is the most depressing time of the day.

She was, however, one of those persons who are immensely comforted by the repetition of ancient saws which become almost original every time they are applied, and one of these sayings was “Everything is for the best.” She believed in miracles, and had reason, for she received her weekly allowance from her erratic husband with monotonous regularity every Saturday morning.

This is a mere digression to point the fact that Mr Morris was known by many names. He was called “Cress,” and “Ike,” and “Tubby,” and “Staley,” according to the company in which he found himself.

One evening in June he found himself in the society of friends who called him by names which, if they were not strictly original, were certainly picturesque. One of these companions was a Mr Webber, who had worked more swindles with Morris than had any other partner, and the third, and most talkative, was a gentleman named Seepidge, of Seepidge & Soomes, printers to the trade.

Mr Seepidge was a man of forty-five, with a well-used face. It was one of those faces which look different from any other angle than that from which it is originally seen. It may be said, too, that his colouring was various. As he addressed Mr Morris, it varied between purple and blue. Mrs Morris was in the habit of addressing her husband by endearing titles. Mr Seepidge was not addressing Mr Morris in a way which, by any stretch of imagination, could be described as endearing.

“Wait a bit, Lew,” pleaded Mr Morris. “Don’t let’s quarrel. Accidents will occur in the best of regulated families.”

“Which you’re not,” said the explosive Mr Seepidge, violently. “I gave you two hundred to back Morning Glory in the three o’clock race. You go down to Newbury with my money, and you come back and tell me, after the horse has won, that you couldn’t get a bookmaker to take the bet!”

“And I give you the money back,” replied Mr Morris.

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