Chapter Thirty-Two

We helped the old lady to her carriage and invited her to take lunch with us at the inn where the three of us had taken rooms for the evening. Blathers rode with her. Varden and I followed in the coach that had brought us to the graveyard.

We were all chilled from our experience in the misty rain. I was happy to have a cup of hot strong tea. Mrs. Squod, for we discovered she had never remarried, joined me. Of course Blathers had a large brandy and Varden did the same. Settled near the fire in the lounge with our warming beverages, we prevailed upon Mrs. Squod to tell her story. As it turned out, she would have done so had we never asked.

“I were a young girl when we was wed and Jack were born. Phil were a fine man, ’cept when he were drinkin’. Then long come this here quite han’some, smooth-talkin’ feller. And I falls fer him.”

She ran off with the chap, who was a seller of medicines. It was a few years before she realized he had women in several places. When he needed or wanted to visit the other women, he would stick her in a cheap hotel for a few weeks. Quite often, upon his return, they would be obligated to leave the hotel in the middle of the night because of a lack of funds. Finally, he failed to return for her. She had no money and nowhere to go. But the landlord of the hotel had a plan for her. She stayed as a tenant until she was no longer attractive. She then moved to a closet in the kitchen where she washed floors and dishes for the patrons, including the young woman who took her room.

“At first, I tries ta go back ta Phil, but he would have none of it. He gets drunk and he beats me while young Jack sits there a-lookin’. It were horrible.”

She returned to the hotel of ill repute and had been there all the time since, doing the dirty work. “I doesn’t thinks I can last much longer. When I hears that Phil is dead, I thinks this will be me last chance ta ever see young Jack again. The landlord—he’s not such a bad feller—lent me the money ta come here. You say that woman at the grave were me own Jack? Were he gonna hit me? Why would he does such a thing?”

I said, “I believe it was Jack, yes. He seemed angry.”

“I doesn’t blame him. Poor boy!”

I wanted to find out if Mrs. Squod knew anything about the Maltese cross on the sign of the Black Lion or about the Order.

“Mrs. Squod, on the sign at the Black Lion, the lion is holding a cross. Do you have any idea of its significance?”

“Nifigance. What does ya mean, nifigance?”

“I’m sorry. I mean, do you know why there is a cross on the sign?”

“Oh, the cross. It had ta do wi’ the Order, ya know.”

“I see. What Order?”

“Oh, them malty mates of Phil’s. They was always shuttin’ down the taproom fer their meetin’s. There were some tough fellers in that bunch, but there were a few swells, as well. I al’as thinks they was up ta no good.”

“By ‘malty’ do you mean Maltese?”

“Yes. Well, I doesn’t say it so good. I hasn’t had mush schoolin’, ya knows.”

“Do you know the name of any of the members of the Order?”

“They all had nicknames, ya know. I know Phil were called Landlord.”

“Do you remember any of the other nicknames?”

“Oh, let me see. There were two big fellas. They calls them the Twins. Then there were Banker. He were a dandy and kinda were leader o’ the bunch. I doesn’t remembers any more. They all had names like people’s work, ya know.”