Chapter Thirty-Three

We had acquired quite a bit of information to date, but it was, at this point, a hodgepodge. Regardless of the fuss Blathers made over my habit of arranging information in lists, I knew I had to do it. Therefore, I was in our room at the Black Lion early on the day following our return from Squod’s interment. I knew Blathers would not arrive before half-ten. He had arranged for a lesson with Miss Martin. I had all morning to put some order to the clues we had acquired.

Those who try to lead orderly lives, like myself, will know the first step in any task is to be sure that the needed tools or supplies are at hand. I arranged pens, fresh ink, and paper on the tabletop. I felt the first category on my list should be about the Order, since yesterday’s discussion with Mrs. Squod was fresh in my mind. I began:

The Order

1. The Order used a Maltese cross as a symbol of identification.

2. Squod was a member of the Order, known as the Landlord.

3. It is likely a Maltese cross appears in the sign of the Black Lion because of Squod’s membership.

I was thinking about how to arrange the information obtained from Mrs. Squod when there was a knock on my door. “I say, old chap, lovely morning, what? The landlady said I could find you here. A bit of a word, if you have the time.” Childers Senior poked his head into the room.

“Why, yes, please come in and have a seat.”

“Very decent, of you, old chap. May I close the door?” Before I could answer, the door slammed shut. “I wish to speak to you about the two little sacks that were on the table in the taproom yesterday.” I was looking at a quite large pistol in the good old fellow’s hand. “I would certainly dislike having to use this weapon, so I will appreciate your cooperation. Do you understand, old chap?” The tone of the term “old chap” had changed to threatening.

“I know nothing about those bags. They were the property of the other gentleman, Mr. Varden.”

“Have you seen Mr. Varden today?”

“No.”

“And you won’t. He is in hospital. Apparently two brigands attacked him as he was leaving here yesterday.”

“The Twins.”

“So you have heard of the Twins?”

My revelation seemed to surprise Childers. I thought I would try to rattle him a little further. “Yes, I know about the Twins, and I know about the Banker, as well.” As I said this, it hit me: Harold Childers was the man on the train, the one I thought I recognized. He had worn a disguise, but there are certain features that often show through any disguise. I now saw those features in the man holding a gun on me. The threatening look in the eyes was one of those features. If I continued to disclose what I thought I knew, I increased the chances the look would turn into action, and I would be fortunate if I turned up in hospital next to Varden. The undertaker was the other possibility.

I decided to take my chances. Maybe if I pushed the villain he would run instead of pulling the trigger. “I also know you were with the Twins on the train right after they murdered Squod. They were acting on your instruction. It is also likely you killed Major Martin. How many others have you killed? You must have disposed of quite a few other members of the Order to gain sole possession of the diamonds.” It seemed from the moment Childers pulled his gun, my mind started listing all the facts, which led to the conclusions now spilling, almost uncontrollably, from my lips. “The diamonds were the treasury of the Order, weren’t they?” I started to guess. “One of the Order’s businesses was smuggling diamonds. What else did you smuggle? Women from China for the brothels of Limehouse? Did you carry slaves to the West Indies? How about liquor from Europe?”

The more that came out of my mouth, the closer the gun came to a point between my eyes.