himself. I may look at things different from what you do, but that don’t stop me being grateful for favours received. Don’t stop me trying to repay a debt, see?”
“Thanks, Jiddle.”
“And I read the papers, same as anybody else. Saw your name, Commander Esmonde Shaw, who I knew when he wasn’t much more than a kid. Brought it all back straight off. So when I heard you wanted to see me, I was flippin’ surprised, I’ll admit, but I guessed it’d be about that little lot last night. Right?”
Shaw nodded. “Quite right, Jiddle. There’s . . . one or two things I’d like to clear up, seeing I’m likely to be called as a witness. Briefly, I’m trying to find the guard who was on that train. He’s a Nogolian—and his name is Patrick MacNamara.”
“Saw that in the evening papers too. Murder, eh... I can tell you right off, he’s not one of my tenants, not now. Maybe I’d better explain that before I go on.” He grinned. The lights outside Knightsbridge Barracks glinted on his face, swept flickering shadows through the car’s lush interior. “Ruddy landlord these days—that’s me, among other things.
I own the leaseholds of fourteen properties, big stuff. . . roughish stuff, slums you’d call ’em, round Notting Hill and Paddington, you know what I mean. But never a room empty, see? Know why? Strict colour-bar, that’s why—no whites need apply. That’s why your contact put you on to me, see. If anyone in London knows the niggers it’s me.” He chuckled. “Them niggers, strewth! They’ll pay the flippin’ earth for just a share of a room, and never ask for nothing to be done. No trouble at all—usually. Well, now, this MacNamara, he was a tenant of mine—until a few weeks back, as I’ve cause to remember. Anyway, he moved, somewhere down by the docks where it was cheaper.” Jiddle sniffed. “Mind, it’s no skin off my nose, if they don’t see the value of a good address. His flippin’ room was let before he’d moved out, and at a bigger rent—”
Shaw interrupted. “You say you had cause to remember him?”
“That’s right. He had a white girl-friend, for one thing, a real classy bit and a good-looker too. Tall brunette. She wasn’t exactly a tart, though I reckon ’er morals weren’t all that far above reproach, as they say.” He shook his head sadly. “I never did understand it, not really. Mind, he’s not the only one who’s managed to take up with a white girl, but there aren’t so many who do, and you remember ’em.” Jiddle hesitated, seemed about to say something else, but evidently thought better of it.
Shaw asked, “Do you know where he is now?”
Jiddle glanced round, “I’m not a flippin’ missing persons bureau. They don’t come round and confide in me either. Nor has the grapevine reached me yet. Dessay I might hear something in time, though.”
“This is rather urgent, Jiddle. Still—if you don’t know, you don’t.” Shaw looked sideways at the man, outlined again in the many-coloured neons as they went along Kensington High Street. “Or—would you remember something now if it was worth your while?”
Jiddle said quietly, “Now look, Mister Shaw. What I’ve told you is the straight truth, see? I don’t want your lolly and I’m not holding anything back. If I knew I’d tell you. But I don’t. I’ll give you a word of advice, all the same,” he added. “Keep your nose out of this. I don’t know, mind, but I reckon there could be something big in it. I know these niggers, see, better’n most people. And whatever it is, it isn’t for the likes of you. You’re still in the flippin’ Navy, aren’t you?”
“Yes.”
“Well, you won’t be much longer, not if you get mixed up in this. I’m just warning you.” He glanced at Shaw again.
“Not going to be accused of murdering that bloke yourself, are you?”
Shaw laughed. “I hope not! I don’t really think so, Jiddle. It’s not that—but, well, I’ve got a good enough
“Thanks, Jiddle.”
“And I read the papers, same as anybody else. Saw your name, Commander Esmonde Shaw, who I knew when he wasn’t much more than a kid. Brought it all back straight off. So when I heard you wanted to see me, I was flippin’ surprised, I’ll admit, but I guessed it’d be about that little lot last night. Right?”
Shaw nodded. “Quite right, Jiddle. There’s . . . one or two things I’d like to clear up, seeing I’m likely to be called as a witness. Briefly, I’m trying to find the guard who was on that train. He’s a Nogolian—and his name is Patrick MacNamara.”
“Saw that in the evening papers too. Murder, eh... I can tell you right off, he’s not one of my tenants, not now. Maybe I’d better explain that before I go on.” He grinned. The lights outside Knightsbridge Barracks glinted on his face, swept flickering shadows through the car’s lush interior. “Ruddy landlord these days—that’s me, among other things.
I own the leaseholds of fourteen properties, big stuff. . . roughish stuff, slums you’d call ’em, round Notting Hill and Paddington, you know what I mean. But never a room empty, see? Know why? Strict colour-bar, that’s why—no whites need apply. That’s why your contact put you on to me, see. If anyone in London knows the niggers it’s me.” He chuckled. “Them niggers, strewth! They’ll pay the flippin’ earth for just a share of a room, and never ask for nothing to be done. No trouble at all—usually. Well, now, this MacNamara, he was a tenant of mine—until a few weeks back, as I’ve cause to remember. Anyway, he moved, somewhere down by the docks where it was cheaper.” Jiddle sniffed. “Mind, it’s no skin off my nose, if they don’t see the value of a good address. His flippin’ room was let before he’d moved out, and at a bigger rent—”
Shaw interrupted. “You say you had cause to remember him?”
“That’s right. He had a white girl-friend, for one thing, a real classy bit and a good-looker too. Tall brunette. She wasn’t exactly a tart, though I reckon ’er morals weren’t all that far above reproach, as they say.” He shook his head sadly. “I never did understand it, not really. Mind, he’s not the only one who’s managed to take up with a white girl, but there aren’t so many who do, and you remember ’em.” Jiddle hesitated, seemed about to say something else, but evidently thought better of it.
Shaw asked, “Do you know where he is now?”
Jiddle glanced round, “I’m not a flippin’ missing persons bureau. They don’t come round and confide in me either. Nor has the grapevine reached me yet. Dessay I might hear something in time, though.”
“This is rather urgent, Jiddle. Still—if you don’t know, you don’t.” Shaw looked sideways at the man, outlined again in the many-coloured neons as they went along Kensington High Street. “Or—would you remember something now if it was worth your while?”
Jiddle said quietly, “Now look, Mister Shaw. What I’ve told you is the straight truth, see? I don’t want your lolly and I’m not holding anything back. If I knew I’d tell you. But I don’t. I’ll give you a word of advice, all the same,” he added. “Keep your nose out of this. I don’t know, mind, but I reckon there could be something big in it. I know these niggers, see, better’n most people. And whatever it is, it isn’t for the likes of you. You’re still in the flippin’ Navy, aren’t you?”
“Yes.”
“Well, you won’t be much longer, not if you get mixed up in this. I’m just warning you.” He glanced at Shaw again.
“Not going to be accused of murdering that bloke yourself, are you?”
Shaw laughed. “I hope not! I don’t really think so, Jiddle. It’s not that—but, well, I’ve got a good enough
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