some flaming language got used when a nag let them down.’
‘Did they mention a system?’
‘No, not within my hearing.’
‘What gave you the idea, then?’
‘They used to have a conference over the papers every morning, and the dark bloke was working out something in his notebook. After that they got on the blower and placed their bets. Along with the lolly they chucked around, I reckoned it was a cert that they were working a system.’
There were no records of those calls; The Roebuck was equipped with pay-boxes for its patrons. Some mail had certainly arrived for one of the three men, but nobody could remember anything useful connected with it.
‘Who did you see in their company?’
‘Nobody that I can remember. They didn’t try to be pally with the regulars.’
‘How about women?’
The manager intervened.
‘We don’t permit that sort of person to be brought into The Roebuck …’
A porter was called, then a waiter and the chambermaid. Stroke by stroke they added detail to the empty spaces.
‘Were they ever away for the day?’
‘They didn’t miss a meal.’
‘Would one of them have spent a night on the tiles?’
‘They spent the evenings drinking and playing cards.’
‘What about Thursday night?’
‘It was just the same. The little bloke got up and went out at about half past eleven. The dark one said something to him and they all laughed like mad. The bar was closed, but they stopped there with a bottle of whisky between them.’
And he hadn’t come back, the little bloke, he hadn’t returned to pick up the jest and his glass again.
For a while the other two had taken no notice. They went on drinking and playing and smoking the Russian cigarettes which were temporarily in vogue with them. At one o’clock, however, they had sought out the night-porter.
‘A bit anxious they seemed, wanted to know if their pal hadn’t got back. No, I tells them, nobody hadn’t come in since midnight. They went into a huddle, talking low so’s I couldn’t hear them, then the rough-looking one went up in the lift. When he came back they both of them went out. I reckon it was near on two before I saw them again.’
‘Which way did they go when they left here?’
The porter sucked in his lips.
‘Towards Fenway Road, I think it was.’
‘And they returned from that direction?’
‘I couldn’t be sure. I’d got the kettle on, making myself a cup of tea.’
On returning they had put their question to him again. Now they were more than anxious, they were angry and apparently baffled. They remained another half-hour in the hall, conferring and casting black looks towards the door. Eventually they had given the porter a pound note and asked him to ring them if their friend turned up.
‘Only that’s what he didn’t do, nor I haven’t seen him since. The next day his mates booked out after lunch.’
In the morning they were having what sounded like a row in one of the bedrooms. The chambermaid had heard them at it and had caught a few phrases.
‘They was calling somebody a little rat and saying that wringing his neck was too good for him. “What are you going to do about the stuff in the bank?” says one. “—something leave it there!” says the other. “What else can we do?”’
‘That phrase … “wringing his neck” … you’re sure about that?’
‘Wring his neck or strangle him – it was one or the other.’
After breakfast they had been definitely off-colour. The routine of form-checking and bet-laying had gone quite by the board. The dark one had gone out, leaving his friend to bite his nails. When he returned, just at lunchtime, he had with him the noon edition of the evening paper.
‘They never had their lunch at all. I saw them sitting in the bar with the paper on the table. They weren’ttalking, just sitting there – like as though something had knocked them all of a heap.’
And then, of course, they had gone, taking a taxi to the station; after
‘Did they mention a system?’
‘No, not within my hearing.’
‘What gave you the idea, then?’
‘They used to have a conference over the papers every morning, and the dark bloke was working out something in his notebook. After that they got on the blower and placed their bets. Along with the lolly they chucked around, I reckoned it was a cert that they were working a system.’
There were no records of those calls; The Roebuck was equipped with pay-boxes for its patrons. Some mail had certainly arrived for one of the three men, but nobody could remember anything useful connected with it.
‘Who did you see in their company?’
‘Nobody that I can remember. They didn’t try to be pally with the regulars.’
‘How about women?’
The manager intervened.
‘We don’t permit that sort of person to be brought into The Roebuck …’
A porter was called, then a waiter and the chambermaid. Stroke by stroke they added detail to the empty spaces.
‘Were they ever away for the day?’
‘They didn’t miss a meal.’
‘Would one of them have spent a night on the tiles?’
‘They spent the evenings drinking and playing cards.’
‘What about Thursday night?’
‘It was just the same. The little bloke got up and went out at about half past eleven. The dark one said something to him and they all laughed like mad. The bar was closed, but they stopped there with a bottle of whisky between them.’
And he hadn’t come back, the little bloke, he hadn’t returned to pick up the jest and his glass again.
For a while the other two had taken no notice. They went on drinking and playing and smoking the Russian cigarettes which were temporarily in vogue with them. At one o’clock, however, they had sought out the night-porter.
‘A bit anxious they seemed, wanted to know if their pal hadn’t got back. No, I tells them, nobody hadn’t come in since midnight. They went into a huddle, talking low so’s I couldn’t hear them, then the rough-looking one went up in the lift. When he came back they both of them went out. I reckon it was near on two before I saw them again.’
‘Which way did they go when they left here?’
The porter sucked in his lips.
‘Towards Fenway Road, I think it was.’
‘And they returned from that direction?’
‘I couldn’t be sure. I’d got the kettle on, making myself a cup of tea.’
On returning they had put their question to him again. Now they were more than anxious, they were angry and apparently baffled. They remained another half-hour in the hall, conferring and casting black looks towards the door. Eventually they had given the porter a pound note and asked him to ring them if their friend turned up.
‘Only that’s what he didn’t do, nor I haven’t seen him since. The next day his mates booked out after lunch.’
In the morning they were having what sounded like a row in one of the bedrooms. The chambermaid had heard them at it and had caught a few phrases.
‘They was calling somebody a little rat and saying that wringing his neck was too good for him. “What are you going to do about the stuff in the bank?” says one. “—something leave it there!” says the other. “What else can we do?”’
‘That phrase … “wringing his neck” … you’re sure about that?’
‘Wring his neck or strangle him – it was one or the other.’
After breakfast they had been definitely off-colour. The routine of form-checking and bet-laying had gone quite by the board. The dark one had gone out, leaving his friend to bite his nails. When he returned, just at lunchtime, he had with him the noon edition of the evening paper.
‘They never had their lunch at all. I saw them sitting in the bar with the paper on the table. They weren’ttalking, just sitting there – like as though something had knocked them all of a heap.’
And then, of course, they had gone, taking a taxi to the station; after
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