The Cabmans Story | Page 3

pain,
and his jaw hung down. He was evidently not only dead, but had been
dead some time.
"'What shall we do?' said the flunkey. He was as white as death himself,
and his hair bristled with fear.
"'I'll drive to the nearest police station,' I answered; and so I did,
leaving him shivering on the pavement. There I gave up my fare, and
that was the last I ever saw of him."
"Did you never hear any more of it?" I asked.
"Hear! I thought I should never hear the end of it, what with
examinations and inquests and one thing and another. The doctors
proved that he must have been dead at the time he was shoved into the
cab. Just before the inquest four little blue spots came out on one side
of his neck, and one on the other, and they said only a woman's hand
could have fitted over them, so they brought in a verdict of willful
murder; but; bless you, they had managed it so neatly that there was not
a clue to the women, nor to the man either, for everything by which he
might have been identified had been removed from his pockets. The
police were fairly puzzled by that case. I've always thought what a bit o'
luck it was that I got my fare, for I wouldn't have had much chance of it
if it hadn't been paid in advance."
My friend the driver began to get very husky about the throat at this
stage of the proceedings, and slackened his speed very noticeably as we
approached a large public-house, so that I felt constrained to offer him
another gin, which he graciously accepted. The ladies had some wine,
too, and I followed the example of my companion on the box, so that
we all started refreshed.
"The police and me's been mixed up a good deal," continued the
veteran resuming his reminiscences: "They took the best customer I
ever had away from me. I'd have made my fortin if they'd let him carry
on his little game a while longer!"

Here, with the coquetry of one who knows that his words are of interest,
the driver began to look around him with an air of abstraction and to
comment upon the weather.
"Well, what about your customer and the police?' I asked.
"It's not much to tell," he said, coming back to his subject. "One
morning I was driving across Vauxhall Bridge when I was hailed by a
crooked old man with a pair of spectacles on, who was at the
Middlesex end; with a big leather bag in his hand. 'Drive anywhere you
like,' he said; 'only don't drive fast for I'm getting old, and it shakes me
to pieces.' He jumped in, and shut himself up, closing the windows, and
I trotted about with him for three hours, before he let me know that he
had had enough. When I stopped, out he hopped with his big bag in his
hand.
"'I say cabbie!' he said, after he had paid his fare.
"'Yes, sir,' said I, touching my hat.
"'You seem to be a decent sort'of fellow, and you don't go in the
break-way of some of your kind. I don't mind giving you the every day.
The doctors recommend gentle exercise of the sort, and you may as
well drive me as another. Just pick me up at the place tomorrow.'
"Well, to make a long story short, I used to find the little man in his
place every morning, always with his black bag, and for nigh unto four
months never a day passed without his having his three hours' drive and
paying his fare like a man at the end of it. I shifted into new quarters on
the strength of it, and was able to buy a new set of harness. I don't say
as I altogether swallowed the story of the doctors having recommended
him on a hot day to go about in a growler with both windows up.
However, it's a bad thing in this world to be too knowing, so though I
own I felt a bit curious at it never put myself out o' the way to find out
what the little game was. One day, I was driving up to my usual place
of dropping him--for by this time we had got into the way of going a
regular beat every morning--when I saw a policeman waiting, a perky
sort of look about him, as if he had some job on hand. When the cab

stopped out jumped the little man with his bag right into the arms of the
'bobby.'
"'I arrest you, John Malone,' says the policeman.
"'On what charge?' he answers as cool as a turnip.