The Innocence of Father Brown | Page 6

stammeringly assured him that the
establishment had certainly no such intention; it must be a most curious mistake. He
picked up the sugar-basin and looked at it; he picked up the salt-cellar and looked at that,
his face growing more and more bewildered. At last he abruptly excused himself, and
hurrying away, returned in a few seconds with the proprietor. The proprietor also
examined the sugar-basin and then the salt-cellar; the proprietor also looked bewildered.
Suddenly the waiter seemed to grow inarticulate with a rush of words.
"I zink," he stuttered eagerly, "I zink it is those two clergy-men."
"What two clergymen?"
"The two clergymen," said the waiter, "that threw soup at the wall."
"Threw soup at the wall?" repeated Valentin, feeling sure this must be some singular
Italian metaphor.
"Yes, yes," said the attendant excitedly, and pointed at the dark splash on the white paper;
"threw it over there on the wall."
Valentin looked his query at the proprietor, who came to his rescue with fuller reports.
"Yes, sir," he said, "it's quite true, though I don't suppose it has anything to do with the
sugar and salt. Two clergymen came in and drank soup here very early, as soon as the
shutters were taken down. They were both very quiet, respectable people; one of them
paid the bill and went out; the other, who seemed a slower coach altogether, was some
minutes longer getting his things together. But he went at last. Only, the instant before he
stepped into the street he deliberately picked up his cup, which he had only half emptied,
and threw the soup slap on the wall. I was in the back room myself, and so was the waiter;
so I could only rush out in time to find the wall splashed and the shop empty. It don't do
any particular damage, but it was confounded cheek; and I tried to catch the men in the
street. They were too far off though; I only noticed they went round the next corner into

Carstairs Street."
The detective was on his feet, hat settled and stick in hand. He had already decided that in
the universal darkness of his mind he could only follow the first odd finger that pointed;
and this finger was odd enough. Paying his bill and clashing the glass doors behind him,
he was soon swinging round into the other street.
It was fortunate that even in such fevered moments his eye was cool and quick.
Something in a shop-front went by him like a mere flash; yet he went back to look at it.
The shop was a popular greengrocer and fruiterer's, an array of goods set out in the open
air and plainly ticketed with their names and prices. In the two most prominent
compartments were two heaps, of oranges and of nuts respectively. On the heap of nuts
lay a scrap of cardboard, on which was written in bold, blue chalk, "Best tangerine
oranges, two a penny." On the oranges was the equally clear and exact description,
"Finest Brazil nuts, 4d. a lb." M. Valentin looked at these two placards and fancied he
had met this highly subtle form of humour before, and that somewhat recently. He drew
the attention of the red-faced fruiterer, who was looking rather sullenly up and down the
street, to this inaccuracy in his advertisements. The fruiterer said nothing, but sharply put
each card into its proper place. The detective, leaning elegantly on his walking-cane,
continued to scrutinise the shop. At last he said, "Pray excuse my apparent irrelevance,
my good sir, but I should like to ask you a question in experimental psychology and the
association of ideas."
The red-faced shopman regarded him with an eye of menace; but he continued gaily,
swinging his cane, "Why," he pursued, "why are two tickets wrongly placed in a
greengrocer's shop like a shovel hat that has come to London for a holiday? Or, in case I
do not make myself clear, what is the mystical association which connects the idea of
nuts marked as oranges with the idea of two clergymen, one tall and the other short?"
The eyes of the tradesman stood out of his head like a snail's; he really seemed for an
instant likely to fling himself upon the stranger. At last he stammered angrily: "I don't
know what you 'ave to do with it, but if you're one of their friends, you can tell 'em from
me that I'll knock their silly 'eads off, parsons or no parsons, if they upset my apples
again."
"Indeed?" asked the detective, with great sympathy. "Did they upset your apples?"
"One of 'em did," said the heated shopman; "rolled 'em all over the street. I'd 'ave caught
the fool but for havin' to pick 'em