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"Oh, did he?" cried Mark Frayne, catching up the nearest thing, which was the model his cousin had been making, and hurling it at the offender, but without effect, for Jeremiah Brigley already had the door open and darted out; the panel receiving the model instead of his head.
Lieutenant Lacey's treatment at the hands of Jerry Brigley was of a very different type. When he was shampooing, Jerry could have given Cinquevalli, the great juggler, long odds and beaten him.
Jeremiah Brigley, who had just put down two pairs of newly-polished shoes, rubbed his nose meditatively with the cuff of his striped morning jacket, and then tapped an itching place on his head with the clothes-brush he held in his hand, as he stared down at the owner of the shoes a good-looking, fair, intent lad of nearly eighteen, busy over a contrivance which rested upon a pile of mathematical and military books on the table of the well-furnished room overlooking the Cathedral Close of Primchilsea busy city.
"And serve him right!" shouted out Jerry, angrily. "Mr Frayne must have made him so mad he couldn't bear himself, and he hit out hard. It was only an accident, after all." "But we should have been in it, Mr Brigley, even if he got off; and there would have been the inquest, too. Things have been a bit quiet here lately." "Well, you'll have your inquest, after all," said Jerry, bitterly. "Humph!
When you were ten times as bad, you never used to look so down and say you would never get right again!" Jerry looked at Brumpton as he delivered himself of this oracular speech, and the fat sergeant declared that he was right; but Dick did not believe either of them. "I've got some news for you, too." "Look here," said Brumpton. "I must be off. Stop with him as long as you can, Jerry Brigley.
Yes, sir, master rung for me to tell me; and, of course, he meant it so that I might come up and tell you. `Brigley, he says, `the doctor gives us no hope at all. There was a piece of bone pressing on the brain, he says, and this the doctors removed; but the shock was too much for the poor fellow, and he won't last the night."
Jerry caught the inspector as he came out of Mr Draycott's study, and signalled him into the pantry. "Then you did nothing?" he said. "Yes, we did," said the inspector, grimly; "we saved our lives, which was about all we could do. I only went for the name of the thing, Mr Brigley thankye, I'll say port. Of course, I went ah! very nice full glass or wine.
"Well, it would be confoundedly ungentlemanly of me to be prying into anyone's affairs, Brigley, and I won't ask questions about him. I hope, though, he hasn't done anything so foolish as to desert, because, even if he is in the band, he is a soldier, and I have heard nothing. Has it been reported?" "Yes, sir; and Mr Wilkins is making a big stir about it.
It's the cat out of the bag, and no mistake!" "One moment, colonel," cried Lacey firmly. "Brigley never drinks. Look here, my man, you said foul play. Do you know who was likely to injure Smithson?" "Smithson!" cried Jerry in contemptuous tones. "I don't care; I will speak now. Smithson do I know? Yes, sir, I do; and I ought to have spoke before, when he was missing first."
He come and ketched me last night sitting on the floor cross-legged, fine-drawing a hole in his dress-vest, and he burst out a-laughing, good-humoured like. "`Why, Brigley, he says, `I didn't know you were a tailor. "`More I am, sir, I says; `but a man as pretends to valet a gent, and can't draw up a tear, or put on a button, ain't worth calling a servant, sir, I says.
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