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Updated: May 21, 2025
Opinions are divided among us as to whether he is answerable for the murder as well as the robbery, or whether there was a third person concerned in it. We have done our best to clear the matter up, and we have not succeeded. The doctors give us no hope of any assistance from Mother Sowler.
Phoebe answered petulantly, "I'm turned out of the house; I don't care what you tell her!" Jervy again addressed the old woman, still keeping his information in reserve. "Why do you want to know where he lives?" "He owes me money," said Mrs. Sowler. Jervy looked hard at her, and emitted a long low whistle, expressive of blank amazement.
Morcross took his place, eyed her steadily for a moment, and saw the way to end it. "A quarter of gin!" he shouted. "Quick! before she leaves the window!" In a minute he had the pewter measure in his hand, and tapped at the window. "Gin, Mother Sowler! Break the window, and have a drop of gin!" For a moment, the drunkard mastered her own dreadful visions at the sight of the liquor.
"Your politics are in your girl's pocket," muttered Mrs. Sowler. "How long will her money last?" Jervy turned a deaf ear to the interruption. "And what has brought you here?" he went on, in his most ingratiating way. "Did you see the advertisement in the papers?" Mrs. Sowler answered loud enough to be heard above the hum of talking in the sixpenny places.
Sowler reflected a little and understood him. "Say that again," she insisted, "in the presence of your young woman as witness." Jervy touched his young woman's hand under the table, warning her to make no objection, and to leave it to him. Having declared for the second time that he would not take a farthing from Mrs. Sowler, he went on with his inquiries.
By that time, the landlord had discovered that Jervy's luggage had been secretly conveyed away, and that his tenant had left him, in debt for rent of the two best rooms in the house. No longer in any doubt of what had happened, Mrs. Sowler employed the remaining hours of the evening in making inquiries after the missing man.
"Who was Moll Davis?" "A cadger." "And you really know nothing now of Moll Davis or the child?" "Should I want you to help me if I did?" Mrs. Sowler asked contemptuously. "They may be both dead and buried, for all I know to the contrary." Jervy put her into the cab, without further delay. "Now for the other one!" he said to himself, as he hurried back to the private room.
The reply she received did not encourage her to say more. "Hold your tongue; I have reasons for being civil to her you be civil too." He turned to Mrs. Sowler, with the readiest submission to circumstances. Under the surface of his showy looks and his vulgar facility of manner, there lay hidden a substance of callous villainy and impenetrable cunning.
Sowler's head was only assailable by hot grog, when hot grog was administered in large quantities. She said it was a debt of long standing, and she said no more. "Has it been standing seven years?" Mrs. Sowler emptied her glass, and looked hard at Jervy across the table. "My memory isn't good for much, at my time of life." She gave him that answer, and she gave him no more.
Sowler clamoured for wood and coals; revived the fire with her own hands; and seated herself shivering as close to the fender as the chair would go. After a while, the composing effect of the heat began to make its influence felt: the head of the half-starved wretch sank: a species of stupor overcame her half faintness, and half sleep.
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