Mr. and Mrs. Jabez Duck, by saying very little to eachother, managed to avoid those scenes of wordy warfare which are considered part and parcel of English domestic institutions. Indeed, so common is it for husband and wife to disagree when they commence to converse, that the expression, ‘Master and missus have been having a few words,’ is quite understood in the kitchen to mean that ‘Master and missus’ have been having a quarrel.

Mrs. Turvey, having once become Mrs. Duck, and mistress of an establishment of her own, was quite content to let Jabez have his own way so long as he kept out of hers. Her triumph over Georgina was dear to her woman’s heart, and the greatest enjoyment she had in her married life was to stand at the window and glare at the opposite house, where Miss Duck, still a spinster, exhibited ‘Apartments to Let’ in her window.

Georgina returned the glare with interest whenever she perceived it, and time, instead of healing the feud, seemed to increase it. Jabez endeavoured to effect a reconciliation, but as each attempt only brought him the abuse of both parties, he finally gave it up, and determined to let things take their course.

Whenever Jabez visited his sister he was prepared for a lecture on his folly in throwing himself away, and also for sundry warnings as to the conduct of his better-half. He didn’t know half that went on. A nice stocking his wife was putting by. The lodgers were robbed, and he got the credit of it. The house was untidy—everybody talked about it. Everything that feminine malice could invent Miss Duck launched at the head of the lady who had, as her friend, Miss Jackson, feelingly observed, divided the children who once sat on one mother’s knee.

As a rule, the observations of his sister made no impression upon Mr. Duck. He had served an apprenticeship, and knew from personal experience how Georgina could magnify trifles into importance.

But one day Georgina flung a reproach at his head which did not pass off without doing mischief. She boldly declared that during his absence a remarkably dissipated and disreputable individual of the male sex was in the habit of interviewing Mrs. Duck, and generally left with his pockets bulging out; and on one occasion lately Miss Georgina noticed and declared that the said individual had exhibited all the signs of excessive intoxication on the front-door step, and had been seen to leave, after a stormy interview with Mrs. Duck at the front door, clutching some silver money in a dirty and trembling hand.

Miss Georgina’s story was so circumstantial that Jabez believed there was something in it, and determined to cross-examine his better-half. But, before he left, Miss Duck entreated him not to name her as his informant, as she didn’t want her windows broken, or bad language flung down her area to the annoyance of her lodgers.

Mr. Duck ridiculed the idea that his wife could so far forget herself, but he promised Georgina that she should not be implicated.

He left in a very uncomfortable state, and his sister watched him across the road, inwardly delighted at the idea that she had fired the train, and that her rival would come in for the full benefit of the explosion.

Jabez nursed his wrath that evening until he had had a good tea, and no temper on his good lady’s part could interfere with his enjoyment of that favourite meal.

But when the tea-things had been cleared away, and Mrs. Duck had settled herself down in her chair to make out the first-floor’s bill, which had been standing for a month, Jabez cleared his throat, and, picking up a newspaper, prepared to open a masked battery upon the good lady from behind it.

He was just about to inquire casually who the gentleman was who called so frequently during his absence, when there came a loud knock at the door.

The servant was upstairs, Mrs. Duck was busy with her book, so Jabez proceeded to the door himself. He opened it, and let in a tremendous whiff of spirits and a voice which, in a thick, husky whisper, demanded if Mrs. Duck was at home.

Jabez surveyed the visitor in astonishment. He was a middle-aged man, very shabbily dressed, and with bloated features, red, watery eyes, and a ragged, untidy beard.

‘And pray what do you want with Mrs. Duck?’ exclaimed Jabez, when he had recovered from his surprise.

‘Hulloh, guv’nor!’ exclaimed the man, with an attempt at a smile which gradually merged into a hiccough; ‘why’sh my old fren’ Shabez—dam’ fool’sh married my sis’er! Glash shee you.’

Jabez looked at the man silently for a moment. His words were a revelation. This, then, was the drunken visitor Georgina had seen so often. Mrs. Duck’s brother had certainly not prospered in business lately.

While Jabez was hesitating whether he should ask his brother-in law in or not, that gentleman relieved him of all further anxiety by walking or rather rolling in himself, and seizing Jabez affectionately in his arms.

‘Gos blesh you, ol’ fler,’ he said. ‘Why’sh years since shaw you lasht. Know old shong—

‘“‘Tish yersh since las’ we met,

And we may not meeteh again.”’

Mr. Turvey, having raised his voice and howled forth the above in a melancholy manner, here fell exhausted with the exertion and overcome by his feelings on to Mr. Jabez’s breast and wept copiously.

Mrs. Duck, alarmed at the strange operatic performance in the hall, came running out, and, beholding her drunken brother helpless in her husband’s arms, immediately began to upbraid the former in an excited and hysterical manner.

‘Oh, you good-for-nothing brute!’ she exclaimed, ‘to come here disgracing me like this! Oh, you bad man! Ain’t I done everything I could for you? Oh, you wicked wretch!’

Mrs. Duck’s feelings were working up to the screaming-point, when Jabez, alarmed lest the noise should reach the lodgers and cause a scandal, took the bull by the horns and dragged Mr. Turvey into the parlour.

‘Come in, Susan, and shut the door,’ he groaned. ‘This is dreadful—very dreadful!’

‘It isn’t my fault, Jabez,’ sobbed Mrs. Duck; ‘indeed it isn’t! I didn’t want him to come here. I was ashamed for you to see him, and I done what I could to keep him away. I’ve given him money, and food, and clothes, and it’s all gone in drink. He’s a bad man—a bad man—though he is my own flesh and blood, as the saying is. Ugh!’

This last exclamation was addressed to Mr. Turvey, whom Jabez had deposited on a chair, where he was vainly endeavouring to catch an imaginary fly with his hand—a proceeding which ended in his falling out of the chair on to the fender, and bringing down the fire-irons with a terrible clatter.

‘What’s to be done with him?’ exclaimed Mrs. Duck, wringing her hands.

‘Wash’ be done?’ said Mr. Turvey, struggling into a sitting posture; ‘wash’ be done wi’ me? I’m lasht rosh shammer left blooming ‘lone; all lovlish companshish ish faded and gone—eh, Shabez?—faded and gone, old cock—fa’ angone.’

The remembrance of the fall of his lovely companions was too much for Mr. Turvey, and once more his voice became lachrymose.

‘Shuck me oush!’ he exclaimed; ‘shuck mo oush! Lesh die in the streetsh; all monsh gone.’

‘Really, Susan,’ said Mr. Duck, knitting his brows and assuming an attitude of firmness, ‘I am very sorry to see your relative in this condition. It’s disgraceful—most disgraceful!’

‘Dishgraceful!’ exclaimed Mr. Turvey, dragging himself up into a horizontal position and dropping heavily into the chair again; ‘wheresh dishgrace? Look here, Mishter Duck, I’m har’ up. Send me oush country. “To the Wesht, to the Wesht—land o’ the free; Missh—Misshouri “—cetra; you know; or elsh I shall give shelf up to the polish.’ Mrs. Duck screamed.

‘Don’t listen to what he’s going to say, Jabez; it isn’t true; he’s saying it to extort money.’

Mr. Jabez had not been an inquiry agent all these years without having acquired a habit of pricking up his ears. The mention of police aroused his attention at once, and then he remembered the mystery of the thousand pounds. He saw that if he wanted Mr. Turvey to become communicative he had better irritate him.

‘Give yourself up to the police!’ he exclaimed; ‘if you don’t leave my house instantly I’ll save you the trouble.’

For a moment Mr. Turvey looked at Mr. Duck as though he was wondering if he meant it. Gradually his features assumed an expression of rage which would have been comical had not the hideous surroundings of drunkenness overpowered all.

‘You—will!’ he exclaimed, speaking slowly and dully, at first with an effort, but more clearly and rapidly as passion sobered him for a time. ‘You will! Do! Then you’ll have to send her to quod with me.’

Mrs. Duck hid her face.

‘It isn’t true, Jabez,’ she moaned; ‘it isn’t true.’

‘Ha, ha!’ laughed Mr. Turvey, staggering up to the table, and bringing his dirty hand down on it with a blow. ‘Look at her! She won’t do anything more for me, she won’t! Here!’ he shouted, ‘police! police! come and take me! Come and arrest the great gold robber, Turvey the guard! You’ve done it now, Susan! It’s too late! Police! police!’

He rushed about the room in his drunken rage, smashing the things out of his way, and yelling ‘Police!’ at the top of his voice. Mrs. Turvey rushed to the door, her face white as death and her lips parted in terror. Jabez seized the furious drunkard in his arms and, exerting all his strength, forced him down into a chair.

‘Hold your row, you fool!’ he exclaimed. ‘Do you want the whole street about our ears?’

For a moment the man seemed inclined to struggle. He made one violent effort, and then began to sob, and whine, and maudle again.

An hour later Mr. Turvey was fast asleep on the sofa in Mr. Duck’s parlour.

Mr. Duck had agreed to allow him to remain for the night, for he was very anxious to question Mr. Turvey when his present intoxication should have passed off.

He had heard quite enough to know that he had the secret of the great gold robbery within his four walls, and he had seen a means by which he could not only earn a large reward, but the fame he had thirsted for all his life, without in any way injuring the esteemed individual whom he had the honour to call brother-in law.

He quite understood about the thousand pounds that had so mysteriously disappeared, and he had learned now for the first time from Susan that her brother, having dissipated every penny of it, had latterly returned and endeavoured to sponge upon her.

‘I lost the money that time,’ said Mr. Duck to himself, with a chuckle; ‘but if I can pump him, and get the names of his accomplices from him, I shall make a thousand out of the relationship yet.’

The next morning the fates were propitious. Mr. Turvey, having been offered a passage abroad and a little ready money to get drunk with when he landed, communicated to Jabez the whole history of the great gold robbery.

A couple of days later Mr. Duck saw his promising brother-in-law safe on board a vessel bound for the colonies, and he then immediately proceeded to put his plans into execution.

Having ascertained that the large rewards offered at the time had never been withdrawn, he placed himself in communication with the authorities at Scotland-yard.

The only men accused by Jabez were Seth Preene and Josh Heckett. For some reason, possibly because in the muddled and drink-sodden condition of his brain he had forgotten the other parties to the robbery, Turvey, the guard, had named only the two men who had ridden in his van and taken an active part in the robbery. On Jabez’s information warrants for the apprehension of Preene and Heckett were issued and given to one of the principal detectives to execute. His orders were to proceed with the utmost caution, as the evidence was of the weakest possible description, and to make his own investigation before making an arrest.

He certainly did act with caution, for the very first person to whom he confided the secret of his mission was his old friend, Mr. Seth Preene ‘I suppose I’d better hook it?’ said Mr. Preene.

‘I think so,’ said the detective. ‘As soon as you’re safe away I can collar Josh. He’ll do for me.’