SV - 01 - Sergeant Verity and the Cracksman Read Online Free PDF Page A

voice indignantly
     
    "I'll let you know pretty quick, if you don't hook it!" answered Verity softly.
    Other voices came from the dark, in derisive imitation of his own.
    "Hook it, Jack Flash! . . . Why don't you hook it nicely, when Mr Verity tells you? . . . Oh, I say, Flash! Do hook it when Mr Verity says so! "
    The voices fell silent and the alley was empty again. Its dark passageway opened out abruptly into an irregular cobbled square, crowded with porters and street women, and blazing with the great ornate gas lamps that hung on iron brackets the length of the gin palace. French and Irish voices mingled with cockney. Here at last was anonymity, even for Verity. In the angle of two streets stood the most splendid building in all the Seven Dials, the fairy palace of gin. The brilliance of its lamps streamed out through plate-glass windows, between marble pillars and gilt mouldings. Verity chose the doorway whose lettering on frosted glass promised "The Wine Promenade."
    The floor was thickly carpeted and a bar of polished French mahogany ran the full length of the building. Behind this, two plump young women and a stout, unshaven man in a fur cap busily dispensed "combinations of gin" to the impatient crowd. Voices called out for "The Real Knock-Me-Down!" "The Reg'lar Flare-up" and the "No Mistake."
    At the end of the mahogany counter was a tall girl in black satin. She was not particularly pretty, her blue eyes were a little too vacant and her lips a little too thin. But her height gave her a handsome length of leg, and her hips seemed all the rounder for her close-waisted jacket. The jacket followed the inward curve of her back, emphasising the erotic swell of her buttocks under smooth black satin. Her blonde hair was pulled back in a chignon held by a black velvet bow. It was too short to fall in a "horse's tail," and Verity, admiring her broad hips and long legs, was reminded of a restive mare with her tail docked. The brushing of her restless thighs, the impatient movements of her bottom under the long black skirt, seemed a permanent sexual challenge to every man in the room.
    Verity crossed the bar towards her, watching her toss back the last mouthful in a glass. She was easy, this one. She had been arrested once too often as a common whore. The next time, she knew what to expect.
    "Ellen Jacoby," he said, standing just behind her, "Miss Ellen Jacoby."
    "Ellen Jacoby." She turned on her elbow, wrinkling her nose in tipsy contempt. "Mrs. Ellen Jacoby."
    "Ah," said Verity respectfully, "wrong on the charge sheet last time, was it?"
    Then she turned to face him properly, pushing her skirts back in a gesture of bravado.
    "You've got no call to roust me. I ain't done nothing."
    "That makes me happy," said Verity in a gentle voice. "Will you take a glass of something?"
    "Don't mind then," she said, shrugging and automatically smoothing down the front of her dress to outline her breasts more dearly. "Drop of summat short, miss!" she called to the barmaid.
    "Now," said Verity, "you can oblige me if you will."
    She half smiled and bent her knee forward until it just played against his.
    "I oblige those I choose to oblige, that's all. I oblige one or two jacks in the "C" Division, and they returns favour for favour. If you take my meaning."
    Verity nodded. He had heard enough reports of the corruption in "C" Division, where constables in the pay of Hay-market brothel keepers stood guard over the establishments, protecting them from law and competition alike. It was no secret.
    "I want to find a girl," he said simply, "name of Jolie. Darkish. Expensive. Used to work for Mr Roper." "What you want her for?"
    "I was recommended," said Verity. "They say she's a real artist."
    "That's all gammon," said the girl. "Another bloody little shickster, most likely."
     
    "You know her, then?" "Never 'eard of her." "Nor of Ned Roper?" "Who's he?"
     
    Verity took off his hat. Very slowly and lovingly he began to polish the worn brim on his