Arthur & George by Julian Barnes Read Free Book Online Page B

rather loony, Father. He spat at me twice.”
    “He spat at you?”
    George thinks again. He is still frightened, but knows this is no reason to tell less than the truth.
    “I cannot be certain of that, Father. He was about a yard away, and he spat twice very close to my foot. It’s possible he was spitting just like rough people do. But when he did it he seemed to be cross with me.”
    “Do you think that is sufficient proof of intention?”
    George likes this. He is being treated as a future solicitor.
    “Perhaps not, Father.”
    “I agree with you. Good. I shall not mention the spitting.”
    Three days later the Reverend Shapurji Edalji receives a reply from Captain the Honourable George A. Anson, Chief Constable of Staffordshire. It is dated January 23rd 1893, and does not contain the expected apology and promise of action. Instead, Anson writes:
    Will you please ask your son George from whom the key was obtained which was laid on your doorstep on Dec. 12? The key was stolen, but if it can be shown that the whole thing was due to some idle freak or practical joke, I should not be inclined to allow any police proceedings to be taken in regard to it. If, however, the persons concerned in the removal of the key refuse to make any explanation of the subject, I must necessarily treat the matter in all seriousness as a theft. I may say at once that I shall not pretend to believe any protestations of ignorance which your son may make about this key. My information on the subject does not come from the police.
    The Vicar knows his son to be a decent and honourable boy. He must overcome the nerves he seems to have inherited from his mother, but is already showing much promise. The time has come to begin treating him as an adult. He shows George the letter and asks for his view.
    George reads the letter twice and takes a moment to assemble his thoughts.
    “In the lane,” he begins slowly, “Sergeant Upton accused me of going to Walsall School and stealing the key. The Chief Constable, on the other hand, accuses me of being in alliance with someone else, or several others. One of them took the key, then I accepted the stolen item and put it on the step. Perhaps they realize I have not been in Walsall for two years. At any event, they have changed their story.”
    “Yes. Good. I agree. And what else do you think?”
    “I think they must both be loony.”
    “George, that’s a childish word. And in any case it is our Christian duty to pity and cherish the feeble of mind.”
    “I’m sorry, Father. Then all I can think is that they . . . that they must suspect me for some reason I do not understand.”
    “And what do you think he means when he writes ‘My information on the subject does not come from the police’?”
    “He must mean that someone has sent him a letter denouncing me. Unless . . . unless he is not telling the truth. He might be pretending to know things he doesn’t. Perhaps it is just a bluff.”
    Shapurji smiles at his son. “George, with your eyesight you would never have made a detective. But with your brain you will be a very fine solicitor.”
    Arthur
    Arthur and Louisa did not get married in Southsea. Nor did they get married in Minsterworth, Gloucestershire, the bride’s parish of origin. Nor did they get married in the city of Arthur’s birth.
    When Arthur quit Edinburgh as a newly qualified doctor, he left behind the Mam, his brother Innes, and his three youngest sisters—Connie, Ida and little Julia. He also left behind the flat’s other occupant, Dr. Bryan Waller, supposed poet, incontrovertible lodger, and a fellow too damned at ease with the world. Despite all Arthur’s gratitude for Waller’s tutorial help, something still rankled. He could never quite allay his suspicion that the lodger’s assistance had not been disinterested; though where exactly that interest might lie Arthur was unable to detect.
    When he left, Arthur had imagined that Waller would soon set up his own Edinburgh