Walking a Fine Line: Day 8

Word Count: 48,034

Summary of Events:

Joseph stopped by the newsstand and was given several more old copies of the Philadelphia Inquirer to go through, but none of them were the edition with the pictures of the jewellery, nor did any have a photo of Mr. McElligott for him to compare with Mr. Varley's face. A couple days later Theresa reported that Mr. Varley wanted to know if Joseph would help him, prompting her to ask what was going on, but Joseph told her that he didn't know enough to tell her yet. Having become disturbed by a worry that if Mr. Varley were exonerated and deemed a suitable husband for Theresa he might move her back to Philadelphia with him, Joseph paid a visit to Mr. Varley to make clear that he wasn't going to help if Theresa was going to be moved so far away from him in the end, prompting Mr. Varley dismay that Joseph still didn't believe him…

Excerpt of the Day:

“I still have no proof you are who you’ve claimed to be,” Joseph replied. “I’ve got just over half a dozen Philadelphia Inquirers at home that I’ve been poring through, and although they have proven that there was a robbery committed against a Mr. and Mrs. Marion Bradley, presumably by a Mr. Charlie McElligott, and that Mrs. Bradley was appallingly treated by whoever the robber was, they don’t prove you to be Mr. McElligott. In fact, I’ve learned more about the situation from the articles than I have from you, but there’s nothing you’ve told me that hasn’t also been stated in the papers.”

Mr. Varley looked visibly dismayed.

“As a result, for all I know, you could be pretending to be Mr. McElligott and even pretending that he’s innocent to hide who you really, really are, and why you’re really, really here,” Joseph concluded.

Signs of annoyance came onto Mr. Varley’s face. “It seems as if I won’t gain your trust until the sun rises in the west and sets in the east at my command!”

“You said yourself that the reputation Chicago has outside of its own boundaries is as a place which boasts a disproportionate amount of lowlifes in its population,” Joseph replied. “Surely you don’t think that I, a born-and-bred native of this city of shifting shadows, would be so stupid as to trust anyone blindly, even people who are inclined to believe themselves to be my friends?”

“Do you even trust Theresa?” Mr. Varley demanded caustically.

“With my life,” Joseph replied. “And she trusts me likewise.”

Mr. Varley exhaled, annoyance still showing on his face as he rose to his feet in response to the kettle’s whistling. He removed it from the heat and filled the teapot before adding the leaves and bringing all the tea things to the table which he’d brought last time.

“I guess it isn’t hard to believe that she trusts you like that,” Mr. Varley conceded, although there was still a sharpness to his voice. “Siblings are often very close to one another, after all. But what would it take for you to trust that I’m Charlie McElligott and all the rest of it?”

Joseph leaned back in his chair somewhat thoughtfully, then lowered his gaze to look Mr. Varley squarely in the eyes. “I don’t think you can.”

Mr. Varley looked like he wanted to cry out in agony, his whole posture despaired.

“You would be better served to give me a list of people who can confirm your identity and your story to me in person,” Joseph said. “Helpfully such a list would contain their addresses, allowing me to call on them and learn about you without any interference on your part.”
Mr. Varley’s continued disheartened posture made it clear he possessed no such list.

“Of course, even if you were to give me that information, it would probably require me to go to Philadelphia to speak with anyone,” Joseph went on. “And, as I’ve already said, my family can’t afford to spare me or my income for the time that would take.”