James Greenwood - The True History of a Little Ragamuffin

captor was either a policeman or the old gentleman on whom I had committed the theft It was neither one nor the other; to my great astonishment it was a strange gentleman—a tall gentleman, dressed handsomely, with a kid glove on one hand and a flashing ring on the bare hand that held me by the collar. As coolly as though it were his own property, he picked up the book and put it in his own pocket.

“There’s no mistake about the saying that the biggest fools have the best luck,” he observed, still retaining his hold on my collar, and marching me farther down the dark street “Please, sir, I found it; it’s no use to me, sir; you can keep it, sir, if you’ve got a mind to,” I exclaimed, in a terrible fright, and scarcely knowing what I said.

“Course you found it; d——n it! you never worked for it, unless you call such bungling as you have just shown a sample of work,” sneered the mysterious gentleman.

“You may have it, sir; p’r’aps it’s yours, sir; p’r’aps it was you as dropped it, sir,” I insinuated, hoping to furnish the gentleman with an excuse for walking off with the pocket-book, and letting me go about my business.

“Who are you working for?” asked the gentleman, abruptly, when we had got well down the street.

The gentleman takes me for an honest errand-boy, thought I. “Please, sir, I works at—at—a box-maker’s down Whitechapel way,” I replied, endeavouring to look like an innocent box-maker’s boy.

“What d’yer mean?” observed the gentleman, in a growling tone I should have thought him incapable of. “Who are you working for, I asked you, didn’t I? Are you one of Spendlow’s gang, or are you one of Nosey Simmonds’s boys?”

I knew, now, that he wasn’t a gentleman, and my courage rose. “I ain’t neither one nor the t’other,” I answered. “You let me alone; that’s the best thing you can do.”

“Then you come from Tom Martin’s?”

“I don’t know Tom Martin. Jest you leave go my collar. I don’t want the pocket-book, but just you let go, will yer?”

“I’ll twist your infernal young neck, if you don’t keep still,” replied he, giving me a shake. “If you don’t work for them I’ve named, who do you work for?”

“Nobody, if you must know,” said I, finding that it was best to be civil to him.

“Nobody! do you mean to tell me that you are working on your own hook?”

“Nobody’s else’s.”

He left go my collar for a moment, and gazed at me as though he more than doubted my assertion.

“Look here, my lad,” said be, bending down so as to be able to whisper to me; you may think to gammon me, but I tell you that if you do you will be the first boy that ever did do it. Let’s have the truth, now. If you have got a master, why, tell me, and there’s no harm done; if you haven’t, tell me, and p’r’aps I might stand your friend.”

“You ain’t a policeman, then?”

“A what?”

“A policeman; you ain’t nothing in the perlice? not a detective or nothing in that line?”

The gentleman laughed.

“Don’t say another word.” said he; “ am I anything in the police, indeed! You are a nice sort of chap to try your hand at stilting,” (first-class pocket-picking!) “Why, what d’yer mean by it?. How long have you been about?”

“Two months,” I replied, perceiving that there was nothing to be gained by concealing my business from him.

“Started green, and been at it about two months—reg’ler working?”

“Alwis workin’.”

“Never once been nabbed?”

“Not once.”

“Then you’re a lucky fellow, that’s all I’ve got to say about it,” replied the gentleman laughing again, as though he saw something astonishingly funny in my statement “You ought, by rights, to have been nabbed the first nibble, for you certainly are about the greatest dunce at the trade I ever did meet. It’s high time that somebody took you in hand. Come along with me.”

He spoke as though he was the somebody who meant to take me in hand, and the supposition that that was what he meant caused me an uncomfortable sensation it would be hard to describe. I didn’t like the look of him a bit, and somehow I felt almost as much afraid of him as though he had been a policeman. I didn’t go so far us telling him so, but what I did tell him was that I was much obliged to him, but that I didn’t want taking in hand. He turned on me savagely.

“Never mind what you want and what you don’t want,” said he. “Well, I’m——! what next? If you never had a master before, you’ve got one now, and so you’ll find. There’s no two ways about me, so hold your tongue and walk by the side of me until we get home; then we’ll have a little chat together.”

He turned back into the Poultry, and went up Cornhill, and through Houndsditch, and so into Whitechapel, and wound and twisted about through various thoroughfares, until Little Keate Street was reached, I keeping by his side as he commanded.

I have often since wondered why, as I did not like the look of him, I did not run away, seeing that I had plenty of opportunity for doing so; and the best solution I can find is, that had he appeared to have taken pains to keep me close by him, and manifested any anxiety lest I should run away, it is very likely that I might have attempted to escape; but he didn’t seem to take the least pains in the world about me; he walked along swinging his silk umbrella with the air of the most ordinary person out for an evening stroll, only once in a while giving a downward glance in my direction. Somehow, he seemed to make sure that I would not disobey him, and, incomprehensible as it now appears to me, if that was his conjecture, it was a perfectly correct one. I did not dare disobey him. To be sure he had seen me commit the theft, and he might possibly and after all be something in the police way. Anyway, I felt myself powerless to do aught but what be desired.

Arrived at Keate Street, and about the middle of it, he gave a curious little knock at a door, which was opened by a smartly-dressed and very good-looking young woman, who, not at first perceiving me, observed to my companion, “I didn’t expect you home so early, George,” and kissed him very affectionately.

“I’ve brought you a new lodger, Suke,” said he.

She didn’t seem best pleased, I thought, and answered, sulkily, “Well, you know best, of course, George. I should have thought that you was sick of lodgers; he’ll last just about as long as the last one did, I suppose.”

“You may take an oath he won’t last a day longer if he plays any tricks with me,” replied George, with an ugly laugh. “Tea ready, Suke?”

“Very nearly. Go in.”

We went into the front parlour, which was very nicely furnished, and the tea-things were already spread on the table before the cosy fire. There was a sofa in the room, and on this George threw himself languidly and remained, with his arms under his head and his feet in the air, in perfect and perplexing silence, until the young woman before mentioned appeared with the tea-pot, and a dish of lovely broiled ham, garnished with eggs. Her temper evidently had not improved during her absence. “Out of the way, unless you want to be scalded,” said she to me, spitefully, as she came by with the tea-pot; and when she had set it and the dish down she turned about to leave the room.

“Ain’t you going to sit down, Suke?” he inquired.

“No, thanky; I’ve had my tea,” she replied.

“Oh, go to——, if you like!” snapped the irritable and impolite gentleman. “What the devil is it to do with you?”

The young woman deigned no reply, but went out, shutting the door behind her with a decision that unmistakably betrayed the extent and quality of her emotion.