Original Penny Readings Part 2

three.'

"'Werry well,' I says, 'anything for peace and quietness.' And so we tossed.

"'Heads,' says d.i.c.k.

"'Woman it is,' says I. 'One to me;' and then I pa.s.ses the brown over to d.i.c.k, and he spins up.

"'Lovely woman,' says I, and lovely woman it was.

"'Blowed if here ain't two Bobbies a tossin',' says one o' them niste boys as yer meets with in London.

"Didn't I feel savage, though I had won; and for a moment I almost wished it had been that werry young gentleman as we had to take. But my boy gives a grin and a hop, skip, and a jump, and then cuts behind a gentleman's carriage as was pa.s.sing, when the Johnny put out his foot and gave him a push, and down he goes into the mud"; which was, of course, pleasant to our outraged feelings, though it would have taken a great deal of mud to spoil that boy's clothes.

"'Now then, d.i.c.k,' I says, 'let's be off.'

"'Wot's the hurry?' says d.i.c.k, who was a thinking of the barrer, I could see.

"'Oh, come on,' I says; for, thinks I to myself, 'you're on the right hand side of the way, my boy.'

"So off we goes, till we comes to the well-known spot, and there stood my chap, a-doing a raging trade.

"'Now then, young feller,' I says, 'you must move on.'

"'What for?' says he.

"'Obstructing the thoroughfare,' says I.

"'Taste 'em,' he says, 'they're fust-rate to-day. Shove two or three in yer pocket for the young Bobbies.'

"'Won't do,' I says; 'we've got our orders, and off yer goes.'

"'Get out,' he says, 'you're chaffin'.'

"'Not a bit of it,' I says; 'so stow nonsense and go on quietly, there's a good feller.'

"'All right,' he says, seeing as we was serious, 'all right.' And then he sells a horinge to this one, and a horinge to that one, and sixpenn'orth to another one; but not a hinch would he move. So we waits a bit, and then I gives him another gentle hint or two.

"'All right,' he says agin, 'wait a bit.'

"Well, yer knows, sir, this went on for about half an hour, and a crowd gets collected, and every time as I speaks to him, 'All right,' he says, 'wait a bit,' and then the crowd laughed and the boys hoorayed.

"I thinks to myself 'This here won't do,' but neither d.i.c.k nor me wanted to begin, so I has one last try, and I says quietly,--

"'Now, are you a-goin' or not? Becos if you ain't we must make yer.'

"'All right,' he says, 'wait a bit,' and the people bust out a laughin'

again, and the crowd gets bigger than ever.

"'Now, then, d.i.c.k,' I says to my mate, 'come on,' for I see as it was no use to be played with any longer.

"So d.i.c.k goes to the barrer, and I collars the chap, and the row began.

d.i.c.k lays hold o' the barrer handles quite savagely, and shoots a dozen o' horinges off inter the road, when, of course, there was a regular scramble, and somebody calls out 'Shame!' Then my chap takes and throws hisself down, and gives my wrist such a screw as a'most sprained it, and then somebody else calls out 'Shame!'

"'Now you'd better come on quietly,' I says to my chap. 'You'll do no good by making a row.' And then I tries to get him up on his legs, when some one calls out 'Shame!' agin.

"'What's a shame?' I says, which I didn't oughter have done, for I knew my dooty better than they could tell me. Howsoever I says it, 'What's a shame?' I says.

"'Ill usin' a honest man,' says the crowd.

"I sees as it was no use to talk, so I gets well hold o' my chap, and seeing, as he did, as his barrer was a moving off with d.i.c.k in the sharps, and the boys a hoorayin', he gets up, and we was goin' on all right, when some on 'em calls out 'Shame!' again, and that sets the chap off, and he throws hisself down, and, wuss luck, throws me down too, when off goes my box, and in the scuffle my gent jumps up, puts his foot on it, and nearly gets away.

"Now this made me a bit warm, for I was hurt, and I didn't mean to let him go at no price now. So, jest as he'd shook me off and was going to bolt, I gets hold of his leg as I lays on the ground, when he gives me the savagest kick right aside o' the head, and n.o.body didn't cry 'shame'

then.

"Well, I wasn't stunned, but I felt precious giddy. I jumps up, though, and lays hold of him--sticks to him, too, and sometimes we was down and sometimes up, and I know we rolled over in the mud half a dozen times.

"Last of all, in one of the struggles in all of which the crowd hindered me as much as it could, my chap goes down, spang, with his head on the pavement, and me atop of him, and there he lay stunned.

"'Shame, shame!' cries the crowd, 'you've killed the poor fellow.' And then they begins a shovin' and a hustlin' of me about, and I don't know how it would have ended if one of our chaps hadn't ha' come up; and then d.i.c.k came back after gettin' rid o' the barrer. Then we had the stretcher fetched, and the end of it was Horinges got seven days for a.s.saultin' the police, and I got seven days, too--only mine was in the infirmary.

"You wouldn't have ketched me tossin' if I'd known.

"You see, people will be so precious fond o' takin' what they calls the weak side. They never stops to ask themselves whether it's right or whether it's wrong; but they goes at it like a bull at a gate, and it's us as suffers. Many's the chap as has got away when the pleece has jest nicely put a finger on him. In comes Public. 'Let that poor chap alone,' says he, 'what are you draggin' him off in chains like that for?' And so on to that tune till every one begins to feel for the chap, who puts on a cantin' phisog, and turns his eyes about like them coves as chalks on the pavement for a livin'. Perhaps he's a burglar, or a smasher, or swell-mobsman, or a nice tender-hearted critter as has been beatin' his wife with a poker, or knocked her head agin the wall, or some nice trick o' that kind. And then everybody takes part agin the police, and what can they do?

"'Their dooty,' says you.

"Well, in course, but it don't come werry pleasant, mind yer.

"People don't side with us; they don't like us a bit. And of course you'll say we don't like the people. Well, we'll drop that part of the business. It's only natural for us to like a good murder, or burglary, or forgery. You swells likes your huntin', and fishin' and shootin'; and we enjoys our sport as much as you does your little games. There's a sorter relish about taking a fellow for anything exciting just when my gentleman fancies he's got clean off--hopped his twig, as he thinks; when in we goes at my gaol-bird, and pops salt on his tail. Bless yer, we claps the darbies on his wrists, and has him walked off before he knows what's up. He's like a orspital patient; we chloroforms him with the bracelets, and before he comes to hisself we've cut off his liberty, and he wakes up in a cell."

"Yer see, sir," said my friend, rising, "yer see, we've a knack o' doin'

it. Spose, now, it's you as is wanted. I've held you in play, say for half an hour, to make sure as you're the man as I wants, for I've got yer phortygruff pinned in my hat; and at last I walks up to yer just so, and 'You're my pris'ner,' says I. Whereupon you ups with yer hands-- just so, that's the way--and tries to shove me off, when--"

"_Click, Click_..."

"There I has yer snug with your bracelets on; and werry proud I feels of yer."

And in effect my visitor had carried out his ill.u.s.tration to the fullest extent, so that I sat before him handcuffed, and he resumed his seat smiling with triumph and LL. I suggested the removal of my bonds; but my captor, as he seemed to consider himself, merely smiled again, helped himself to a cigar, lighted it, and began to smoke.

This was as bad as being a Lambeth casual. Anybody, even Mrs Scribe might come in, and the thought was more powerful than any sudorific in the pharmacopoeia. It was no use to appeal to K9, for he seemed to consider Brag was a good dog, but Holdfast a better; and he did nothing but smile and smoke. Getting an idea for an article was all very well, but at what a cost! It would not do at all. Why the special correspondent of the _PMG_ would not have rested upon his hay-bag if a committee to whom he was well-known had entered the place to inspect him. He would have fled without his bundle. Ay, and so would I, but there was some one coming up the stairs, and I should have run right into some one's arms. A last appeal to the fellow before me only produced another smile; so, as a _dernier ressort_, I drew my chair towards the table, and thrust my manacled hands out of sight.

I was just in time, for the handle turned, and in walked an artist friend, who always makes a point of considering himself as much at home in my room as I do myself in his.

"How are you, old boy?" said he, which was hardly the thing, considering the company I was in.

I muttered something about being very well, and Chrayonne seated himself by the fire.

"Pa.s.s the cigar-box, old fellow," said he. But I couldn't hear him, and tried to appear as if sitting at my ease--of course, a very simple thing with one's hands pinioned.