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out this blarsted bit of a sink, with devil-know-wot stinkin'
cess-pool at the end of it_! That's wot I said, ma'am! . . .
AUNTIE. Very rightly! I see! I see! . . .
ROBERT. So up I go through the sludge, puffin' an' blowin' like a bally ole cart-'orse--strooth, it seemed miles! Talk abaht bee-utiful, ma'am, it ud 'a' done your 'eart good, it would really!
_Rats_!--'Undreds on em, ma'am: I'm bitten clean through in places!
'Owever, I pushed my way through, somehow, 'oldin' my nose an fightin' for my breath, till at last I got to the end--_and then I soon saw wot was the matter_! . . .
It's under the church--that's where it is! I know it's the church, cos I 'eard "The Church's One Foundation" on the orgin, rumblin' up over my 'ead! Well, I . . .
ALL. Yes . . . yes . . .
AUNTIE. Why don't you go on? . . .
ROBERT. You'd never guess wot I saw there, not if you was to try from now till glory 'allelooyer! . . .
The biggest back-'ander, I ever did 'av', swelp me! . . .
[They hang on his words expectantly.]
IT AIN'T NO DRAIN AT ALL!
ALL [breathlessly]. Why, what is it, then? . . .
ROBERT. IT'S A GRIVE!
ALL. A grave! . . .
ROBERT. Yus, one o' them whoppin' great beer-vaults as you shove big bugses' corpses inter! What d'yer think o' that now?
MARY. ) Oh! . . .
AUNTIE. ) Horrible! . . .
VICAR. I seem to remember some tradition . . .
ROBERT, You'd 'a' said so if you'd seen wot I seen! Talk abaht corfins an' shrouds an' bones an' dead men gone to rot, they wasn't in it, wot I saw dahn there! Madame Twosoes is a flea-bite to it!
Lord!--I never thought there could be such a lot o' muck an' dead things all in one place before! It was a fair treat, it was, I tek my oath! . . .
[Rapturously]. Why--why, it may cost a man 'is LIFE to deal with that little job!
VICAR. My G.o.d! The thing's impossible!
ROBERT. Impossible! Means a bit of work, that's all!
VICAR. Why, no one would ever dare . . .
ROBERT. Dare! Why, wot d'you think I come 'ere for? . . .
VICAR. _You_! . . .
ROBERT. Yus--makin' myself unpleasant . . .
VICAR. Do you mean . . . Do I understand . . .
ROBERT. I mean as I've found _my place_, or I don't know a good thing when I see it!
AUNTIE. What! To go into that dreadful vault, and . . .
ROBERT. Why not: ain't it my job?
AUNTIE. But you said--perhaps--_death_ . . .
ROBERT. It's worth it, it's a lovely bit of work!
VICAR. No, ten thousand times, no! The sacrifice is too much!
ROBERT. You call that sacrifice?--It's fun: not 'arf!
VICAR. I had rather see the church itself . . .
ROBERT. What, you call yourself a clergyman!
VICAR. I call myself nothing: I _am_ nothing--less than nothing in all this living world!
ROBERT. By G.o.d, but I call myself summat--I'M THE _DRAIN-MAN_, THAT'S WOT I AM!
VICAR [feverishly]. You shall not go! . . .
ROBERT. Why, wot is there to fear? Ain't it worth while, to move away that load o' muck!
VICAR. The stench--the horror--the darkness . . .
ROBERT. What's it matter, if the comrides up above 'av' light an'
joy an' a breath of 'olesome air to sing by? . . .
VICAR. Hour by hour--dying--alone . . .
ROBERT. The comrides up in the spans an arches, joinin' 'ands . . .
VICAR. Fainter and fainter, below there, and at last--an endless silence! . . .
ROBERT. 'Igh in the dome, the 'ammerin's of the comrides as 'av'
climbed aloft!
AUNTIE. William, there is yet one other way! . . .
VICAR. Yes, yes, I see: I see! . . . [To ROBERT]. Then--you mean to go?
ROBERT. By 'Eaven, yus!
