STEPHEN'S TALE
I found it a busy morning at the Hole in the Wall, that of the two
inquests. I perceived that, by some occult understanding, business in
one department was suspended; the pale man idled without, and nobody
came into the little compartment to exhibit valuables. Grandfather Nat
had a deal to do in making ready the club-room over the bar, and then in
attending the inquests. And it turned out that Mrs. Grimes had settled
on this day in particular to perform a vast number of extra feats of
housewifery in the upper floors. Notwithstanding the disturbance of this
additional work, Mrs. Grimes was most amazingly amiable, even to me; but
she was so persistent in requiring, first the key of one place, then of
another, next of a chest of drawers, and again of a cupboard, that at
last my grandfather distractedly gave her the whole bunch, and told her
not to bother him any more. The bunch held all she could require--indeed
I think it comprised every key my grandfather had, except that of his
cash-box--and she went away with it amiable still, notwithstanding the
hastiness of his expressions; so that I was amazed to find Mrs. Grimes
so meek, and wondered vaguely and childishly if it were because she felt
ill, and expected to die shortly.
Mr. Cripps was in the bar as soon as the doors were open, in a wonderful
state of effervescence. He was to make a great figure at the inquest, it
appeared, and the pride and glory of it kept him nervously on the strut,
till the coroner came, and Mr. Cripps mounted to the club-room with the
jury. He was got up for his part as completely as circumstances would
allow; grease was in his hair, his hat stood at an angle, and his face
exhibited an unfamiliar polish, occasioned by a towel.
For my own part, I sat in the bar-parlour and amused myself as I might.
Blind George was singing in the street, and now and again I could hear
the guffaw that signalised some sally that had touched his audience.
Above, things were quiet enough for some while, and then my grandfather
came heavily downstairs carrying a woman who had fainted. I had not
noticed the woman among the people who went up, but now Grandfather Nat
brought her through the bar, and into the parlour; and as she lay on the
floor just as the stabbed man had lain, I recognised her face also; for
she was the coarse-faced woman who had stopped my grandfather near Blue
Gate with vague and timid questions, when we were on our way from the
London Dock.
Grandfather Nat roared up the little staircase for Mrs. Grimes, and
presently she descended, amiable still; till she saw the coarse woman,
and was asked to help her. She looked on the woman with something of
surprise and something of confusion; but carried it off at once with a
toss of the head, a high phrase or so--"likes of 'er--respectable
woman"--and a quick retreat upstairs.
I believe my grandfather would have brought her down again by main
force, but the woman on the floor stirred, and began scrambling up, even
before she knew where she was. She held the shelf, and looked dully
about her, with a hoarse "Beg pardon, sir, beg pardon." Then she went
across toward the door, which stood ajar, stared stupidly, with a look
of some dawning alarm, and said again, "Beg pardon, sir--I bin queer";
and with that was gone into the passage.
It was not long after her departure ere the business above was over, and
the people came tramping and talking down into the bar, filling it
close, and giving Joe the potman all the work he could do. The coroner
came down by our private stairs into the bar-parlour, ushered with great
respect by my grandfather; and at his heels, taking occasion by a
desperately extemporised conversation with Grandfather Nat, came Mr.
Cripps.
There had never been an inquest at the Hole in the Wall before, and my
grandfather had been at some exercise of mind as to the proper
entertainment of the coroner. He had decided, after consideration, that
the gentleman could scarce be offended at the offer of a little lunch,
and to that end he had made ready with a cold fowl and a bottle of
claret, which Mrs. Grimes would presently be putting on the table. The
coroner was not offended, but he would take no lunch; he was very
pleasantly obliged by the invitation, but his lunch had been already
ordered at some distance; and so he shook hands with Grandfather Nat and
went his way. A circumstance that had no small effect on my history.
For it seemed to Mr. Cripps, who saw the coroner go, that by dexterous
management the vacant place at our dinner-table (for what the coroner
would call lunch we called dinner) might fall to himself. It had
happened once or twice before, on special occasions, that he had been
allowed to share a meal with Captain Nat, and now that he was brushed
and oiled for company, and had publicly distinguished himself at an
inquest, he was persuaded that the occasion was special beyond
precedent, and he set about to improve it with an assiduity and an
innocent cunning that were very transparent indeed. So he was
affectionately admiring with me, deferentially loquacious with my
grandfather, and very friendly with Joe the potman and Mrs. Grimes. It
was a busy morning, he observed, and he would be glad to do anything to
help.
At that time the houses on Wapping Wall were not encumbered with
dust-bins, since the river was found a more convenient receptacle for
rubbish. Slops were flung out of a back window, and kitchen refuse went
the same way, or was taken to the river stairs and turned out, either
into the water or on the foreshore, as the tide might chance. Mrs.
Grimes carried about with her in her dustings and sweepings an old
coal-scuttle, which held hearth-bushes, shovels, ashes, cinders,
potato-peelings, and the like; and at the end of her work, when the
brushes and shovels had been put away, she carried the coal-scuttle,
sometimes to the nearest window, but more often to the river stairs, and
flung what remained into the Thames.
Just as Mr. Cripps was at his busiest and politest, Mrs. Grimes appeared
with the old coal-scuttle, piled uncommonly high with ashes and dust and
half-burned pipe-lights. She set it down by the door, gave my
grandfather his keys, and turned to prepare the table. Instantly Mr.
Cripps, watchful in service, pounced on the scuttle.
"I'll pitch this 'ere away for you, mum," he said, "while you're seein'
to Cap'en Kemp's dinner"; and straightway started for the stairs.
Mrs. Grimes's back was turned at the moment, and this gave Mr. Cripps
the start of a yard or two; but she flung round and after him like a
maniac; so that both Grandfather Nat and I stared in amazement.
"Give me that scuttle!" she cried, snatching at the hinder handle. "Mind
your own business, an' leave my things alone!"
Mr. Cripps was amazed also, and he stuttered, "I--I--I--on'y--on'y----"
"Drop it, you fool!" the woman hissed, so suddenly savage that Mr.
Cripps did drop it, with a start that sent him backward against a post;
and the consequence was appalling.
Mr. Cripps was carrying the coal-scuttle by its top handle, and Mrs.
Grimes, reaching after it, had seized that at the back; so that when Mr.
Cripps let go, everything in the scuttle shot out on the paving-stones;
first, of course, the ashes and the pipe-lights; then on the top of
them, crowning the heap--Grandfather Nat's cash-box!
I suppose my grandfather must have recovered from his astonishment
first, for the next thing I remember is that he had Mrs. Grimes back in
the bar-parlour, held fast by the arm, while he carried his cash-box in
the disengaged hand. Mr. Cripps followed, bewildered but curious; and my
grandfather, pushing his prisoner into a far corner, turned and locked
the door.
Mrs. Grimes, who had been crimson, was now white; but more, it seemed to
me, with fury than with fear. My grandfather took the key from his
watchguard and opened the box, holding it where the contents were
visible to none but himself. He gave no more than a quick glance within,
and re-locked it; from which I judged--and judged aright--that the
pocket-book was safe.
"There's witnesses enough here," said my grandfather,--for Joe the
potman was now staring in from the bar--"to give you a good dose o'
gaol, mum. 'Stead o' which I pay your full week's money and send you
packin'!" He pulled out some silver from his pocket. "Grateful or not to
me don't matter, but I hope you'll be honest where you go next, for your
own sake."
"Grateful! Honest!" Mrs. Grimes gasped, shaking with passion. "'Ear 'im
talk! Honest! Take me to the station now, and bring that box an' show
'em inside it! Go on!"
I felt more than a little alarmed at this challenge, having regard to
the history of the pocket-book; and I remembered the night when we first
examined it, the creaking door, and the soft sounds on the stairs. But
Grandfather Nat was wholly undisturbed; he counted over the money
calmly, and pushed it across the little table.
"There it is, mum," he said, "an' there's your bonnet an' shawl in the
corner. There's nothing else o' yours in the place, I believe, so
there's no need for you to go out o' my sight till you go out of it
altogether. That you'd better do quick. I'll lay the dinner myself."
Mrs. Grimes swept up the money and began fixing her bonnet on her head
and tying the strings under her chin, with savage jerks and a great play
of elbow; her lips screwing nervously, and her eyes blazing with spite.
"Ho yus!" she broke out--though her rage was choking her--as she
snatched her shawl. "Ho yus! A nice pusson, Cap'en Nat Kemp, to talk
about honesty an' gratefulness--a nice pusson! A nice teacher for young
master 'opeful, I must say, an' 'opin' 'e'll do ye credit! It ain't the
last you'll see o' me, Captain Nat Kemp!... Get out o' my way, you old
lickspittle!"
Mr. Cripps got out of it with something like a bound, and Mrs. Grimes
was gone with a flounce and a slam of the door.
Scold as she was, and furious as she was, I was conscious that something
in my grandfather's scowl had kept her speech within bounds, and
shortened her clamour; for few cared to face Captain Nat's anger. But
with the slam of the door the scowl broke, and he laughed.
"Come," he said, "that's well over, an' I owe you a turn, Mr. Cripps,
though you weren't intending it. Stop an' have a bit of dinner. And if
you'd like something on account to buy the board for the sign--or say
two boards if you like--we'll see about it after dinner."
It will be perceived that Grandfather Nat had no reason to regret the
keeping of his cash-box key on his watchguard. For had it been with the
rest, in Mrs. Grimes's hands, she need never have troubled to smuggle
out the box among the ashes, since the pocket-book was no such awkward
article, and would have gone in her pocket. Mrs. Grimes had taken her
best chance and failed. The disorders caused by the inquests had left
her unobserved, the keys were in her hands, and the cash-box was left in
the cupboard upstairs; but the sedulous Mr. Cripps had been her
destruction.
As for that artist, he attained his dinner, and a few shillings under
the name of advance; and so was well pleased with his morning's work.