Speaking o’ money,” said the night-watchman thoughtfully, as he
selected an empty soapbox on the wharf for a seat, “the whole world
would be different if we all ’ad more of it. It would be a brighter and
a ’appier place for everybody.”
He broke off to open a small brass tobacco-box and place a little quid
of tobacco tenderly into a pouch in his left cheek, critically
observing at the same time the efforts of a somewhat large steamer to
get alongside the next wharf without blocking up more than three parts
of the river. He watched it as though the entire operation depended
upon his attention, and, the steamer fast, he turned his eyes back
again and resumed his theme.
“Of course it’s the being short that sharpens people,” he admitted
thoughtfully; “the sharpest man I ever knew never ’ad a ha’penny in ’is
pocket, and the ways ’e had o’ getting other chaps to pay for ’is beer
would ha’ made ’is fortin at the law if ’e’d only ’ad the eddication.
Playful little chap ’e was. I’ve seen men wot didn’t know ’im stand ’im
a pot o’ beer and then foller ’im up the road to see ’im knock down a
policeman as ’e’d promised. They’d foller ’im to the fust policeman ’e
met, an’ then ’e’d point them out and say they were goin’ to half kill
’im, an’ the policeman ’ud just stroll up an’ ask ’em wot they were
’anging about for, but I never ’eard of a chap telling ’im. They used
to go away struck all of a ’eap. He died in the accident ward of the
London Horse-pittle, poor chap.”
He shook his head thoughtfully, and ignoring the statement of a
watchman at the next wharf that it was a fine evening, shifted his quid
and laughed rumblingly.
“The funniest way o’ raising the wind I ever ’eard of,” he said in
explanation, “was one that ’appened about fifteen years ago. I’d just
taken my discharge as A.B. from the _North Star_, trading between here
and the Australian ports, and the men wot the thing ’appened to was
shipmates o’ mine, although on’y firemen.
“I knows it’s a true story, becos I was in it a little bit myself, and
the other part I ’ad from all of ’em, and besides, they didn’t see
anything funny in it at all, or anything out of the way. It seemed to
them quite a easy way o’ making money, and I dessay if it ’ad come off
all right I should have thought so too.
“In about a week arter we was paid off at the Albert Docks these chaps
was all cleaned out, and they was all in despair, with a thirst wot
wasn’t half quenched and a spree wot was on’y in a manner o’ speaking
just begun, and at the end of that time they came round to a room wot I
’ad, to see wot could be done. There was four of ’em in all: old Sam
Small, Ginger Dick, Peter Russet, and a orphan nevy of Sam’s whose
father and mother was dead. The mother ’ad been ’alf nigger an’ ’alf
Malay when she was living, and Sam was always pertickler careful to
point out that his nevy took arter ’er. It was enough to make the pore
woman turn in ’er grave to say so, but Sam used to say that ’e owed it
to ’is brother to explain.
“‘Wot’s to be done?’ ses Peter Russet, arter they’d all said wot
miserable chaps they was, an’ ’ow badly sailor-men was paid. ‘We’re
all going to sign on in the _Land’s End_, but she doesn’t sail for a
fortnight; wot’s to be done in the meantime for to live?’
“‘There’s your watch, Peter,’ ses old Sam, dreamy-like, ‘and there’s
Ginger’s ring. It’s a good job you kep’ that ring, Ginger. We’re all in
the same boat, mates, an’ I on’y wish as I’d got something for the
general good. It’s ’aving an orphan nevy wot’s kep’ me pore.’
“‘Stow it,’ ses the nevy, short-like.
“‘Everything’s agin us,’ ses old Sam. There’s them four green parrots I
brought from Brazil, all dead.’
“‘So are my two monkeys,’ ses Peter Russet, shaking ’is ’ead; ‘they
used to sleep with me, too.’
“They all shook their ’eads then, and Russet took Sam up very sharp for
saying that p’r’aps if he ’adn’t slep’ with the monkeys they wouldn’t
ha’ died. He said if Sam knew more about monkeys than wot ’e did, why
didn’t ’e put ’is money in them instead o’ green parrots wot pulled
their feathers out and died of cold.
“‘Talking about monkeys,’ ses Ginger Dick, interrupting old Sam
suddenly, ‘wot about young Beauty here?’
“‘Well, wot about him?’ ses the nevy, in a nasty sort o’ way.
“‘W’y, ’e’s worth forty monkeys an’ millions o’ green parrots,’ ses
Ginger, starting up; ‘an’ here ’e is a-wasting of ’is opportunities,
going about dressed like a Christian. Open your mouth, Beauty, and
stick your tongue out and roll your eyes a bit.’
“‘W’y not leave well alone, Ginger?’ ses Russet; and I thought so too.
Young Beauty was quite enough for me without that.
“‘Ter ’blige me,’ ses Ginger, anxiously, ‘just make yourself as ugly as
wot you can, Beauty.’
“‘Leave ’im alone,’ ses old Sam, as his nevy snarled at ’em. ‘You ain’t
everybody’s money yourself, Ginger.’
“‘I tell you, mates,’ ses Ginger, speaking very slow and solemn,
‘there’s a fortin in ’im. I was lookin’ at ’im just now, trying to
think who ’e reminded me of. At fust I thought it was that big stuffed
monkey we saw at Melbourne, then I suddenly remembered it was a wild
man of Borneo I see when I was a kid up in Sunderland. When I say ’e
was a ’andsome, good-’arted looking gentleman alongside o’ you, Beauty,
do you begin to get my meaning?’
“‘Wot’s the idea, Ginger?’ ses Sam, getting up to lend me and Russet a
’and with ’is nevy.
“‘My idea is this,’ ses Ginger; ‘take ’is cloes off ’im and dress ’im
up in that there winder-blind, or something o’ the kind; tie ’im up
with a bit o’ line, and take ’im round to Ted Reddish in the ’Ighway
and sell ’im for a ’undered quid as a wild man of Borneo.’
“‘_Wot_?’ screams Beauty, in an awful voice. ‘Let go, Peter; let go,
d’ye hear?’
“‘’Old your noise, Beauty, while your elders is speaking,’ ses ’is
uncle, and I could see ’e was struck with the idea.
“‘You jest try dressing me up in a winder-blind,’ ses his nevy,
half-crying with rage.
“Listen to reason, Beauty,’ ses Ginger; ‘you’ll ’ave your share of the
tin; it’ll only be for a day or two, and then when we’ve cleared out
you can make your escape, and there’ll be twenty-five pounds for each
of us.’
“‘’Ow do you make that out, Ginger?’ ses Sam, in a cold voice.
“‘Fours into a ’undered,’ ses Ginger.
“‘Ho,’ ses Sam. ‘Ho, indeed. I wasn’t aweer that ’e was your nevy,
Ginger.’
“‘Share and share alike.’ ses Russet. ‘It’s a very good plan o’ yours,
Ginger.’
“Ginger holds ’is ’ead up and looks at ’im ’ard.
“‘I thought o’ the plan,’ ’e ses, speaking very slow and deliberate.
‘Sam’s ’is uncle, and ’e’s the wild man. Threes into a ’undered go—’
“‘You needn’t bother your fat ’ead adding up sums, Ginger,’ ses Russet,
very polite. ‘I’m going to ’ave my share; else I’ll split to Ted
Reddish.’
“None of ’em said a word about me: two of ’em was sitting on my bed;
Ginger was using a ’ankerchief o’ mine wot ’e found in the fireplace,
and Peter Russet ’ad ’ad a drink out o’ the jug on my washstand, and
yet they never even mentioned me. That’s firemen all over, and that’s
’ow it is they get themselves so disliked.
“It took ’em best part of an ’our to talk round young Beauty, an’ the
langwidge they see fit to use made me thankful to think that the
parrots didn’t live to larn it.
“You never saw anything like Beauty when they ’ad finished with ’im. If
’e was bad in ’is cloes, ’e was a perfeck horror without ’em. Ginger
Dick faked ’im up beautiful, but there was no pleasing ’im. Fust he
found fault with the winder-blind, which ’e said didn’t fit; then ’e
grumbled about going bare-foot, then ’e wanted somethink to ’ide ’is
legs, which was natural considering the shape of ’em. Ginger Dick
nearly lost ’is temper with ’im, and it was all old Sam could do to
stop himself from casting ’im off forever. He was finished at last, and
arter Peter Russet ’ad slipped downstairs and found a bit o’ broken
clothes-prop in the yard, and ’e’d been shown ’ow to lean on it and
make a noise, Ginger said as ’ow if Ted Reddish got ’im for a ’undered
pounds ’e’d get ’im a bargain.
“‘We must ’ave a cab,’ ses old Sam.
“‘Cab?’ ses Ginger. ‘What for?’
“‘We should ’ave half Wapping following us,’ ses Sam. ‘Go out and put
your ring up, Ginger, and fetch a cab.’
“Ginger started grumbling, but he went, and presently came back with
the cab and the money, and they all went downstairs leading the wild
man by a bit o’ line. They only met one party coming up, and ’e seemed
to remember somethink ’e’d forgotten wot ought to be fetched at once.
“Ginger went out fust and opened the cab-door, and then stood there
waiting becos at the last moment the wild man said the winder-blind was
slipping down. They got ’im out at last, but before ’e could get in the
cab was going up the road at ten miles an hour, with Ginger ’anging on
to the door calling to it to stop.
“It came back at about a mile an’ a ’alf an hour, an’ the remarks of
the cabman was eggstrordinary. Even when he got back ’e wouldn’t start
till ’e’d got double fare paid in advance; but they got in at last and
drove off.
“There was a fine scene at Ted Reddish’s door. Ginger said that if
there was a bit of a struggle it would be a good advertisement for Ted
Reddish, and they might p’r’aps get more than a ’undered, and all the
three of ’em could do, they couldn’t get the wild man out o’ that cab,
and the cabman was hopping about ’arf crazy. Every now and then they’d
get the wild man ’arf out, and then he’d get in agin and snarl. ’E
didn’t seem to know when to leave off, and Ginger and the others got
almost as sick of it as the cabman. It must ha’ taken two years’ wear
out o’ that cab, but they got ’im out at last, and Reddish’s door being
open to see what the row was about, they went straight in.
“‘Wot’s all this?’ ses Reddish, who was a tall, thin man, with a dark
moustache.
“It’s a wild man o’ Borneo,’ ses Ginger, panting; ‘we caught ’im in a
forest in Brazil, an’ we’ve come ’ere to give you the fust offer.’
“Ted Reddish was so surprised ’e couldn’t speak at fust. The wild man
seemed to take ’is breath away, and ’e looked in a ’elpless kind o’ way
at ’is wife, who’d just come down. She was a nice-lookin’ woman, fat,
with a lot o’ yaller hair, and she smiled at ’em as though she’d known
’em all their lives.
“‘Come into the parlour,’ she ses, kindly, just as Ted was beginning to
get ’is breath.
“They followed ’em in, and the wild man was just going to make hisself
comfortable in a easy-chair, when Ginger give ’im a look, an’ ’e curled
up on the ’earthrug instead.
“‘’E ain’t a very fine specimen,’ ses Ted Reddish, at last.
“‘It’s the red side-whiskers I don’t like,’ ses his wife. ‘Besides, who
ever ’eard of a wild man in a collar an’ necktie?’
“‘You’ve got hold o’ the wrong one,’ ses Ted Reddish, afore Ginger Dick
could speak up for hisself.
“‘Oh, I beg your pardin,’ ses Mrs. Reddish to Ginger, very polite. ‘I
thought it was funny a wild man should be wearing a collar. It’s my
mistake. That’s the wild man, I s’pose, on the ’earthrug?’
“‘That’s ’im, mum,’ ses old Sam, very short.
“‘He don’t look wild enough,’ ses Reddish.
“‘No; ’e’s much too tame,’ ses ’is wife, shaking her yaller curls.
“The chaps all looked at each other then, and the wild man began to
think it was time he did somethink; and the nearest thing ’andy being
Ginger’s leg, ’e put ’is teeth into it. _Anybody_ might ha’ thought
Ginger was the wild man then, the way ’e went on, and Mrs. Reddish said
that even if he so far forgot hisself as to use sich langwidge afore
’er, ’e oughtn’t to before a poor ’eathen animal.
“‘How much do you want for ’im?’ ses Ted Reddish, arter Ginger ’ad got
’is leg away, and taken it to the winder to look at it.
“‘One ’undered pounds,’ ses old Sam.
“Ted Reddish looked at ’is wife, and they both larfed as though they’d
never leave orf.
“‘Why, the market price o’ the best wild men is only thirty shillings,’
ses Reddish, wiping ’is eyes. ‘I’ll give you a pound for ’im.’
“Old Sam looked at Russet, and Russet looked at Ginger, and then _they_
all larfed.
“‘Well, there’s no getting over you, I can see that,’ ses Reddish, at
last. ‘Is he strong?’
“‘Strong? Strong ain’t the word for it,’ ses Sam.
“‘Bring ’im to the back and let ’im ’ave a wrestle with one o’ the
brown bears, Ted,’ ses ’is wife.
“‘’E’d kill it,’ ses old Sam, hastily.
“‘Never mind,’ ses Reddish, getting up; ‘brown bears is cheap enough.’
“They all got up then, none of ’em knowing wot to do, except the wild
man, that is, and _he_ got ’is arms tight round the leg o’ the table.
“‘Well,’ ses Ginger, ‘we’ll be pleased for ’im to wrestle with the
bear, but we must ’ave the ’undered quid fust, in case ’e injures
’isself a little.’
“Ted Reddish looked ’ard at ’im, and then he looked at ’is wife agin.
“I’ll just go outside and talk it over with the missus,’ he ses, at
last, and they both got up and went out.
“‘It’s all right,’ ses old Sam, winking at Ginger.
“‘Fair cop,’ ses Ginger, who was still rubbing his leg. ‘I told you it
would be, but there’s no need for Beauty to overdo it. He nearly ’ad a
bit out o’ my leg.’
“‘A’right,’ ses the wild man, shifting along the ’earthrug to where
Peter was sitting; ‘but it don’t do for me to be too tame. You ’eard
wot she said.’
“‘How are you feeling, old man?’ ses Peter, in a kind voice, as ’e
tucked ’is legs away under ’is chair.
“‘Gurr,’ ses the wild man, going on all fours to the back of the chair,
‘gur—wug—wug——’
“‘Don’t play the fool, Beauty,’ ses Peter, with a uneasy smile, as he
twisted ’is ’ead round. ‘Call ’im off, Sam.’
“‘Gurr,’ ses the wild man, sniffing at ’is legs; ‘gurr.’
“‘Easy on, Beauty, it’s no good biting ’im till they come back,’ ses
old Sam.
“‘I won’t be bit at all,’ ses Russet, very sharp, ‘mind that, Sam. It’s
my belief Beauty’s gone mad.’
“‘Hush,’ ses Ginger, and they ’eard Ted Reddish and ’is wife coming
back. They came in, sat down agin, and after Ted ’ad ’ad another good
look at the wild man and prodded ’im all over an’ looked at ’is teeth,
he spoke up and said they’d decided to give a ’undered pun for ’im at
the end o’ three days if ’e suited.
“‘I s’pose,’ ses Sam, looking at the others, ‘that we could ’ave a bit
of it now to go on with?’
“‘It’s agin our way of doing business,’ ses Ted Reddish. ‘If it ’ud
been a lion or a tiger we could, but wild men we never do.’
“‘The thing is,’ ses Mrs. Reddish, as the wild man started on Russet’s
leg and was pulled off by Sam and Ginger, ‘where to put ’im.’
“‘Why not put ’im in with the black leopard?’ ses her ’usband.
“‘There’s plenty o’ room in his cage,’ says ’is wife thoughtfully, ‘and
it ’ud be company for ’im too.’
“‘I don’t think the wild man ’ud like that,’ ses Ginger.
“‘I’m sartain sure ’e wouldn’t,’ says old Sam, shaking ’is ’ead.
“‘Well, we must put ’im in a cage by hisself, I s’pose,’ ses Reddish,
‘but we can’t be put to much expense. I’m sure the money we spent in
cat’s meat for the last wild man we ’ad was awful.’
“‘Don’t you spend too much money on cat’s meat for _’im_,’ ses Sam,
‘’e’d very likely leave it. Bringing ’im ’ome, we used to give ’im the
same as we ’ad ourselves, and he got on all right.’
“‘It’s a wonder you didn’t kill ’im,’ ses Reddish, severely. ‘He’ll be
fed very different ’ere, I can tell you. You won’t know ’im at the end
o’ three days.’
“‘Don’t change ’im too sudden,’ ses Ginger, keeping ’is ’ead turned
away from the wild man, wot wos trying to catch ’is eye. ‘Cook ’is food
at fust, ’cos ’e’s been used to it.’
“‘I know wot to give ’im,’ ses Reddish, offhandedly. ‘I ain’t been in
the line twenty-seven years for nothink. Bring ’im out to the back, an’
I’ll put ’im in ’is new ’ome.’
“They all got up and, taking no notice of the wild man’s whispers,
follered Ted Reddish and ’is wife out to the back, where all the wild
beasts in the world seemed to ’ave collected to roar out to each other
what a beastly place it was.
“‘I’m going to put ’im in “’Appy Cottage” for a time,’ says Reddish;
‘lend a hand ’ere, William,’ he says, beckoning to one of ’is men.
“‘Is _that_ “’Appy Cottage”?’ ses old Sam, sniffing, as they got up to
a nasty, empty cage with a chain and staple in the wall.
“Ted Reddish said it was.
“‘Wot makes you call it that?’ ses Sam.
“Reddish didn’t seem to ’ear ’im, and it took all Ginger’s coaxing to
get Beauty to go in.
“‘It’s on’y for a day or two,’ he whispers.
“‘But ’ow am I to escape when you’ve got the brass?’ ses the wild man.
“‘We’ll look arter that,’ ses Ginger, who ’adn’t got the least idea.
“The wild man ’ad a little show for the last time, jist to impress Ted
Reddish, an’ it was pretty to see the way William ’andled ’im. The look
on the wild man’s face showed as ’ow it was a revelashun to _’im_. Then
’is three mates took a last look at ’im and went off.
“For the fust day Sam felt uneasy about ’im, and used to tell us tales
about ’is dead brother which made us think Beauty was lucky to take
arter ’is mother; but it wore off, and the next night, in the Admiral
Cochrane, ’e put ’is ’ead on Ginger’s shoulder, and wep’ for ’appiness
as ’e spoke of ’is nevy’s home at ‘’Appy Cottage.’
“On the third day Sam was for going round in the morning for the money,
but Ginger said it wasn’t advisable to show any ’aste; so they left it
to the evening, and Peter Russet wrote Sam a letter signed ‘Barnum,’
offering ’im two ’undered for the wild man, in case Ted Reddish should
want to beat ’em down. They all ’ad a drink before they went in, and
was smiling with good temper to sich an extent that they ’ad to wait a
minute to get their faces straight afore going in.
“‘Come in,’ ses Reddish, and they follered ’im into the parler, where
Mrs. Reddish was sitting in a armchair shaking ’er ’ead and looking at
the carpet very sorrowful.
“‘I was afraid you’d come,’ she ses, in a low voice.
“‘So was I,’ ses Reddish.
“‘What for?’ ses old Sam. It didn’t look much like money, and ’e felt
cross.
“‘We’ve ’ad a loss,’ ses Mrs. Reddish. She touched ’erself, and then
they see she was all in black, and that Ted Reddish was wearing a black
tie and a bit o’ crape round ’is arm.
“‘Sorry to ’ear it, mum,’ ses old Sam.
“‘It was very sudden, too,’ ses Mrs. Reddish, wiping ’er eyes.
“‘That’s better than laying long,’ ses Peter Russet, comforting like.
“Ginger Dick gives a cough. ‘Twenty-five pounds was wot _’e’d_ come
for; not to ’ear this sort o’ talk.’
“‘We’ve been in the wild-beast line seven-an’-twenty years,’ ses Mrs.
Reddish, ‘and it’s the fust time anythink of this sort ’as ’appened.’
“‘’Ealthy family, I s’pose,’ ses Sam, staring.
“Tell ’im, Ted,’ ses Mrs. Reddish, in a ’usky whisper.
“‘No, you,’ ses Ted.
“‘It’s your place,’ ses Mrs. Reddish.
“‘A woman can break it better,’ ses ’er ’usband.
“‘Tell us wot?’ ses Ginger, very snappish.
“Ted Reddish cleared ’is throat.
“‘It wasn’t our fault,’ he ses, slowly, while Mrs. Reddish began to cry
agin; ‘gin’rally speakin’, animals is afraid o’ wild men, and night
before last, as the wild man wot you left on approval didn’t seem to
like “’Appy Cottage,” we took ’im out an’ put ’im in with the tiger.’
“‘Put him in with the WOT?’ ses the unfort’nit man’s uncle, jumping off
’is chair.
“‘The tiger,’ ses Reddish. ‘We ’eard something in the night, but we
thought they was only ’aving a little bit of a tiff, like. In the
morning I went down with a bit o’ cold meat for the wild man, and I
thought at first he’d escaped; but looking a little bit closer—’
“‘Don’t, Ted,’ ses ’is wife. ‘I can’t bear it.’
“‘Do you mean to tell me that the tiger ’as eat ’im?’ screams old Sam.
“‘Most of ’im,’ ses Ted Reddish; ‘but ’e couldn’t ha’ been much of a
wild man to let a tiger get the better of ’im. I must say I was
surprised.’
“‘We both was,’ ses Mrs. Reddish, wiping ’er eyes.
“You might ha’ ’eard a pin drop; old Sam’s eyes was large and staring,
Peter Russet was sucking ’is teeth, an’ Ginger was wondering wot the
law would say to it—if it ’eard of it.
“‘It’s an unfortunit thing for all parties,’ ses Ted Reddish at last,
getting up and standing on the ’earthrug.
“‘’Orrible,’ ses Sam, ’uskily. ‘You ought to ha’ known better than to
put ’im in with a tiger. Wot could you expect? W’y, it was a mad thing
to do.’
“‘Crool thing,’ ses Peter Russet.
“‘You don’t know the bisness properly,’ ses Ginger, ‘that’s about wot
it is. ‘W’y, _I_ should ha’ known better than that.’
“‘Well, it’s no good making a fuss about it,’ ses Reddish. It was only
a wild man arter all, and he’d ha’ died anyway, cos ’e wouldn’t eat the
raw meat we gave ’im, and ’is pan o’ water was scarcely touched. He’d
ha’ starved himself anyhow. I’m sorry, as I said before, but I must be
off; I’ve got an appointment down at the docks.’
“He moved towards the door; Ginger Dick gave Russet a nudge and
whispered something and Russet passed it on to Sam.
“What about the ’undered quid?’ ses pore Beauty’s uncle, catching ’old
o’ Reddish as ’e passed ’im.
“‘Eh?’ ses Reddish, surprised—‘Oh, that’s off.’
“‘Ho!’ says Sam. ‘Ho! is it? We want a ’undered quid off of you; an’
wot’s more, we mean to ’ave it.’
“‘But the tiger’s ate ’im,’ says Mrs. Reddish, explaining.
“‘I know that,’ ses Sam, sharply. ‘But ’e was our wild man, and we want
to be paid for ’im. You should ha’ been more careful. We’ll give you
five minutes; and if the money ain’t paid by that time we’ll go
straight off to the police-station.’
“‘Well, go,’ ses Ted Reddish.
“Sam got up, very stern, and looked at Ginger.
“‘You’ll be ruined if we do,’ ses Ginger.
“‘All right,’ ses Ted Reddish, comfortably.
“I’m not sure they can’t ’ang you,’ ses Russet.
“‘I ain’t sure either,’ says Reddish; ‘and I’d like to know ’ow the law
stands, in case it ’appens agin.’
“‘Come on, Sam,’ ses Ginger; ‘come straight to the police-station.’
“He got up, and moved towards the door. Ted Reddish didn’t move a
muscle, but Mrs. Reddish flopped on her knees and caught old Sam round
the legs, and ’eld him so’s ’e couldn’t move.
“‘Spare ’im,’ she ses, crying.
“‘Lea’ go o’ my legs, mum,’ ses Sam.
“‘Come on, Sam,’ ses Ginger; ‘come to the police.’
“Old Sam made a desperit effort, and Mrs. Reddish called ’im a crool
monster, and let go and ’id ’er face on ’er husband’s shoulder as they
all moved out of the parlour, larfing like a mad thing with hysterics.
“They moved off slowly, not knowing wot to do, as, of course, they knew
they daren’t go to the police about it. Ginger Dick’s temper was awful;
but Peter Russet said they mustn’t give up all ’ope—he’d write to Ted
Reddish and tell ’im as a friend wot a danger ’e was in. Old Sam didn’t
say anything, the loss of his nevy and twenty-five pounds at the same
time being almost more than ’is ’art could bear, and in a slow,
melancholy fashion they walked back to old Sam’s lodgings.
“‘Well, what the blazes is up now?’ ses Ginger Dick, as they turned the
corner.
“There was three or four ’undered people standing in front of the
’ouse, and women’s ’eads out of all the winders screaming their ’ardest
for the police, and as they got closer they ’eard a incessant knocking.
It took ’em nearly five minutes to force their way through the crowd,
and then they nearly went crazy as they saw the wild man with ’alf the
winder-blind missing, but otherwise well and ’arty, standing on the
step and giving rat-a-tat-tats at the door for all ’e was worth.
“They never got to know the rights of it, Beauty getting so excited
every time they asked ’im ’ow he got on that they ’ad to give it up.
But they began to ’ave a sort of idea at last that Ted Reddish ’ad been
’aving a game with ’em, and that Mrs. Reddish was worse than wot ’e
was.”