Original Penny Readings: A Series of Short Sketches

All this while there is a round of “good-byeing,” and “dearing,” shawling, wrapping, and goloshing; and then the thoughtful head of the house hopes that the cabman is a member of the Bonded Brotherhood of Bottle Scorners, and thinks Thomas had better take a hand candlestick and look at the man’s number.

The hand candlestick goes out, and so does the candle; for directly the white-stockinged legs of Thomas are outside the hall door the light is extinct, and the bearer fares like poor Mr Winkle on the windy night at Bath, for he is banged out of the house.

“Vot odds vot a cove’s number is?” says Cabby. “Tell ’em to make ’aste out.”

Now Cabby is not a member of the Bonded Brotherhood, for he has had two “goes” of gin since eight o’clock, and would have liked another – “only it runs away with the brass”; and if this were known he would probably lose his fare, although he has been sitting so long in the driving sleet or rain, and Dives, jun, has imbibed two or three glasses of sherry, three of champagne, and as many of port, during dinner and dessert.

The ricketty door of the vehicle is opened; the glass let down; dragged up again; and then, with a bang which threatens to dislocate every joint in the old cab’s body, the door is closed, the box mounted, when rattling and jangling, off goes the licensed carriage to deposit its freight.

Distance two miles, barely, time nearly midnight; what wonder that after a bad day our dinner companion pockets his “bob” with a growl, and sullenly mounts his box to seek a fairer fare?

Chapter Eleven.

K9’s Adventure

One of the great peculiarities of the policeman is his head. Now, I do not mean that his head differs from the small or large capital at the head of most articles; but I allude to the use he makes of that important appendage to the human body. A nod is said to be as good as a wink to a blind horse; but leaving blind horses out of the question, the policeman’s nod is a great deal better than his wink. There is a majesty about one of his wags of the head that is sun-like in its powers; for as the snow dissolves, so melts away the crowd before that simple act. It would be a matter of no small difficulty to reduce the workings of his head to rule, on account of the vast number of exceptions which would intrude; but in spite of the attendant difficulties, I have learned something from my friend of the bracelet. What most men would do by a wave of the hand, Bobby does waggishly – that is to say, by means of his head. What one would do in a pointed manner with one’s finger, again, K9 performs with his head. If any ordinary being wished to eject an intruder from his premises he would give tongue – that is to say, not snarl or bark, but tell him to go in a very fierce tone of voice; but again, a wag of our friend’s head does the duty, and far more effectually. In short, the nod of emperor or king is not one half so potent in the upper regions of society as that of K9 with the people.

What awe there is amongst the small boys of the metropolis, and how they skim and scuffle off when the policeman wags his head; and yet, as they round a corner, how that never-to-be-beaten Briton peeps forth from their small natures as they yell defiance when out of reach. But in spite of his alacrity in fleeing, our friend holds the London gamin somewhat in dread. There is something very humiliating for a noble swell of a policeman to have to march off four feet six inches of puerile mischief – powerful in its very weakness – a morsel which acts as a barbed and stinging thorn in Bobby’s side all the way to the station. We can easily imagine the grim smile of satisfaction which would ripple over the countenance of our hero if, in traversing that part of Holborn called High, like Tom Hood, he came into contact with a mother bewailing the loss of her beloved child. We can easily believe that Bobby would fervently hope that the loss would prove his gain, that the child would be, like the old woman’s son Jerry in the ancient rhyme, lost and never found; that the young dog would never turn up again to plague his life, as he would be pretty sure to do at some future time, banding himself with birds of a similar feather, chalking the pavements, bowling hoops amongst the horses’ legs, dropping caps down areas, altering butter-shop tickets, running howling in troops out of courts, and disturbing the equanimity of foot passengers, cutting behind cabs, yelling inside shop doors, climbing lamp-posts and performing perilous acrobatic tricks on the ladder bar, giving runaway knocks and rings, casting themselves beneath horses’ hoofs and miraculously escaping death at every tick of the clock, making slides on the pave – ice in winter, mud in autumn or spring, and of the slippery stones in summer; in short, proving a most thorough plague, torment, and curse to our friend, who shuns the persecution, as beasts do gad-flies or hornets, from their painful insignificance.

A youthful pickpocket is a sad trial to him; in fact so is a small offender of any description; for the sharp boys of London are all gifted with tongues keen as the adder’s teeth, and slightly artful in their small way. They are powerful at snivelling and appealing to the tender feelings of the bystanders for aid and assistance against the bitter tyranny of their captor; and now shines forth that peculiarity of the British public against which our friend declaims, for the removal of a boy of tender years, but tough experience, generally calls forth a large amount of sympathy, which is loudly evinced in a manner most trying to the nerves of K9.

In due course I received proper apology for the rather rough treatment I had received, and then listened with considerable attention to further recitals, many of which are lost to posterity from the jealousy evinced by the street hero when an attempt was made at noting.

“No thanky, sir,” said he, “as I said afore, that sorter thing’s bad enough in open court; but then we says what we are obliged. No prifate notin’, thanky. P’raps you’ll put that flimsy away, as it might cause futur’ unpleasantry through bein’ used as information again your umbel servant. I was a-goin’ to say a word or two about a hupset as I had one night going to take a fellow for forgery. It warn’t a very partic’lar affair, for we knowed where my gentleman could be found, and there warn’t any need of a detective. I was detective that time, and only took one chap with me, as I went quietly about my job.

“From information I received I knowed my customer was somewhere out Soho way, in one o’ them big old houses as is all let out in lodgings, and full of Frenchies, and Hightalians, and sich. Reg’lar furren colony, you know, all the way towards Leicester-square. My customer had been a clerk in a City firm, and had been hard at work makin’ hisself a fortun at bettin’. He used to work hard at it, too, allus making his book so that he’d bet on the safe side, whatever ’oss won; and I don’t know what he warn’t going to make out of it.

“On the strength of what was a-comin’, and to pay some little expenses as he used to come in for through a werry smart sort o’ lady as he courted, he used to borrow money of his gov’nor, just on the quiet-like, without bothering of him when he knowed he was busy. So he used to sign his gov’nor’s name for him on bits o’ cheques, and get what tin he wanted from the bank; but allus meant to pay it back again when he got in his heavy amounts as he was to win at Epsom, or Ascot, S’Leger, or Newmarket.

“Well, you see this sweetheart of his was jest sech another as that Miss Millwood as did for George Barnwell, and she was a regular dragon at spending money. Consequently my young friend was allus a borrowin’ of his gov’nor, as I telled you jest now; and at last of all he wouldn’t stand it any longer, for it was bleeding him precious heavy. Besides which, he wanted to know who was being so kind to him and savin’ him so much trouble about his ortygruff, as he called it. So with a little bit o’ dodgin’, in which I assisted, my customer was treed; and then, watchin’ his chance, he runs, and I has to find him. In fact, yer know, he was what we calls ‘wanted.’

“But I could tell pretty well where my gentleman would be, so when I’d got my instructions I goes off to look arter him.

“Jest as a matter of form I goes to his lodgin’s; but, jest as I expected, he wasn’t there; so then I goes on to Soho, where his lady had apartments. I was in plain clothes, so when I asked for her the people let me in at once, and said I should find her in the first-floor front. I left my mate on the other side o’ the street, for I didn’t expect any opposition, so I walks upstairs to the door, turned the handle quietly, and walks in – when I gave a bit of a start, for the place was nearly dark, and would have been quite, if it hadn’t been for the gas shining up out of the street, and making patches of light on the wall; while, as the lamps ain’t werry close together in that part, it wasn’t such a great deal o’ light as got in that ways. If I’d been in uniform I should have had my bull’s-eye; but, as I warn’t, why, I hadn’t; so I looks round the room, and, as far as I could see, it was nicely furnished, but there was nobody there; so I gives a kick under the table, but there was no one there neither; but on it I could just make out as there was a decanter and two glasses and some biscuits.

“Well, only naterally, I takes ’old o’ the decanter with one hand, pulls out the stopper with the other, and has a smell. No mistake about it – sherry.

“There was the glasses all ready, and there was my mouth all ready; so I pours out a glassful all ready too, and I was just a-goin’ to raise the glass to my lips, when a thought struck me, and I says to myself:

“‘You air a niste promisin’ young officer, you air. You’re aspiring to be a detective, you air; and jest in the midst o’ business you’re a-goin’ to commit yourself like that. How do you know it ain’t a trap?’

“Well, you see, that was rather a settler; so I leaves the glass alone, though it was rather hard work, and then I has another look, and sees as there was foldin’ doors leading into the back room, and one o’ them doors was not close shut.

“My finger goes up to the side o’ my nose, and I gives myself a wink, and slips out again to see if there warn’t a door outer the back room on to the landing. As a matter o’ course there it was, so that any one might slip out o’ that hole while I went in at t’other. So I slips in again and feels as there was one o’ them little turning bolts on the folding door; so I claps the door to, turns the bolt, and was out again on to the landing in a jiffy.

“I needn’t have hurried myself, though, for all was as quiet as could be; and I thought as there was no one there, but of course I has to make sure. All at once I thinks that perhaps the landing door would be locked in side, and as I’d shut the folding door that would be locked too, so that I should be obliged to have ’em broken open, and this was the sort of house where you wouldn’t have a row if you could help it.

“How-so-be, sir, I tries the landing door, and finds it open easy enough, and then I was inside the room, but what sort of a place it was I couldn’t tell, for it was as dark as Ejup. Of course I expect it was a bedroom, and thinks as I should soon feel the bedstead, as would fill up a good bit o’ the place. But fust of all I drops down upon my hands and knees; so as if anybody hit at me, or shot at me, or tried any o’ them little games in the dark, as they’d most likely do it at the height of a man, why it would go over one, and only hit the furniture, which can be replaced, when you can’t replace active and enterprising officers – leave alone being cut off in the flower of one’s youth, you know.

“Then I listens. All as still and as dark as could be. But still as it was, I could hear my heart go ‘beat, beat,’ wonderful loud.

“‘Wish I’d a light,’ I says to myself, but then it warn’t no use wishing; and I didn’t want to go to the people downstairs, so I begins feeling about as slow and as quiet as I could.

“I soon finds out as it’s a bedroom, for I rubs my knuckles up against the bed-post, and soon was close up alongside o’ the ticking, when I thinks as I heered a noise, and darts back to the door in a moment; but all was still again, and I turns back, and then in a manner I got lost, and confused, and could not tell which way I was going, nor yet where was the door.

“Now, I daresay that all sounds werry queer; but perhaps you don’t know how easy it is to be lost in a dark room as you’ve never been in before, even if it is a little ’un; and if so be as you thinks werry little of it, jest you get a handkercher tied tight over yer eyes, and do as you does at Christmas time – ‘turn round three times and ketch who you may,’ and then see where you are in two twinklings.

“Well, first of all I hits my hand again a chair; then I butts my head again the corner of as hard a chest o’ drawers as ever I did feel in my life; and then I kicks up such a clatter with the washstand as would have a’most alarmed the house; but I keeps down on my hands and knees, being suspicious of an ambushment, till last of all I feels my way round to the bedside again, and when I was far enough I reaches my hand lightly over, and lays it on the bed, and then I jumps as though I was shot, for I felt somebody’s leg under the clothes.

“Then I snatches my hand back and turns all over in a wet, cold state as if I’d been dipped, for I feels precious uncomfortable, and didn’t know what was best to be done next. One moment I expected to hear the ‘whish’ of a heavy stick, or the sharp crack of a pistol; for arter the noise I made it was quite impossible for whoever was in the bed to be asleep. Then I thinks as I would call for help, or run out, for I don’t mind telling you I felt regularly scared with the silence. How-so-be, I gets the better of my bit o’ failing; and, rousing up, I puts my hand over once more close up to where the pillow should be, and lays it upon a cold face, and there it seemed to stick, for a shudder went up my arm right to my head, and I couldn’t neither move nor speak, while my mouth felt as dry and hot inside as though it was full o’ dust.

“Cold! I never felt anything so cold; and I fell a shivering awful, till with a regular drag I rouses myself up and snatches my hand away; and as fast as ever I could I got out on to the landing and into the front room, and all the while trembling and feeling as if something was after me to pull me back. I got to the window, smashes out a pane, and gives a whistle as brings my mate to the door, and then I hears a ring, and some voices, and he was up to my side in a moment or two, with some o’ the people o’ the house arter him.

“‘Turn on your light,’ I says, as soon as he stood by me on the landing, and then, feeling as white as a sheet, and my hair wet with persperation, but more plucky now there was light and a companion, I goes back towards the room.

“‘Here, give us one o’ them candles,’ I says to a woman as came upstairs with one in each hand; and then from upstairs and down comes the people, all talking together, while as soon as some on ’em sees as it was the police they shuffles off again, so as it was all women as stayed about us.

“First glance I take I sees what was up, and I says to my mate: —

“‘Keep them all out;’ and he goes and stands at the door and closes it after him, when I’m blest if I didn’t let the candle fall, and it was out in a moment. But I felt better now there was help if I wanted it, and I goes up to the bedside and lays my hand on that face as I touched before, but it was cold as ice. Then I slips my hand down to the breast, but there wasn’t a beat there, so I then says to myself, ‘Gone,’ says I; and in spite o’ my shiverin’ and tremblin’ I tried to get the better of it, and reaches over again and lays my hand on the back of a head as felt cold, too; and then, after a good hard tussel with number one, I feels down to the breast of this one, and there wasn’t a beat there. Then I gets to the door again, just as a man comes with a candle in his hand.

“I gives him my empty candlestick, and takes his light, and I says: —

“‘I’m a policeman,’ I says, ‘and you go out and fetch the nighest doctor; and if you meets another constable tell him to come here.’

“‘What for, young man?’ he says, werry bounceable.

“‘Never you mind what for,’ I says; but you do as you’re told; and seeing me look as though I meant it, he starts off like a shot, and we two stood there till the doctor came, and then we goes in, followed by ever so many women, all looking white, and talking in whispers.

“Lord, sir, it was a sight! There was the room well-furnished, and on the bed lay as pretty a girl as ever you see, search through all London; her face, and neck looking as white as so much marble, while all her long black hair lay loose and scattered over the pillow. Her hands were under her head, and she looked for all the world as though she was asleep; while by the flickering candles I almost thought I could see her smile. And there, with one arm across her, his head close to her side, his face buried in the clothes, half-lying on the bed, with his feet on the ground by the bedside, was him as I took to be my customer as I wanted; and both him and the girl dead and stiff.

“The doctor examined ’em, and only said what every one could see plain enough, but he says as well that they’d been gone hours; and that we didn’t know.

“Then he gives a sniff or two, and says as there’s a strong smell of acid about. ‘Is there any cup or bottle anywhere?’ he says.

“I gives a sorter jump, and felt my skin creep, for I recollects the bottle and glasses in the next room, and a cold shiver goes all down my back.

“How-so-be, I goes round and opens the folding doors, and shows the doctor the sherry decanter, which had about three glasses at the bottom.

“‘Ah!’ says he, taking the glassful as I poured out, holding it up to the light, and then sniffing it. ‘Ah,’ says he, ‘there’s more than enough for one in that glassful; and that seems to be the same,’ he says, smelling at the decanter. ‘Pour it in, pleeceman, and tie the stopper down, and seal it.’

“I takes up the glass and tries to pour it back, but if my hand didn’t shake to that degree that the glass chattered against the neck of the decanter, and I spilt half the stuff on the cloth, I was so scared at the escape I’d had.

“Well, sir, you see some one as won’t take no refusal had been beforehand with his warrant, and took both the forger and his lady, and I know I thought it a most awful affair, for I was rather new to such things then. But whether he poisoned her, or whether they’d agreed to it aforehand, nobody knew, not even the Coroner; but all I know is that never before, nor since, have I met with anything as upset me so much as finding them two poor things lying there in the dark – dead, and stiff, and stark; it upset me wonderful – at least, that and the sherry together.”

Chapter Twelve.

A Vulgar Tongue

Unfortunately, one cannot always get one’s own particular cabman – the favoured one of the civil tongue; and on more than one occasion I have been on the box with as surly a specimen of humanity as ever drove a horse. Now, decidedly the real way to enjoy a cab-ride – rather a difficult matter – is, providing the weather be fine, to mount beside the driver. You thus avoid musty smells, stifling symptoms, and that hideous noise of jangling windows, a sound harsh enough to jar the nerves of a bull. Yes; decidedly the best way to enjoy a cab-ride is to sink the bloated aristocrat, mount beside the driver, and fraternise.

But my surly driver would not fraternise, for he was of the class known as crusty. He was a sort of moral hedgehog, and, but for his forming a study, I should decidedly have abdicated.

“Ah! He’s got his gruel,” said my cynical friend as he drove past a fallen horse belonging to the General Omnibus Company. “There’s another fall in the kump’ny’s shares. Sarve ’em right. No bisniss to have such bad cattle.”

Now, the beast I sat behind was about as ill-favoured and lean-fleshed an animal as his master. Evidently given to wind-gall, spavin, and splint, he – the horse, not the driver – was to an unpractised eye decidedly a jibber; while even a female ear would have detected that he was a roarer. It was evident, though, that my friend could not detect the faults of his own steed, and therefore he lavished all his abuse upon the horses of his contemporaries, whether of cab or ’bus.

But this driver seemed to have a spite against the world at large; seeming to ooze all over until he broke out into quite a satirical perspiration, while his lips acted as a safety-valve to let off an explosive compound most rapidly formed in his interior. He had a snarl for everything and everybody, and could he have run over some unfortunate crossing-sweeper, he would probably have been in ecstasies. Whenever opportunity offered he snarled often and cruelly at the misfortunes of his fellow-creatures. Where the scavengers had left the scraped-up mud beside the road – and where don’t they? – he would drive right through, noisily and rapidly, forming a large mud firework – to the great increase of his after labour, certainly; but this seemed of no account; he was so amply recompensed by the intense gratification he enjoyed in besmirching as many passers-by as happened to be within range; while when he succeeded in producing a currant-dumpling appearance upon a footman’s calves, he was almost apoplectic, and rumbled with delight. Woe to the wandering dog that came within reach of his whip! It would have been better for him had he ne’er been pupped, for here there was no mercy shown. As to the passing salutations of brother cabs, they, though apparently pungent, glanced off our friend’s case-hardened composition, and the assailant would depart with a stinging sarcasm tingling and buzzing in his ears.

It was enough to make one ruminate upon the vast amount of the gall of bitterness in the man’s mind, and ask how much the cab-riding world had to do with the sharpening of the thorns with which this modern Jehu bristled – Jehu, indeed, for he drove most furiously – spiny, hooked, venomous, lacerating, clinging, tearing points that would have at you and be in your skin whether you would or no; for upon asking the fare when about to alight, having previously formed the determination not to dispute a sixpence, I was told “Two shillings,” and then, tendering a florin, was greeted with —

“Ho! wun o’ them blessed pieces. Should ha’ thought as a swell as purfessed to be so interested in kebs would ha’ been ashamed to horfer less than ’arf a bull.”

But there are amiable and advice-giving cabbies, who seem to take an interest in the welfare of their customers.

I once agreed in times gone by to “conwoy” Mrs Scribe and her sister, Miss Bellefille, as far as Richmond. ’Twas summer time, and our imaginations were full of sparkling rivers, green eyots, silver swans, and – well, yes, I’ll own it, the carnal delights of a Star and Garter dinner, with the following cigar. There was the rail, certainly, but in preference thereto I hired one of her Majesty’s carriages, VR 123,456. Our buttons had not come up in those days, so I fetched the vehicle from the stand, and rode back beside the driver. Upon reaching Miranda Villas, I lightly leaped down and rang the bell. Wonderful to relate, the ladies waited ready in the passage, and after handing them into the cab, I again mounted to the box, for the purpose of smoking upon the way down.

We were moving off when a voice was heard from the interior of the cab – “George, I’ve left my handkerchief upon the dressing-table; ask Harriet to fetch it down.”

I arrested the driver, who seemed to be regarding me rather superciliously, which I attributed to insignificance of appearance, when he exclaimed: —

“Now, Jarge, fetch the missus’s wipe, and look alive.”

“Confound his impudence,” I muttered, “he takes me for the attendant;” and then, with what must have been a decidedly melodramatic, tyrannical-baron-like scowl upon my brow, I resummoned the abigail, and obtained the required piece of cambric.

The feeling of indignation had fled as I reseated myself, and during the drive down I omitted the smoke, and suffered the driver to discourse fancy free.

He had an agreeable voice, had this Cabby – husky and wheezy; and but for an unpleasant habit of expectorating at the flies which settled upon the shafts, he might have proved an agreeable companion. Curiosity, however, seemed to be one of his failings, for addressing me in a mock provincial style as “Jarge,” and at the same time forcing his voice somewhere down into the cavernous recesses beneath his waistcoat, he began to catechise me after an approved method of his own.