CHAPTER XIV.
GNAWING OF THE RAT'S TOOTH.
"Hello, Bobbs," called the solitary cracksman. "Put your hear to thechink and let's 'ave a palaver."
The "chink" was that hollow spot in the rear of the cell, where bypressing his ear against the wall Floyd could hear communications fromDobbs, inaudible to the rest of the prisoners.
Robert wondered not a little at the persistent friendliness of thefellow. He felt conscious of lacking the touch of comradeship. He mighteven be called ascetic, were not the stigma precluded by his passion formusic and his love of landscape. Long botanical tramps with his unclehad given him an acute feeling for the moods of nature, and in hisviolin playing a deep sensibility found outlet through the practiced andsensitive fingertips. But in general he had little palate for thebouquet and effervescence of life, and was credited, therefore, withless readiness of sympathy than his cousin, who responded quickly toall fleeting impressions of pleasure.
While Harry, as adjutant of his crack cadets, was seen prancing onparade in all the bravery of gold lace, his sword hilt resting on hissaddle, his mustaches twisted to the curl of an ostrich feather, amasterpiece of poise and splendor, Robert would be found in duncivilian's garb, shoulder to shoulder with the multitude on thesidewalk, studying the significance of the pageant. This strenuousnessacted as a bar to popularity. Harry could count twenty friends toRobert's one. People called him by his given name at the second or thirdmeeting. Women, in particular, circled about him like moths about ataper. But Floyd, who shunned no man's eye, sought no woman's. This mayhave been why the one girl to whom he had given his heart believed hisnature to be of sterling gold.
There was much in the prison life to quicken the thoughts of so seriousan observer, but all his attempts to record the impressions had ended infailure. He soon realized that no man can at once live and write. Ourdeeper experiences need to be mellowed by distance, just as we must backaway to a certain focus before we can feel the sentiment of a painting.There was nothing left but to bide his time as patiently as possible,occasionally beguiling the long hours by conversation with Dobbs.
This scoundrel had an unctuous manner which was hard to resist. Hisquaint, infectious chuckle and preeminence in crime made him a favoriteamong the inmates of the ward--a popularity which he generously used tosecure for Robert a certain immunity from insult. The young man couldnot help feeling grateful for this. Besides, the man's incurable asthma,which he attributed himself to "hexposure to cold night blarsts in theperformance of perfessional duties," entitled him to sympathy. Indeed,he was often removed to the hospital for days at a time. During theseintervals Robert remarked the cessation of a curious grating noise whichseemed to come from his neighbor's cell.
"Blood's thicker than water, Bobbs. You and Hi are Henglish, you know.These 'ere bloomin' coves get red-'eaded over nothing. Don't catch memutineerin' and violatin' the rules. Ho, no."
This was true. So far as outward behavior went, Dobbs was an exemplaryprisoner.
"By the way, Dobbs, my name is Floyd," said Robert.
"Ho, you don't mind bein' called Bobbs, chummy. That's cute for Robert.Hi found out your name. We hall know wot you're jugged for. It's harson,eh?"
"Yes."
"'Ow did you set it?"
"I am as innocent of the charge as you are." Robert's tone was curt. Hefelt vexed to be the subject of discussion among this crew.
"That's just wot I told the judge, chummy, w'en ee politely hasked me ifHi 'ad anything to say. But it didn't work, chummy. Hi'm a-winkin' atyou, Bobbs."
The invisible wink probably expressed incredulity, but Robert did notcare to debate his own case with his neighbor.
"Hi knows it's a delicate matter, and some folks Hi wouldn't trust,neither. But Dobbs is your friend, Bobbs, and ready to prove ee's trueblue. Do you know I like the sound o' them two names. Dobbs and Bobbs.Suppose we go into business together.
"DOBBS AND BOBBS "ROBS FOBS.
"'Ow's that for a partnership sign?"
Dobbs exploded in a paroxysm of laughter and coughing over his owncleverness as a rhymester. The fit was continued so long that hisneighbors began to protest in their ungentle fashion.
"Say, Dobbs, get into your coffin, quick," cried one. The same whosevoice sounded familiar to Robert though he was unable to place it. Itwas a thick, uncouth utterance, as though the speaker's natural broguewere assisted by the presence of a ball of yarn.
"'Old your bloomin' breath for Longlegs," answered Dobbs.
The passage of the hated turnkey caused a diversion in his favor.Longlegs was a tall man of remarkably bony strength. The convicts wereonly collectively brave against him. When not gathered in packs theyavoided his stern visage as a lone wolf slinks away from the hunter. Hisright name was Hawkins, but almost nobody within these precincts escapeda sobriquet. Warden Tapp was "the Pelican," Turnkey Gradger was "Gimp"and a particularly vile denizen went under the name of "Parson." Dobbsexplained his own escape quaintly.
"You see, chummy, Dobbs his a nickname halready. You can't forshorten itno more."
The visitor who accompanied Hawkins shared the unpopularity of hisescort.
"Whoop, da, da, da!"
"He's a yellow aster."
"Lend me your monocle, Cholly, and don't be wude."
But the tall, blond-bearded man with the monocle sauntered leisurelyalong, looking into every cell until he reached the end of the corridor.Then he turned back and stopped before Dobbs, while Hawkins clanked hiskeys beside him.
"If God writes a legible hand, that man's a villain," he quoted from theold-time actor; "what name do you go by?"
"Bill Dobbs."
"Hand me out that pen and ink and I'll draw your picture."
"W'ere?"
"On your thumb nail. The right one. That's it."
It seemed scarcely half a minute before Hawkins was heard exclaiming:
"That's a stunning likeness."
"Take away this 'ere lookin'-glass o' mine, Longlegs, and bestow it onthe poor. Wot use 'ave Hi for it w'en Hi carry my hown himage on thehend of my bloomin' thumb?"
"You've a face of great power and cunning," said the artist, "butthere's one thing you lack."
"Wot's that?"
"Reverence. Some day I'll use you for a mask of Iago that I've had inmind."
"Thanks. Wot's your name, stranger?"
"Tristram March." It was our artist friend, rummaging for types in thisout-of-the-way corner.
"You've a sort of a soft lip about you and a delicate horgan of hodor.But there's one thing you lack?"
"What?"
"Starch. Hi'm a-thinkin' Hi'll copy my make-up after you next time Hiplay 'Amlet to the queen's Ophelia."
Tristram's good-natured laugh was the last thing Robert heard as hesauntered away.
A sculptor, friends called him if pressed for a definition. Yet in truthhe had never yet executed a figure of life size, being a modern instanceof talent without ambition, dispersing and dividing its strength. Hemodeled, painted, rhymed, composed--a many-faceted reflector ofimpressions; but everything he did was done by halves and the mostfinished of his products were only brilliant sketches. His sisterRosalie's single gift, besides her beauty (which, to be sure, enteredinto it as a primary element), came to her less by nature than by ardentaspiration. But critics had compared her Rosalind to a perfect rose,blown into a bulb of glass; and she was still a patient learner,standing tiptoe on the vestibule of her art, with an untold futurebefore her.
"'Ow did Hi begin?" said the cracksman, when the confusion had subsided.
Robert was again at the chink, like some penitent whispering through agrating to his father confessor. "Hi never began. Hi was born wicked.Wicked Willie they called me w'en Hi wasn't old enough to toddle halone.And 'ere's 'ow Hi earned it, Bobbs."
"How?"
"You see, my mother, who was a hinnocent woman and a Christian, took meout on 'er harms to see the lord mayor's procession, the lord mayor o'Lunnon wot 'as all the wittl
es to eat, you know. And w'ile they was allpreoccupied admirin' 'is lordship's gold buttons, wot was Wicked Williea-doin' of but leanin' forward in 'is mamma's harms and pluckin' ahear-ring w'ich ee liked, hout of a grand lady's hear. 'Ow!' says thelady, w'en it 'urt; and Wicked Willie 'ad 'is 'ands slapped, w'ich Hisay ee richly deserved, seein' as 'ow ee bungled the bloomin' job."
"From the cradle up you were a thief," said Robert, sadly.
"Ho, them bantam games don't count."
"When did you first begin professionally?"
"Do you count a gunniff a perfessional in this 'ere country?"
"A gunniff? What's that?"
"Don't you know wot a gunniff is, Bobbs? W'y. Hi'm amazed. Hi'll 'ave topresent chummy with a Century dictionary in sixteen volumes w'ich we'llbe hable to do w'en we get out of 'ere, w'ich won't be long. Hi'ma-winkin.'"
All the time that he spoke Robert heard a low scraping noise, softerthan the rasping he had noticed in the evenings. Apparently it was closeto his ear.
"A gunniff is a juvenile institution peculiar to our bloomin' holdHengland."
"Leave out some of your bloomings, won't you, especially about England."
"W'y not, chummy? Ain't it in the dic? Is it a wulgar word?"
Robert did not reply, but he thought how many words as sacred andbeautiful as this have been profaned to foul uses or cheapened to thevapidity of a Frenchman's "Mon Dieu."
"Hi beg your bloomin' pardon, Bobbs. If it's wulgar, Hi drop it, andwith your leave Hi'll resume my hinterrupted hautobiography."
"You call yourself a gunniff?"
"Gunniff in general, but more particularly Hi was a snatcher, w'ichtakes precedence of the mob by reason of the difficulty of 'is duties,of the taker as well as of the blokie and the moke."
"What's the English for blokie and moke?"
"The Henglish? W'y, Hi'm amazed. Don't tell me you bilked 'em all so'andily on settin' that 'ouse afire. Hi won't believe it of a chummy ashasks me wot a blokie and a moke is."
"I never heard the words before."
"W'y, the mokes do the scrappin' wen the gent 'as been relieved of 'ispocketbook, w'ich is too heavy for 'im to carry, by the willin' andaccommodatin' little snatcher, w'ich was me."
"You began as a pickpocket?"
"Pickpocket? Wot does that mean? Hi never 'eard that word. We werehexpress boys. Is pickpocket the bloomin' Americanese for that? Hi'ma-winkin' at you, Bobbs."
This conclusion was invariably the prelude to a burst of laughter, whichwas so droll and self-satisfied that it put Robert in good humor inspite of everything.
"Four of us, Bobbs, and that makes a mob. First we picked out our gent,always a hold gent or a bloomin' swell, a-standin' in the crowd. Four ofus playin', rompin', friskin', about 'im, as hinnocent little fellowswill, bless 'em all, w'en, hall of a sudden, one bumps up against thebloomin' gent's pocket not with 'is 'ands, you know? The bloomin' gentmight fancy ee was a hobject of hinterest to us if ee used 'is 'ands,w'ich ee hisn't, ho, no! That's the blokie wot does the bumpin'. Eewears a thin shirt and a huncommonly hintelligent spine w'ich can feel a'ard lump in a gent's pocket surprisin'."
"The blokie ascertains where his purse is located?"
"And the snatcher, w'ich was Wicked Willie, relieves 'im of it gently."
"How?"
"'Ow? By makin' a hopportunity. There's nothin' in this world likemakin' a hopportunity for yourself, Bobbs. And if two little fellers geta-scrappin' and jostle a hold gent hover, and a crowd comes and the holdgent gets hinterested in separatin' the little fellers, and givin' thema moral lecture, 'ow's ee a-goin' to know w'ere 'is valuables went,unless ee reaches to present 'em with a 'alf-crown apiece, w'ich hedon't."
"Is that common in London?"
"Run into the ground, Bobbs, completely wulgarized. No self-respectin'gent would bring up 'is bantams in that line nowadays. But hafterward,w'en Hi was alightin' my 'Avana cigars with the old lady's ten-punnotes, Hi always looked back on my rompin's with the mob as thebeginnin's, 'umble but 'onorable, of a great and useful career."
During the talk it had seemed to Robert that the cracksman's voice wascoming nearer.
"What's making that noise, Dobbs?"
"Wot noise, chummy?"
"That little scraping."
"You can 'ear it?"
"It's close to the chink."
"That's a rat's tooth gnawin'. Hi'm a-winkin' at you, Bobbs."
"Are you cutting into the wall?"
"Look 'ere, chummy. Dobbs 'as given hall the confidence so far, andBobbs 'as given none. 'Ow is Dobbs to know Bobbs is true blue?"
This was a puzzler. Robert did not feel prepared to abet prison-breachyet, if that was the cracksman's aim, though his own feeling toward theauthorities was anything but submissive.
"Hi'm 'urt, Bobbs. Hi've a sensitive nature and a large bump ofcuriosity, both of w'ich is offended by my chummy's lack of confidencein me. But Hi'll prove Hi'm true blue, wotever Bobbs says. Chummies ischummies and bobbies is bobbies, there's the distinction Hi draw. Do you'ear the tooth?"
The gnawing sound became louder at Robert's ear.
"That's a hinstrument Hi hown w'ich Hi wouldn't show to the Pelican'imself, but Bobbs shall see it and feel it if he likes."
"Is it a file?"
"A wery little file."
"How did you smuggle it in?"
"Just in a little plug o' smoke, Bobbs, w'ich a friend sent me for my'ealth, w'ich is poor, as my bloomin' associates around me 'erefrequently observe. Nobody'd look for a little rat's tooth laidcrossways in a little plug o' smoke, with the 'andle alongside of it,would they, Bobbs?"
"Are you sawing the bars?"
"Ham I? It's all done."
"You've sawed them through?"
"And poor little hinnocent Bobbs never 'eard me."
Dobbs went off in a peal of laughter.
"But how do you hide the cuts in the bars when any one comes?"
"Wot'll stop a leak in a gas-pipe? Soap. Wot'll 'ide a slice in a sawedbar? Gum."
"Gum?"
"You see, chummy, the wentilation is poor in 'ere. There's a greenmildew on my floor and the bloomin' spiders is too silent to be sociablecompany. But you never 'eard me 'ollerin', Bobbs."
Indeed, he always lay low during the outbreaks. His methods were moresecretive. He was the villain by trade.
"But my sympathy is with the bloomin' mutineers hall the time. So I pickaway with my rat's tooth w'en the others is 'ollerin' and even greenlittle hinnocent Bobbs cawn't 'ear me."
The rasping sound illustrated his meaning.
"Ee won't trust me, but Hi trust 'im. We'll see who can keep a secret,and who leaks."
There was a sound as if something had been slid out of the wall on theother side and of a sudden Dobbs' whisper became startlingly distinct.
"Honly a few minutes, Bobbs. Hi 'old the plaster in my pockets, and therat's tooth in my fingers w'ile Hi gnaw and gnaw." The tool beganworking rapidly and dexterously. In a short time Dobbs spoke again:
"Tap 'em till you feel it 'ollow, and shove on the 'ollow spot."
Robert tapped the wall.
"Shove 'arder."
Robert gave a stiff push with his elbow. The brick was loosened and gaveway.
"Now, catch it, chummy."
Slowly the Englishman shoved the brick toward Robert, till it protrudedfrom his side of the cell. It would have fallen on the bed if Robert hadnot caught it. After the brick came a hand and the striped sleeve of aconvict's arm. It was a characteristic hand, broad, with spatulatefingernails and a black star on the fleshy ball between forefinger andthumb. But the cracksman must have fallen out with his own likeness asIago, for his thumb-nail was clean as a whistle. Between the fingers laya tiny file of rarest workmanship. Its teeth were set almost as sharplyas those of a saw, and the steel was tempered to the hardness ofadamant.
"'Ow's that for a tooth, Bobbs?"
Floyd took it for a moment, but a step was heard coming along thecorridor. It was Longlegs.
"Quick, Bobbs, put back the brick."
Dobbs' voice grew hoarse with excitement. Robert replaced the block onhis side, and heard the convict doing the same on the other. As Longlegspassed, Dobbs fell into a tremendous spasm of coughing. The turnkeyhastened to the end of the corridor, jangling his keys as if deridingthe derision with which he was greeted all the way. He had run hisgantlet too often to heed the jeers and grimaces he met. There was asound as if he were unlocking the farther door and then relocking itfrom the outside.
"That's a very useful cough," whispered Dobbs to Floyd. It had ceasedall of a sudden. "It drives undesirable acquaintances about theirbusiness and it procures me admission to the 'ospital, w'ich is asociable and communicative quarter. Hi'm a-winkin'."
Robert was beginning to understand things. The cracksman wasmalingering. It was through the hospital that he communicated with hisfriends outside.
"And Hi 'ope that Dobbs 'as given ample proof to Bobbs that ee hisdeservin' of 'is confidence."
Robert looked down and started at the temptation before him. The filelay in his hand.
The Incendiary: A Story of Mystery Page 14