Hagar of the Pawn-Shop

by Fergus Hume

  “A very pretty toy?” said Hagar, as the quaint thing tipped itself right and left, front and back. “It comes from China, I suppose?”

  She asked this question of the customer, who demanded two pounds on the figure; but in place of answering her, he burst out into a hoarse laugh, and leered unpleasantly at the girl.

  “Comes from other side of Nowhere, I reckon, missus!” he said, in a coarse voice; “and a bloomin’ rum piece of goods ‘tis, anyhow!”

  Hagar did not like the man’s looks at all, although she was by no means exacting on the score of personal beauty—especially with regard to the male sex. Still, there was something brutal about this fellow which revolted her every sense. He had a bullet-head, with a crop of closely-cut hair; a clean-shaven face of a blue-black dirty hue, where the beard had been removed; a low forehead, a snub nose, a large ugly mouth, and two cunning gray eyes which never looked any one straight in the face. This attractive gentleman wore a corduroy suit, a red linen handkerchief round his throat, and a fur cap with earflaps on his head. Also he carried a small black pipe between his teeth, and breathed therefrom an atmosphere of the vilest tobacco. Certainly the toy was queer; but the man queerer. Not at all the sort of person likely to be in possession of so delicate a work of Chinese art and fancy.

  “Where did you get this?” demanded Hagar, drawing her black brows together and touching with one finger the swaying mandarin.

  “It’s all on the square, missus!” growled the man in an injured tone. “I didn’t prig the blessed thing, if that’s yer lay. A pal o’ mine as is a sailor brought it from Lord-knows-where an’ guy’ it me. I wants rhino, I do; so if you kin spring two quid ——”

  “I’ll give you twenty shillings,” said Hagar, cutting him short.

  “Oh, my bloomin’ eyes! if this ain’t robbery an’ blue murder!” whined the man; “twenty bob! why, the fun you gits out of it’s worth more!”

  “That’s my offer—take it or leave it. I don’t believe you came honestly by it, and I’m running a risk in taking it.”

  “Sling us the blunt, then!” said the customer, sullenly; “it’s the likes of you as grinds down the likes of me! Yah! you an’ yer preachin’.”

  “In whose name am I to make out the ticket?” asked Hagar, coldly.

  “In the name of Mister William Smith—Larky Bill they calls me; but ‘tain’t hetiikit to put h’endearin’ family names on pawn-tickets. I lives in Sawder Alley, Whitechapel.”

  “Why didn’t you go to a nearer pawn-shop, then?” said Hagar, taking down Mr. Smith’s address, without smiling at his would-be wit.

  “That’s my biz!” retorted Bill, scowling. “‘Ere, gimme the tin; an’ don’t you arsk no questions an’ you won’t be tol’ no lies! D’ye see?”

  Hagar stamped her foot. “Here’s the money and the ticket. Take yourself and your insolence out of my shop. Quick!”

  “I’m gitting!” growled the man, shuffling towards the door. “See ‘ere, missus; I comes fur that doll in three months, or it may be four. If it ain’t all right an’ ‘anded up to me proper, I’ll break your neck!”

  “What’s that you say?”

  Hagar was over the counter, and close at hand by this time. Larky Bill stared open-mouthed at her spirit. “You say another word, my jail-bird,” said Hagar, seizing his ear, “and I’ll put you into the gutter!”

  “Lordy! what a donah!” muttered Bill, rubbing his ear when he found himself outside. “She’ll look arter the toy proper. Three months. Tck!” he rapped his thumbnail against his teeth. “I can’t get less from the beak; but I’ve bested Monkey anyhow!”

  And with these enigmatic words, Mr. Smith turned on his heel and went to Whitechapel There his forebodings were realized, for at the very door of his own house in Sawder Alley, he was taken in charge by a grim policeman, and sent to prison for four months. He had stolen some fruit off a coster’s barrow on the day previous to his arrest, and quite expected to be—as he phrased it—nabbed for the theft. Therefore he employed the small remnant of freedom still remaining to him in pawning the mandarin in the most distant pawn-shop he could think of, which happened to be Hagar’s. As Mr. Smith left the court to do his four months, a wizen-faced man slouched close to him.

  “Bill,” he growled, edging against the policeman, “where’s that doll?”

  “That’s all right, Monkey! I’ve put it where you won’t git it!” grunted Smith.

  When Black Maria rolled away with Bill inside, the man he had called Monkey stood on the edge of the pavement and cursed freely till a policeman moved him on. He had a particular desire to gain possession of that doll, as he called it; and it was on this account that Larky Bill had taken the trouble to hide it. Monkey never thought of a pawn-shop. It was a case of diamond cut diamond; and one rogue had outwitted the other.

  In the meantime, Hagar, quite unaware of the value attached to the Chinese toy, placed it away among other pawned articles upon a high shelf. But it did not always remain there, for Bolker, a child in many ways, notwithstanding his precocious intelligence, found it out, and frequently took it down to play with. Hagar would not have permitted this had she known, as the toy was given into her charge to keep safe, and she would have been afraid of Bolker spoiling the painting or rubbing off the gilding. Bolker knew this, and was clever enough to play with the mandarin only when Hagar was absent. He placed it on the counter, and made it sway in its quaint fashion. The waving arms, the nodding head, and the roseleaf of a tongue slipping in and out, enchanted the lad, and he would amuse himself for hours with it. It was strange that a gilded toy, no doubt made for the amusement of grave Chinese Emperors, should descend to afford pleasure to an arab of London City. But the mandarin was an exile from the Flowery Land, and rocked as merrily in the dingy pawn-shop as ever he had done in the porcelain palaces of Pekin.

  A month or two after the mandarin had been pawned, Bolker announced in the most unexpected manner that he intended to better himself. He had been given, he said, the post of shop-boy in a West-end bookseller’s establishment; and as he was fond of literature, he intended to accept it. Hagar rather wondered that any one should have placed sufficient confidence in this arab to give him a situation; but she kept her wonderment to herself, and permitted him to go. She was sorry to lose the benefit of his acute intelligence, but personally she had no great love for this scampish hunchback; so she saw him depart without displaying much sorrow. Thus Bolker vanished from the pawn-shop and from Carby’s Crescent, and ascended into higher spheres.

  Nothing new happened after his departure. The mandarin remained untouched on the shelf, and the dust collected over his motionless figure. Hagar quite forgot about the toy and its pawner; and it was only when Larky Bill was released from prison and came to claim his property that she recalled the incident. She took down the figure, dusted it carefully, and set it swaying on the counter before Mr. Smith. Neither Bill nor Hagar noticed that it did not roll as easily and gracefully as usual.

  “Here’s the quid and interest and ticket,” said Bill, tendering all three. “I’m glad to get this ‘ere back again. No one’s touched it, ‘ave they?”

  “No. It has been on that shelf ever since you pawned it. Where have you been?”

  Larky Bill grinned. “I’ve been stayin’ at a country ‘ouse of mine fur my’ ealth’s sake,” he said, tucking the mandarin under his arm. “Say, missus, a cove called Monkey didn’t come smellin’ round ‘ere fur this h’image?”

  “Not that I know of. Nobody asked for the toy.”

  “Guess it’s all right,” chuckled Bill, gleefully. “Lord, to think as how I’ve done that bloke! Won’t he cuss when he knows as I’ve got em!”

  What “them” were Mr. Smith did not condescend to explain at that particular moment. He nodded familiarly to Hagar, and went off, still chuckling with the mandarin in charge. Hagar put away the money, and thought that she had seen the last of Bill; but she reckoned wrongly. Two hours afterwards he was back in the shop, mandari
n and all, with a pale face, a wild eye, and a mouth full of abuse. At first he swore at large without giving any explanation; so Hagar waited till the bad language was ended, and then asked him quietly what was the matter. For answer Bill plumped down the Chinese toy on the counter, and clutched his fur cap with both hands.

  “Matter, cuss you!” he shrieked, furiously—“as if ye didn’t know! I’ve been robbed!”

  “Robbed! What nonsense are you talking And what have I to do with your being robbed?”

  Bill gasped, and pointed to the mandarin, who was rolling complacently, with a fat smile on his porcelain visage. “That—that doll!” he spluttered. “I’ve been robbed!”

  “Of the doll?” asked Hagar, impatiently.

  “Y’ young Jezebel! Of the dimins—dimins!”

  “Diamonds!” echoed the girl, starting back in astonishment.

  “Yes! Y’ know, hang you, y’ know! Twenty thousan’ pount of dimins! They was in that doll—inside ‘im. They ain’t there now! Why not? ‘Cause you’ve robbed me! Thief! Yah!”

  “I did not know that there were any jewels concealed in the mandarin,” said Hagar, calmly. “Had I known I should have informed the police.”

  “Blown the gaff, would ye? An’ why?”

  “Because a man in your position does not possess diamonds, unless he steals them. And now I think of it,” added Hagar, quickly, “about the time you pawned this toy Lady Deacey’s jewels were stolen. You stole them!”

  “P’raps I did, p’raps I didn’t!” growled Bill, mentally cursing Hagar for the acuteness of her understanding. “‘Tany rate, ‘twarn’t your biz to prig ‘em!”

  “I tell you I never touched them! I did not know they were in there!”

  “Then who did, cuss you? When I guv you the doll, the dimins were inside; now they ain’t. Who took ‘em?”

  Hagar pondered. It was certainly odd that the diamonds should have been stolen. She had placed the mandarin on the shelf on the day of its pawning, and had not removed it again until she had returned it to its owner. Seeing her silent, Bill turned the toy upside down, and re- moved a square morsel of the lacquer, which fitted in so perfectly as to seem like one whole piece. Within was the dark hollow of the ball— empty.

  “I put them dimins into ‘ere with my own ‘and,” persisted Bill, pointing one grimy finger at the gap; “they were ‘ere when I popped it; they ain’t ‘ere now. Where are they? Who’s bin playing with my property?”

  “Bolker!” cried Hagar, without thinking. It had just flashed across her mind that one day she had found Bolker amusing himself with the mandarin. At the time she had thought nothing of it, but had replaced the toy on its shelf, and forbidden the lad to meddle with it. But now, recalling the episode, and connecting it with Bolker’s sudden departure, she felt convinced that the imp had stolen the concealed jewels. But—as she wondered—how had he become cognizant that twenty thousands pounds’ worth of diamonds was hidden in the hollow body of the doll? The thing puzzled her.

  “Bolker?” echoed Larky Bill, wrathfully. “And who may that cuss be?”

  “He was my shop-boy; but he left three months ago to better himself.”

  “I dessay! With my dimins, I’ll bet. Where is he, that I may cut his bloomin’ throat!”

  “I shan’t tell you,” said Hagar, alarmed by the brutal threat of the man, and already regretting that she had been so candid.

  “I’ll make you! I’ll twist your neck!” raged Bill, mad with anger.

  He placed his great hands on the counter to vault over; but the next moment he dropped back before the shining tube of a neat little revolver, which leveled itself in Hagar’s hands. She had lately purchased it for defense.

  “I keep this always by me,” said she, calmly, “to protect myself against such rogues as you!”

  Bill stared at her blankly, then turned on his heel and left the shop. At the door he paused and shook his fist.

  “I’ll find that Bolker, and smash the life out of him!” he said, hoarsely; “then, my fine madam, I’ll come back to lay you out!” after which he vanished, leaving the mandarin, with its eternal smile, still rocking on the counter.

  Hagar put away the pistol, and took up the figure. Now that she knew about the diamonds, and had forced Bill to admit, as he had done indirectly, that they had been stolen from Lady Deacey, she thought it possible that the Chinese toy might belong to the same owner. In spite of her fearlessness, Hagar was not altogether happy in her mind as regards the burglar. If he did not find the diamonds, he was quite capable of returning to murder her. On the whole, Hagar concluded that it would be just as well for society at large, and herself in particular, if Mr. Smith were restored to the prison whence he had lately emerged. After some consideration she resolved to see Vark, the lawyer, and tell him the episode of the mandarin, taking the image with her as evidence. Vark, if anyone, would be able to deal with the intricacies of the affair.

  In the meantime, Bill Smith had repaired to the public-house which guarded the narrow entrance to Carby’s Crescent, and there was drowning his regrets in strong drink. As he drained his tankard of ale, he fell into conversation with the fat landlord—a brutal-looking prize-fighter, who looked as though he had been in jail—quite a bird of Mr. Smith’s feather. These two congenial spirits recognized each other, and became friendly—so friendly, indeed, that Bill thought it a good opportunity to extract information regarding the whereabouts of Bolker. He was too wise to explain his reason for making these inquiries.

  “That’s a fine gal in the pawn-shop, hay!” said he, with a leer.

  “Wot—‘Agar? She’s a plum, ain’t she?—but not for every man’s pickin’; oh, no; not she! ‘Agar kin look arter herself proper!” said the landlord.

  “Does she mind that shorp all alone?”

  “Jus’ now she does,” replied mine host. “She ‘ad a boy, a wicked little ‘unchback devil; Bolker’s ‘is name. But he’s hoff; gitting a wage in West-end, as I do ‘ear.”

  “Wes’-end?” said Bill, reflectively. “An’ where might ‘e ‘any out there?”

  “Ho, in a swell, slap-up book-shop. Juppins, Son an’ Juppins, Les’er Square way. ‘Is parients live down ‘ere, but Bolker’s that set up with ‘is good luck as ‘e looks down on ‘em.”

  “Do he now!” said Bill, amiably. “I’d twist ‘is neck if he wos my kid. No more booze, thankee. I’m orf t’ see a pal o’ mine.”

  The result of this conversation was that Mr. Smith repaired to Leicester Square and loafed up and down the pavement before the book-shop. He saw Bolker several times during the day; for, having been told by the landlord that the lad was a hunchback, he had no difficulty recognizing him. Up till the evening he kept a close watch, and when Bolker had put up the shutters and was walking home towards Lambeth, Bill followed him stealthily. All unknowing that he was followed by a black shadow of crime and danger, Bolker paused on Westminster Bridge to admire the red glories of the sunset; then plunged into the network of alleys which make up Lambeth. In a quiet lane by the river he was gripped from behind; a large hand was clapped over his mouth to prevent his crying out, and he was dragged down on to a ruined wharf which ran out through green slime into the turbid waters of the stream.

  “Now, then, I’ve got ye!” said his captor in a savage tone—“an’ I’ve got a knife too, y’ bloomin’ thief! Jes’ y’ answer me strife, or I’ll cut yer ‘ead orf!”

  Bolker gasped with alarm; but, not recognizing the threatening face of the man before him, he recovered a little of his native impudence, and began to bluster.

  “Here, now, what do you mean by this? What have I done?”

  “Done, y’ whelp! Opened that doll an’ prigged them dimins!”

  “Larky Bill!” cried Bolker, at once recognizing his peril. “Here, let me go!”

  “Not till y’ give up my property—my dimins.”

  “What property? What diamonds?”

  “Oh, y’ know what ‘m drivin’ at, cuss you! Y’re the
‘unchback as wos in the shorp kep’ by that foine gal ‘Agar. I popped that doll, with dimins in ‘is innards, an’ you stole ‘m.”

  “I did nothing of the sort. I ——”

  “‘Ere! drop yer lies, y’ imp! Y’ know moy naime, y’ did, so y’ knows more! Jes’ look et this knoif! S’elp me but I’ll slip it int’ ye, ef y’ don’t tell!”

  He threw the terrified boy across his knee, and placed the cold steel at his throat. The rose-red sky spun overhead in the eyes of Bolker, and he thought that his last hour had come. To save himself there was nothing for it but confession.

  “What! wait! I’ll tell you!” he gasped. “I did take the diamonds.”

  “Y’ young cuss!” growled Bill, setting the lad on his feet again with a jerk. “An’ ‘ow did y’ know they was inside that himage?”

  “Monkey told me.”

  Bill started to his feet with an oath, but still kept his grip on Bolker’s shoulder to prevent him getting away. “Monkey,” he said, fiercely. “Wot did ‘e tell y’?”

  “Why, that Lady Deacey’s diamonds were inside the mandarin.”

  “How did Monkey come to find that doll?”

  “He got the office from a girl called Eliza, who saw you pawning the toy.”

  “Liz sold me,” muttered Bill. “I thought as I sawr’er on that doy. She’ mus’ ha’ twigged that doll under m’ arm, and guessed as I popped it. Gord! I’ll deal with ‘er laiter, I will! Garn, y’ doryg and tell me th’ rest!” he added, shaking the boy.