His voice was low and deep, and his fleshy lips twisted about the curses as though he had eaten them and was now vomiting them back. The yard was still, struck dumb, fear bristling the air.
'I told my Pa I would serve you out,' came Barney's voice.
'I will too,' and he stepped forward, pointing the stopper at the Nasty Man. I tried to snatch it from him, and Half-pint too made to grab it. But the boy was too quick. His hand wavered, there was a click, followed by a breathless pause.
'It's bunged,' murmured someone in the crowd, and the whisper went round, almost like a sigh of relief. Barney shook the gun and tried again. A click. He bit his lip and screwed his fist into his eye.
'I will - serve - you - out!' he cried, vainly trying to fire the gun, click after click. 'You killed my Pa!'
The Nasty Man cast a contemptuous look at the crowd, though I am certain I saw fear in his eyes when Barney produced the gun.
'Someone make him safe, before he hurts himself!'
There was a ripple of laughter, and Half-pint drew Barney away into the gaff, and at that same moment a cry went up from the front of the house that police officers were even now turning the corner and would be here in minutes.
I didn't wait. I signalled Brutus and Nero to heel and we barged through the crowd, through the gaff, sending tables and wax figures flying, and when we reached the street I ran, once more, like a madman, taking turn after turn through narrow alleys and courts, and stopping only when I thought one more step would have my ribs burst through my chest. Brutus and Nero were also panting, and Brutus was limping. We were a good distance from Fish-lane (though I had no idea where we were) and I hunkered down in a passage to get my breath. Still as the stars we waited, as a pack of roughs raced past, calling to each other, excited and ready for the chase. Perhaps they weren't chasing us, but I was too scared to risk discovery.
We crept home to Portland-road by more back streets and dark lanes, and when we arrived, I closed the door firmly and thankfully behind us.
I lit the fire and fetched water to bathe Brutus's wounded paw and bandaged it carefully. He lay on his rug in front of the fire, shivering slightly, and his companion, seeing his pain, lay close to him. I sat on the corner of the bed, tormenting myself with the thought that these two animals were kinder companions to each other than I had been to them, involving them in danger, and now the revenge of the Nasty Man. For I had no doubt it would come.
Inquest at the Two Spies — A Deafening Silence
Sleep used to be my nursemaid. If I was troubled, she would come to me and I would hide away in her dark arms.
But she must have been attending to some other poor soul, for she would not visit me, and after a sleepless night, I was up early to scour the newspapers. I found a butcher wanting to sell, cheap, a nag and wagon, but when I had found the shop and then peered through the yard fence and saw them - a poor, broken-winded old horse and a cart with more holes in it than a trinkerman's net - I made a quiet exit.
And I kept quiet, terrified of every knock at Mrs Twentyfold's door, slinking out to eat, wandering the streets during the day, and lying sleepless in my bed at night. Besides, Brutus's paw was more badly injured than I had thought, and the poor creature was forced to limp slowly and painfully at my side until it healed.
The Nasty Man had me prisoner.
A dull and frosty morning, and Brutus, Nero and I were dining in Garraway's on our 'starve' fare of tea and bread and butter. I had not seen Trim or Will since the gaff incident, but they knew all about it. Trim sent a note asking if he could help, and Will called at my lodgings two or three times whilst I was out wandering. Ours is a small neighbourhood, and it is not just the theatre and the Aquarium, where everybody does indeed know each other's business. This patch of ground, though I cannot put borders on it, and though it mixes a rookery or two, a theatre, three or four gaffs, drinking houses by the dozen, and churches hiding in corners, and though its population has more creeds and nationalities than Botany Bay, is still as tight a community as you could find in any village. Every face and voice is as familiar as every narrow alley and court. We might not know them by name, but we know of them, and that is the point.
I am on the very borders of this community. By my profession. By my disposition. By choice. I like society, but not familiarity and I live in Portland-road for that very reason. And whilst I was sorry to have missed my friends and I wondered, with more than a little concern, where Barney had disappeared to, I now wanted, more than anything, to get away from here.
I indulged in another cup and another slice, and drew my chair closer to the fire (coals were a sacrifice I currently was forced to make at Portland-road). Christmas approached and the daily sheets were full of the season's 'forthcoming attractions', and these half dozen or so columns eagerly anticipating the theatres' production of the 'Christmas Novelties' I would normally read with pleasure and excitement. But I avoided them and I have not replied to Mr Carrier's letters of enquiry either. Although he assured me that my position was safe, that he was confident of my ability and that of my dogs, and that I did not need to attend the Pavilion until the very last, when he and the entire company would rejoice to see me, I have remained silent, not wanting to betray my intention of leaving. And, for that same reason, I did not want to see the names of my old friends listed in the 'Christmas Novelties', knowing how disappointed they would be when they discovered me gone and untraceable. So, every day, I deliberately turned to the classified columns and scanned them. This morning, I noted two likely carts and horses and, memorizing their addresses, was preparing to go and inspect them, when my eye was caught by a paragraph entitled 'Royal Crown Theatre and Waxworks' on the page headed 'Police News'.
PENNY GAFF' - RUINOUS EFFECTS UPON THE RISING GENERATION
Eleven persons, male and female, four of them children and one a Negro, were brought before Mr Brunswick-Hill, charged with being concerned in the performance of dramatic pieces in an unlicensed place in Fish-lane, Old Martin's- road. The court was crowded to excess, in consequence of the majority of the prisoners being led along the streets and confined in the police station cells overnight in their theatrical costumes. Mr Superintendent Hughes, together with Wilton 163 D, and other constables, gave evidence in the court, and Mr John Bunyan Pilgrim said that his bookselling business in a neighbouring shop had been quite ruined by the persons occupying and frequenting the 'gaff named. The whole of the prisoners were taken into custody while the performance was going on, the piece being that of Six-fingered Jack, or the Knight of the Road. They included: Mrs Dearlove (40), Mr Crowe (56), Mr Tafflyn (45), Mr Sage (38), Miss Fitch (20), Mr Garcia (37), Joe White (16) and 4 children under the age of ten years. It was further shown, by the evidence of
Wilton 163 D, and other officers, that at the rear of the place in question was a building used for the making of indecent photographic images. A play-bill, of which the following is a copy, was handed to Mr Brunswick-Hill - 'Novelty, on Wednesday, for the benefit of Gutta Percha. To commence with the drama, entitled The Farmer and his Dogs, in which Mr Chapman and his Sagacious Canines will demonstrate their skills; a comic song by Gutta Percha; a dance by Mrs English; and a glee by Mr Gutta, Mr Corney Sage and Miss Fitch. To conclude with the laughable farce - Come Early - Good Fires.' Mr Hughes said he had caused frequent visits to be made to Mr Tipney, the owner of the 'gaff, in the hope that he would put a stop to the unlawful practices which he had carried on. He was called to the 'gaff in question only last week, there having been a complaint about some vicious dogs. 'Are they among the company now?' - No, sir. 'Were they apprehended on the occasion in question?' Mr Hughes - No, sir. Chapman and his hounds had escaped before we had arrived. They are notorious in the area and attacked a gentleman that very evening in the yard. Mr Brunswick-Hill was of the opinion that the demoralizing consequences of penny gaffs upon the youth of the district was a more serious issue than the habits of an unruly pair of dogs.
Nevertheless, the neighbourhood ha
d to be made safe, and it would not do to have people attacked. If the complainant cared to present himself at the conclusion of the proceedings and still wished to bring a prosecution against Chapman, who had still not been apprehended, then he would consider it. Turning to the business of the prisoners who were still shivering in their stage clothes and causing amusement in the courtroom, he inflicted a fine in some of the cases, and in others the parties were discharged. Mr Brunswick-Hill added once again that such places as the Royal Crown Theatre were demoralizing in the extreme and gave a bad reputation to the district and made intolerable the lives of the tradesmen who lived and worked there.
I wished Will Lovegrove was sitting across the table from me at this moment! With his good sense, he would know what to do. He would frown, grow thoughtful and then, with a thump of his fist upon the table, would cry, 'I know, Chapman! Let us go and consult Mr Clerk - or Mr Magistrate.' Or even, 'Don't give it a moment's thought, Bob! The case has no legs and couldn't even hop into the court room!' I've heard him cry that many times! But left to myself, I fell into a panic, and it took some effort to order up another cup of tea and read the paragraph again, and not dash into the street and run away, as I was very much inclined to do.
I read it four times, and by the fifth, the only thing that stuck in my mind was that I could expect an action to be brought against me by the Nasty Man. How he would relish that! He said he would have my skin, and he would do it. Even at the risk of standing in a courtroom, he would be unable to resist the pleasure of causing me pain, savouring the opportunity to parade me in court, perhaps even having me sent to prison. And for the vile practices in that stable, the murderer of the little child - he, the Nasty Man - would go unpunished, for who would take my word, a convicted man, against his?
Now it was imperative to lay hands upon a half-decent cart and horse, and quickly. The Nasty Man could not bring his action against me before the morning, by which time I would be safe. And Brutus and Nero also. And if he came to Strong's Gardens - I could not forget that he knew even that about me - well, my good friend would be true to his name and protect me and my boys. That was a sensible, calm plan, one worthy of Will Lovegrove, I thought as I buttoned my coat and stepped outside.
It was very cold, frost still lying heavy upon the housetops, and the pavements slippery where over-zealous housemaids had thrown their scrubbing slops before dawn. I kept to back streets and passages and, before the church bell had struck the mid-morning hour, had inspected a couple of broken- down horses and three wormy carts (one only fit for the fire-back), and came away with nothing. I was almost despairing, and walked the streets - I was fearful to return to Portland-road - until the smell of dinners drew us off-course, down a dark and narrow passage ending in a thin building, wasting away in a thin yard.
Out of my little community, I was a foreigner, but even within it there were unfamiliar streets and closes, ones that I had never set foot in. This was one of them. I had never been in Favour-alley, nor Dolour-court, and the Two Spies tavern was a stranger to me, but the aroma of gravy and cabbage was the same everywhere and as we turned into the court, from out of an open window steaming plates of chops and potatoes were being passed to a bandy-legged boy, to hurry across the cobbles and post to unseen hands through another window. Brutus and Nero's noses rose to follow the fragrant course, and it did smell so savoury and appetizing and, advertised at only fourpence, it was cheap also. And it clearly had a good name, for a little cluster of men were waiting for it in the yard. Even so, I still found a spidery corner in the bar parlour and anticipated a tasty chop dinner. But after ten minutes, when not even the usual servant in a greasy apron came to look down upon us, and the room was filling up with people who were clearly not waiting to dine, I realized that the chop dinner was not on this menu and, overhearing a conversation between two lumpers on their way to work, found we had come uninvited upon an inquest hearing.
It was one of the qualities of our neighbourhood that word of mouth served better than any number of notices, and if I had been my usual self, trotting between Portland-road and the Aquarium and the Pavilion Theatre, there is no doubt I would have heard of it. But I had been laid low for some days and the world had passed me by. And if I had known that the object of the court hearing was the mysterious death of a child, I would have put many streets between myself and the Two Spies, and would not have looked at a hoarding or a newspaper for a week. As soon as I discovered my mistake, I tried to leave but, unless I wanted to draw attention to myself, it was impossible. The parlour and snug were packed to the rafters, the windows were opened and the doors propped wide to admit as many heads and shoulders as possible, and they were lined up, six deep in the little court, determined to hear the proceedings, by proxy, if necessary. And there was now a small cohort of policemen, back and front, ready to put themselves in the way of anyone entering or leaving.
A long table had been brought in and chairs set about it, a large Windsor with a cushion drawn up to the head - for the Coroner, I assumed. He was a small, morose man, and was contemplating the present proceedings from the doorway leading to the yard which today had been pressed into service and, in the shadow of the closely packed buildings around it, contained a table on which a small, white-shrouded object lay. The crowd, entirely male, was mostly silent or quietly respectful, labouring men in shirt-sleeves and heavy jerkins. When the room and yard were full to capacity and the landlord, with brimming jugs ready and eager to serve, only awaiting the appropriate moment, the Coroner took his Windsor, the foreman rounded up the jury and swore them in, and the proceedings began in their customary fashion.
Amidst the lingering tobacco smoke from the previous night and the sweet and sour smell of spilt ale from but half an hour ago, Mr Coroner began in the time-honoured way, intoning the sombre phrases - 'to inquire in this manner', 'to know where the person was slain', 'if they can speak or have any discretion', like a clergyman, reading out the verses and responses. Then he stopped and looked about the room.
'One of our duties this morning, gentlemen, is to try, if we are able, to identify this child. No one has yet come forward to claim her. She has no name. She may or may not be from this district.'
His pale fish-eyes ranged about the room.
'If anyone here has information which might lead to an identification at any time during these proceedings, I must remind you that it is your duty to lay that information before the court.'
The silence continued, broken only by the creak of working boots and a phlegmy cough.
'Very well,' said Mr Coroner quietly, 'then we will proceed.'
The foreman gave summary information - the body was discovered at such and such a time on such and such a day and immediately the police were summoned.
'Let us hear from the officer, then. Stand up, address the court, speak slowly and clearly. Don't omit anything. Give it all.'
The policeman stood up, a young man with a fresh face and tidy manners, holding his hat hard under his arm and balancing a scrap of paper in a trembling hand.
'I was called to the railway diggings at the back of Marlpit-road. The labourers had come to their work and discovered a child's body thrown in the tunnel about thirty yards along. It was wrapped up in an old rug. One of the labourers, stopping for his dinner and seeing the rug, said he thought he would take it to sit upon rather than the wet earth. The child's body dropped out of the rug as he picked it up and he had a start.'
'Is that man here?' enquired Mr Coroner.
A large man, with a dirty face, hesitantly held up his hand.
'Aye. Here, master. Sir. Yer 'onner.'
A cazzelty.
'Sit and wait. Now, constable, continue.'
The young policeman looked around the room, swallowed hard and began again.
'Well, sir, I was taken to the mouth of the tunnel and given a lamp and I made my way along.'
'And where is this tunnel? Where does it lead?' asked the Coroner. The policeman was nonplussed, and so was e
veryone in the room, including the clean-faced workman who shook his head when asked. The inquiry went back and around and out of the door into the yard a couple of times before it brought back with it another cazzelty, who had the bearing of 'one in charge' and, with his hat in his hands and refusing to blink (as if he were incapable of blinking and speaking at the same time), he informed Mr Coroner that the tunnel 'was for the railway, sir, leading up as far as Tiber-street and down as far as the Medway-road, and cutting under "thorinfares" both major and minor, sir.' Mr Coroner was satisfied, as was the assembly, who nodded and murmured, and someone patted him on the shoulder and said, 'Well spoken, Charlie.'
'Now then, continue,' said Mr Coroner, and the young policeman, who seemed to be hoping that his part in the proceedings had finished, was forced to get to his feet again and resume. 'Well, sir, I found the - the body - and it was just as they had described it. Wrapped up in a piece of old carpet, and looking more like a roll of carpet than a body, if you get my meaning, sir. It was up against the wall, lying fiat.'
'Had there been any attempt to hide it? Perhaps to bury it under stones or earth?'
'No, sir. It was just a-lying there.'
'What did you do when you came upon it?'
The young policeman swallowed hard. 'Well, sir, I stooped and unwrapped it—'
'Was it secured? By cord or rope?'
'No, sir, it wasn't. The - body - flopped out as I unwrapped it.'
'Flopped out?'
'Yes, sir. That's what it did. And rolled upon the earth.'
'I see,' said Mr Coroner, making notes. 'And was the piece of carpet collected from the tunnel when the deceased was removed?'
The young policeman, increasingly pale now and anxious, didn't know. Perhaps it was left behind, he said. He hadn't seen it. Mr Coroner frowned and expressed the opinion that though they had very many admirable qualities, the police were sometimes lacking that attention to detail which might assist the judiciary in the administration of their duties. And also in the catching of the perpetrators of the crime. Had it not occurred to anyone that the carpet in which the body was wrapped was as important as any of the evidence?
The Newgate Jig Page 16