‘Well, it seems to me as you’ve bungled it somehow,’ said Nimrod, gloomily. ‘I ought to have gone and seen ’er myself. I was afraid you’d make a mess of it,’ he added in a wailing tone. ‘It’s always the same; everything that I don’t attend to myself goes wrong.’
An uncomfortable silence fell. Crass thought that the principal piece of bungling in this affair was Hunter’s failure to secure possession of the Coroner’s certificate after the inquest, but he was afraid to say so.
Outside, the rain was still falling and drove in through the partly open door, causing the atmosphere of the mortuary to be even more than usually cold and damp. The empty coffin had been reared against one of the walls and the marble slab was still stained with blood, for the keeper had not had time to clean it since the body had been removed.
‘I can see ’ow it’s been worked,’ said Crass at last. ‘There’s one of the members of the club who works for Snatchum, and ’e’s took it on ’isself to give the order for the funeral; but ’e’s got no right to do it.’
‘Right or no right, ’e’s done it,’ replied Misery, ‘so you’d better take the box back to the shop.’
Crass and Sawkins accordingly returned to the workshop, where they were presently joined by Nimrod.
‘I’ve been thinking this business over as I came along,’ he said, ‘and I don’t see being beat like this by Snatchum; so you two can just put the tressels and the box on a hand cart and we’ll take it over to Philpot’s house.’
Nimrod walked on the pavement while the other two pushed the cart, and it was about half past nine, when they arrived at the street in Windley where Philpot used to live. They halted in a dark part of the street a few yards away from the house and on the opposite side.
‘I think the best thing we can do,’ said Misery, ’is for me and Sawkins to wait ’ere while you go to the ’ouse and see ’ow the land lies. You’ve done all the business with ’er so far. It’s no use takin’ the box unless we know the corpse is there; for all we know, Snatchum may ’ave taken it ’ome with ’im.’
‘Yes; I think that’ll be the best way,’ agreed Crass, after a moment’s thought.
Nimrod and Sawkins accordingly took shelter in the doorway of an empty house, leaving the handcart at the kerb, while Crass went across the street and knocked at Philpot’s door. They saw it opened by an elderly woman holding a lighted candle in her hand; then Crass went inside and the door was shut. In about a quarter of an hour he reappeared and, leaving the door partly open behind him, he came out and crossed over to where the others were waiting. As he drew near they could see that he carried a piece of paper in his hand.
‘It’s all right,’ he said in a hoarse whisper as he came up. ‘I’ve got the stifficut.’
Misery took the paper eagerly and scanned it by the light of a match that Crass struck. It was the certificate right enough, and with a sigh of relief Hunter put it into his note-book and stowed it safely away in the inner pocket of his coat, while Crass explained the result of his errand.
It appeared that the other member of the Society, accompanied by Snatchum, had called upon the old woman and had bluffed her into giving them the order for the funeral. It was they who had put her up to getting the certificate from the Coroner – they had been careful to keep away from the inquest themselves so as not to arouse Hunter’s or Crass’s suspicions.
‘When they brought the body ’ome this afternoon,’ Crass went on, ‘Snatchum tried to get the stifficut orf ’er, but she’d been thinkin’ things over and she was a bit frightened ’cos she knowed she’d made arrangements with me, and she thought she’d better see me first; so she told ’im she’d give it to ’im on Thursday; that’s the day as ’e was goin’ to ’ave the funeral.’
‘He’ll find he’s a day too late,’ said Misery, with a ghastly grin. ‘We’ll get the job done on Wednesday.’
‘She didn’t want to give it to me, at first,’ Crass concluded, ‘but I told ’er we’d see ’er right if old Snatchum tried to make ’er pay for the other coffin.’
‘I don’t think he’s likely to make much fuss about it,’ said Hunter. ‘He won’t want everybody to know he was so anxious for the job.’
Crass and Sawkins pushed the handcart over to the other side of the road and then, lifting the coffin off, they carried it into the house, Nimrod going first.
The old woman was waiting for them with the candle at the end of the passage.
‘I shall be very glad when it’s all over,’ she said, as she led the way up the narrow stairs, closely followed by Hunter, who carried the tressels, Crass and Sawkins, bringing up the rear with the coffin. ‘I shall be very glad when it’s all over, for I’m sick and tired of answerin’ the door to undertakers. If there’s been one ’ere since Friday there’s been a dozen, all after the job, not to mention all the cards what’s been put under the door, besides the ones what I’ve had give to me by different people. I had a pair of boots bein’ mended and the man took the trouble to bring ’em ’ome when they was finished – a thing ’e’s never done before – just for an excuse to give me an undertaker’s card.
‘Then the milkman brought one, and so did the baker, and the greengrocer give me another when I went in there on Saturday to buy some vegetables for Sunday dinner.’
[Arrived at the top landing the old woman opened a door and entered a small and wretchedly furnished room.
Across the lower sash of the window hung a tattered piece of lace curtain. The low ceiling was cracked and discoloured.
There was a rickety little wooden washstand, and along one side of the room a narrow bed covered with a ragged grey quilt, on which lay a bundle containing the clothes that the dead man was wearing at the time of the accident.]
There was a little table in front of the window, with a small looking-glass upon it, and a cane-seated chair was placed by the bedside and the floor was covered with a faded piece of drab-coloured carpet of no perceptible pattern, worn into holes in several places.
In the middle of this dreary room, upon a pair of tressels, was the coffin containing Philpot’s body. Seen by the dim and flickering light of the candle, the aspect of this coffin, covered over with a white sheet, was terrible in its silent, pathetic solitude.
Hunter placed the pair of tressels he had been carrying against the wall, and the other two put the empty coffin on the floor by the side of the bed. The old woman stood the candlestick on the mantelpiece, and withdrew, remarking that they would not need her assistance. The three men then removed their overcoats and laid them on the end of the bed, and from the pocket of his Crass took out two large screwdrivers, one of which he handed to Hunter. Sawkins held the candle while they unscrewed and took off the lid of the coffin they had brought with them: it was not quite empty, for they had brought a bag of tools inside it.
‘I think we shall be able to work better if we takes the other one orf the trussels and puts it on the floor,’ remarked Crass.
‘Yes, I think so, too,’ replied Hunter.
Crass took off the sheet and threw it on the bed, revealing the other coffin, which was very similar in appearance to the one they had brought with them, being of elm, with the usual imitation brass furniture. Hunter took hold of the head and Crass the foot and they lifted it off the tressels on to the floor.
‘’E’s not very ’eavy; that’s one good thing,’ observed Hunter.
‘’E always was a very thin chap,’ replied Crass.
The screws that held down the lid had been covered over with large-headed brass nails which had to be wrenched off before they could get at the screws, of which there were eight altogether. It was evident from the appearance of the heads of these screws that they were old ones that had been used for some purpose before: they were rusty and of different sizes, some being rather larger or smaller, than they should have been. They were screwed in so firmly that by the time they had drawn half of them out the two men were streaming with perspiration. After a while Hunter took the candle fro
m Sawkins and the latter had a try at the screws.
‘Anyone would think the dam’ things had been there for a ’undred years,’ remarked Hunter, savagely, as he wiped the sweat from his face and neck with his handkerchief.
Kneeling on the lid of the coffin and panting and grunting with the exertion, the other two continued to struggle with their task. Suddenly Crass uttered an obscene curse; he had broken off one side of the head of the screw he was trying to turn and almost at the same instant a similar misfortune happened to Sawkins.
After this, Hunter again took a screwdriver himself, and when they got all the screws out with the exception of the two broken ones, Crass took a hammer and chisel out of the bag and proceeded to cut off what was left of the tops of the two that remained. But even after this was done the two screws still held the lid on the coffin, and so they had to hammer the end of the blade of the chisel underneath and lever the lid up so that they could get hold of it with their fingers. It split up one side as they tore it off, exposing the dead man to view.
Although the marks of the cuts and bruises were still visible on Philpot’s face, they were softened down by the pallor of death, and a placid, peaceful expression pervaded his features. His hands were crossed upon his breast, and as he lay there in the snow-white grave clothes, almost covered in by the white lace frill that bordered the sides of the coffin, he looked like one in a profound and tranquil sleep.
They laid the broken lid on the bed, and placed the two coffins side by side on the floor as close together as possible. Sawkins stood at one side holding the candle in his left hand and ready to render with his right any assistance that might unexpectedly prove to be necessary. Crass, standing at the foot, took hold of the body by the ankles, while Hunter at the other end seized it by the shoulders with his huge, claw-like hands, which resembled the talons of some obscene bird of prey, and they dragged it out and placed it in the other coffin.
Whilst Hunter – hovering ghoulishly over the corpse – arranged the grave clothes and the frilling, Crass laid the broken cover on the top of the other coffin and pushed it under the bed out of the way. Then he selected the necessary screws and nails from the bag, and Hunter having by this time finished, they proceeded to screw down the lid. Then they lifted the coffin on to the tressels, covering it over with the sheet, and the appearance it then presented was so exactly similar to what they had seen when they first entered the room, that it caused the same thought to occur to all of them: Suppose Snatchum took it into his head to come there and take the body out again? If he were to do so and take it up to the cemetery they might be compelled to give up the certificate to him and then all their trouble would be lost.
After a brief consultation, they resolved that it would be safer to take the corpse on the handcart to the yard and keep it in the carpenter’s shop until the funeral, which could take place from there. Crass and Sawkins accordingly lifted the coffin off the tressels, and – while Hunter held the light – proceeded to carry it downstairs, a task of considerable difficulty owing to the narrowness of the staircase and the landing. However, they got it down at last and, having put it on the handcart, covered it over with the black wrapper. It was still raining and the lamp in the cart was nearly out, so Sawkins trimmed the wick and relit it before they started.
Hunter wished them ‘Good-night’ at the corner of the street, because it was not necessary for him to accompany them to the yard – they would be able to manage all that remained to be done by themselves. He said he would make the arrangements for the funeral as soon as he possibly could the next morning, and he would come to the job and let them know, as soon as he knew himself, at what time they would have to be in attendance to act as bearers. He had gone a little distance on his way when he stopped and turned back to them.
‘It’s not necessary for either of you to make a song about this business, you know,’ he said.
The two men said that they quite understood that: he could depend on their keeping their mouths shut.
When Hunter had gone, Crass drew out his watch. It was a quarter to eleven. A little way down the road the lights of a public house were gleaming through the mist.
‘We shall be just in time to get a drink before closing time if we buck up,’ he said. And with this object they hurried on as fast as they could.
When they reached the tavern they left the cart standing by the kerb, and went inside, where Crass ordered two pints of four ale, which he permitted Sawkins to pay for.
‘How are we going on about this job?’ inquired the latter after they had each taken a long drink, for they were thirsty after their exertions. ‘I reckon we ought to ’ave more than a bob for it, don’t you? It’s not like a ordinary “lift in”.’
‘Of course it ain’t,’ replied Crass. ‘We ought to ’ave about, say’ – reflecting – ‘say arf a dollar each at the very least.’
‘Little enough too,’ said Sawkins. ‘I was going to say arf a crown, myself.’
Crass agreed that even half a crown would not be too much.
‘’Ow are we goin’ on about chargin’ it on our time sheets?’ asked Sawkins, after a pause. ‘If we just put a “lift in”, they might only pay us a bob as usual.’
As a rule when they had taken a coffin home, they wrote on their time sheets, ‘One lift in’, for which they were usually paid one shilling, unless it happened to be a very high-class funeral, when they sometimes got one and sixpence. They were never paid by the hour for these jobs.
Crass smoked reflectively.
‘I think the best way will be to put it like this,’ he said at length. ‘“Philpot’s funeral. One lift out and one lift in. Also takin’ corpse to carpenter’s shop.” ’Ow would that do?’
Sawkins said that would be a very good way to put it, and they finished their beer just as the landlord intimated that it was closing time. The cart was standing where they left it, the black cloth saturated with the rain, which dripped mournfully from its sable folds.
When they reached the plot of waste ground over which they had to pass in order to reach the gates of the yard, they had to proceed very cautiously, for it was very dark, and the lantern did not give much light. A number of carts and lorries were standing there, and the path wound through pools of water and heaps of refuse. After much difficulty and jolting, they reached the gate, which Crass unlocked with the key he had obtained from the office earlier in the evening. They soon opened the door of the carpenter’s shop and, after lighting the gas, they arranged the tressels and then brought in the coffin and placed it upon them. Then they locked the door and placed the key in its usual hiding-place, but the key of the outer gate they took with them and dropped into the letter-box at the office, which they had to pass on their way home.
As they turned away from the door, they were suddenly confronted by a policeman who flashed his lantern in their faces and demanded to know why they had tried the lock…
The next morning was a very busy one for Hunter, who had to see several new jobs commenced. They were all small affairs. Most of them would only take two or three days from start to finish.
Attending to this work occupied most of his morning, but all the same he managed to do the necessary business connected with the funeral, which he arranged to take place at two o’clock on Wednesday afternoon from the mortuary, where the coffin had been removed during the day, Hunter deciding that it would not look well to have the funeral start from the workshop.
Although Hunter had kept it as quiet as possible, there was a small crowd, including several old workmates of Philpot’s who happened to be out of work, waiting outside the mortuary to see the funeral start, and amongst them were Bill Bates and the Semi-drunk, who were both sober. Barrington and Owen were also there, having left work for the day in order to go to the funeral. They were there too in a sense as the representatives of the other workmen, for Barrington carried a large wreath which had been subscribed for voluntarily by Rushton’s men. They could not all afford to lose the time to att
end the funeral, although most of them would have liked to pay that tribute of regard to their old mate, so they had done this as the next best thing. Attached to the wreath was a strip of white satin ribbon, upon which Owen had painted a suitable inscription.
Promptly at two o’clock the hearse and the mourning coach drove up with Hunter and the four bearers – Crass, Slyme, Payne and Sawkins, all dressed in black with frock coats and silk hats. Although they were nominally attired in the same way, there was a remarkable dissimilarity in their appearance. Crass’s coat was of smooth, intensely black cloth, having been recently dyed, and his hat was rather low in the crown, being of that shape that curved outwards towards the top. Hunter’s coat was a kind of serge with a rather rusty cast of colour and his hat was very tall and straight, slightly narrower at the crown than at the brim. As for the others, each of them had a hat of a different fashion and date, and their ‘black’ clothes ranged from rusty brown to dark blue.
These differences were due to the fact that most of the garments had been purchased at different times from different second-hand clothes shops, and never being used except on such occasions as the present, they lasted for an indefinite time.
When the coffin was brought out and placed in the hearse, Hunter laid upon it the wreath that Barrington gave him, together with the another he had brought himself, which had a similar ribbon with the words: ‘From Rushton & Co. With deep sympathy.’
Seeing that Barrington and Owen were the only occupants of the carriage, Bill Bates and the Semi-drunk came up to the door and asked if there was any objection to their coming and as neither Owen nor Barrington objected, they did not think it necessary to ask anyone else’s permission, so they got in.
Meanwhile, Hunter had taken his position a few yards in front of the hearse and the bearers each his proper position, two on each side. As the procession turned into the main road, they saw Snatchum standing at the corner looking very gloomy. Hunter kept his eyes fixed straight ahead and affected not to see him, but Crass could not resist the temptation to indulge in a jeering smile, which so enraged Snatchum that he shouted out:
The Ragged Trousered Philanthropists Page 69