other mornin'. A right easy mark you was, sir, don't mind my saying. Any child coulda done it.
He leans back and casually studies the room, in all its fourteen-by-ten-foot splendour. The sloping floor, the thin fault line in the ceiling above. The patternless carpet. Tiny table, tiny washing stand, tiny wardrobe--everything seems suddenly pitched to his scale.
--Wouldna guessed it of you, sir. Livin' in such an establishment as this. Shameful.
--Well, I don't...it's not as if I were reimbursed....
--Oh, no, sir. Nothin' in coin . I got ya.
His tongue slides with agonizing slowness around the oval of his mouth.
--Do you go out of your way to offend, Colin? Or is it just like breathing for you?
--Listen to him! When I'm the one as should be offended. You ain't even asked why I come. --Then tell me and be gone.
--I found her, sir.
And now the excitement of his errand finally overtakes him. It roils his carefully composed face, sets his hands to dancing on the frame of the chair.
--Found whom?
-- Whom , the man asks. Whom . That gal you was takin' on about, that's whom.
--Where?
--Oh, now he's risin' to it! Wants to know, don't he? Well, I'm afraid, sir, this being highly confidential intelligence, I cannot part with it on account of I am unremunerated.
-- How much ?
--Well, it all depends, sir. On one's eagerness to possess the aforementioned--
--How much?
--Half a pound to say where. Another half to take you there.
--Done to both.
And simply for the pleasure of checking his pleasure, I add:
--Payment upon completion.
--Oh. Well, speakin' frankly, sir, we were...we were hopin' for a bit up front, just to tide us over....
--You'll get the full amount when you lead me to her.
Frowning, he bangs his cap against the back of the chair. For the first time in our brief acquaintance, he is acting his age.
--Drury Lane Garden, he says.--By the churchyard. It's no good goin' now, she only comes first thing in the morning. And it's no good goin' on your own, you'll never find it, not in a million years.
--Well, then, I look forward to your enlightened escort. Meet me tomorrow morning at Covent Garden, by the blind woman's cabbage stall. Eight o'clock, shall we say?
He gives me a tetchy shrug, which I take for consent.
--Honestly, sir, don't know what you wants with her. She's a bit touched, if you ask me.
--Touched how?
--Well, she don't...she don't speak the language, do she? --And how would you know that?
--Seen her chasin' down some cove as stole her scarf. All in a righteous fury she were, ascreamin' and a-hollerin'. Didn't understand a bloody word she were sayin'.
--And would that be the same scarf you have wrapped round your neck?
His hands fly to his throat, bury themselves in the blue woollen folds. His eyes form great cracked moons.
--Why, so it is, sir. Acquired it, I did, from the fellow as took it.
--And would that fellow be you, Colin?
--Sir, you wound me, truly you do. I mean the very...to even think you'd--
--It was you.
--Bloody hell, I had to have somethink , didn't I? So you'd know it were really her. Had to be sure you'd trust me, sir.
--Trust you. Let me see, you steal scarves, you beg for change, you extort money. How could I fail to trust you, Colin?
--Well, I'm glad you sees it that way, sir. For an instant there, I was concerned.
It takes some doing to get Colin out of the house. He is hell bent on sampling the local merchandise, and it doesn't matter that the girls are all asleep in their beds and won't be stirred for love or money, he wants me to sound the morning reveille, send them all running into his welcoming arms. Only after I have slipped him a few shillings and promised him introductions at a future date does he agree to vacate, and just in time, for not half a minute after he has slipped out the back, Mrs. Sharpe comes charging through the front, laden with festive petticoats, bottles of brandy, and, pinned between the crumbling
He leans back and casually studies the room, in all its fourteen-by-ten-foot splendour. The sloping floor, the thin fault line in the ceiling above. The patternless carpet. Tiny table, tiny washing stand, tiny wardrobe--everything seems suddenly pitched to his scale.
--Wouldna guessed it of you, sir. Livin' in such an establishment as this. Shameful.
--Well, I don't...it's not as if I were reimbursed....
--Oh, no, sir. Nothin' in coin . I got ya.
His tongue slides with agonizing slowness around the oval of his mouth.
--Do you go out of your way to offend, Colin? Or is it just like breathing for you?
--Listen to him! When I'm the one as should be offended. You ain't even asked why I come. --Then tell me and be gone.
--I found her, sir.
And now the excitement of his errand finally overtakes him. It roils his carefully composed face, sets his hands to dancing on the frame of the chair.
--Found whom?
-- Whom , the man asks. Whom . That gal you was takin' on about, that's whom.
--Where?
--Oh, now he's risin' to it! Wants to know, don't he? Well, I'm afraid, sir, this being highly confidential intelligence, I cannot part with it on account of I am unremunerated.
-- How much ?
--Well, it all depends, sir. On one's eagerness to possess the aforementioned--
--How much?
--Half a pound to say where. Another half to take you there.
--Done to both.
And simply for the pleasure of checking his pleasure, I add:
--Payment upon completion.
--Oh. Well, speakin' frankly, sir, we were...we were hopin' for a bit up front, just to tide us over....
--You'll get the full amount when you lead me to her.
Frowning, he bangs his cap against the back of the chair. For the first time in our brief acquaintance, he is acting his age.
--Drury Lane Garden, he says.--By the churchyard. It's no good goin' now, she only comes first thing in the morning. And it's no good goin' on your own, you'll never find it, not in a million years.
--Well, then, I look forward to your enlightened escort. Meet me tomorrow morning at Covent Garden, by the blind woman's cabbage stall. Eight o'clock, shall we say?
He gives me a tetchy shrug, which I take for consent.
--Honestly, sir, don't know what you wants with her. She's a bit touched, if you ask me.
--Touched how?
--Well, she don't...she don't speak the language, do she? --And how would you know that?
--Seen her chasin' down some cove as stole her scarf. All in a righteous fury she were, ascreamin' and a-hollerin'. Didn't understand a bloody word she were sayin'.
--And would that be the same scarf you have wrapped round your neck?
His hands fly to his throat, bury themselves in the blue woollen folds. His eyes form great cracked moons.
--Why, so it is, sir. Acquired it, I did, from the fellow as took it.
--And would that fellow be you, Colin?
--Sir, you wound me, truly you do. I mean the very...to even think you'd--
--It was you.
--Bloody hell, I had to have somethink , didn't I? So you'd know it were really her. Had to be sure you'd trust me, sir.
--Trust you. Let me see, you steal scarves, you beg for change, you extort money. How could I fail to trust you, Colin?
--Well, I'm glad you sees it that way, sir. For an instant there, I was concerned.
It takes some doing to get Colin out of the house. He is hell bent on sampling the local merchandise, and it doesn't matter that the girls are all asleep in their beds and won't be stirred for love or money, he wants me to sound the morning reveille, send them all running into his welcoming arms. Only after I have slipped him a few shillings and promised him introductions at a future date does he agree to vacate, and just in time, for not half a minute after he has slipped out the back, Mrs. Sharpe comes charging through the front, laden with festive petticoats, bottles of brandy, and, pinned between the crumbling
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