information to give out.
'It's railway treasure they're after’ he said.
'Reckon it is’ I said.
'More than just pocketbooks.'
'I'm keeping cases on a couple of those blokes.'
'The Brains and the Blocker?' he said.
I made some sound that might have meant anything or nothing.
Peering to the left, I could see a line of trippers filing into the Minster. Tours were given at certain times.
'Why do you sit here, Edwin?' I said, after a while.
'Keep these fellows company,' he said, and I could make out that he was tipping his head backwards, indicating the monument.
I turned about, reading something of the list of names, also the inscription at the top: 'Remember those loyal and gallant soldiers and sailors of this county of York who fell fighting for their country's honour in South Africa.'
'Our kid was after enlisting,' said Lund.
'What happened?'
'Rejected.'
'On what grounds?'
'Undefined.'
'Failed the medical, did he?'
'Not sent up for it... Want of physical development. They told him not to go to the bother of removing his coat.'
'And what's become of him?'
'Passed on, three year since.'
'Died?' I said. 'Sorry to hear it.'
'Passed on,' said Lund, again.
Silence for a while.
'He was right with God at the end, I believe’ said Lund.
I asked Lund: 'Never thought of enlisting yourself?'
No reply.
I asked again and after a space, Lund answered: 'Wouldn't have an earthly.'
'Why ever not?' I asked - just to see what he'd say.
'Dull intellect.'
'Come off it.'
'And I'm subject to bronchitis, like our kid.'
'You haven't coughed for a while.'
'Don't say that, you'll set me off. .. See that bloke?'
He was pointing at a carter.
'Who's he?'
'Mr Laycock. Famous gentleman, he is - Rowntree's carter.'
'I've seen that gent,' I said. 'He takes cocoa to the station ... only now he's heading into town.'
'He'll do his run to the station come six o'clock,' said Lund. 'That's cocoa for . . . Could be County Hospital. See that horse?' he said, pointing to another carter, who was making his way across the west front of the Minster with a load of steel poles that rattled so loudly that I couldn't make out what Lund said about him, or his horse. Then the bells of the Minster struck up, adding to the racket.
'Ringing practice’ said Lund, in a louder voice,'... generally starts about now of a weekday.'
'You're a human directory to everything in York,' I said.
The voice came round from the other side of the monument after a while. 'Good-sized town is this. Big enough to provide interest, small enough to get about on Shanks's pony. I do know the pubs, I'll say that.'
He rose to his feet.
'Reckon I know the York public houses better than anybody else doesn't take a drink.'
It was a peculiar boast, I thought.
'How did you get to know them?' I asked, twisting about towards him somewhat. 'Band of Hope?'
(For that lot often toured the York pubs.)
'Just with the chapel, like: city mission. We'd go round handing out cards giving times for tea treats. Handsome teas, they were . . . And no preaching the first time but just two hymns at the end.'
'They'd be a bit of a rough house, I expect?'
Lund was shaking his head.
'Treat folk as gentle folk, and they behave according.'
'Daresay,' I said, though doubting it.
'One o'clock,' announced Lund. 'I'd best be off.'
At that very instant the bell-ringing practice broke off to let the hour bell strike one. Lund walked around the monument a little way, his valise over his shoulder.
'What's up with your eye?' he said, turning back.
'Nothing to speak of’ I said.
He'd noticed such bruising as remained, and the wife hadn't.
He passed me his copy of the Evening Press, saying, 'Want a look?' I nodded at him; he went his way, and I turned to the second page of the paper. The article proper began: "The shooting to death of John and Duncan Cameron, brothers, continues to agitate the minds of the York police.' Not the York railway police, I thought. It didn't seem to
'It's railway treasure they're after’ he said.
'Reckon it is’ I said.
'More than just pocketbooks.'
'I'm keeping cases on a couple of those blokes.'
'The Brains and the Blocker?' he said.
I made some sound that might have meant anything or nothing.
Peering to the left, I could see a line of trippers filing into the Minster. Tours were given at certain times.
'Why do you sit here, Edwin?' I said, after a while.
'Keep these fellows company,' he said, and I could make out that he was tipping his head backwards, indicating the monument.
I turned about, reading something of the list of names, also the inscription at the top: 'Remember those loyal and gallant soldiers and sailors of this county of York who fell fighting for their country's honour in South Africa.'
'Our kid was after enlisting,' said Lund.
'What happened?'
'Rejected.'
'On what grounds?'
'Undefined.'
'Failed the medical, did he?'
'Not sent up for it... Want of physical development. They told him not to go to the bother of removing his coat.'
'And what's become of him?'
'Passed on, three year since.'
'Died?' I said. 'Sorry to hear it.'
'Passed on,' said Lund, again.
Silence for a while.
'He was right with God at the end, I believe’ said Lund.
I asked Lund: 'Never thought of enlisting yourself?'
No reply.
I asked again and after a space, Lund answered: 'Wouldn't have an earthly.'
'Why ever not?' I asked - just to see what he'd say.
'Dull intellect.'
'Come off it.'
'And I'm subject to bronchitis, like our kid.'
'You haven't coughed for a while.'
'Don't say that, you'll set me off. .. See that bloke?'
He was pointing at a carter.
'Who's he?'
'Mr Laycock. Famous gentleman, he is - Rowntree's carter.'
'I've seen that gent,' I said. 'He takes cocoa to the station ... only now he's heading into town.'
'He'll do his run to the station come six o'clock,' said Lund. 'That's cocoa for . . . Could be County Hospital. See that horse?' he said, pointing to another carter, who was making his way across the west front of the Minster with a load of steel poles that rattled so loudly that I couldn't make out what Lund said about him, or his horse. Then the bells of the Minster struck up, adding to the racket.
'Ringing practice’ said Lund, in a louder voice,'... generally starts about now of a weekday.'
'You're a human directory to everything in York,' I said.
The voice came round from the other side of the monument after a while. 'Good-sized town is this. Big enough to provide interest, small enough to get about on Shanks's pony. I do know the pubs, I'll say that.'
He rose to his feet.
'Reckon I know the York public houses better than anybody else doesn't take a drink.'
It was a peculiar boast, I thought.
'How did you get to know them?' I asked, twisting about towards him somewhat. 'Band of Hope?'
(For that lot often toured the York pubs.)
'Just with the chapel, like: city mission. We'd go round handing out cards giving times for tea treats. Handsome teas, they were . . . And no preaching the first time but just two hymns at the end.'
'They'd be a bit of a rough house, I expect?'
Lund was shaking his head.
'Treat folk as gentle folk, and they behave according.'
'Daresay,' I said, though doubting it.
'One o'clock,' announced Lund. 'I'd best be off.'
At that very instant the bell-ringing practice broke off to let the hour bell strike one. Lund walked around the monument a little way, his valise over his shoulder.
'What's up with your eye?' he said, turning back.
'Nothing to speak of’ I said.
He'd noticed such bruising as remained, and the wife hadn't.
He passed me his copy of the Evening Press, saying, 'Want a look?' I nodded at him; he went his way, and I turned to the second page of the paper. The article proper began: "The shooting to death of John and Duncan Cameron, brothers, continues to agitate the minds of the York police.' Not the York railway police, I thought. It didn't seem to
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