Authors: The Quincunx
“It’s a party,” she said, smiling at Barney, and then poured me a glass of wine.
“That’s right,” he said to me. “And when we’ve fed you up, Sally will take you to buy some good togs up West so you can come to it with us. All right?”
I nodded. Despite my reservations, the prospect of food and warmth was irresistible.
“Well, if he’s staying he’ll have to tell us his story,” Will said.
“So don’t stand there sparrer-mouthed. Tell us who you are, young covey,” said Sam.
I glanced nervously at Barney and saw him press his lips together warningly. So very cautiously, and avoiding all names, I told them no more than the bare outlines of my story: that my mother and I had lost everything in a rash speculation urged on us by a dishonest attorney, that we had come to London, that things had gone badly, and that she had died a few days ago. I said nothing of the Mompessons, nor Mrs Fortisquince, nor the Isbisters. Barney listened intently but asked no questions, while the others came and went and put to me several enquiries which I was able to answer without giving much away.
Nan seemed sympathetic, particularly at the narrative of my mother’s death, but when I reached the conclusion she said: “It’s about the greenest story what I ever heard. It sounds to me like you and your mam was properly done brown by that lawyer cove.”
“What was his monicker?” Sam asked.
Barney frowned at me behind his back. I was saved from having to reveal Sancious’
name for at that moment there was a noisy interruption.
A group of people burst into the room, the foremost and tallest of the men beginning to talk very loudly and excitedly as he entered: “We’re safe. It ain’t us they’re arter at all.
It’s Peg they’ve lagged.” At this there were cheers and everybody in the room — whether they had been sleeping or eating or drinking — got up and crowded round him, cheering him on, laughing, intoning mock-jeers, or asking questions. Sally had jumped from the sopha as soon as he entered and he seized her around the waist and kissed her.
As she
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stared at him her previously petulant features were transformed into an image of interest and vivacity. Still gripping her he went on excitedly with his tale: “Listen if this ain’t the rarest thing you ever heerd tell. Bob and me’s down in ’Ackney jist now and we sees this old cove …”
“Look at Meg!” Sally cried and everyone did so and saw that the girl, small and black-haired with greenish eyes, was weeping.
“She was Peg’s best girl once,” Sally cried and Meg looked at her venomously.
The young man laughed and, still holding Sally, went on with his story which was about how Peg (what a strange name for a man!) had been caught cracking a crib at Old Ford, but I took in almost nothing of it for I was looking at him intently. As well as being tall and young, he was extremely handsome with a frank, open face and clear blue eyes.
He was dressed as a swell with a tall black hat, a fine blue waistcoat, and black top-boots, though his broad-skirted green coat gave him an elegantly ruffianly air. Everyone crowded around him, and I noticed that only two people remained at a distance. One of them was Barney who stayed on the sopha beside me watching him with an expression that I could not interpret. The other was Sam who had hung back but now went forward smiling as much as any of the others. But it was several moments before I had eyes for anyone except the newcomer for I was trying to recover from my surprise at having recognised him : he was the tall man who had been with Pulvertaft in the graveyard at Southwark.
As I was struggling to take in the implications of this, Barney suddenly got up, interrupting the celebratory scene to shout: “Hold your fool tongue, Jack! The boy don’t want to hear all our fambly business.”
Jack broke off and turned to stare at Barney with an expression for a moment of profound hostility which he quickly modified.
Barney smiled and gestured towards me: “Why, Jack, you haven’t been introjuced to our guest yet. We mustn’t forget our manners. He don’t want to hear your most interesting and instructive story a-fore he’s had the pleasure of making your acq’aintance, do he? Especially as he won’t understand and appreciate it. Leastways, not as you would wish.”
Some of the others laughed at this, and Jack smiled at me and held out his hand:
“Pleased to meet you, young ’un.”
It was done so naturally and he had such a frank, cheerful countenance that I would have liked him immediately, if it had not been for my previous knowledge of him. How was it that he had been with Pulvertaft only eighteen months previously when that individual appeared to be an enemy of the people I was now with? Had he changed allegiances? I recalled from what old Sam’el had told me that even Barney and Pulvertaft had once been together, and had worked with Isbister. Or was Jack still allied with Pulvertaft, but clandestinely? Did that explain what the Cat’s-meat-man had meant by his warning that if I forgot the message he would learn of it — that Jack would tell him?
Well, I would keep my mouth shut and pick up what I could, for it might be dangerous to reveal what I knew.
I took Jack’s hand and he glanced enquiringly at Barney.
“This is John. He’s brung a message from the Cat’s-meat-man.”
Jack’s expression showed nothing but anger and surprise. I was quite certain of that.
“What?” he exclaimed.
“Tell him your message, John,” Barney prompted and I repeated it yet again.
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Jack’s face darkened: “Be damned!” he exclaimed. “Someone’s put the mark on us!”
He looked round at the others who were all watching him and Barney now.
“That’s what we reckoned,” Sam said.
“If I ketch that summun they’ll be very sorry. Sorry they was ever born.”
“So you don’t think we should agree to cut him in?” asked Sam.
“Cut him in!” cried Jack. “Cut him up, rather!”
This piece of wit was generously received by his audience.
“That’s my Jack,” someone called out.
“But if we don’t, he can sp’il it for us,” Sam protested.
“Let him dare,” cried Jack.
“I agree with Jack,” said Barney and there was a laugh. He added: “For once.”
“But we all have a say,” Sam protested.
“Yet there ain’t much purpose if them two both wants it,” said Nan.
“You seem very keen to give over,” said Jack, turning to Sam angrily.
It seemed to me to be very strange that they should be so concerned at Pulvertaft knowing about a party they were making up. Why should they not invite him? It seemed unkind not to.
“What do you mean by that?” Sam demanded.
“Jist wondering who it was what blabbed.”
“Well it wasn’t me,” Sam said, but he looked embarrassed and guilty: “I’m jist saying, now that he does know we have to cut him in or call it off.”
I was very puzzled by this. Why should Pulvertaft’s knowledge prevent the gathering taking place?
“That ain’t so,” insisted Jack. “We can go ahead with the fakement and be ready for him if he tries anything.”
“That’s a fool argument,” said Sam. “He could rub us all to the white by leading us into a trap. And since there is a nose amongst us, he’ll know exactly what we’re a-doing.”
There were murmurs of approval at this and I saw some of the gang clearly wavering.
Even Jack was speechless and he, like the others, glanced towards Barney.
He was about to speak when his eye fell upon myself. “Why!” he cried. “Here’s us forgetting all about young Johnnie here who can’t be in the least bit interested in all this.
Tell you what, Nan will take you to find something to eat and show you where you can shake down. All right?”
So I followed Nan out of the room and across the hall into one that was similarly furnished. The only difference was that in this chamber the carpets were covered in stains which were mainly, so far as I could see, from spilled wine, for bottles of Tokay and champagne and the finest glasses of cut-crystal were scattered about broken or half-full. And sweet-meats and delicacies and baskets of hot-house fruit were similarly strewn across the floor. This, I assumed, was the dining-room and later I found that it was called the Red Parlour in reference to its walls of naked brick.
“There’s plenty of vittles,” Nan said. “So take what you want. And then you can find anywhere you like to shake down. There’s a mort of rooms empty at the top of the house and in the cock-loft.”
Then she went out of the room.
I was hungry and the sight of the food was very tempting. But first I wanted to hide my papers, so I went along the hall to the stairs. To my surprise I 394
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found that the staircase had neither floorboards nor balustrades but was a naked assembly of stringers and dowels. So with difficulty I made my way to the upper story where I found that none of the floors were boarded so that the scantlings and trimmers were exposed, except where planks had been clumsily laid to make gang-ways and habitable areas. It was therefore extremely difficult to walk across these rooms and, I imagined, almost impossible in the dark since one had to step from joist to joist and was faced with a fall into the chamber below if one missed one’s footing.
Intrigued, I explored the rest of the house and found that there were no window-frames or shutters but all the windows had been boarded over, and there were no doors
— except for the street-door and the one between the hall and the drawing-room. This, together with the fact that there were no ceilings, meant that there was little privacy, and every conversation could be overheard. None of the internal walls had been lathed and plaistered let alone pannelled or wainscoted so that the naked brick was everywhere visible, except where it was obscured by hangings in the drawing-room. In short, the carpentry but not the joinery work had been done, and the mason’s but not the plaisterer’s.
I went to the back of the hall and found that in place of a door the rear entrance was secured by timbers nailed crossways. It occurred to me that if it was proof against entry it would also be impossible to get out through it.
The house was a large and imposing mansion — indeed I pass it quite frequently now and it is occupied by the Earl of N.. who, I imagine, has little idea of its previous history, — and it possessed so many rooms that every individual or couple was able to have one, though, as I came to realize, they mainly used the two large chambers on the ground floor for taking meals, conversation, and even sleeping. So I found evidence of occupation — clothes strewn about, cakes, sugar-plums, and orange-peel scattered over the rugs and floor-coverings — in all the chambers on the first and second floors, and it was not until I reached the top of the house that I found an unused set which was, perhaps, destined to form a nursery or governess’s accommodation. I had two small chambers — an inner with no windows, leading into an outer which had a window in the roof with some boards nailed over it —
and made myself comfortable, apart from the inconvenience of there being no floorboards.
I searched for a place of concealment for my mother’s pocket-book. Since the room was unceiled, the naked rafters and slates of the roof were visible above me and it was not difficult to find an excellent hiding-place in a corner behind one of the beams where it was very dry and dark so that no-one could find an object there unless they knew precisely where to look.
Then I went back downstairs to the dining-room and carried a number of rugs and draperies up to my lodging and made a shake-down. I returned and addressed myself to both the food and the drink. All the time the discussion went on in the other room, and I heard loud angry shouts and occasionally could make out a few phrases. After the long period of privation I had endured it is not to be wondered at that I indulged somewhat too freely, and in fact, made myself quite ill and more than a little drunk. Feeling dizzy and sick, I passed out and must have slept for an hour or two, awakening to hear the sounds of argument continuing from the other room and then dozing again.
Then I was aware of being picked up and carried and, with an odd sense of reassurance, I felt that my pockets were being searched. After that I fell deeply asleep and dreamed of pale-faced men like maggots and gorgeously-clad women HONOUR AMONG GENTLEMEN
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in silk dresses that rose behind them like glittering wings, living in a carcase and battening on its rich rotting meat. And in the middle Barney, with his big face and long arms, was like a great blotchy red spider spinning invisible nets from his entrails and hauling in more prey for the others to feed on.
I woke up feeling (in Mr Isbister’s phrase) as if I had two heads. finding that my pockets had indeed been thoroughly searched I resolved that, despite the plentiful supply of food, I would leave as soon as I felt stronger.
I didn’t believe that Barney would give me something for nothing. My experience of the Isbisters had taught me that. In that case, why had he taken me in and imposed me on the gang despite opposition? And what was the significance of Jack’s connexion with Pulvertaft? Now that I considered it, I realized that the coincidence of my recognising both Pulvertaft and Jack was extremely puzzling, even though I knew from what old Sam’el had told me and then what I had heard from Isbister, that all of these men had worked together many years before.
And above all, what was the explanation for the way these people lived? Where did their money come from and why were they living here like this? Perhaps listening to their conversation would provide me with the answer to at least this last question.
This strategy turned out to be difficult when I began to practise it later that day. At first, when I saw them looking as if they were engaged in serious conversation and approached as inconspicuously as I could, they fell silent or quickly turned the subject or ordered me to “Hook it!”. However, as the day wore on they grew more used to my presence, and I was sometimes able to stay within ear-shot. I was very puzzled by what I could understand of their speech — they used so much cant that it was often incomprehensible — for they seemed to be discussing a straightforward commercial business. They talked a great deal of things being bought and sold in the way of business, of people being bent or straight, and of a share of the profits being sent to someone who had gone abroad.