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Odd Craft, Complete

Год написания книги
2018
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“Cheerful company?” ses old Sam. “‘Ow do you think company’s going to be cheerful when you’re carrying on like that, Bill? Why don’t you go away and leave us alone?”

“Because I’ve got a ‘art,” ses Bill. “I can’t chuck up pals in that free-and-easy way. Once I take a liking to anybody I’d do anything for ‘em, and I’ve never met three chaps I like better than wot I do you. Three nicer, straight-forrad, free-’anded mates I’ve never met afore.”

“Why not take the pledge agin, Bill?” ses Peter Russet.

“No, mate,” ses Bill, with a kind smile; “it’s just a weakness, and I must try and grow out of it. I’ll tie a bit o’ string round my little finger to-night as a re-minder.”

He got out of bed and began to wash ‘is face, and Ginger Dick, who was doing a bit o’ thinking, gave a whisper to Sam and Peter Russet.

“All right, Bill, old man,” he ses, getting out of bed and beginning to put his clothes on; “but first of all we’ll try and find out ‘ow the landlord is.”

“Landlord?” ses Bill, puffing and blowing in the basin. “Wot landlord?”

“Why, the one you bashed,” ses Ginger, with a wink at the other two. “He ‘adn’t got ‘is senses back when me and Sam came away.”

Bill gave a groan and sat on the bed while ‘e dried himself, and Ginger told ‘im ‘ow he ‘ad bent a quart pot on the landlord’s ‘ead, and ‘ow the landlord ‘ad been carried upstairs and the doctor sent for. He began to tremble all over, and when Ginger said he’d go out and see ‘ow the land lay ‘e could ‘ardly thank ‘im enough.

He stayed in the bedroom all day, with the blinds down, and wouldn’t eat anything, and when Ginger looked in about eight o’clock to find out whether he ‘ad gone, he found ‘im sitting on the bed clean shaved, and ‘is face cut about all over where the razor ‘ad slipped.

Ginger was gone about two hours, and when ‘e came back he looked so solemn that old Sam asked ‘im whether he ‘ad seen a ghost. Ginger didn’t answer ‘im; he set down on the side o’ the bed and sat thinking.

“I s’pose—I s’pose it’s nice and fresh in the streets this morning?” ses Bill, at last, in a trembling voice.

Ginger started and looked at ‘im. “I didn’t notice, mate,” he ses. Then ‘e got up and patted Bill on the back, very gentle, and sat down again.

“Anything wrong, Ginger?” asks Peter Russet, staring at ‘im.

“It’s that landlord,” ses Ginger; “there’s straw down in the road outside, and they say that he’s dying. Pore old Bill don’t know ‘is own strength. The best thing you can do, old pal, is to go as far away as you can, at once.”

“I shouldn’t wait a minnit if it was me,” ses old Sam.

Bill groaned and hid ‘is face in his ‘ands, and then Peter Russet went and spoilt things by saying that the safest place for a murderer to ‘ide in was London. Bill gave a dreadful groan when ‘e said murderer, but ‘e up and agreed with Peter, and all Sam and Ginger Dick could do wouldn’t make ‘im alter his mind. He said that he would shave off ‘is beard and moustache, and when night came ‘e would creep out and take a lodging somewhere right the other end of London.

“It’ll soon be dark,” ses Ginger, “and your own brother wouldn’t know you now, Bill. Where d’you think of going?”

Bill shook his ‘ead. “Nobody must know that, mate,” he ses. “I must go into hiding for as long as I can—as long as my money lasts; I’ve only got six pounds left.”

“That’ll last a long time if you’re careful,” ses Ginger.

“I want a lot more,” ses Bill. “I want you to take this silver ring as a keepsake, Ginger. If I ‘ad another six pounds or so I should feel much safer. ‘Ow much ‘ave you got, Ginger?”

“Not much,” ses Ginger, shaking his ‘ead.

“Lend it to me, mate,” ses Bill, stretching out his ‘and. “You can easy get another ship. Ah, I wish I was you; I’d be as ‘appy as ‘appy if I hadn’t got a penny.”

“I’m very sorry, Bill,” ses Ginger, trying to smile, “but I’ve already promised to lend it to a man wot we met this evening. A promise is a promise, else I’d lend it to you with pleasure.”

“Would you let me be ‘ung for the sake of a few pounds, Ginger?” ses Bill, looking at ‘im reproach-fully. “I’m a desprit man, Ginger, and I must ‘ave that money.”

Afore pore Ginger could move he suddenly clapped ‘is hand over ‘is mouth and flung ‘im on the bed. Ginger was like a child in ‘is hands, although he struggled like a madman, and in five minutes ‘e was laying there with a towel tied round his mouth and ‘is arms and legs tied up with the cord off of Sam’s chest.

“I’m very sorry, Ginger,” ses Bill, as ‘e took a little over eight pounds out of Ginger’s pocket. “I’ll pay you back one o’ these days, if I can. If you’d got a rope round your neck same as I ‘ave you’d do the same as I’ve done.”

He lifted up the bedclothes and put Ginger inside and tucked ‘im up. Ginger’s face was red with passion and ‘is eyes starting out of his ‘ead.

“Eight and six is fifteen,” ses Bill, and just then he ‘eard somebody coming up the stairs. Ginger ‘eard it, too, and as Peter Russet came into the room ‘e tried all ‘e could to attract ‘is attention by rolling ‘is ‘ead from side to side.

“Why, ‘as Ginger gone to bed?” ses Peter. “Wot’s up, Ginger?”

“He’s all right,” ses Bill; “just a bit of a ‘eadache.”

Peter stood staring at the bed, and then ‘e pulled the clothes off and saw pore Ginger all tied up, and making awful eyes at ‘im to undo him.

“I ‘ad to do it, Peter,” ses Bill. “I wanted some more money to escape with, and ‘e wouldn’t lend it to me. I ‘aven’t got as much as I want now. You just came in in the nick of time. Another minute and you’d ha’ missed me. ‘Ow much ‘ave you got?”

“Ah, I wish I could lend you some, Bill,” ses Peter Russet, turning pale, “but I’ve ‘ad my pocket picked; that’s wot I came back for, to get some from Ginger.”

Bill didn’t say a word.

“You see ‘ow it is, Bill,” ses Peter, edging back toward the door; “three men laid ‘old of me and took every farthing I’d got.”

“Well, I can’t rob you, then,” ses Bill, catching ‘old of ‘im. “Whoever’s money this is,” he ses, pulling a handful out o’ Peter’s pocket, “it can’t be yours. Now, if you make another sound I’ll knock your ‘ead off afore I tie you up.”

“Don’t tie me up, Bill,” ses Peter, struggling.

“I can’t trust you,” ses Bill, dragging ‘im over to the washstand and taking up the other towel; “turn round.”

Peter was a much easier job than Ginger Dick, and arter Bill ‘ad done ‘im ‘e put ‘im in alongside o’ Ginger and covered ‘em up, arter first tying both the gags round with some string to prevent ‘em slipping.

“Mind, I’ve only borrowed it,” he ses, standing by the side o’ the bed; “but I must say, mates, I’m disappointed in both of you. If either of you ‘ad ‘ad the misfortune wot I’ve ‘ad, I’d have sold the clothes off my back to ‘elp you. And I wouldn’t ‘ave waited to be asked neither.”

He stood there for a minute very sorrowful, and then ‘e patted both their ‘eads and went downstairs. Ginger and Peter lay listening for a bit, and then they turned their pore bound-up faces to each other and tried to talk with their eyes.

Then Ginger began to wriggle and try and twist the cords off, but ‘e might as well ‘ave tried to wriggle out of ‘is skin. The worst of it was they couldn’t make known their intentions to each other, and when Peter Russet leaned over ‘im and tried to work ‘is gag off by rubbing it up agin ‘is nose, Ginger pretty near went crazy with temper. He banged Peter with his ‘ead, and Peter banged back, and they kept it up till they’d both got splitting ‘eadaches, and at last they gave up in despair and lay in the darkness waiting for Sam.

And all this time Sam was sitting in the Red Lion, waiting for them. He sat there quite patient till twelve o’clock and then walked slowly ‘ome, wondering wot ‘ad happened and whether Bill had gone.

Ginger was the fust to ‘ear ‘is foot on the stairs, and as he came into the room, in the darkness, him an’ Peter Russet started shaking their bed in a way that scared old Sam nearly to death. He thought it was Bill carrying on agin, and ‘e was out o’ that door and ‘arf-way downstairs afore he stopped to take breath. He stood there trembling for about ten minutes, and then, as nothing ‘appened, he walked slowly upstairs agin on tiptoe, and as soon as they heard the door creak Peter and Ginger made that bed do everything but speak.

“Is that you, Bill?” ses old Sam, in a shaky voice, and standing ready to dash downstairs agin.

There was no answer except for the bed, and Sam didn’t know whether Bill was dying or whether ‘e ‘ad got delirium trimmings. All ‘e did know was that ‘e wasn’t going to sleep in that room. He shut the door gently and went downstairs agin, feeling in ‘is pocket for a match, and, not finding one, ‘e picked out the softest stair ‘e could find and, leaning his ‘ead agin the banisters, went to sleep.

It was about six o’clock when ‘e woke up, and broad daylight. He was stiff and sore all over, and feeling braver in the light ‘e stepped softly upstairs and opened the door. Peter and Ginger was waiting for ‘im, and as he peeped in ‘e saw two things sitting up in bed with their ‘air standing up all over like mops and their faces tied up with bandages. He was that startled ‘e nearly screamed, and then ‘e stepped into the room and stared at ‘em as if he couldn’t believe ‘is eyes.

“Is that you, Ginger?” he ses. “Wot d’ye mean by making sights of yourselves like that? ‘Ave you took leave of your senses?”

Ginger and Peter shook their ‘eads and rolled their eyes, and then Sam see wot was the matter with ‘em. Fust thing ‘e did was to pull out ‘is knife and cut Ginger’s gag off, and the fust thing Ginger did was to call ‘im every name ‘e could lay his tongue to.
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