Martin Hyde | Page 7

leaves. "What's inside?"
"A lot of figures," said the man. "Sums. Problems in arithmetic."
"Right," said the constable, handing over the book.
"Here you are, sir. What name, sir?"
"Edward Jermyn."
"Edward German," the constable repeated.
"Where d' you live, sir?"
"At Mr. Scott's in Fish Lane."
"Right, sir," said the constable, writing down the address, "You must appear tomorrow at ten before Mr. Garry, the magistrate. You, too, young master, to give your evidence."
At this the boys burst out crying, begging us not to appear, using all those deceptive arts which the London thieves practise from childhood. I, who was new to the world's deceits, was touched to the marrow by their seeming misery. The constable roughly silenced them. "I know you, he said. "I had my eye on you two ever since Christmas. Now you'll go abroad to do a bit of honest work, instead of nickin' pockets. Stow your blubbering now, or I'll give you Mogador Jack." He produced "Mogador Jack," a supple shark's backbone, from behind the door. The tears stopped on the instant.
After this, the bearded man showed me the way back to Fish Lane, where Ephraim, who was at the door, looking out for me) gave me a shrewd scolding, for venturing out without a guide.
Mr. Jermyn silenced him by giving him a shilling. The next day, Mr. Jermyn took me to the magistrate's house, where the two thieves were formally committed for trial. Mr. Jermyn told me that they would probably be transported for seven years, on conviction at the Assizes; but that, as they were young, the honest work abroad, in the plantations, might be the saving of them. "So do not be so sad, Mr. Martin," he said. "You do not know how good a thing you did when you looked out of the window yesterday. Do you know, by the way, how much my book is worth?"
"No, sir," I said.
"Well. It's worth more than the King's crown," he said.
"But I thought it was only sums, sir."
"Yes," he said, with a strange smile. "But some sums have to do with a great deal of money. Now I want you to think tonight of something to the value of twenty pounds or so. I want to give you something as a reward for your smartness. Don't decide at once. Think it over. Here we are at our homes, you see. We live just opposite to each other."
We were standing at this moment in the narrow lane at my uncle's door. As he spoke, he raised his hand in a farewell salute with that dignity of gesture which was in all his movements. On the instant, to my surprise, the door of the house opposite opened slowly, till it was about half open. No one opened it, as I could see; it swung back of itself. After my friend had stepped across the threshold it swung to with a click in the same mysterious way. It was as though it had a knowledge of Mr. Jermyn's mind, as though the raised hand had had a magical power over it. When I went indoors to my uncle's house I was excited. I felt that I was in the presence of something romantic, something mysterious. I liked Mr. Jermyn. He had been very kind. But I kept wondering why he wore a false beard, why his door opened so mysteriously, why he valued a book of sums above the worth of a King's crown. As for his offer of a present, I did not like it, though he had not given me time to say as much. I remembered how indignant the Oulton wherrymen had been when a gentleman offered them money for saving his daughter's life. I had seen the man robbed, what else could I have done? I could have done no less than tell him. I resolved that I would refuse the gift when next I saw him.
At dinner that day, I was full of Mr. Jermyn, much to my uncle's annoyance.
"Who is this Mr. Jermyn, Martin?" he asked. "I don't know him. Is he a gentleman?"
"Yes, uncle."
"Do you know him, Ephraim?"
"No, sir. I know him by sight, sir. Gentleman who lives over the way, Mr. Hyde."
"That's Mr. Scott's, though."
"No, sir. Mr. Jermyn's been there ever since February."
"But the house is empty."
"The lower floor is furnished, sir."
"Do you know anything of him? Do you know his man?"
"They say he's in the fruit way, sir. In the Spanish trade. His men are Spaniards. They do say he's not quite to be trusted."
"Who says this?" my uncle asked.
"I don't like to mention names, sir," Ephraim said.
"Quite right. Quite right. But what do they say?"
"Very queer things goes on in that 'ouse," said Ephraim. "I don't 'ardly like to say. But they think 'e raises the devil, sir. Awful noises goes on there.