The Mystery of Edwin Drood by Charles Dickens (best english novels to read TXT) đ
- Author: Charles Dickens
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âWhat are you doing to the man?â demands Jasper, stepping out into the moonlight from the shade.
âMaking a cock-shy of him,â replies the hideous small boy.
âGive me those stones in your hand.â
âYes, Iâll give âem you down your throat, if you come a-ketching hold of me,â says the small boy, shaking himself loose, and backing. âIâll smash your eye, if you donât look out!â
âBaby-Devil that you are, what has the man done to you?â
âHe wonât go home.â
âWhat is that to you?â
âHe gives me a âapenny to pelt him home if I ketches him out too late,â says the boy. And then chants, like a little savage, half stumbling and half dancing among the rags and laces of his dilapidated boots:â
âWiddy widdy wen!
IâketâchesâImâoutâarâterâten,
Widdy widdy wy!
ThenâEâdonâtâgoâthenâIâshyâ
Widdy Widdy Wake-cock warning!â
âwith a comprehensive sweep on the last word, and one more delivery at Durdles.
This would seem to be a poetical note of preparation, agreed upon, as a caution to Durdles to stand clear if he can, or to betake himself homeward.
John Jasper invites the boy with a beck of his head to follow him (feeling it hopeless to drag him, or coax him), and crosses to the iron railing where the Stony (and stoned) One is profoundly meditating.
âDo you know this thing, this child?â asks Jasper, at a loss for a word that will define this thing.
âDeputy,â says Durdles, with a nod.
âIs that itsâhisâname?â
âDeputy,â assents Durdles.
âIâm man-servant up at the Travellersâ Twopenny in Gas Works Garding,â this thing explains. âAll us man-servants at Travellersâ Lodgings is named Deputy. When weâre chock full and the Travellers is all a-bed I come out for my âelth.â Then withdrawing into the road, and taking aim, he resumes:â
âWiddy widdy wen!
IâketâchesâImâoutâarâterââ
âHold your hand,â cries Jasper, âand donât throw while I stand so near him, or Iâll kill you! Come, Durdles; let me walk home with you to-night. Shall I carry your bundle?â
âNot on any account,â replies Durdles, adjusting it. âDurdles was making his reflections here when you come up, sir, surrounded by his works, like a poplar Author.âYour own brother-in-law;â introducing a sarcophagus within the railing, white and cold in the moonlight. âMrs. Sapsea;â introducing the monument of that devoted wife. âLate Incumbent;â introducing the Reverend Gentlemanâs broken column. âDeparted Assessed Taxes;â introducing a vase and towel, standing on what might represent the cake of soap. âFormer pastrycook and Muffin-maker, much respected;â introducing gravestone. âAll safe and sound here, sir, and all Durdlesâs work. Of the common folk, that is merely bundled up in turf and brambles, the less said the better. A poor lot, soon forgot.â
âThis creature, Deputy, is behind us,â says Jasper, looking back. âIs he to follow us?â
The relations between Durdles and Deputy are of a capricious kind; for, on Durdlesâs turning himself about with the slow gravity of beery suddenness, Deputy makes a pretty wide circuit into the road and stands on the defensive.
âYou never cried Widdy Warning before you begun to-night,â says Durdles, unexpectedly reminded of, or imagining, an injury.
âYer lie, I did,â says Deputy, in his only form of polite contradiction.
âOwn brother, sir,â observes Durdles, turning himself about again, and as unexpectedly forgetting his offence as he had recalled or conceived it; âown brother to Peter the Wild Boy! But I gave him an object in life.â
âAt which he takes aim?â Mr. Jasper suggests.
âThatâs it, sir,â returns Durdles, quite satisfied; âat which he takes aim. I took him in hand and gave him an object. What was he before? A destroyer. What work did he do? Nothing but destruction. What did he earn by it? Short terms in Cloisterham jail. Not a person, not a piece of property, not a winder, not a horse, nor a dog, nor a cat, nor a bird, nor a fowl, nor a pig, but what he stoned, for want of an enlightened object. I put that enlightened object before him, and now he can turn his honest halfpenny by the three pennâorth a week.â
âI wonder he has no competitors.â
âHe has plenty, Mr. Jasper, but he stones âem all away. Now, I donât know what this scheme of mine comes to,â pursues Durdles, considering about it with the same sodden gravity; âI donât know what you may precisely call it. It ainât a sort of aâscheme of aâNational Education?â
âI should say not,â replies Jasper.
âI should say not,â assents Durdles; âthen we wonât try to give it a name.â
âHe still keeps behind us,â repeats Jasper, looking over his shoulder; âis he to follow us?â
âWe canât help going round by the Travellersâ Twopenny, if we go the short way, which is the back way,â Durdles answers, âand weâll drop him there.â
So they go on; Deputy, as a rear rank one, taking open order, and invading the silence of the hour and place by stoning every wall, post, pillar, and other inanimate object, by the deserted way.
âIs there anything new down in the crypt, Durdles?â asks John Jasper.
âAnything old, I think you mean,â growls Durdles. âIt ainât a spot for novelty.â
âAny new discovery on your part, I meant.â
âThereâs a old âun under the seventh pillar on the left as you go down the broken steps of the little underground chapel as formerly was; I make him out (so fur as Iâve made him out yet) to be one of them old âuns with a crook. To judge from the size of the passages in the walls, and of the steps and doors, by which they come and went, them crooks must have been a good deal in the way of the old âuns! Two on âem meeting promiscuous must have hitched one another by the mitre pretty often, I should say.â
Without any endeavour to correct the literality of this opinion, Jasper surveys his companionâcovered from head to foot with old mortar, lime, and stone gritâas though he, Jasper, were getting imbued with a romantic interest in his weird life.
âYours is a curious existence.â
Without furnishing the least clue to the question, whether he receives this as a compliment or as quite the reverse, Durdles gruffly answers: âYours is another.â
âWell! inasmuch as my lot is cast in the same old earthy, chilly, never-changing place, Yes. But there is much more mystery and interest in your connection with the Cathedral than in mine. Indeed, I am beginning to have some idea of asking you to take me on as a sort of student, or free âprentice, under you, and to let me go about with you sometimes, and see some of these odd nooks in which you pass your days.â
The Stony One replies, in a general way, âAll right. Everybody knows where to find Durdles, when heâs wanted.â Which, if not strictly true, is approximately so, if taken to express that Durdles may always be found in a state of vagabondage somewhere.
âWhat I dwell upon most,â says Jasper, pursuing his subject of romantic interest, âis the remarkable accuracy with which you would seem to find out where people are buried.âWhat is the matter? That bundle is in your way; let me hold it.â
Durdles has stopped and backed a little (Deputy, attentive to all his movements, immediately skirmishing into the road), and was looking about for some ledge or corner to place his bundle on, when thus relieved of it.
âJust you give me my hammer out of that,â says Durdles, âand Iâll show you.â
Clink, clink. And his hammer is handed him.
âNow, lookee here. You pitch your note, donât you, Mr. Jasper?â
âYes.â
âSo I sound for mine. I take my hammer, and I tap.â (Here he strikes the pavement, and the attentive Deputy skirmishes at a rather wider range, as supposing that his head may be in requisition.) âI tap, tap, tap. Solid! I go on tapping. Solid still! Tap again. Holloa! Hollow! Tap again, persevering. Solid in hollow! Tap, tap, tap, to try it better. Solid in hollow; and inside solid, hollow again! There you are! Old âun crumbled away in stone coffin, in vault!â
âAstonishing!â
âI have even done this,â says Durdles, drawing out his two-foot rule (Deputy meanwhile skirmishing nearer, as suspecting that Treasure may be about to be discovered, which may somehow lead to his own enrichment, and the delicious treat of the discoverers being hanged by the neck, on his evidence, until they are dead). âSay that hammer of mineâs a wallâmy work. Two; four; and two is six,â measuring on the pavement. âSix foot inside that wall is Mrs. Sapsea.â
âNot really Mrs. Sapsea?â
âSay Mrs. Sapsea. Her wallâs thicker, but say Mrs. Sapsea. Durdles taps, that wall represented by that hammer, and says, after good sounding: âSomething betwixt us!â Sure enough, some rubbish has been left in that same six-foot space by Durdlesâs men!â
Jasper opines that such accuracy âis a gift.â
âI wouldnât have it at a gift,â returns Durdles, by no means receiving the observation in good part. âI worked it out for myself. Durdles comes by his knowledge through grubbing deep for it, and having it up by the roots when it donât want to come.âHolloa you Deputy!â
âWiddy!â is Deputyâs shrill response, standing off again.
âCatch that haâpenny. And donât let me see any more of you to-night, after we come to the Travellersâ Twopenny.â
âWarning!â returns Deputy, having caught the halfpenny, and appearing by this mystic word to express his assent to the arrangement.
They have but to cross what was once the vineyard, belonging to what was once the Monastery, to come into the narrow back lane wherein stands the crazy wooden house of two low stories currently known as the Travellersâ Twopenny:âa house all warped and distorted, like the morals of the travellers, with scant remains of a lattice-work porch over the door, and also of a rustic fence before its stamped-out garden; by reason of the travellers being so bound to the premises by a tender sentiment (or so fond of having a fire by the roadside in the course of the day), that they can never be persuaded or threatened into departure, without violently possessing themselves of some wooden forget-me-not, and bearing it off.
The semblance of an inn is attempted to be given to this wretched place by fragments of conventional red curtaining in the windows, which rags are made muddily transparent in the night-season by feeble lights of rush or cotton dip burning dully in the close air of the inside. As Durdles and Jasper come near, they are addressed by an inscribed paper lantern over the door, setting forth the purport of the house. They are also addressed by some half-dozen other hideous small boysâwhether twopenny lodgers or followers or hangers-on of such, who knows!âwho, as if attracted by some carrion-scent of Deputy in the air, start into the moonlight, as vultures might gather in the desert, and instantly fall to stoning him and one another.
âStop, you young brutes,â cries Jasper angrily, âand let us go by!â
This remonstrance being received with yells and flying stones, according to a custom of late years comfortably established among the police regulations of our English communities, where Christians are stoned on all sides, as if the days of Saint Stephen were revived, Durdles remarks of the young savages, with some point, that âthey havenât got an object,â and leads the way down the lane.
At the corner of the lane, Jasper, hotly enraged, checks his companion and looks back. All is silent. Next moment, a stone coming rattling at his hat, and a distant yell of âWake-Cock! Warning!â followed by a crow, as from some infernally-hatched Chanticleer, apprising him under whose victorious fire he stands, he turns the corner into safety, and takes Durdles home: Durdles stumbling among the litter of his stony yard as if he were going to turn head foremost into one of the unfinished tombs.
John Jasper returns by another way to his gatehouse, and entering softly with his key, finds his fire still burning. He takes from a locked press a peculiar-looking pipe, which he fillsâbut not with tobaccoâand, having adjusted the contents of the bowl, very carefully, with a little instrument, ascends an inner staircase of only a few steps, leading to two rooms. One of these is his own sleeping chamber: the
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