Ragged Trousered Philanthropists by Robert Tressell (read novel full TXT) 📖

Hunter got back to the room he

found that during his absence the coroner had given it to Philpot’s

landlady, who had taken it with her. He accordingly hastened outside

again to ask her for it, but the woman was nowhere to be seen.

 

Crass and the other men were also gone; they had hurried off to return

to work, and after a moment’s hesitation Hunter decided that it did

not matter much about the certificate. Crass had arranged the

business with the landlady and he could get the paper from her later

on. Having come to this conclusion, he dismissed the subject from his

mind: he had several prices to work out that afternoon - estimates

from some jobs the firm was going to tender for.

 

That evening, after having been home to tea, Crass and Sawkins met by

appointment at the carpenter’s shop to take the coffin to the

mortuary, where Misery had arranged to meet them at half past eight

o’clock. Hunter’s plan was to have the funeral take place from the

mortuary, which was only about a quarter of an hour’s walk from the

yard; so tonight they were just going to lift in the body and get the

lid screwed down.

 

It was blowing hard and raining heavily when Crass and Sawkins set

out, carrying the coffin - covered with a black cloth - on their

shoulders. They also took a small pair of tressels for the coffin to

stand on. Crass carried one of these slung over his arm and Sawkins

the other.

 

On their way they had to pass the `Cricketers’ and the place looked so

inviting that they decided to stop and have a drink - just to keep the

damp out, and as they could not very well take the coffin inside with

them, they stood it up against the brick wall a little way from the

side of the door: as Crass remarked with a laugh, there was not much

danger of anyone pinching it. The Old Dear served them and just as

they finished drinking the two half-pints there was a loud crash

outside and Crass and Sawkins rushed out and found that the coffin had

blown down and was lying bottom upwards across the pavement, while the

black cloth that had been wrapped round it was out in the middle of

the muddy road. Having recovered this, they shook as much of the dirt

off as they could, and having wrapped it round the coffin again they

resumed their journey to the mortuary, where they found Hunter waiting

for them, engaged in earnest conversation with the keeper. The

electric light was switched on, and as Crass and Sawkins came in they

saw that the marble slab was empty.

 

The corpse was gone.

 

`Snatchum came this afternoon with a hand-truck and a corfin,’

explained the keeper. `I was out at the time, and the missis thought

it was all right so she let him have the key.’

 

Hunter and Crass looked blankly at each other.

 

`Well, this takes the biskit!’ said the latter as soon as he could

speak.

 

`I thought you said you had settled everything all right with the old

woman?’ said Hunter.

 

`So I did,’ replied Crass. `I seen ‘er on Friday, and I told ‘er to

leave it all to me to attend to, and she said she would. I told ‘er

that Philpot said to me that if ever anything ‘appened to ‘im I was to

take charge of everything for ‘er, because I was ‘is best friend. And

I told ‘er we’d do it as cheap as possible.’

 

`Well, it seems to me as you’ve bungled it somehow,’ said Nimrod,

gloomily. `I ought to have gone and seen ‘er myself, I was afraid

you’d make a mess of it,’ he added in a wailing tone. `It’s always

the same; everything that I don’t attend to myself goes wrong.’

 

An uncomfortable silence fell. Crass thought that the principal piece

of bungling in this affair was Hunter’s failure to secure possession

of the Coroner’s certificate after the inquest, but he was afraid to

say so.

 

Outside, the rain was still falling and drove in through the partly

open door, causing the atmosphere of the mortuary to be even more than

usually cold and damp. The empty coffin had been reared against one

of the walls and the marble slab was still stained with blood, for the

keeper had not had time to clean it since the body had been removed.

 

`I can see ‘ow it’s been worked,’ said Crass at last. `There’s one of

the members of the club who works for Snatchum, and ‘e’s took it on

‘isself to give the order for the funeral; but ‘e’s got no right to do it.’

 

`Right or no right, ‘e’s done it,’ replied Misery, `so you’d better

take the box back to the shop.’

 

Crass and Sawkins accordingly returned to the workshop, where they

were presently joined by Nimrod.

 

`I’ve been thinking this business over as I came along,’ he said, `and

I don’t see being beat like this by Snatchum; so you two can just put

the tressels and the box on a hand cart and we’ll take it over to

Philpot’s house.’

 

Nimrod walked on the pavement while the other two pushed the cart, and

it was about half past nine, when they arrived at the street in

Windley where Philpot used to live. They halted in a dark part of the

street a few yards away from the house and on the opposite side.

 

`I think the best thing we can do,’ said Misery, `is for me and

Sawkins to wait ‘ere while you go to the ‘ouse and see ‘ow the land

lies. You’ve done all the business with ‘er so far. It’s no use

takin’ the box unless we know the corpse is there; for all we know,

Snatchum may ‘ave taken it ‘ome with ‘im.’

 

`Yes; I think that’ll be the best way,’ agreed Crass, after a moment’s

thought.

 

Nimrod and Sawkins accordingly took shelter in the doorway of an empty

house, leaving the handcart at the kerb, while Crass went across the

street and knocked at Philpot’s door. They saw it opened by an

elderly woman holding a lighted candle in her hand; then Crass went

inside and the door was shut. In about a quarter of an hour he

reappeared and, leaving the door partly open behind him, he came out

and crossed over to where the others were waiting. As he drew near

they could see that he carried a piece of paper in his hand.

 

`It’s all right,’ he said in a hoarse whisper as he came up. I’ve got

the stifficut.’

 

Misery took the paper eagerly and scanned it by the light of a match

that Crass struck. It was the certificate right enough, and with a

sigh of relief Hunter put it into his note-book and stowed it safely

away in the inner pocket of his coat, while Crass explained the result

of his errand.

 

It appeared that the other member of the Society, accompanied by

Snatchum, had called upon the old woman and had bluffed her into

giving them the order for the funeral. It was they who had put her up

to getting the certificate from the Coroner - they had been careful to

keep away from the inquest themselves so as not to arouse Hunter’s or

Crass’s suspicions.

 

`When they brought the body ‘ome this afternoon,’ Crass went on,

`Snatchum tried to get the stifficut orf ‘er, but she’d been thinkin’

things over and she was a bit frightened ‘cos she knowed she’d made

arrangements with me, and she thought she’d better see me first; so

she told ‘im she’d give it to ‘im on Thursday; that’s the day as ‘e

was goin’ to ‘ave the funeral.’

 

`He’ll find he’s a day too late,’ said Misery, with a ghastly grin.

`We’ll get the job done on Wednesday.’

 

`She didn’t want to give it to me, at first,’ Crass concluded, `but I

told ‘er we’d see ‘er right if old Snatchum tried to make ‘er pay for

the other coffin.’

 

`I don’t think he’s likely to make much fuss about it,’ said Hunter.

`He won’t want everybody to know he was so anxious for the job.’

 

Crass and Sawkins pushed the handcart over to the other side of the

road and then, lifting the coffin off, they carried it into the house,

Nimrod going first.

 

The old woman was waiting for them with the candle at the end of the

passage.

 

`I shall be very glad when it’s all over,’ she said, as she led the

way up the narrow stairs, closely followed by Hunter, who carried the

tressels, Crass and Sawkins, bringing up the rear with the coffin. `I

shall be very glad when it’s all over, for I’m sick and tired of

answerin’ the door to undertakers. If there’s been one ‘ere since

Friday there’s been a dozen, all after the job, not to mention all the

cards what’s been put under the door, besides the one’s what I’ve had

give to me by different people. I had a pair of boots bein’ mended

and the man took the trouble to bring ‘em ‘ome when they was finished -

a thing ‘e’s never done before - just for an excuse to give me an

undertaker’s card.

 

`Then the milkman brought one, and so did the baker, and the

greengrocer give me another when I went in there on Saturday to buy

some vegetables for Sunday dinner.’

 

Arrived at the top landing the old woman opened a door and entered a

small and wretchedly furnished room.

 

Across the lower sash of the window hung a tattered piece of lace

curtain. The low ceiling was cracked and discoloured.

 

There was a rickety little wooden washstand, and along one side of the

room a narrow bed covered with a ragged grey quilt, on which lay a

bundle containing the clothes that the dead man was wearing at the

time of the accident.

 

There was a little table in front of the window, with a small

looking-glass upon it, and a cane-seated chair was placed by the

bedside and the floor was covered with a faded piece of drab-coloured

carpet of no perceptible pattern, worn into holes in several places.

 

In the middle of this dreary room, upon a pair of tressels, was the

coffin containing Philpot’s body. Seen by the dim and flickering

light of the candle, the aspect of this coffin, covered over with a

white sheet, was terrible in its silent, pathetic solitude.

 

Hunter placed the pair of tressels he had been carrying against the

wall, and the other two put the empty coffin on the floor by the side

of the bed. The old woman stood the candlestick on the mantelpiece,

and withdrew, remarking that they would not need her assistance. The

three men then removed their overcoats and laid them on the end of the

bed, and from the pocket of his Crass took out two large screwdrivers,

one of which he handed to Hunter. Sawkins held the candle while they

unscrewed and took off the lid of the coffin they had brought with

them: it was not quite empty, for they had brought a bag of tools

inside it.

 

`I think we shall be able to work better if we takes the other one orf

the trussels and puts it on the floor,’ remarked Crass.

 

`Yes, I think so, too,’ replied Hunter.

 

Crass took off the sheet and threw it on the bed, revealing the other

coffin, which was very similar in appearance to the one they