MACMILLAN READERS

UPPER LEVEL

CHARLES DICKENS

Our Mutual Friend

Retold by Margaret Tamer

PREFACE

Coming Home

young man called John Harmon stood alone on the deck of a ship sailing up the River Thames. He looked down at the

A

dark river which he had not seen for fourteen years.

Have I done right to come back? John Harmon asked himself. My father was always unkind to me when I was a child. Now he is dead and I am rich. But will this money make me happy? Shall I be happy, married to a girl that I have never seen?

Old John  Harmon had  made  a  very  strange  will^3.  His  son,

John,  inherited^3   all his father's money.  But only if he  agreed to marry a girl called Bella Wilfer.

Young John Harmon, unhappy and without a friend, had told his  story to George Radfoot,  a sailor on the ship.  Together,  the two young men had made a plan.

George  Radfoot  was  going  to  help  John  Harmon  disguise^5

himself. The n Harmon would hide for a time  and find out what kind of girl Bella Wilfer was.

Whe n I  know what Bella is  like,  I  can decide what to  do, John Harmon told himself. The n I shall go to Mr Lightwood, my father's lawyer, and tell him who I am.

Th e young man  looked at  the  dark,  dirty buildings on both sides of the river. Very soon his long voyage would be over. John Harmon turned and went slowly down to his cabin^2  below.

About an hour later, two young men left the ship. They both looked very much like each other. One was John Harmon and the other was George Radfoot.

6

1

On the River

I

t was an autumn evening and dark shadows were covering the river.  An  old,  dirty  boat,  with  two  people  in  it,  was  moving silently   through  the  water.   Th e   man  had  rough,   grey  hair, and  cruel,  sharp  eyes.  He  was  watching  the  water  closely.  His daughter,  a  pretty  girl  of  nineteen,  was  holding  the  oars  and

rowing the boat through the shadows.

There was nothing in the boat except some rope and a great iron hook. Th e man's eyes watched every movement of the water, and he had the greedy look of a cruel bird. Th e girl watched her father's face and her eyes were full of fear.

These two knew the river well. They were doing something they had done many times before.  Suddenly the man guided the boat towards a dark shadow and picked up the rope.

Th e  girl stopped rowing  and pulled her cloak over her face. The man stretched out over the side of the boat until his arms and shoulders were in the river. Whe n the boat moved on, something heavy followed in the water. Th e man's right hand held something that he washed clean and the n put in his pocket.  It was money. The girl's face, half-hidden by the cloak, was very pale.

'Take  that thing off your face,  Lizzie,' her father said.  'Here, give me the oars. I'll row now.'

'No, no, Father. Don't move. I can't sit so near it.'

'Wha t harm can it do you? I  sometimes think you hate this river.'

'I don't like it, Father.'

'The river's your best friend, my girl, and mine too. Don't we both make our living from it? Th e river gives us food and drink Lizzie.'

Th e girl said nothing, but held out her hand to her father in

7

On the River

a loving way. The n she pulled back the cloak from her face and rowed on.

At that moment, another boat, very like the first, came up out of the shadows.

'In luck again, Hexam?' asked the man in the other boat. His voice was rough^4  and he had an unpleasant, twisted smile.

'Always in luck, you are, partner,' the man went on.

'I'm no partner of yours, Rogue Riderhood,' Hexam answered.

'You steal from the living. That's bad, that is. You're a thief and I'll work with you no more.'

'Those are cruel words, Jesse Hexam. You can't get rid of me with words, partner.'

'Can't  I?'  said  the  grey-haired  man.  'The n  I'll  get  rid  of you with  this  boat-hook.  Row  on,  Lizzie.  Row home  as  fast  as you can.'

Lizzie rowed strongly and their boat soon left Riderhood's behind.  Lizzie's  father  made  himself comfortable  and  started  to smoke his pipe.

As  the boat moved silently over the water,  the  thing at the end of the rope always followed. Sometimes it came near the boat and sometimes it pulled away like something alive. As it moved through the water,  changes seemed to  pass over the  dead man's face. For the thing that followed at the end of the rope was the body of a drowned man.

The Harmon Murder

2

The Harmon Murder

r  Mortimer  Lightwood  and  Mr  Eugene  Wrayburn  were sitting  together in  their  chambers^3.  Th e  young  men were

M

lawyers and they had been friends since their schooldays.

Both of them were gentlemen^1, but they had very little money. They were  not  very  interested  in  the  Law  and  they  spent  most of their time doing nothing at all. Now they were sitting in comfortable  chairs,  smoking  and  talking  as  the  evening  grew darker.

'A client^3  of mine died the other day,' said Mortimer. 'He was an old rogue called Harmon. He died very rich - made his money by Dust.'

'Dust?' repeated Eugene in a slow, lazy  voice.

'Yes, dust. Coal-dust, vegetable-dust, bone-dust,  all kinds of dust. He got rich by selling the dust he collected.'

'An d did this dust-collector make a will?' asked Eugene.

'A will has been found. Most of the property goes to the only son - John Harmon.'

'Lucky  man,'  said  Eugene.  'He  has  been  helping  his  father collect dust, I suppose.'

'No. Th e two quarrelled long ago. Th e son left England and has been abroad for fourteen years. He is now on his way back, but he can only get the money on one condition.'

'An d what's that?' Eugene asked lazily.

'He must marry a certain girl who is now eighteen and very beautiful. Th e old man saw this girl once when she was only four years old.'

'So  - John  Harmon returns  to  find  a  fortune  and  to  take  a wife,' said Eugene. A lucky man. Good luck with no hard work!'

Th e two friends sat quietly in the dark room. Each thought of

10

how happy he would be with money and a beautiful wife.

At that moment, there was a knock on the door. Mortimer got up slowly to open it and Eugene lit the lamp.

A boy of about fifteen stood in the doorway. His clothes were poor, but clean. He had a sharp, clever face. The boy held out a piece of paper.

'Lawyer Lightwood?' he asked.

Mortimer took the note and read it once and the n again. He looked at Eugene in amazement.

'This  is very strange,'  said Mortimer.  A most strange  ending to young John Harmon's story.'

'Is he already married?' asked Eugene. 'Has another will been found? Or has he refused to marry the girl?'

'No,'  said Mortimer slowly,  'the  truth  is  stranger than  that. John Harmon has been found in the river — drowned!'

Mortimer looked again at the careful writing on the paper.

'Did you write this?' he asked the boy.

'Yes, sir. My father, Jesse Hexam, told me to do it. He found the body. I've come by cab  . You could come back with me now, and pay the cab-man.'

Eugene looked hard at the boy. He took the boy's face by the chin and turned it towards the light.

'Wh o taught you to write? Do you go to school?' Th e boy pulled away angrily.

'Yes. My sister sent me. But don't tell my father.'

'You have a good sister,' said Eugene.

'Yes, Lizzie's very good to me. But she hasn't been to school. She only knows what I've taught her.'

The two friends went down to the cab with the boy, Charley Hexam.  Th e   cab   turned  towards  the  river,   on  past  docks  , boat-yards  and  poor,  miserable  houses.  It  stopped  at  last  in  a dark, damp street on the very edge of the water.

'That's my father's house, sir, where the light is.'

Th e  boy  opened  the  door  of  the  dirty  wooden  house.  A

1 1

The Harmon Murder

grey-haired man was standing by the fire. A girl sat on a low chair beside the fire, sewing. Two or three oars stood against the wall.

'This is Lawyer Lightwood, Father. An d a friend.'

'Mr Wrayburn,' said Eugene quietly. Th e girl looked up for a minute at the sound of his voice.

'Wha t have you found,  Hexam?' said Mortimer. 'Is the body here?'

'The police have it,' said Hexam. He took up a candle and the light shone on a notice on the wall: "Body Found".

Th e  two friends  looked  at  the  notice with its  description of the  drowned  man.  There  were  other,  older  notices  all  round the walls.

'You  did  not  find  all  these  poor  people  yourself,  did  you?' asked Mortimer.

'Most of them. That's how I make my living - I take drowned bodies from the river.'

As he spoke, there was a movement by the open door. A young man stood there, his face pale and afraid.

'I  . . .  I am lost,' said the young man.  'I  am looking for the police station. I want to see the drowned man.' And he held up a notice: "Body Found".

Eugene Wrayburn stepped forward.

'This gentleman is Mr Lightwood. He is a lawyer and he's here on the same business.'

'Mr  Lightwood?'  repeated  the  pale  young  man.  Th e  young man looked closely at the lawyer.

'We are going to the police now,' Mortimer said. 'Would you like to come with us?'

Jesse  Hexam  led  the  way  along  the  dark,  muddy  streets  to the  police  station.  An  Inspector showed  them  the  body  of the drowned man.

Th e young man leant against the wall, his face paler tha n ever.

'It's a terrible sight,' he said in a low voice.

'Friend of yours, sir?' asked the Inspector.

12

The Harmon Murder

'No, no.'

'But you must be looking for someone, sir,' said the Inspector,

'or you would not be here. Are you from London, sir, or from the country? Perhaps you would leave me your name?'

'Yes, of course.'

"Mr Julius Handford," wrote the young man, his hand shaking a little. "Exchequer Coffee House, Westminster."

The n with one  last frightened look  at Mortimer Lightwood, Mr Julius Handford hurried out into the dark street.

Mortimer  and   Eugene  went  home   together  and  Charley

Hexam returned alone to his sister.

Th e girl was sitting beside the fire as before. She looked up with a smile as Charley came into the room.

'I  thought  father  would  be  angry  when  he  saw  you  could write,' Lizzie said.  'If only I could make him see that learning is a good thing. You do work hard at school, don't you, Charley?'

'You know I do, Lizzie.'

'Your  learning  will  take  you  away  from  the  river  and  this terrible  life.  How  I  wish  that  I  could  read  and  write  too!  But Father wouldn't like  it.  Perhaps,  one  day,  I  can  change  him.  I hate the river. It brings nothing but unhappiness.'

An d the girl  looked up  at the  terrible notices  on the  walls: "Body Found. Body Found".

At the inquest^3, the dead man was identified^3  as Mr John Harmon, who had recently returned from abroad. The body had been in the river for some days and was badly injured. John Harmon had not been drowned, but murdered.  But how had he died and who had killed him?

From that time on, the name of Jesse Hexam and Murder were spoken  of together.  Lizzie  saw people  turn  away from her father and refuse to speak to him. More than ever, the great, black river seemed a place of fear and death.

14

The Harmon Murder

At last,  Lizzie made up her mind to  send Charley away.  He would never be able to rise in the world^1  while he lived with his father.

Lizzie had saved a little money. She gave some of this to her brother.

'You must leave here, Charley,' she said. 'I will stay here with

Father, but you must go away.'

'Must?' repeated Charley. 'Do you want to get rid of me? Isn't there enough food for the three of us?'

'You know that's not true,' said Lizzie. 'You must go to a better school. They will teach you and help you to get a living. I'll send you some  more money when I  can.  Perhaps Mr Lightwood will help a little.'

'Don't  ask  that other one,  that Mr Wrayburn for  anything,' said Charley sharply. 'I didn't like the way he spoke to me. And I didn't like the way he looked at you.'

Lizzie gave her brother some food to take with him.

'Now remember, Charley. Never listen to anything bad about Father. It will not be true. Goodbye, my darling. Go now, before Father comes back.'

Whe n she was alone, Lizzie cried a little. The n she looked into the bright fire and dreamt of the future. Did she see her brother working hard and making a success of his life? Did she see herself as a lady^1, clever and beautiful? Did she see a fine gentleman who would love her and take her far away from the cold, dark river?

15

The Golden Dustman

3

The Golden Dustman

A

beautiful girl of eighteen was sitting in a dirty, untidy room. Her pretty face was sad and she was twisting and pulling her thick, brown hair angrily. She looked up at the round-faced little

man who was sitting beside her.

'Here I am in this ugly, black dress, Pa,' she said. 'I'm like a widow who has never been married.  I was  going to be rich and now I have nothing. No husband, no money. It was bad enough to be told to marry a stranger. But it's worse, much worse, when the man gets himself drowned!'

'I don't suppose he meant to, Bella, my dear,' her father answered.

Reginald Wilfer was  a cheerful man, but a poor man with a large family has  little reason to he  happy.  He  was very fond  of his daughter, Bella, and he knew she hated being poor. Now John Harmon was dead, she would never marry a rich man.

There was a quiet knock on the door and a pale young man of about thirty came into the room. He had a handsome face, but he was very shy and awkward^4. Whe n he began to speak, he looked down at the ground.

'I  have  seen the  rooms upstairs,  Mr Wilfer.  I  would like  to move  into  them  as  soon  as  possible.  If you  can  write  out  an agreement, I'll pay you three months' rent now.'

Mr  Wilfer  was  delighted.  He  had  soon  written  and  signed the   agreement  and  the  young  man  added  his  name  -  John Rokesmith.

'Let me be witness^3,  Pa,' said Bella taking the pen from her

father. As she bent over the paper,  Mr Rokesmith looked at her beautiful face with the greatest interest.

After Mr Rokesmith had paid his money and gone, Bella said

16

with a laugh, 'Well, Pa, I think we've got a murderer or a robber for a lodger. He cannot look anyone in the face!'

'Perhaps he was a little shy of you, my dear. But his money will pay our rent.'

'Oh, why do we have to be poor, Pa? I might have been rich enough to take you away from here. Why did old Mr Harmon have to make such a fool of me?'

'He only saw you once,' said her father. 'You were angry with me, stamping your little foot and shouting. Th e old man laughed at your bad temper. The n he asked me for your name,  and that was all.'

An d now I'll never be rich and we may all be murdered by that strange Mr Rokesmith,' Bella said with a laugh.

But  Bella  would  not  have  laughed  if  she  had  known  one thing.  Mr Julius  Handford  and  Mr John Rokesmith were  surely the same man.

Now John Harmon was dead,  all his father's money went to the old  servant,  Noddy  Boffin,  who  had  helped  in  the  business  for so many years. Noddy Boffin was a broad, round-shouldered old fellow with bright grey eyes.  He wore  thick,  heavy clothes  and always  carried  a  strong  stick.  He  and his  wife  were  simple  and uneducated, but they were honest and kind people.

Mr Boffin had gone to see Mr Mortimer Lightwood who was now his lawyer.

'Well, Mr Boffin,' said Mortimer. 'I am happy to tell you that Mr Harmon left a hundred thousand pounds which now belong to you.'

'I don't know what to say,' said Mr Boffin. 'It's a great deal of money,  but  it  never  did  the  old  man  any  good.  An d  it's  done no good to his poor,  dead boy.  Mrs Boffin often cried over that child. His father sent him away to a foreign school when he was only seven years old. An d now he has been wickedly murdered.

17

The Golden Dustman

'Mrs  Boffin and me^6  gain by his  death,'  Mr Boffin went on.

'So we have decided to offer a reward^3   of ten thousand pounds. Ten thousand pounds to the man who finds John Harmon's murderer.'

'Mr  Boffin,  that  is  too  much,  far  too  much.'  But  Mortimer

Lightwood could not make Mr Boffin change his mind.

Th e old man walked slowly home, thinking about the troubles that the money might bring to his wife and himself.  After some time, he noticed that a young man was following him.

'Now  then,  what's  the  trouble?'  said  Mr  Boffin,  stopping suddenly  and  looking hard  at  the  young man.  'You  don't know me and I don't know you.'

'I am nobody,' said the young man.  'But I know you are the rich Mr Boffin.'

'Rich? So that's it. I thought money would come into it. Wha t is it you want?'

'I want a job. I would like to be your secretary. You would find me useful and honest. I am not interested in money, believe me. '

'Where have you come from?'

'From many places. But at present I am living in Mr Wilfer's house. My name is John Rokesmith.'

'Wilfer? Bella Wilfer's father. Now that's very strange.  Well, I like the look of you. Come and see me in about two weeks' time. Mr Lightwood will send you our new address. Mrs Boffin and I are moving into a bigger house. Mrs Boffin wants to go into society^1. And she wants to go in for Fashion^1  in a big way!'

As  soon as he  got home,  Mr Boffin told his  wife  about the strange young man.

'Perhaps  we  shall  need  a  secretary,  Noddy  dear,'  she  said.

'We'll be  living  in  a  grand,  new  house  and  someone  must  take care of the bills. Now I've something to tell you. I've been thinking about that poor girl. She has lost a husband and all the money too. We haven't any children of our own. Why don't we ask Bella to live with us?'

18

The Golden Dustman

'Well, that's a good idea,' said Mr Boffin cheerfully. 'What a clever woman you are, Mrs Boffin! It's a pleasure to know you! It's been a pleasure to know you for many years.'

And the old man gave his wife a hug and a kiss.

Tha t same evening, Mr and Mrs Boffin drove up to the Wilfers' house in their fine, new carriage.

'Mrs Boffin and I have come to say that we want to help your daughter,  Bella,'  Mr  Boffin  told  the  Wilfers.  'If Miss  Bella will make her home with us, we shall be very happy. We plan to go into society and meet the very best people. A beautiful girl like Miss Bella will do very well in society, we are sure.'

'You are very kind,' said Bella, shaking back her brown curls.

'You are much too pretty to keep yourself shut up,'  said Mrs Boffin kindly. 'We are going to live in a grand, new house. We'll go everywhere and see everything. You mustn't dislike us because of the money, my dear.'

Bella had a kind heart too. She smiled at Mrs Boffin and kissed her. An d so everything was decided. As soon as the Boffins moved into their new home, Bella would go and live with them.

'By th e way,' said Mr Boffin as he stood up to go, 'I believe you have a lodger.'

'There is a gentleman living upstairs,' Mrs Wilfer replied. 'His name is Mr John Rokesmith.'

'So  Mr  John  Rokesmith  is  Our  Mutual  Friend^5,'  said  Mr

Boffin. 'What sort of fellow is he? Do you get on well with him?'

'Mr  Rokesmith  is  very  quiet  and  polite.  A  very  sensible young man.'

'I'm glad to hear you speak well of him,' Mr Boffin answered.

'Mr Rokesmith is at home now,' said Mr Wilfer. 'In fact, I can see him standing at the gate. He is waiting to see you, perhaps, Mr Boffin?'

19

The  Golden Dustman

Whe n  Mr  and  Mrs  Boffin  left,  Bella  walked  to  the  gate with them.

'How are you, sir?' said Mr Boffin, turning to the young man.

'This is my wife, Mrs Boffin. Mr Rokesmith, my dear.'

Th e  Boffins  got  into  their  carriage,  and  Mrs  Boffin  waved cheerfully  out  of  the  carriage  window.  'Goodbye,  Bella,'  she called. 'We'll meet again soon.'

Bella stood by th e gate with Mr Rokesmith. She was quite sure that Mr Rokesmith thought her beautiful. Did Bella like him or not? She could not make up her mind. But she certainly thought a lot about him.

'The Boffins are good people,' John Rokesmith said at last.

'Do  you  know  them  well,   sir?'   asked  Bella  in  her  most polite voice.

'I have only heard people talking about their kindness. They call  Mr  Boffin  the  Golden  Dustman.  Th e  Boffins  will  be  good friends to you, Miss Wilfer. I am sure you know why they are being so kind.'

Bella did not answer  and very soon she went back  into  the house. But Mr Rokesmith stood by the gate for a long time, alone with his thoughts.

20

Another Death

t was a cold night. Th e wind was blowing hard. It blew dust and paper about in the dark London streets.

I

Eugene Wrayburn looked  idly   out  of his  window onto  the churchyard below. Dust and paper were blowing about there too.

'It  looks  as  if the  churchyard  ghosts  were  rising  from  their graves,' said Eugene.

'And this looks like one of the ghosts now,' Mortimer said as a dark figure appeared.

'Who are you?' he called to the man below.

'I'm looking for someone,' a rough voice answered. 'Is one of you Lawyer Lightwood?'

'One of us is.'

'All  right.  I'm  here  on  business.'  Th e  figure  moved  and  a footstep was heard on the stairs.  Mortimer opened the door and Eugene lit the candles.

Th e man stood in the doorway holding an old, wet cap in his hands. Mortimer took a step towards him.

'I'm Lightwood. Why do you want a lawyer?'

'Sir,' said the man in a low,  rough voice,  'I want to take an oath^3 . I want my words written down and signed as the truth.'

'First tell me why you are here.'

'It's about a ten thousand pound reward. It's about Murder.'

'Sit down,' said Lightwood. 'What's your name?'

'Rogue Riderhood.'

'Where do you live and what's your work?'

'By the river. On the river.'

Eugene leant back in his  chair,  smoking. His pen was ready and his eyes were on Riderhood as he began speaking.

'Let this be written down. I give information that the man who

22

Another Death

done^6  the Harmon Murder is Jesse Hexam. His hand done it and no other.'

'Why do you say this?'

'I know his ways. I was his partner. I've watched him for many long days and nights. I stopped working with him because I didn't trust him.  His daughter will tell you a different story,  of course. She'll tell any lie to save her father.'

'You have no proof,' said Lightwood.

'Haven't  I?'  cried  Riderhood.  'But  he  told  me  he  done  it. Hexam told me himself.  "I  done  it for his  money.  Don't betray me." Those were his own words.'

'Why didn't you tell anyone this before?' asked Eugene. 'Why did you wait until a reward was offered?'

Riderhood turned suddenly like an angry dog.

'I want to forget the trouble. Why shouldn't I have the money? I want the reward. I tell you Hexam done it and I want him caught

-  tonight!'

There was silence.

'I suppose we must take this fellow to the police station,' Lightwood said at last.

'I suppose we must.' Eugene looked hard at Riderhood. 'You don't say that Hexam's daughter knew about this?'

'No, I don't. All I know is his words to me: "I done it." Those were his words.'

Riderhood led the way through the dark night. As they passed by Hexam's house, Riderhood looked through the window.

'Hexam's out. An d his boat's gone.  But his daughter's there, getting supper ready. He'll be back soon.'

At the police station, the same Inspector was there as before. Whe n he had heard Riderhood's story, he stood up and put a pair of handcuffs in his pocket.

They went back to Hexam's house and stood waiting by the riverside.   Eugene   looked  at  the   lighted  window.   He  walked towards  it.  Lizzie  was  sitting  by  the  fire,  her  hands  over  her

24

Another Death

face. Eugene saw that she was crying. He made no noise, but suddenly Lizzie stood up. Eugene drew back into the shadows as she opened the door.

'Father, was that you calling me?' Lizzie cried out. 'Father, Father.' Th e wind blew her words away and  after  a few minutes she  went back  into  the  house.  Eugene  moved quietly back and stood with the others.

Time passed. The dark shapes of boats moved up and down the river. Th e tide^2  was up now and the water was very near. They could see th e river and they could see the house.

'It will be light at five,' said the Inspector.

'He may be keeping away on purpose,' said Riderhood. 'Why don't  I  take  my  boat  and  have  a  look  round?  I  know  all  his hiding-places.'

More tha n an hour passed before Riderhood returned.

'Have you seen him?' asked the Inspector.

'I've seen his boat.'

'What! Empty?'

'Yes,  it's caught between two lines of barges^2. An d one oar's gone.'

'Where is Hexam, then?'

'I  can't think.  But he  always was  a  cheat^5 .  I  told you that. Come in my boat and see for yourselves.'

The wind beat the rain in their faces. They were shivering and wet and the old boat was low in the water. Riderhood kept near to the shore.

'Now tell me I'm a liar,' he said at last, pointing to something between the barges.

'That  is  Hexam's  boat,'  said  the  Inspector.  'I  know  it  well. Now I must have a look at that boat.'

'That's not so easy,' said Riderhood, pulling at the rope which was stretched tightly under the water.

'I must have that rope up,' replied the Inspector.

It was  a  slow  and  terrible  kind  of fishing.  At  last,  the rope

25

Another Death

came free. Riderhood leant over the side of the boat and gave a loud cry.

'By the Lord, he's done me!'

'Wha t do you mean?' they all asked.

'Look, it's him. He's cheated me!'

They  pulled  together  on  the  rope.  The n  Riderhood  rowed back to the shore. They laid the body on the ground. Th e  man had been dead some hours.

Jesse Hexam lay strangled, his neck caught in his own rope.

'Father, was that you calling me? Father!' Words never to be answered. 'Father, did you call me?'

Th e  wind  moved  the  hair  and  the  rain  fell  upon  the  dead, cold face.

26

The New Secretary

5

The New Secretary

r  and Mrs  Boffin had moved into  their grand,  new house. Its  many large rooms were full  of the finest furniture.  Mrs

M

Boffin was dressed in the height of fashion. These two good people now had many servants. An excellent cook had just made them a delicious meal. But Mr and Mrs Boffin were both unhappy as they sat together in their comfortable sitting-room. Mrs  Boffin had a worried  look  on her pleasant face.  She  looked  anxiously  at her husband.

Mr Boffin, wearing a green velvet jacket, was sitting at a desk, looking sadly at a pile of papers: invitations, bills for everything, and  letters  from  all  kinds  of people  -  most  of them  asking  for money.

Mr Boffin had been using ink and some of it had got onto his face, hands and clothes.

Th e front doorbell rang.

'Mr John Rokesmith,' said the servant.

Mr Boffin put down his pen with a smile. 'You remember, my dear,  Our and the Wilfers' Mutual Friend. To tell you the truth, Mr Rokesmith, I am very pleased to see you. You wanted to be my secretary, I believe.'

Mr Rokesmith nodded.

'Now then, ' said Mr Boffin.' If you worked for me, what would you do?'

'I would make a note of all the money you spent, Mr Boffin, and pay the bills. I would write your letters and do all your business for you.'

Mr Boffin rubbed his ear and looked at his wife.

'I tell you what, Mr Rokesmith,' he said, 'I'd like to see you do something with these papers.'

28

Mr Rokesmith took Mr Boffin's place at the desk. He looked at every paper carefully and put them all into several neat piles. He  told Mr  Boffin what the papers  were  about.  At Mrs  Boffin's request he wrote a letter in good, clear handwriting.

'Very  good,'  said  Mrs   Boffin  happily.  She  turned  to  her husband.  'You  must  ask  Mr  Rokesmith  to  start  work  at  once. We need him, I can see that.'

Mr Boffin always took his wife's advice.  Mr John Rokesmith became the Boffins' new secretary.

Th e new secretary was quiet and careful. He was given a small room as an office and he worked there for many hours a day. And yet he always seemed to be unhappy. Mr Rokesmith was a young man, but his face always looked very sad.

Th e new  secretary worked well; but there was  one  thing he would not do.  He  always refused to visit Mr Boffin's lawyer,  Mr Lightwood. Th e secretary wrote letters to Mr Lightwood, but he would never see him.

One  evening,  when  his  work  was  over  for  the  day,  Mr Rokesmith met Miss Bella Wilfer. She was taking a walk near her home. Bella was no longer dressed in black and she looked more beautiful tha n ever. Mr Rokesmith spoke in his usual quiet way.

'I have a message for you, Miss Wilfer, from Mrs Boffin.'

'Oh, yes?'

'She will be ready to take you into her home in a week or two. I  must tell you that I  shall be  there too.  I  am now Mr Boffin's secretary.'

'I didn't know that,' said Bella slowly.

'Excuse me, Miss Wilfer. I now know the reason for the black dress you wore before. I understand your loss. But the Boffins will do their best to make you happy. I hope you will forgive me for saying these few words.'

'I do not usually think about your words at all, sir,' said Bella. And she turned and walked quickly into the house.

Mr John Rokesmith stood by the garden gate.

29

The New Secretary

'So rude, so careless, but so very beautiful,' he said to himself. An d the n he added, 'If she only knew!'

Th e secretary had little sleep that night.  He  could be heard walking up  and down,  up and down his room,  like a ghost that cannot rest.

An d so Miss Bella Wilfer went to live in the house of the Golden Dustman. She wore the finest, most fashionable clothes, and she grew more beautiful every day. She went with Mr and Mrs Boffin into  the  very  best  society.  Th e  very  best  society  admired  Miss Wilfer,  and  Miss  Wilfer knew  it.  She  became,  perhaps,  a  little more proud, a little more spoilt^4. She certainly became very interested  in  money  and  in  all  the  pretty  things  she  could  buy with  it.  If she  thought about her  old  home  and her family,  she never talked about them.

Mr John Rokesmith noticed all these things, but he said nothing.

30

6

Mr Bradley Headstone - Schoolmaster

harley Hexam, away from his sister, away from the old life on the river, was working hard. He went first to a poor school,

C

and,  later,  to  a better one.  He  studied hard and soon became a pupil-teacher . His schoolmaster was Mr Bradley Headstone.

Th e  schoolmaster  was  a  young  man  of  twenty-six,  but  he did everything slowly and carefully,  like  a much older man.  He had  worked hard  to  become  a  schoolmaster,  learning  facts  like a  machine.  He  spoke  correctly  and  dressed  neatly.  He  seemed calm^4,  but  deep  feelings  burned  inside him.  Bradley  Headstone wanted Charley to do well and improve   himself, as he had done.

'So you want to  see your sister,  Hexam,' said Mr Headstone one day when school was over.

'If you please,' said Charley.

'I think perhaps I should go with you. Th e question is, is your sister good company for you now?'

'Lizzie was good for me before. She made me go to school when my father was against it,' said the boy. 'I would like you to come with me, Mr Headstone. My sister likes to meet people.'

So Charley Hexam and the schoolmaster visited Lizzie together.  They  walked  towards  the  river,  but  not  to  the  old place. They crossed over a bridge and came at last to a quiet row of houses in a small square.

Charley knocked at a door and it opened by itself. In the room beyond sat a child or perhaps a young girl.

'I can't get up,' said this person, 'because my back's bad and my legs are queer^5. Wha t do you want, young man?'

'My name is Hexam.  I've come to see my sister. This is my schoolmaster and good friend, Mr Headstone.'

'Is   it   indeed?  Take  a  seat,   Charley  Hexam.   I've  heard

31

Mr Bradley Headstone - Schoolmaster

about you. Your sister will be home very soon. And you're a schoolmaster, Mr Headstone,' she went on,  'perhaps you can tell me what I do?'

There was a work-bench in front of the girl. On it were scissors and knives, brushes, and bright pieces of cloth.

'You're  a  ladies'  dressmaker,  perhaps?'  suggested the  school•

master.

'Yes,  and  what  fine  ladies  they  are!  I'm  Miss  Jenny  Wren, Dolls' Dressmaker^5. It's hard work and poorly paid.'

'Do you sit here alone all day?' asked Charley. 'Don't you see any children?'

Miss Jenny Wren gave  a  little  cry.  'Children!  I  hate  them. They laugh at me because my back's bad and my legs are queer. No . No children for me. Give me grown-ups.'

She listened and then smiled.  'Now here  comes  a grown-up who's my special friend,' said Jenny.

Lizzie Hexam came quietly into the room. She was wearing a neat black dress. She looked at her brother with a happy smile.

'Charley, what a surprise. I did not expect to see you here.'

'I told Mr Headstone about you, and he wanted to see you.'

'Is my brother doing well, Mr Headstone?' Lizzie asked.

'He  could  not  do  better.  He  will  soon  be  a  teacher  if he works hard.'

Bradley Headstone  was  surprised by  Lizzie's  beauty  and  her soft voice.

'How do you like  it here,  Lizzie?'  Charley asked.  'You have your own room, I hope.'

'Yes,  upstairs,'  said  Miss Jenny Wren sharply.  'And  she  has this room for the use of visitors.'

Mr Bradley Headstone noticed Lizzie move her hand as Jenny said this. Did she want to stop the Dolls' Dressmaker from saying more?

'Why don't we walk towards the river?' Lizzie suggested. 'You have a long way to go home, Charley.'

32

Mr Bradley Headstone - Schoolmaster

Whe n they were out in the quiet streets,  Bradley Headstone walked ahead and Charley spoke to his sister.

'What  a  poor  place  you  have  chosen  to  live  in,  Lizzie,'  he said  crossly.  'I  am  ashamed  that  Mr  Headstone  saw  you  there. It's difficult for me, Lizzie, remember that.  I'm trying to improve myself, because I want to do well in life.'

Brother and sister were standing near the river now, near the wide bridge.

'This is father's grave, Charley,' Lizzie said. 'I hate the river, but for him I must stay near it. I feel sometimes that I shall never get away from it. But I am able to help poor Jenny and she is a true friend.

'You'd better go now,  Charley.  Mr Headstone is  waiting for you. You'll walk much faster without me. I'll stand here for a while and the n go back to Jenny.'

Th e  schoolmaster  and  his  pupil  said  goodbye  to  Lizzie  and crossed the bridge  in silence.  A gentleman was coming towards them, walking slowly and smoking a cigar. Charley looked at him hard as he passed.

'Who are you staring at?' Bradley Headstone asked.

'It's that man. His name is Wrayburn. I don't like him. He was very rude to me once. An d he took too much notice of my sister.'

'Wha t is he doing here? Does he know your sister? Is he going to see her?'

'He  can't be.  He  has  no  business  with her.  He  is  a  lawyer. And a gentleman, I suppose.' Charlie looked back but Wrayburn had gone.

'I  hope  Lizzie  will not  disgrace^1   me  by  meeting  that  man,' Charley said. 'She has never been to school, Mr Headstone. She doesn't know how to behave.'

'Your  sister  does   no t   speak   like   an  uneducated  person, Charley. With a careful teacher, she could do very well.'

'I have often thought about it, Mr Headstone,' Charley answered.  'Lizzie needs a good teacher. The n she might be able

34

Mr Bradley Headstone - Schoolmaster

to improve herself like me. I don't want her to drag^1  me back to the old life. Perhaps you could help her, Mr Headstone?'

'Yes, Charley, I will.'

The two young men walked back to their home in silence. The brother and the schoolmaster were both thinking about Lizzie Hexam. Both of them thought about Eugene Wrayburn too,  and of the part he might be playing in Lizzie's life.

Miss  Jenny  Wren  sat  working  quietly  until  Lizzie  came  back alone.

'Well, Lizzie,' she said, 'what's the news out of doors?' For the

Dolls' Dressmaker could only walk with her crutches^5  and never went out for pleasure.

'What's  the  news  indoors?'  Lizzie  answered  with  a  smile, putting her hand gently on Jenny's long, fair hair.

'Well, let me see. I don't like your brother, Miss Lizzie. An d I

don't like the schoolmaster, either.'

Lizzie  did not  answer.  As  the  girl  turned  to  light  a  candle, Jenny saw a shadow of a man waiting outside the door.

'Mr Eugene Wrayburn, isn't it?' she called. 'You may come in if you're good.'

'I  am  not  good,'  said  Eugene  in  his  careless  way,  'but  I'll come in.

'I  saw your brother,  I  think,  Lizzie.' Eugene went on.  'Who

was the man with him?'

'His  schoolmaster.' Lizzie sat very still and did not raise her eyes to Wrayburn's face.

'I thought he looked like one. My friend Lightwood has been watching Riderhood, Lizzie, but he has nothing to report.' The n he  added  in  a  quieter  voice,   'Have  you  thought  about  my suggestion, Lizzie?'

'I have thought about it, Mr Wrayburn. But I cannot accept your offer.'

35

Mr Bradley Headstone - Schoolmaster

'Why won't you let me help you? I am only trying to be of some help — to you and to Miss Jenny Wren. I've found a kind woman to give you lessons. The money is nothing. Your pride hurts yourself and your friend, Lizzie. And it does wrong to your dead father.'

'To my father? What do you mean, sir?'

'He  was  unable  to  give  you  an  education.  Now you have  a chance to become educated.'

The poor girl began to cry softly.

'Don't cry,' said Eugene. 'I only wanted to help you and Miss

Jenny. Truly, Lizzie, I think of you as a friend.'

Eugene's  kind  words  made  Lizzie  feel  that  she  was  in  the wrong. She looked up at Eugene with a smile.

'Very well, Mr Wrayburn. I accept your offer for myself and for

Jenny.'

As Lizzie spoke, Jenny nodded her head sharply.

'The n  it's  settled,'  said  Eugene,   'there's  nothing  more  to be said.'

'Good,' said Miss Jenny Wren, making a sharp sound with her scissors. 'So we won't keep you any longer.'

'I understand, Miss Wren. You want me to go.'

Eugene took Lizzie's hands gently in his for a moment. The n he walked out of the door in his careless way. The smell of his cigar stayed for a little time in the small, dark room.

36

'What Are You Doing?'

s   the  months  went  by,   Mortimer  Lightwood  noticed  a difference in his friend, Eugene Wrayburn.

A

'Eugene,' he said,  as they sat together one evening, 'you are hiding something from me.'

Eugene looked at Mortimer with a smile.

'Am I?' he said at last. 'Well, perhaps I am. Perhaps I am not. You know how bored I get, Mortimer. I must have something to interest me.'

'I hope you will do nothing to hurt yourself, Eugene, or .. . to

hurt anyone else.'

'I hope not,' said Eugene in his careless, tired way. He stood

up and looked out of the window.

'Look,  here's  something  of  interest  now.  Two  men  down below. They are stopping here, I think. Yes, they are coming up the stairs.'

There was a knock at the door. Mortimer opened it. Outside

stood  young  Charley  Hexam  and   the   schoolmaster.  Charley spoke a few words and Mortimer turned to his friend.

'Charley Hexam says he has something to say to you, Eugene.'

'To me? Surely not.'

'Yes,  to you,  Mr Eugene Wrayburn,' said the boy  in a hard,

angry voice.

'My  dear  Schoolmaster,'  said  Eugene  slowly.   'You  should teach your pupil better manners.' Wrayburn looked for a moment at Bradley Headstone's face. Anger could be seen there, anger and a burning jealousy.

'Mr  Wrayburn,'  Charley  said,  coming  into  the  room,  'you

have been seeing my sister. You have often visited her. I have come to ask you why. You are a gentleman. My sister is a poor girl. Your

37

'What Are You Doing?'

visits  will  do  her  harm.  And  I  have  another  thing  to  say.  We have  a plan,  Mr Headstone and I, for my sister's education.  But now we find that she is already being taught. And we find that you, Mr Wrayburn, are paying for that teaching.'

Charley looked at Mortimer and the n back at Eugene.

'I am Lizzie's brother,' Charley went on.  'Why has this been done without my knowledge? I have plans for my sister.  I don't want her to  accept help from anyone - except from  me  and Mr Headstone. If you don't listen to me now, Mr Wrayburn, it will be the worse for Lizzie, remember that.'

'May  I   suggest,   Mr  Schoolmaster,'  said  Eugene,   looking carefully  at  his  cigar,  'may  I  suggest  that  you  take  your  pupil away? You have not taught him good manners, whatever else he knows.'

'Go downstairs,  Charley,' Headstone said to  the boy.  'I  will speak to him.' Headstone spoke quietly,  but there was sweat on his face and he began to shake with anger.

'Because I have worked to improve myself, you think I am dirt beneath your feet,' he said. 'You may speak rudely to that boy, but not to me, sir, not to me.

'I  wish  I  could  control myself,'  the  schoolmaster continued.

'I wish I could show you how strongly I feel. You would listen to me then.'

'Your pupils listen to you all day, Schoolmaster. Tha t should be enough for you,' Eugene answered. 'I suggest that you leave us now and join your young pupil downstairs.'

'I  must  first  tell  you,  sir,  that  I  strongly disapprove  of your meetings with Lizzie Hexam. They will do her great harm.'

Eugene smiled.

'I  think you have  an  interest  in  her  too.  The  interest  of a schoolmaster, or perhaps something more?'

'Take  care,  Mr Wrayburn. You will find me strongly against you, if you do not listen to my words. I may not be a gentleman, but I know what is right.'

38

'What Are You Doing?'

Bradley Headstone walked away and shut the door heavily behind him.

'Eugene,  Eugene,'  said  Mortimer.  'I  am  sorry  about  this.  I

have been so blind not to see it before.'

'Don't make a mistake, Mortimer. There is no better girl in

London tha n Lizzie Hexam, poor as she is.'

'The n it's the worse for you, Eugene. Do you plan to trap this girl and the n leave her?'

'My dear fellow, no.'

'Do you plan to marry her then, or only to make her love you for your own idle pleasure?'

'My dear fellow,  I  don't plan anything, you know that.  How

can  I?  It  is  impossible  for  me  to  plan.  I  have  never  planned anything in my life.'

'But is what these people say true? Do you meet Lizzie Hexam? Are you paying for her teaching?'

'Yes, to all those questions, my dear friend. How like a lawyer you sound tonight!'

'The n what is going to happen? Wha t are you doing?'

'My dear Mortimer, I would answer you at once if I could. But I can't. I have no answer. Believe me, my dear friend, I wish I knew the answers to your questions. But I don't. There is not one clear thought in my head!'

39

Bella's New Life

8

Bella's New Life

oddy  Boffin,  the  Golden  Dustman,  was  as  happy  with his new life and his grand house as he would ever be. Mrs Boffin

N

took him  into  the  best  society  and  dressed herself in  the  latest fashions. Society accepted the Boffins because they were rich.

Miss Bella Wilfer was delighted with her new life. She loved wearing the fashionable clothes that made her look more beautiful tha n ever before. She enjoyed being seen and admired.

Mr Rokesmith worked hard, but he never went into society.

'He does  all the work I  give him and more,'  Mr Boffin told

Bella one day. 'But he won't meet anyone here but you.'

'Perhaps  Mr  Rokesmith  thinks  he   is  too  good  for  other people,'  said  Bella,  tossing  her  pretty  head.  'Why  should  we think  about  him?'  Th e  truth  was  that  Bella  thought  about  Mr Rokesmith a great deal.

'He won't even meet Mr Lightwood,' Mr Boffin went on. 'He refuses to see him at any time.'

Oh, thought Miss Bella, he's jealous of Mr Lightwood, is he? But Mr Rokesmith was always waiting when Bella came home

from dinner or a play. He was always there to help Mrs Boffin from her carriage.

'Have  you  got  any  messages  for  me,   Miss  Wilfer?'   Mr

Rokesmith asked Bella one day.

'Wha t do you mean, Mr Rokesmith?'

'I mean that I live  in your father's house, your old home.  It would be very easy for me to give your family a message. To tell them the time of your next visit, perhaps.'

Bella felt unhappy and ashamed. She knew that she did not visit her family as often as she ought to.

'As  you  know,'  Mr  Rokesmith  went  on,  'I  come  and  go

40

between  the  two  houses  every  day.  It  would  be  easy  for  me  to tell them the date of your next visit.'

'The n I can tell you, Mr Rokesmith, that I am going to visit

them tomorrow.'

'May I take that message tonight?'

'If you like. I shall certainly see them tomorrow.'

Bella was angry with herself. Mr Rokesmith had made her feel selfish and unkind.

He is quite right, she told herself. I ought to go to visit dear Pa

more often. But why do I care what Mr Rokesmith thinks about me? He is only a secretary, so why should I care about him?

The  following  day,  Bella  visited  her  old  home  in  Mrs  Boffin's fine, new carriage. Before very long, she had quarrelled with her sisters, and her mother had made rude remarks about Mrs Boffin. As Bella was leaving, she saw that Mr Rokesmith was standing by the gate.

'Mr Boffin meant to give you this before you left this morning,' he said.  'It is only a little purse, but I told him I would bring it to you.'

'Thank you,  Mr Rokesmith.  As  you  see,  I  have  visited my family here, and I am just going.'

Whe n Bella was in the carriage, she looked inside the pretty little purse. There was a banknote for fifty pounds.

'Now  Mr  Rokesmith  will  see  that  I  don't  always  think  of myself,' Bella thought. 'This is going to be a surprise for my dear Pa. I'll go straight to his office now.'

Mr Wilfer was hard at work when Bella arrived.  He  left his desk and ran out to the carriage with his pen in his hand.

'My dear child,' he cried, 'what a lovely woman you are! An d what a fine carriage too.'

'Dear Pa, I have been away from you too long. Ask if you can leave work now. Your lovely woman has a surprise for you!'

41

Bella's New Life

Mr Wilfer hurried away and Bella looked after him with tears in her eyes. I hate that secretary for thinking I am selfish, but I'm afraid it's half true, she said to herself.

But  Bella  loved  her  father.  She  handed him  her  purse  and made him buy a new suit,  a new ha t and boots of the very best leather.

Bella walked round her father proudly. 'You look a new man, Pa,' she told him.

'To tell you the truth, my dear, I don't feel like myself at all. I have never had enough money before to buy everything new at the same time.'

'Well, it improves you, Pa. An d now the new man is going to take this lovely woman out to dinner.' So away they went and had a happy meal together.

'I suppose, my dear,' said Pa after dinner,  'that we have lost you for ever?'

'All  I  know,  Pa,  is  that  the  Boffins  give  me  the  best  of everything.  But  the  best  of everything may not  be  the  best for me!  Oh,  Pa,  I can think of nothing but money. I am so greedy for all the things it can buy. An d as I can't beg, borrow or steal money, I have made up my mind to marry someone with money.'

'My dear Bella. I want you to be happy. Put love and happiness first.' Mr Wilfer had not married for money, but his marriage had not been at all happy.

'You see, Pa, I do hate being poor,' Bella went on. 'We can't talk  of love.  Money  must  come  first.'  But  as  she  spoke,  Bella took  the  rest  of the  money from  her purse  and  put  it  into  her father's hand.

Bella cried that night when she was alone. First she cried about old John Harmon's will,  and then she  cried because his son had not lived to marry her.

From the beginning, John Rokesmith showed how fond he was of

42

Bella's New Life

Mrs Boffin. He spoke to her politely and kindly, as a young man would speak to his own mother. He liked to hear her talk about little John Harmon and of her kindness to him as a child.

'You  have  loved  children  well,  Mrs  Boffin.  Children  who know only kindness are fortunate.'

'You speak sadly, Mr Rokesmith,' said Mrs Boffin.  'Were you one of many children?'

'I had only one sister. She died long ago.'

'Father or mother alive?'

'Dead. Both dead.'

At  this  moment,  Bella  came  quietly  into  the  room.  She stood  by  the  door,  unseen.  She  noticed  the  sad  look  on John Rokesmith's face and suddenly she felt unhappy.

'Now  don't  mind  an  old  lady's  questions,'  Mrs  Boffin  was saying, 'but tell me. Are you sure that you have never been made unhappy by love? You have a sad look for a young man. You can't be thirty yet.'

John  Rokesmith  agreed  that  he  was  under  thirty.  But  to Bella's disappointment, he gave no  answer to Mrs  Boffin's other question.

43

9

'You Are The Ruin Of Me'

r  Bradley  Headstone  was  now  a  desperate^4   and  unhappy man.  He  had  fallen  in  love  with  Lizzie  Hexam  and  his

M

whole life had been changed. He tried to hide his feelings, but he could not.

One  evening,  he  walked  across  the  river  to  Westminster, where  the  Dolls'  Dressmaker  had  her  little  home.  Miss  Jenny Wren was alone, busy at her work.

Oh,  it's you,  is  it, she thought. I know your tricks, School•

master.

'Miss Lizzie Hexam is not at home yet,' she told him sharply.

'I will wait if you please. I want to speak to her.'

'You bring a message from Charley, sir?' Lizzie asked when she came in a little later.

'Not  exactly.  I  have  come  to  speak  about  your  brother's plans  for your education.  An d  to  speak about  .  .  .  Mr Eugene Wrayburn.'

Lizzie looked at him in surprise, but said nothing.

'I am a man of strong feelings, Miss Hexam,' the schoolmaster went  on.  'I  feel  most  strongly  that  you have  disappointed your brother. This man, Wrayburn, has spoken most rudely to your brother, and to me, your brother's friend.'

'I am sure that you mean to help me, Mr Headstone. But I had agreed to  Mr Wrayburn's offer before  Charley had  any plans for my  teaching.  I have nothing more  to  say  to you or  to  Charley about it. Jenny and I  already have a good and kind lady as  our teacher.'

'I had hoped to be your teacher, myself,' Bradley said. His face turned first white and the n red as he spoke.

'We must talk about this and other matters at another time,'

44

'You Are The Ruin Of Me'

he said at last. 'I shall be honest with you and you must be honest with me. But I cannot speak to you now, I cannot find the words. Goodnight.'

He held out his hand. Lizzie touched it with hers for a moment. The schoolmaster's body shook and a look of pain passed over his face. The n he was gone.

'He is a strange man,' said Lizzie thoughtfully.

'A very strange man, ' said Jenny. 'But let's talk about another man, Lizzie. Let's talk about Mr Eugene Wrayburn. I wonder now

- is he rich?'

'No, not rich. In fact, poor although he is a gentleman.'

'A gentleman. An d would you love him  if you were  a  lady, Lizzie?'

'I, a lady? Lizzie Hexam? I who used to row my father on the river every night?'

'But if a lady loved him, what would that lady be like?' Lizzie stared into the fire.

'The lady who marries Mr Wrayburn must be rich - for he is

poor. She will be beautiful, of course.'

'As you are, Lizzie dear.'

'She will love him with all her heart,' Lizzie continued. 'She will be ready to die with him - or to die for him. Wit h the help of that lady, he would become a better man. She would give him happiness - as I would try to do.'

Lizzie  took her friend's hand  and Jenny  saw  that  tears  were falling from Lizzie's eyes.

'My poor Lizzie,' Jenny said quietly. 'My poor Lizzie, you need more help tha n I do.'

Bradley Headstone was now torn by his love for Lizzie and by his jealousy of Eugene Wrayburn. Th e day came when he could hide his feelings no longer.

One dull evening he went with Charley to speak to Lizzie. Th e

45

'You Are The Ruin Of Me'

young  men  knew  that Jenny  Wren  did  not  like  them.  For  this reason, Charley had planned to meet his sister on her way home from work.

'You cannot speak in front of that Jenny,'  Charley said.  'We shall succeed tonight, Mr Headstone, and the n everything will be settled. Our plan must work. It will be the best for everyone.'

Bradley Headstone did not reply. Th e grey, gloomy^5  evening made him feel unhappy and uncertain.

Th e two young men waited together at a place Lizzie had to pass on her way home. Lizzie was happy as usual to see her brother, but not so happy to see the schoolmaster again.

'Where are you going, Charley dear?' she asked.

'We have come to meet you Lizzie. There's a quiet place here, near this church, where we can talk.'

They walked together into a quiet churchyard, where the grey stones  were  the  same  colour  as  the  grey  evening  sky.  Charley stopped in this quiet place and looked hard at Lizzie.

'Mr Headstone has something to say to you, Lizzie. As I know what it is, I'll leave you alone with him. Please understand that I completely agree with what Mr Headstone has to say.'

'Charley, I think you had better stay.'

'No.  Be  sensible  Lizzie.  And  remember to  be  a  good  sister to me.'

Lizzie stood looking at the ground. Whe n she looked up again, Mr Headstone spoke.

'I have something that I must say to you,' began the school• master awkwardly^4. 'If I do not say it well, remember that you are not seeing me  at my best.  I  cannot speak well, but I  can speak plainly. Miss Hexam, you are the ruin^5  of me.'

Lizzie stared at him.

'Yes, you are my ruin,' he went on. 'I can think of nothing but you. It was an unhappy day for me when I first saw you. I think, perhaps, you will be the death of me.'

Th e young man struggled for a moment to find words and then

46

'You Are The Ruin Of Me'

went on; 'Many people think well of me.  I have worked hard to reach my position.'

'I am sure you have Mr Headstone. Charley has always told me so.'

'If I offered my house, my self and my position to any young schoolmistress, she would accept. But you, you alone, draw me to you. If I were shut in a prison, you could draw me out. You have power over me, only you!'

'Mr Headstone, I have heard enough. Let me call my brother.'

'Not yet. Walk here with me a little way.'

They walked slowly along the hard, grey stones of the churchyard.  Th e  schoolmaster  stopped  and  gripped  one  of  the gravestones as though he would pull it from the ground.

'You know what I  am going to say.  I  love you.  I have tried not  to  say  it,  but  I  must.  You could draw me  to  fire,  water,  to death.  But  if you  married  me,  you  could  draw  me  to  good.  I would give you all you needed. You would be proud of my work. Your brother knows of my idea, and he wishes us to live and work together.'

'Mr Headstone . . .'

'Stop. Give yourself time to think. Let us walk on.' Again they walked, again he held a stone.

'Is it yes or no?'

'Mr Headstone, I thank you, but it is no.'

'Can you not give me an answer in a few days? Surely you have not decided?'

'I have decided, Mr Headstone. My answer will always be no.'

'Then,'  he  said  in  a  terrible  voice,  bringing his hand down hard on the stone, 'then I hope that I never kill him!'

Th e  dark  look  of hate  and  jealousy  on  his  face  frightened

Lizzie. She saw blood on his hand.

'Mr Headstone, let me go. I must call for help.'

'It  is  I  who  need  help.  Listen to  me!  Hear  this  name:  Mr

Eugene Wrayburn.'

47

'You Are The Ruin Of Me'

'Were you speaking of Mr Wrayburn just now? Is it him you are threatening^5 ?'

'Mr Wrayburn is that man. You listen to him, but not to me.'

'Mr Wrayburn has been kind to me,  sir,' said Lizzie proudly.

'He is my good friend. But what is he to you?'

'He is my rival^5.'

'Mr Headstone, I cannot allow you to go on. I must tell you that I do not like you. I have never liked you. But that has nothing to do with Mr Wrayburn.'

'I lie under that man's feet. He crushes me with clever words. How he will laugh at me now!'

'Mr Headstone, you are wrong, quite wrong.'

Charley returned and Lizzie took her brother's hand.

'Charley Hexam,' said Bradley Headstone, turning away from Lizzie,  'I  am going home.  I must go home alone  tonight.  I can speak to no one.  But you will find me at my work tomorrow as usual.'

'Wha t is the matter?' Charley asked angrily as Mr Headstone walked  away.  'Wha t  have  you  been  saying  to  my  best  friend, Lizzie? Tell me the truth. Why has he left us in this way?'

'He .. . he asked me to be his wife, Charley. I told him I could not marry him.'

'What! You selfish, ungrateful girl! I have tried to raise myself by hard work and you drag me down. He's worth fifty of you.'

'Perhaps he  is.  But I don't like him,  Charley. Sometimes he frightens me.'

Looking at his  sister's sad face, Charley spoke more quietly.

'Now,  come,  Liz,  don't  let's  quarrel.  Thin k  how  it  would help me  to  have  Mr  Headstone  as  a  brother-in-law.  You could  take a respectable place  in  society - away from the  river,  away from your  poor  friends.  Thin k  how  well  it  would  work  out  for  the three of us.'

Charley  stood  and  looked  at  Lizzie.  The n  seeing  that  her feelings had not changed, he went on,  'I thought you would do

'Then I hope that 1 never kill him!'                                                                                                                     4^9

'You Are The Ruin Of Me'

this for me,  Lizzie.  But I  can soon put things right.  I'll tell Mr

Headstone you will think about his offer again.'

'No,  Charley,  no.  Wha t  I  have  said  tonight,  I  have  said for ever.'

'And this girl,'  said Charley angrily,  'this girl  calls herself a sister!  I know what this means. This means you will continue to see  Mr  Eugene  Wrayburn.  But  you'll  not  disgrace  me  through him.  I'll have nothing more to do with you. You are  a bad girl and a bad sister.'

Charley held  up  his  hand,  as  though to  hit Lizzie,  the n he turned and walked quickly away.

'Oh, Charley, Charley,' was all Lizzie could say as she laid her burning face on the cold stone. The n as she stood up and began to move home, a low voice said, 'Why, Lizzie, what's the matter?'

'Mr Wrayburn, I cannot tell you now. Perhaps I will never tell you. Please leave me.'

'But I came here to see you, to walk home with you.'

'No, you must leave me - for your sake, as well as my own. But please, please take care.'

He said nothing, but gently took her arm and began to lead her home.

'I have been made very unhappy tonight, Mr Wrayburn. My brother has been unkind to me and, and . . . please remember what I told you. Take care.'

'Of what? Of whom?'

'Of anyone you have met and made angry.'

Nothing else was said. They walked quickly to the Dolls' Dressmaker's little house. Lizzie went in alone.

Well  now,  Eugene  said  to  himself.  Wha t  were  Lightwood's questions? 'Wha t is going to happen? Wha t are you doing?' We shall soon know now. An d sadly he turned and went on his way.

Whe n Eugene next visited the Dolls' Dressmaker's house, Lizzie

50

'You Are The Ruin Of Me'

was no longer there. Nothing would make Miss Jenny say where her friend had gone.

Eugene  searched for  Lizzie  Hexam  all  over  London,  but  he could not find her.

51

10

'What Use Is My Life To Me?'

ogue  Riderhood lived near  the  river  in  a  dark,  dirty house like an animal's hole. After Jesse Hexam's death, people kept

R

away from Riderhood and no one came to his house.

But  one  evening,  Riderhood had  a visitor.  He  was  a rough looking man with long hair and a thick beard. His skin was brown and he was dressed like a sailor. But Riderhood noticed that the man's hands were smooth and white.

'Have I seen you before?' Riderhood asked. 'You've not been to sea lately, I think.'

'You have sharp eyes,' said the man. 'I have been ill after a bad voyage. I lost everything and had to fight for my life. Will you take a drink with me?'

In answer, Riderhood took two dirty glasses from a shelf and put them down on a low table. Th e other man took a bottle and a knife from his deep pocket. With great care, he opened the bottle and the n put it and the knife on the table.

'I know that knife!' said Riderhood in surprise. 'It belonged to a sailor called George Radfoot.'

'It did.'

'What's happened to him?' asked Riderhood.

'He's dead. Killed in a most terrible way.'

'And that's his coat you're wearing too. I want to know more about George Radfoot. How did he die? An d how did you get his things?'

'He came to this house,' the stranger said.  'It was the night of the Harmon Murder. I know that you have tried to blame that killing on an innocent man. You did it for the reward, for money.'

'They  were  only  words,  sailor.  Hexam's  dead.  Words  can't hurt a dead man.'

52

'What Use Is My Life To Me?'

'But those words can hurt his children. Hexam had a son and a daughter. For their sake,  I'll make you swear^3  that Hexam was not the murderer.'

'But what about the reward?'  Riderhood asked angrily.  'Per•

haps I changed the truth a little. But I want that reward.'

'I alone know the truth of that dark night,' said the stranger.

'And when I claim the reward, you shall share it.'

Speaking these words slowly and clearly, the man got up. He gave Riderhood a hard look and walked slowly out into the wind and darkness. Outside, the man looked around him.

I have not been here since that night, he said to himself. Wha t happened then? I cannot remember.

Th e  man walked away from the river.  He  stopped at  a dark comer and pulled off his beard and long hair.

Th e man disguised as  a sailor was Mr Julius Handford. An d Mr  Julius  Handford  was  Mr  John  Rokesmith.  An d  Mr  John Rokesmith was . . . John Harmon.

Th e man walked on and  as he walked, he  spoke  to himself. Wha t  are  you going to  do,  John Harmon? Wha t  are  you going to do?

Harmon's thoughts went back to the day the ship arrived in London. George Radfoot, the man he had met on the ship, had taken him to Rogue Riderhood.

'Riderhood sells  sailors'  clothes,'  Radfoot had  told  Harmon.

'They will help you to disguise yourself.'

Harmon  tried  hard   to   remember  what  had  happened  at

Riderhood's.

I was given some coffee, Harmon said to himself. It must have been drugged. At once my thoughts became confused. I remember there  was  some  fighting  and  I  was  knocked down.  The n  much later, I was in the river - in black, deep water! I was drowning.

I called on God to help me. Somehow I got out of the water, icy cold and nearly dead. I was wearing Radfoot's clothes. I stayed in a hotel for twelve days, using the name of Handford.

54

'What Use Is My Life To Me?'

The n  I  saw  a  notice  saying  that  John  Harmon  had  been drowned. I went to the police station and saw the body of George Radfoot. He was dressed in my clothes. Radfoot, who had planned to murder me, had himself been murdered.

So everyone thought John Harmon was dead. Julius Handford became  John  Rokesmith,  Mr  Boffin's  secretary.  An d  now  John Rokesmith must ask himself this question: John Harmon is dead. Should he come back to life?

If the answer is yes, John told himself, I can inherit my father's money and with it buy the girl I love. For I love Bella Wilfer madly. But I want her to love me for my own sake, not for the sake of my money.

If the  answer  is  no,  then John Harmon stays  dead  and  the Boffins, those good, faithful people keep my father's money. They will help Bella, and slowly she will grow better. Slowly, she will grow less fond of money. This  is the answer.  Let things stay as they are.

I shall live quietly as the Boffins' secretary. I shall be helping the friends who were so kind to me as a child. The n one day, I shall ask Bella to marry me, not as a rich man, but as a poor secretary.

It   was   with   these   thoughts   tha t  Joh n   Harmo n   -  John Rokesmith - reached the  Boffins' house.  There he  changed into his usual clothes.

Mr  and  Mrs  Boffin were  out  and  Bella was  in the  drawing- room alone. How pretty she looked, how very, very pretty!

'Mr  Rokesmith,'  she  said,  'you  do  not  look  well.  You  are very pale.'

'I have had a busy evening, Miss Wilfer.' Bella looked down at the book in her hand.

'Mr Rokesmith,' she said. 'I was rude to you the last time we spoke together. But you have no right to think badly of me, sir.'

'You do not know how well I think of you, Miss Wilfer.'

'But you believe that I have forgotten my family and my old home. At least, you did think so.'

55

'What Use Is My Life To Me?'

'I only reminded you, Miss Wilfer. I wish to see you always at your best. I . . . shall I go on?'

'No,  sir,'  said  Bella.  'You have  said more  than enough. You know my position here, sir. You know yours. It is not honourable of you to say more.'

'Is it not honourable to love you with all my heart, to think of no one but you? I must go on, Miss Wilfer. I must tell you honestly that I love you and want to marry you.'

'I reject your offer, sir,' said Bella quickly.

'I already knew your answer. Forgive me.'

'This must be the end of this subject, now and for ever,' said

Bella firmly.

'Now and for ever,' he repeated slowly.

'You  must  learn  to  hide  your  feelings,  Mr  Rokesmith.  Mrs Boffin suspects   them already. I have other plans for my life. Why waste yours in loving me?'

'My life,'  said the  secretary unhappily.  'Wha t use  is  my life to me?'

'I think you are using your position here to take advantage of me.'

'You are mistaken, Miss Wilfer, completely mistaken.'

'You know my history, my place in the old man's will. Am I

always to be the property of strangers?'

'I  am  sorry  for  you,  Miss  Wilfer.  Indeed  I  am.  I  shall  say nothing of this to the Boffins as long as I stay here. Trust me.'

'Thank you, Mr Rokesmith,' replied Bella. 'If I have hurt you, forgive me. I am young and perhaps I have been spoilt, but I am not as bad as you may think.'

After the secretary had left the room, Bella laughed a little and looked at her pretty face in the mirror. The n she walked up and down the room, and at last threw herself down in a chair, almost crying.

And what did John Rokesmith do?

He  walked  out  into  the  streets  again,  not  caring  where  he

56

'What Use Is My Life To Me?'

went. He decided that John Harmon must remain dead for ever. But one thing must be done. An innocent man had been accused of John Harmon's murder. Tha t wrong must be put right for the sake of Hexam's children.

The very next day, the secretary went to Riderhood again. He made him sign a paper to say that Jesse Hexam had taken no part in the Harmon Murder.  The n John Rokesmith posted the paper to Lizzie Hexam's last address.

John Rokesmith could send no letter with this paper. If he did, he might be accused of his own murder!

57

The Power Of Money

11

The Power Of Money

ella did not visit her old home very often, but she often met her father when he had finished work.

B

'Your lovely woman is not improved, Pa,' Bella told her father one day. 'Indeed I am worse. I can think of nothing but money. I can't keep the greed for money out of my eyes!'

'Surely not, my dear.'

'It's true. But I've something more interesting to tell you than that.  Three  secrets,  in  fact.  Number One  -  Mr  Rokesmith has made me an offer of marriage. I refused, of course.'

'I always thought he admired you, dear. And Number Two?'

'Number Two.  Dear Mrs Boffin has  told me how much they both wish to see me married. An d that when I marry with their consent, they will make me rich!' An d here Bella burst out crying and laughing at once.

'An d Number Three?' Mr Wilfer asked, not knowing what the last secret might be.

'About Number Three, I may be wrong. Indeed I hope so.  I try hard not to believe it,  but I  think that Mr Boffin's money is changing him. He is always kind to me, of course, but to others he is becoming hard and cruel. How terrible the power of money is,  Pa!  I know it, because I know its power over me. Money is always in my thoughts. Everything comes back to money and what it can do.'

Tha t evening, Bella left her father and returned to the Boffins' house.

There  was  a  small  room  in  the  Golden  Dustman's  house, always known as Mr Boffin's room. It was not grand, but homely and  comfortable.  Mr  and  Mrs  Boffin  were  sitting  in  this  room when  Bella  came  home.  Th e  secretary  was  there  too,  standing

58

with some papers in his hand.

'Excuse me, sir, you are very busy,' Bella said to Mr Boffin.

'Not at all, my dear. Come in and sit by Mrs Boffin. Now Mr Rokesmith,' Mr Boffin went on in a loud voice, knocking on the table as he spoke, 'where were we?'

'You were talking about my salary, sir.'

'I hope you are no t too proud to talk about money, Rokesmith. A poor man cannot be proud. Sit down. Why didn't you sit down before, by the way? I hope that wasn't pride.'

'No, sir.'

'Now I  think that two hundred pounds a year is enough for you. But what do I buy for that price? I buy a secretary and I buy all his time. You've been going out too much.'

Th e secretary bowed, but said nothing.

'If you want time off, you must ask for it. And I'll put up a bell. When I want you, that bell will ring in your office. That's all I want to say now.'

Th e  secretary  took  up  his  papers  and  went  out,  without looking at anyone.

'I've let that fellow do what he likes,' Mr Boffin said. 'But he's a servant and must behave like one.'

Noddy,'  said  Mrs  Boffin  slowly,  'don't  you  think  you  are rather hard on Mr Rokesmith? You were always so kind to other people.'

'I've changed, old lady. We've got to make changes. Everyone wants our money and we must be careful.'

Bella  looked  up  and  saw  a  dark,  unpleasant  look  on  Mr

Boffin's face. But the old man smiled at her.

'You know that money's the only thing, my dear. Make money out of your good looks, marry money - that's the way! Now give me  a kiss,  my  child,  and say goodnight. An d don't forget,  your pretty face is worth money.'

These words made Bella very unhappy and the changes in Mr

Boffin made her unhappy too. She felt very sorry for the secretary,

59

The Power Of Money

who became sadder every day. Mr Boffin's face lost its old pleasant look. His smile became cunning and hard.

'Rokesmith,'   said  Mr   Boffin  on   another  evening.   'I   am spending  too  much  money.   Or  rather  you  are  spending  too much for me.'

'No, I'm not. I tell you I'm not rich.'                                                                                                                                                    E

12

Lizzie's Secret

'You are rich, sir.'

'You are not rich, sir?' said the secretary in surprise.

'I  have  money,'  Mr  Boffin replied,  'but  I'm  spending  it  too quickly. You wouldn't like it if the money was yours.'

'If that was possible, sir.'

'Be silent,' said Mr Boffin. 'Remember I'm your master. Have you told the Wilfers that you are leaving them?'

'I have, sir.'

'The n pay them the rent and move in here at once.  Choose any small room at the top of the house. Now go to your office and get some work done.'

Bella  took  Mrs  Boffin's  hand  as  she  saw  the  sad  look  on her face.

'This change is hard, very hard,' said Mrs Boffin. 'But he is still my dear husband, still the best of men.'

'Now old lady, we mustn't be soft hearted,' Mr Boffin told his wife.  'And you,  Bella, must remember that money makes money. Th e more money I save, the more you shall have.'

There was a cunning look in his eyes as he spoke. Bella saw it, but Mrs Boffin did not.

60

very day, Mr Boffin became more unkind to John Rokesmith.

Every day, Bella felt more sorry for the young secretary.

Mr Lightwood had spoken to the Boffins about Lizzie Hexam. By careful questions, Mr Rokesmith had found out that Lizzie was living in a village further up the river and that she was busy and happy.

Mrs Boffin had asked John Rokesmith to visit Lizzie. She asked Bella to go with him. An d so one evening Bella was walking by the river with the secretary, as though they had never quarrelled.

'Whe n I said I would come with you, Mr Rokesmith, it was only to please Mrs Boffin,' Bella explained carefully. Th e secretary did not answer.

'You think well of Lizzie Hexam, don't you, Mr Rokesmith?' Bella went on.

'Indeed I do. An d she is very beautiful. Beauty with a touch of sadness, I think.'

They walked on a little longer in silence and the n Bella said,

'Oh,  Mr Rokesmith,  don't be  too hard on me.  I  do want to be friends with you.'

'Believe  me,   my  dear  Miss  Wilfer,   I  want  to  be  friends with you.'

'Forgive me,' said Bella, holding out her little hand.

'No,' said the secretary with a smile, 'forgive me.' And when he spoke again, it was in a friendly, pleasant way.

'I do hope you will be a friend to poor Lizzie Hexam. I know it would please Mrs Boffin.'

'I will do my best, Mr Rokesmith,' Bella told him. 'I would like to make Mrs Boffin happy again. I am so worried by the change in Mr Boffin. You know that I am very grateful to him, but . . . but

61

Lizzie's Secret

does he treat you well?'

'You see how he treats me,' said the secretary proudly.

'Yes, I see it with pain, and it makes me very unhappy. Good fortune is spoiling Mr Boffin.'

'Miss Wilfer,' said the secretary with a smiling face, 'I see, with the greatest happiness, that good fortune is not spoiling you. I am very fond of Mrs  Boffin, and for that reason,  I  cannot leave her house. I would do anything for her and I know you would too.'

As they walked nearer the village,  they met Lizzie.  She was returning from her work. Bella left Mr Rokesmith by the river and went back with Lizzie to her home.

'I am afraid this is only a poor room,' said Lizzie, giving Bella the seat by the fireside. 'It's quite strange for me to be visited by a lady of my own age and one as pretty as you.'

Bella held out her hand.

'I am the girl whose name was in the Harmon will. Mrs Boffin wanted to know why you are living here in secret. Is it because of what people say about your father?'

'No, that has been put right. I have a different reason for living here alone.'

'You have a brother, haven't you?'

'I have a brother who is not friendly to me. But he is a good boy. I don't complain about him.'

Bella saw the sad, lonely look on Lizzie's face.

'I wish we could be friends, Lizzie. I am a silly girl, I know, but you can trust me.  Tell  me,  my dear,  why do you live  like this? Wha t is the matter?'

'There  is  a  certain  man who  says  he  loves  me,'  Lizzie  said slowly. 'He is a man of strong and terrible feelings, but I believe he loves me. He is my brother's friend.'

'Are you afraid of this man, Lizzie?'

'I am not afraid for myself. But I am afraid that in his anger, he will hurt someone else. There was blood on his hands when he said, "I hope that I never kill him!"

62

Lizzie's Secret

'Kill? Is he so jealous, then?'

'He is jealous of a certain gentleman. A gentleman far above me, who has been kind to me.'

'Does this gentleman love you?' Lizzie shook her head.

'Oh, no, no. Of all people in the world, he is the one who must

13

The Schoolmaster And The Rogue

E

'Does he admire you? Did he help you to come here?'

not find me.'

There was silence. Bella understood Lizzie's meaning.

'You  know  everything  now,'  said  Lizzie,  raising  her  head.

'That is my reason for living here  in secret.  I'm doing it for the best. But I love him so much. If I had been a lady . . . But that is impossible. And although I love him, I hope for his sake that he will never find me.'

Bella looked at Lizzie with the greatest surprise.

'You are so true, and I am so hard and heartless,' said Bella. Lizzie shook her head again and said,  'Whe n you love some•

one, you will be true, I know it.'

Before Bella left, she promised she would soon return. The two girls parted as good friends.

'You  look  rather  thoughtful,  Miss  Wilfer,'  said  the  secretary when he saw her.

'I  feel  rather  thoughtful,'  Bella  replied.  'I  feel  so  much has happened to me this evening.'

'For good I hope?'

'I hope so,' replied Bella. An d she shivered a little.

'You are cold,  Miss Wilfer. Let me put my cloak round you. And  if you  are  willing,  take  my  arm  as  we  walk  back  to  the carriage.'

'I have had a long talk with Lizzie. She has  trusted me and told me her secret,' said Bella and she took Mr Rokesmith's arm, almost without thinking.

'How pleased I am,' said John Rokesmith. 'But of course she would trust you, Miss Wilfer. Wha t a beautiful night it is!'

64

ugene Wrayburn was restless. He did not know where Lizzie

Hexam had gone  and he  wandered about London asking for news of her.

'I must find her,' he told Mortimer Lightwood one night. 'And

I shall go on looking until I do.'

'That  is unlike you,  Eugene,' said Mortimer.  'Tell me,  what will you do when you find Lizzie?'

'That is another question, my dear Mortimer. But I have something interesting to tell you. Whenever I go out after dark, I am followed, always by one man and often by two.'

'Are you sure, Eugene?'

'Yes. An d   it's   always  the   same   man  -  the  schoolmaster. Sometimes his young pupil is with him.'

'How long has this been going on?'

'As far as I can tell, since Lizzie disappeared. Of course, I never speak to  them.  But  I know  that  I  am making the  schoolmaster mad.  Whe n  I  know  he  is  following  me,  I  lead  him  all  over London, one night east, another night, north. Sometimes I walk fast, sometimes slowly. The n suddenly, I turn,  and there he is. I walk back past him, not speaking, and this makes him mad.'

'This  is  a strange story,' said Mortimer,  'Take  care,  Eugene, the man may be dangerous.'

'He is dangerous only to himself,' answered Eugene carelessly.

'Why don't you come for a walk with me now? The n you can see him for yourself.'

'Do you mean he is watching for you now?'

'I'm sure of it. Are you ready?'

'Now,' said Eugene, when they were  out  in the  cold,  windy night,   'where  shall  we  go?  East,   I  think.  Look  out  for  the

65

The Schoolmaster And The Rogue

schoolmaster, Mortimer. He will be somewhere near.'

Th e  friends  saw  a  man  in  the  shadow  of the  houses.  They started  to  walk  quickly.  Th e  man  followed.  Eugene  led  him through  the  dark  London  streets  for  over  three  hours.  At  last, Eugene and Mortimer turned quickly down a dark, narrow street and the n turned again. They moved so quickly that they almost knocked the schoolmaster over.

The look on Bradley Headstone's face was terrible. It was a look of fear and hate. As he hurried past them in the dark, his white, tired face showed the most terrible pain.

Long   after   th e   two   lawyers   returned   home,   Mortimer Lightwood  was   still   thinking  about  the   schoolmaster.  For  a long  time,  he  could  not  sleep.  But  Eugene,  pleased  with  his night's work, fell asleep at once.

There  was  no  sleep  for  Bradley  Headstone  that  night.  He  was almost mad now,  and ready to  commit murder.  Shut up  all day in his school, he broke lose at night, like a wild animal. He was sure  that Eugene Wrayburn knew where  Lizzie  was hiding,  and that one night, he would visit her.

Th e  schoolmaster  watched  Eugene  and  Mortimer  go  up  to their  rooms.  As  he  waited  in  the  shadows,  a  man  passed him, carrying a letter. Th e man was walking unsteadily, and when he returned, he knocked into Headstone.

'Excuse me,' said the man in a rough voice, 'do you know that other one?'

'I don't know what you mean.'

'I mean this,' the man replied, smiling unpleasantly. 'There's Lawyer Lightwood who lives up there, and there's the other man. I'm asking you, do you know that other one?'

'I know as much of him as I  want to know.  Don't make so much noise,' Bradley Headstone added, as the man threw his old cap in the air and shouted.

66

The Schoolmaster And The Rogue

'I'm an honest man,  I  can shout  if I want to,' answered the

Rogue - for the man was Rogue Riderhood.

Riderhood looked at Headstone's unhappy face and then continued. 'That other man, that lawyer. I hate him and I think you hate him too.'

'Never mind about that. You're here late, for an honest man. What's your business?'

'I  could  ask  you  the  same  question,  but  I  won't,'  said  the Rogue.   'I'm   a   Deputy-keeper^2    -  up   the   river  at   Plashwater Lock . I want a paper from Lawyer Lightwood to make me Chief Lock-keeper^2. As the way back to my lock was past here, I put a letter under his door.'

Th e schoolmaster began to show more interest.

'I think I know your name. It's Riderhood, isn't it?'

'Wha t if it is?' the other man said.

Th e  two  men  walked  on  in  silence  for  almost  half a  mile. Riderhood had noticed  the  terrible  look of hate  on  the  school• master's face.

Ca n I use this man? the Rogue asked himself. Can I use his hate to help me?

Th e schoolmaster's thoughts moved more slowly.

'Would you take five shillings?' he said at last.

'Of course,' said the Rogue.

Whe n the  money was  in his pocket,  he  asked:  'What's  that for? Wha t do you want me to do for it?'

'I don't know yet,' the schoolmaster replied slowly.

'Perhaps  you  hate   that  Wrayburn,'   Riderhood  suggested, saying the lawyer's name with difficulty.

'Hate him? Yes, I hate him. Tha t man insults^5  me and laughs at me every day. Let me ask you a question now. I believe you knew Hexam. Whe n did you last see his daughter? Have you ever seen her and . . . Wraybum together?'

Riderhood was a wicked man, but not a stupid one. He was beginning to understand now. You are jealous, he said to himself.

68

The Schoolmaster And The Rogue

The n he spoke out loud: 'I saw them together the day Hexam was drowned. Tha t Wrayburn was speaking very kindly to Lizzie.' As Headstone walked on, he began to make a plan. He would

use  Riderhood  to  help  him  in  the  search for Lizzie.  Riderhood hated Wrayburn and would do anything for money. The n another thought came into the schoolmaster's tired mind.

'Do you know where Lizzie Hexam lives now?' Th e Rogue did not know, but he agreed to look out for her if he was given more money.

'We will see each other again,' Bradley said. 'I must go now. Don't look for me. If I want you, I'll go to your lock.' Th e two men parted.

Th e  next day,  the schoolmaster was  in his classroom at the

usual time. He was neatly dressed, ready to teach his pupils. But if those  pupils had known  the  terrible  thoughts  in  the  school• master's mind, they would never have sat so quiet and still.

69

The Golden Dustman At His Worst

The Golden Dustman At His Worst

B

reakfast was always a pleasant meal in the Golden Dustman's house. It was easy to believe the n that he had not changed. But  one  morning,  Mr  Boffin's  face  was  dark  and  angry.  He

spoke so rudely to his secretary, that John Rokesmith left the room long before the meal was over.

Mrs  Boffin's  face  showed  her  unhappiness.  Later,  when  she was alone with Bella, she said: 'I have been told not to speak to you about it, Bella. I cannot tell you anything.'

Bella found the day long and sad.  In the  afternoon, she was called  to  Mr  Boffin's  room.  Mrs  Boffin was  sitting  in her  usual chair and Mr Boffin was walking up and down. Th e look on his face made Bella afraid.

'I'm not angry with you, Bella,' Mr Boffin said in his old, kind way. 'I'll see that everything's put right.'

'Wha t do you mean, sir, "put right"?'

'You'll see. Send Mr Rokesmith here,' Mr Boffin added to his servant.

'Shut the door, sir,' Mr Boffin told his secretary when he came quietly into the room, 'I've something to say to you.  But I don't think you'll want to hear it. Now sir, look at this young lady by my side.'

Bella raised her  eyes for  a  moment  to  Mr  Rokesmith's pale face.  The n  she  knew what had happened.  Mr  Boffin had found out about the secretary's offer of marriage. Bella remembered that she had told her maid about it.

'How dare you, sir,' Mr Boffin went on. 'How dare you talk to this lady about your feelings! You are a servant in this house and this lady is far above you. This lady will marry a man with money. Have you money? I know you haven't.'

70

'Oh, Mrs Boffin, please help me,' said Bella quietly.

'Mrs Boffin, you keep quiet,' her husband told her. 'I'll talk to this young man. Now sir, you were rude and forgot that you were a servant in this house. An d Miss Wilfer told you so.'

'But  I  was  in  the  wrong,'  cried Bella.  'I  have  asked him  to forgive me since then.'

Mrs Boffin began to cry.

'Now stop that, Mrs Boffin,' the Golden Dustman went on. 'I haven't finished yet. I know why you spoke to Miss Wilfer, sir. It was money, only money. Now remember, you came to me, a poor man, and asked to be my secretary. I took you out of the street to work for me. The n you got to know that this young lady will have money when she married. So you planned to marry her yourself. But Miss Wilfer was too clever for you. She guessed your plan.'

'Believe me, sir, I had no such plan,' said the secretary quietly.

'Sir, I can no longer work for you.'

'No,  indeed,' said Mr Boffin.  'I have  your money here.  You can leave now, sir.'

'Have you said all you wish to say to me?'

'Maybe I have, maybe I haven't. I suppose you want the last word. Wha t do you want to say, Rokesmith?'

'To you, nothing, Mr Boffin. But I must speak to Miss Wilfer and your good wife.'

'Be quick, then. We've had enough of you.'

'I have stayed here,' the secretary said in a quiet voice, 'only to be near Miss Wilfer. Since she refused my offer of marriage, I have never spoken of my feelings. But they have never changed. Indeed,  my  love  for Miss Wilfer  is  deeper  and  stronger  tha n  it ever was.'

'Now listen to him,' said Mr Boffin with a hard laugh. 'Whe n this young man says "Miss Wilfer", he means "money".'

'I  am  not  ashamed  of my  feelings.  I  love  Miss  Wilfer,'  the secretary continued.

' "Love Miss Wilfer"? Love money!' said Mr Boffin.

71

The Golden Dustman At His Worst

'If Miss Wilfer had all your money, Mr Boffin,' said John Rokesmith, 'she would not be a greater treasure tha n she is now. I loved Miss Wilfer from the first minute I saw her. It was for that reason that I became your secretary.'

'The n  you  were  more  cunning  tha n  I  thought,'  cried  Mr Boffin.  'But I've got you now, sir. Here's your pay,  if you care to pick it up.'

'It is honestly mine,' said Rokesmith, as he took the money from the ground.

'The n  pack  your  bags  and  be  off,'  said  Mr  Boffin.   'This young  lady  will   marry  money,   only  money,   and  she  knows it.'

'Mrs  Boffin,'  said John  Rokesmith,  turning  to  the  old  lady quietly,  'thank you for all your kindness to  me.  Goodbye,  Miss Wilfer, goodbye.'

In  answer,   Bella  jumped  up  from  her  chair  and  stretch• ing  out  her  arms,   cried:   'Oh,   Mr  Rokesmith,   if  you  could only  make  me  poor  again!  If only  I  could  go  home  again,  to my  dear  Pa!   Don't  give  me  your  money,  Mr  Boffin,  I  won't have  it.  Keep  it  away  from  me.  It  only  brings  sadness  and trouble!'

'Now, now, my dear, you have been upset by all this,' said Mr

Boffin. 'But everything is put right now.'

'I  hate  you,'  cried  Bella,  stamping  her  foot.  'Or  at  least,  I cannot like  you.  I  don't want to call you names, but you are  a bad, old man, you know you are.'

Mr Boffin stared at her.

'Whe n  I  came  here,  I  loved  and  respected  you.  But  your money has  changed you.  I  used to  love money,  but now I  hate it, and I hate you too.

'Mr Rokesmith, please listen to me,' Bella went on. 'I am very sorry for the way you have been treated. I truly beg your pardon for causing you such unhappiness.'

She  held  out  her  hand  to  him.  He  put  it  to  his  lips  and

72

The Golden Dustman At His Worst

said:  'God  bless  you.'  Without  another  word,  he  hurried  from the room.

All this time,  Mr Boffin had been looking at them with the greatest surprise. Mrs Boffin took Bella in her arms and held her until the girl stopped crying.

'I must go home,' said Bella,  standing up at last.  'I am very grateful to you both, but I can't stay here.'

'Do think carefully,' said Mrs Boffin. 'Please think about what you are doing.'

'I know very well now,' said Bella. 'Your secretary is worth a million of you, Mr Boffin. An d the worse you have treated him, the  more  I  have  learnt  to  love  him.  There,  that  is  the  truth at last.'

'Now  don't  say  things  you will  be  sorry for,  Bella,'  said Mr Boffin in  a quiet voice.  'Stay where you are,  and  all will be  as before. Go away, and you can never come back.'

'I know that.'

'You mustn't expect to get any money from me,  if you leave like this. No, Bella, not a penny.'

'Do you think I would take it,  sir,  after what has happened? No,  never.' An d  Bella burst into tears  again and  turned to  Mrs Boffin to say goodbye.

'You have been very kind to me,  sir,'  she said at last to Mr Boffin,   'but  bad  to  Mr  Rokesmith.  I'm  leaving  you  because of that.'

Upstairs  in her  room,  Bella  cried  a  little,  then  got  up  and packed her clothes.  She was  taking only a few poor things  she had brought with her to the Golden Dustman's house. She went down the stairs without a sound.

No  one  was  about.  She  looked  into  the  secretary's  room, but he had already gone.  She  closed the front door quietly and, half-running, half-walking, made her way to her father's office.

By the time she got there, the office had closed. But dear Pa was sitting quietly alone, having his tea of bread and milk.

74

The Golden Dustman At His Worst

He was very surprised to see his daughter. He was even more surprised to see that she had come on foot.

'But where is your fine carriage, my dear? An d surely, Bella, that is a very old dress you are wearing?'

'It  is,  Pa.  It  is  the  dress  I  was  wearing  when  I  first  went to  the  Boffins.  Pa,  dear,  I  have  something  unpleasant  to  tell you.'

'My goodness,' said Reginald Wilfer, looking out of the office window, 'here is Mr Rokesmith!'

'No, Pa, surely not.'

In  a  minute, John Rokesmith was  in  the  office.  In  another minute, Bella was in his arms.

'My dear, dear girl. My brave, honest girl. I knew you would come here and I followed you. My love, are you mine?'

'Yes, I am yours, if you will have me,' Bella answered. Reginald Wilfer looked on with the greatest surprise.

'We must tell dear Pa everything,' Bella said.

'My dear, I think I already understand a good deal '

'But you don't understand what she has given up for me,' said

John Rokesmith proudly.

'I believe I can guess. I believe that my daughter, who says she loves money so much, has given it all up for something better. Am I right?'

'Yes, dear Pa.'

'The n my congratulations to you both!  An d now I think we should  all  have  tea  together,  before  I  take  Bella  home  to  her mother!'

So Bella returned home, but only for a short time.  One day, when Reginald Wilfer had a holiday, he left the house very early. Bella, wearing a new bonnet she had made herself, left at about the same time.

They both went down the river to Greenwich, and there, John

Rokesmith was waiting for them.

Bella had left her mother a letter.

75

The Golden Dustman At His Worst

Dearest Ma,

I hope you won't be angry, but I am now happily married to John Rokesmith. I love him with all my heart and he loves me better than 1 deserve. Please tell dear Pa.

Your loving daughter, Bella (Rokesmith)

An d  so  Reginald  Wilfer  returned  home  alone.  Mrs  Wilfer never knew that Mr Wilfer had met Bella and John and been a witness at their wedding, and Mr and Mrs Rokesmith began their new life together in a pretty little cottage, not far from the river.

76

15

At The Lock

lashwater Lock looked calm and pretty  in the  summer even•

P

ing light.  A soft wind moved the  trees  and the falling water made a pleasant sound.

Rogue Riderhood was in charge of the lock while the Keeper

was  on holiday.  He  sat sleeping beside  the  water until  a cry  of

'Lock! Lock!' woke him. Th e Rogue, shaking himself like a dog, looked to see who was calling.

It was a young man in a small, light boat. Riderhood recog• nised Mr Eugene Wrayburn. But Wrayburn, carefully keeping the light boat steady, did not recognise Riderhood.

Th e  lock  filled,  the  lock-gate^2   opened,  and  the  little  boat

passed on up  the river.  A  man,  dressed as  a boatman,  watched from the bank, but he did not stand up until Eugene had gone by. Th e man was Bradley Headstone.

'Hi!'calle d Riderhood. 'Hi!'

Th e schoolmaster turned in surprise.

'Is  this your lock?'  he  said.  'I  thought it was further up  the river.'

Riderhood's sharp  eyes noticed that Headstone had carefully dressed himself in clothes like his own.

Headstone looked anxiously up the river.

'Don't you worry,' Riderhood told him.  'You'll soon find him again. An d you'll see his boat somewhere, even if he does land.'

'You think I am following him?'

'I know you are.'

'It  is  true.  Let  Mr  Eugene Wrayburn  get  ready  for his  fate. He is going to her, I know it. Listen, these are my holidays and I have never left him. An d I will never leave him now until I see him with her.'

77

At The Lock

.

'And when you have seen them together?'

'The n I'll come back to you.'

Riderhood  looked  at  the  schoolmaster  thoughtfully.  Head•

stone took out his purse.

'I have a pound for you.'

'You have two.'

Riderhood took the money greedily and put it in his pocket.

'Now I must follow him,' said Headstone. 'He must not escape me now.'

'Perhaps  you'll  stay  and  rest  at  the  Lock-house^2   when  you

come back,' said Riderhood.

Headstone  nodded  and  set  off  quickly  along  the  riverside path.

The light boat had gone on up the river, and the schoolmaster went after it. Riderhood watched him for a time, and the n turned back to his lock. There was only one thought in his mind. Why was Headstone wearing clothes exactly like his? Was it by chance? Surely not. Riderhood had a plan to find out the truth.

Going into the house, he looked through his clothes until he found a bright red neckerchief.

'Now,'  said the  Rogue,  as  he  tied the  neckerchief round his neck, 'if he sees me with this and then I see him wearing one too, it'll be no accident.'

Th e  day passed,  and  in the  evening,  Headstone  returned to the lock.

'He's staying the night at an inn,' he told Riderhood. 'He is going on up the river at six in the morning.'

'Then you'd better come in for a rest. You're very tired.'

'Thank you, yes,'

'Have  something  to  eat  before  you  sleep,'  said  Riderhood putting food and drink on the table. He saw that the schoolmaster looked hard at the red neckerchief. Th e two men ate and drank.

'Sleep there, in the corner,' Riderhood said. 'I'll wake you up at three. It'll be daylight by then.'

79

At The Lock

But when  daylight came,  Headstone  was  already up.  He  at once set off up the river to where Eugene was staying.

Riderhood was busy with his work all day. Bradley Headstone did not return that night.

Th e following day, the weather was dull and heavy, and in the afternoon, the storm came. Lightning flashed and thunder rolled. The n with a rush of rain, Bradley Headstone came in the door, like the storm itself. On his face were the old marks of hate and pain, and a terrible new look too.

'You've seen him with her,' cried Riderhood.

'I have. I saw him wait for her, and meet her. I saw them .. . I

saw them walking together near the river, last night.'

'Wha t did you do?'

'Nothing.'

'Wha t are you going to do?' asked Riderhood.

Headstone sat down heavily on a chair and laughed. Suddenly a stream of blood came from his nose.

'Why does that happen?' Riderhood asked.

'I  don't  know.  But  it has  happened several  times  since  last night. I taste blood, smell it and it chokes^5  me.'

Headstone stood up and went out into the rain. Whe n he had washed the blood away, he came back and, speaking like a man in a dream, he said: 'Wha t did you ask me before I went out?'

'I asked you what you were going to do.'

'How can I know? How can I plan anything, if I can't sleep?'

'Sleep here then,' said the Rogue. 'And the longer you sleep, the better you'll know what to do afterwards.'

Bradley Headstone lay down fully dressed and at once closed his eyes. Riderhood sat in a chair and watched him. He saw the lightning  and  he  heard  the  thunder.  Once  there  was  a  great crash  of thunder  and  a  roar  of wind,  but  the  schoolmaster did not wake.

Riderhood got very quietly to his feet. He stood by Headstone, looking down at him, a cunning smile on his face.

80

At The Lock

'Poor man,' he said,  'this coat of his must make him uncom• fortable.  Let  me  open  it  a  little  for him.'  Softly  and  slowly,  he opened the coat. Round the schoolmaster's neck was a red neckerchief like his own.

Wit h  a worried look,  Riderhood walked quietly back  to  his chair. He sat there for a long time, looking at the red neckerchief, and at the sleeping man who wore it.

81

The  Attack

16

The Attack

whole night and day went by. The storm passed. It was late evening as  Eugene Wrayburn walked along the  river bank.

A

He walked up and down, looking always in one direction.

Turning again, Eugene saw Lizzie coming, and went to meet her. He put her hand to his lips, but she quietly moved it away.

'Will you walk beside me, Mr Wrayburn, and not touch me?' she said softly.

Eugene  answered.  'Don't be  unhappy,  Lizzie.  And  don't  be unkind.'

'I cannot help being unhappy, but I do not mean to be unkind. But I must ask you to go away from here tomorrow morning.'

'Lizzie, Lizzie, I can't go away. You brought me here. You keep me here. I cannot leave you.'

'Mr Wrayburn, please listen to me.  I must speak to you very seriously. Do you know why I left London?'

'I  think,  Lizzie,' he  answered,  'that you left London because of me.'

'I did.'

'The n how could you be so cruel?'

'Oh, Mr Wrayburn, how can you speak of cruelty? Is there no cruelty in you being here tonight? Why did you come here?'

'Lizzie, you don't know what I think of you. You don't know how you confuse me.'

'You must think of me. I am a poor, working girl and you are a gentleman. I am happy here, but if you come here again, I will have to leave.'

'Are  you  so  determined,  Lizzie,  to  escape  from  one  who loves you?'

'I am.'

82

He looked into her beautiful face. She tried to be firm^4, but she could not.

'You are so different from me,' she continued. 'Oh, it is all so

hopeless. You must go. But may Heaven help you and bless you!' He held her and kissed her, once.

'Mr  Wrayburn,  leave  this  neighbourhood  tomorrow  morn•

ing.'

'I will try.'

Eugene was  thinking about Lizzie long  after she had walked away. I have power over her and she loves me, he was thinking. It is impossible for me to marry her. But how can I leave her? Wha t am I to do?

He stopped for a moment and looked down at the quiet water.

Suddenly there was a dreadful crash, a terrible bright light. Had he been struck by lightning? He turned to face the blows that were smashing down on his head and arms.  His murderer wore  a red neckerchief. Eugene saw nothing more.

He  fell  unconscious  onto  the  bank  and  the n  into  the  deep water.

Th e moon came up as Lizzie Hexam was walking sadly home•

wards. She heard the strange sounds. She heard a man's cry and the n the fall into the river.

Without thought,  without crying for help,  she  ran down to

the  water  and  along  the  river bank.  She  came  to  ground  that was  covered with  blood.  Broken  pieces  of wood  lay  there  and a few torn pieces of cloth. Looking into the water, Lizzie saw a bloodstained face turned up to the stars and the dark sky.

Now she thanked God for her old life and the skills her father had taught her. She ran back up the river to where she had seen a boat. Quickly and easily, she got into the boat, took the oars and rowed away from the bank. She rowed as she had never rowed in the old days with her father. Over her shoulder, she looked ahead for the face she had seen in the water.

She  rowed more slowly now,  afraid of passing the  drowning

83

The  Attack

man. The n in the moonlight she saw a man's body. It moved to one side, then turned on its back. She stopped rowing and knelt in the boat. She held the bloodstained hair and, as she bent over to tie the body to the rope, she gave a great cry.

Lizzie rowed to the nearest bank and, using all her strength, lifted Eugene's body into the boat. She tore her dress into strips and covered his terrible wounds. The n she took hold of the oars again and rowed hard,  back down the  river to  the  inn.  All  the time, her eyes were on his bloodstained face. She fastened the boat and carried him slowly up through the garden to the inn.

A doctor was sent for and Lizzie sat holding Eugene's head.

'Who brought this man in?' the doctor asked.

'I did, sir,' Lizzie answered.

'You, my dear? You could not lift this weight.'

'Not usually, sir, but I know I did tonight.'

A second doctor arrived. They spoke together and one gently held Eugene's hand for a moment and the n laid it gently down.

'Look after that poor girl,' the first doctor said. 'She is unconscious.  Move  her,  but  do  not  wake  her.  Poor  girl.  She has  saved him from  the  river,  but  I  fear she has  not saved him from death.'

It was early morning at the lock as Bradley Headstone knocked on the Lock-Keeper's door.

'I  thought  I  had  lost  you,'  said  Riderhood,  who  had  been waiting for the schoolmaster's return. 'You need some sleep.'

Riderhood gave the schoolmaster a strong drink. The n Bradley stretched himself on the bed and was asleep at once.

'One of his sleeves  is torn,' the Rogue said to himself.  'He's been  in  the  grass  and  he's  been  in  the  water.  His  clothes  are spotted with blood. I know whose blood it is.'

84

The  Attack

Bradley slept for twelve hours and Riderhood looked after his lock. One boat stopped for some time,  and the boatman seemed to be passing on news.

Bradley Headstone did not wake up until the afternoon.

'I shall go home when the sun goes down,' he said.

Riderhood put a large pie and two knives on the table. Th e two men sat down in silence and began to eat. Th e schoolmaster was still tired. His knife slipped as he cut the pie.

'Look out!'  cried Riderhood.  'You've  cut your hand.'  It  was too late. As Riderhood tied up the deep cut,  the schoolmaster's hand  shook  so  much  that  drops  of  blood  fell  on  Riderhood's clothes.

Th e  two  men  sat  down  again  and  the  Rogue  leant  across the table.

'The news has already gone down the river. Wh o do you think picked up the body? She did!'

Headstone said nothing, but he smiled. The n he stood up.

'If and when we need to talk again,  I'll come back here,' he said. 'Goodnight.'

But Rogue Riderhood was  a  cunning man.  No  one  escaped from him easily. Tha t night, although Riderhood had not told the schoolmaster, another man was coming to look after the lock for a short time. As soon as the man came, Riderhood hurried after the schoolmaster, back towards London.

Th e Rogue was used to following people and he was better at it tha n Headstone. He kept near and made no sound. He followed the schoolmaster until he stopped by a quiet part of the river.

Now what is he doing? the Rogue  asked himself. Look, he's going to jump in the river!

Headstone soon swam back to the bank. He dressed himself in his  own  clothes  that  had  been  hidden  under  a  tree.  The n  he bundled  up  the  clothes  that  were  exactly  like  Riderhood's  and threw them as far as he could into the river.

Now, thought the Rogue, shall I follow you, or go fishing for

86

The  Attack

those  clothes?  I  think  I  can  find  you  again.  I'll  fish  for  those clothes. And so he did. Th e fishing was successful and Riderhood carried the bundle back with him to his lock.

Bradley  Headstone  went  on  towards  London.  He  was  not sorry about what he had done.  But he was  sorry that it had not been done better. In his mind, he repeated the murder over and over again, but each time, in a different, a better way.

His  school  opened  again  the  next  day.  Th e  pupils  saw  no change   in  their  schoolmaster's  face.   But  whatever  lesson  he taught,  the  schoolmaster's  mind  was  on  one  thing  only:  the murder, and how he could have made it perfect.

87

'Let Him Go Unpunished'

17

'Let Him Go Unpunished!

few days later, Miss Jenny Wren was alone in her little house, busy with her work,  and singing to herself.  The front door

A

was open.

A gentleman appeared in the doorway. The gentleman was a stranger to Miss Jenny, but there was something about him that reminded her of Mr Eugene Wrayburn.

'Excuse  me,'  said the  gentleman.  'You are the  Dolls'  Dress•

maker, Lizzie Hexam's friend?'

'Yes, sir,' said Jenny at once, looking anxious.

'I am Mr Mortimer Lightwood and I have a note for you here from Miss Hexam. Will you read it?'

'It's very short,' said Jenny.

'There was no time to make it longer. Time was very impor•

tant. My dear friend, Mr Eugene Wrayburn, is dying.' Jenny gave a cry.

'He was attacked by the river. I have come straight from his bedside. He is often unconscious. But both Lizzie and I are sure he asked for you. Please come at once. This may be his last wish.'

A  quiet  and  darkened  room.  Outside  the  windows,  the  river flowed  by.  Eugene  lay  helpless  on  the  bed,  his  useless  arms  at his sides.

He did not move when Jenny arrived, but he seemed to know her. Sometimes Eugene's eyes were wide open, and sometimes closed.  Sometimes he was able to say a name before he became unconscious again.

88

Jenny was given a little table at the foot of the bed where she sat working every day. Lizzie was there too, whenever she was not at work, and Lightwood never left his friend's side.

'Mortimer.'

'My dear Eugene.'

'Mortimer,  I  have  something  to  say.  This  attack,  my  dear

Mortimer, this attempted murder . . .'

Mortimer leant closer saying, 'You and I suspect someone.'

'I don't suspect; I know. But the man must never be given up to the police. She would be punished, not him. She would suffer. If that man is accused, you must keep silent and save him. Listen to what I say to you. It was not the schoolmaster, Bradley Headstone. Do you hear me? It was not the schoolmaster. Think of Lizzie and let him go unpunished. Promise me.'

'Eugene, I do. I promise you.'

Eugene looked at his friend for a moment and the n once more became unconscious.

Hours,  days  and nights passed  in  the  same way.  Sometimes

Eugene was unconscious, sometimes he would talk a little.  Th e one name — Lizzie - he whispered hundreds of times.

One  afternoon,  when Lizzie  had  just  gone  out  to  her work, Eugene spoke Mortimer's name.

'Mortimer,' he said,  'there is something you must do for me. But I cannot remember what. My thoughts keep wandering away. Help me, Mortimer.'

Mortimer  gave  his  friend  a  little  medicine.  But  all  Eugene could say was, 'Lizzie, Lizzie, Lizzie.'

Jenny had been watching and listening and she now came near to Mortimer.

'I think I know the word he wants to say,' Jenny whispered.

'Shall I say it to him?'                     89

'Let Him Go Unpunished'

'Yes, do.'

Jenny bent over Eugene and spoke one word: 'Wife.' Eugene looked up at her and then at Mortimer.

'Oh, God bless you,' whispered Eugene.

'You want to make Lizzie your wife, Eugene?' asked Mortimer.

'Yes, God bless you, yes.'

'It shall be done, Eugene. Trust me. Th e arrangements will be made as soon as possible.'

Mortimer left  the  room.  As  the  evening light began to fall, Lizzie returned from her work and took her place by the bed.

'Is he conscious?' Jenny asked.

'He  is  conscious,  Jenny,'  Eugene  answered  for  himself.  'He knows his Lizzie, soon to be his dear wife.'

It  was  far  into  the  night,  almost  morning,  when  Eugene opened his  eyes  again.  He  asked  at  once,  'Has  Mortimer come back?'

Lightwood was there and answered immediately. Yes, Eugene, and all is ready.'

They  all  stood  round  the  bed  and  the  clergyman  began  to speak. Th e bridegroom could not move his hand, so they touched his fingers with the ring and put it on the bride's hand.

'Open the curtains, my dear girl,' said Eugene, 'and let us see our wedding-day.'

Th e sun was rising and its first light came into the room. Lizzie moved back to the bed and touched Eugene's lips with her own.

'You have  made  a  poor marriage,  my sweet wife.  You have married a worthless fellow.'

'I have made the marriage I wanted more tha n anything else,' said Lizzie. 'Live for me, Eugene.'

90

'I'll Never Let You Go'

'I'll Never Let You Go'

C

harley Hexam was now working at a different school and was doing well.  He never saw his sister.  He felt that Lizzie had disgraced him. Whe n Charley heard about the attack on Eugene Wrayburn,  he  knew at  once who had  done  it.  One  evening he

called on his old schoolmaster.

'Mr  Headstone,  have  you  heard  the  news?'  Charley  asked.

'That fellow Wrayburn has been killed.'

'He is dead then,' cried Bradley, 'I did not know that.' Charley looked hard at the schoolmaster's white face and red eyes.

'Where were you, Mr Headstone, when it was done?' Charley asked slowly. 'No, stop, don't tell me. If you do, I'll go straight to the police and tell them everything.'

Headstone looked at his old pupil, but he could not speak.

'I can no longer be your friend,' Charley went on. There were angry tears in his eyes.

'People  know  that  I  have  been  your  friend,  Mr  Headstone. You have been seen with me.  People will blame me,  as well as you. You said that you loved my sister. But she has disgraced me, and now you, with your hate and your terrible temper, have tried to drag^1  me down too.

'Now I am going my own way. Keep away from me and think about what you have done!'

Charley Hexam turned and walked away. Headstone had lost his last friend.

Soon after this,  Headstone found out that Eugene Wrayburn had not died. Whe n he heard that Eugene had married Lizzie, the schoolmaster realised what he had done. He had tried to separate Lizzie from Eugene Wrayburn;  but,  instead,  he had joined them for ever. The n slowly Headstone understood that Eugene did not

92

want him accused. For Lizzie's sake, Eugene would never tell the police who had attacked him.

One  winter's  day,  when  the  snow  was  beginning  to  fall,

Headstone  looked  up  from  his  blackboard  and  saw  Riderhood. Th e Rogue was standing at the classroom door with a bundle of clothes under his arm.

'Wha t  kind  of place  is  this?'  said Riderhood,  taking  off his old cap.

'This is a school.'

'A place where young people learn what is right? Well, that's a fine thing. An d who teaches here?'

'I do,' Bradley answered, his face white with fear.

'You're a schoolmaster are you? Wha t a fine thing to be!  A schoolmaster. An d  there's  a blackboard and  chalk. Now  I  can't read  or write,  but perhaps  you'd be  kind  enough  to  write  your name on that blackboard, Schoolmaster.'

'Now young gentlemen,' Riderhood said  to  the  pupils,  'per•

haps you would kindly read that name for me.'

'Bradley Headstone,' cried the class together.

'Bradley Headstone, Schoolmaster,' Riderhood repeated slowly.  'And  you  look  very  like  a  man  I  have  seen  dressed as  a  boatman.  I  want  to  see  that  boatman,  Schoolmaster.  I want  him  at  my  lock.  Do  you  think you  can  make  him  come there?'

'I'm sure I can.'

'Thank you, Schoolmaster. I'd like to see that boatman. I have a bundle of clothes here that he threw in the river.'

'How do you know he threw them in the river?'

'Because I saw him do it.'

Th e  two  men  looked  at  each  other.  The n  Bradley  slowly turned and cleaned his name from the blackboard.

'Thank you, Schoolmaster, for giving some time to an honest

And   I'll  look  forward  to   seeing  that  boatman  up   the

93

'I'll Never Let You Go'

Th e  next  day  was  Saturday,  and  a  holiday.  Bradley  Headstone got up  early and set out for the  lock. A cold wind was blowing and snow began to fall. He had to cross London and it was late afternoon and almost dark before he came near to the lock. Th e ground was now covered in snow and there were floating lumps of ice on the river. Headstone walked on towards the light shining through the Lock-house window.

Th e light came from a fire and a candle. Riderhood was sitting between the two, an unpleasant smile on his face. His visitor sat down opposite him and said: 'Well, I'm here. Wh o is to begin?'

'I'll begin,' said Riderhood, 'when I've smoked this pipe.'

He  sat smoking for  a long time  and  then,  at last,  put down his pipe.

'I'll begin,' Riderhood repeated. 'Bradley Headstone, School•

master, I want something from you. I want money.'

'Anything else?'

'Everything   else,'   shouted  Riderhood,   in   sudden   anger.

'Answer  me  like  that  and  I  won't  talk  to  you  at  all.  Instead of talking,  I'll  bring  my hand  down upon  you,  and  smash you, as you smashed him.' An d he hit the table hard, with his hand.

'Go on,' said Bradley quietly.

'O h yes, I'm going on. Look here, Bradley Headstone - I hated Wrayburn  too.  I  didn't  care  about  what  you  did  to  Wrayburn. But you wore clothes and a neckerchief like mine, and you shook blood on me. For that, I'll be paid, and paid well.'

Bradley, very white, sat looking at Riderhood in silence.

'You  tried  to  trick  me,'  Riderhood  went  on.  'You  wanted people  to  think  that  I  attacked  Wrayburn.  You  were  a  fool.  I followed  you  and  you  didn't  know  it.  I've  got  your  boatman's clothes. I've got them, and I've got you. An d you'll pay me until I've got all you have. The n I'll leave you alone, but not before. I'm going home with you now and I'll never let you go.'

94

'I'll Never Let You Go'

Bradley Headstone sat still. His face grew whiter and whiter. Th e two men sat watching each other all night long. The n at the first  daylight,  the  schoolmaster stood up  and  walked  out  of the Lock-house. Riderhood followed him.

Bradley Headstone turned towards London. The n after three miles, he turned and went back the other way. He stopped by the lock and stared silently up and down the river.

'Come   now,'   said  Riderhood.   'You  can't  get  rid   of  me like that.'

Without  a  word,  Headstone  crossed  over  the  river  by  the lock-gates and stood silently on the other side of the water.

'You'd  better  stop  this,'  said  Riderhood,  coming  up  close.

'Ah, what are you doing?' he cried out in a different voice.  'Let go of me!'

Bradley had caught him round the body. Riderhood was in a grip  of iron. They struggled on the very edge of the deep water between the lock-gates.

'Let go!' cried Riderhood again.  'Let go,  or I'll get my knife out. Stop! Wha t are you doing?'

'I'll hold you living and I'll hold you dead!' said Headstone in a terrible voice. 'Come down with me. Come down into the river!'

Wit h  a  terrible  cry,  Riderhood  went  over  backwards,  with

Bradley on top of him.

Whe n the two drowned men were brought up out of the water, the  dead schoolmaster was  still holding Rogue Riderhood  in  an iron grip.

95

_19_

John Harmon Comes Home

ella  had  been happily  married  to  John  Rokesmith for  more tha n a year, when she began to notice a troubled look on her

B

husband's face. More tha n once, he cried out in his sleep.

'You know, John dear,  I  feel you should  trust me,'  she  told him. 'Something important is worrying you.'

'I am worried, Bella dear, but do not ask me why.'

One day, Bella was in London to do some shopping. She and John were  walking happily  along  together,  when  suddenly they turned a corner and met Mr Lightwood.

John Rokesmith stopped and looked hard at the lawyer.

'Mr  Lightwood  and   I  have  met  before,'  he   said  quietly to Bella.

'Met before, John? But Mr Lightwood once  told me  that he had never seen you,' Bella answered in surprise.

'Whe n  Mr  Lightwood  last  saw  me,   my  love,'   said  John

Rokesmith, 'my name was Julius Handford.'

Julius Handford!  Bella had seen the name  in newspapers. A

reward had been offered for finding him, but no one had done so.

'Mr Lightwood,' Rokesmith went on,  'now that we have met at last, you will want to talk to me. You know where I live.'

'Sir,'  said Mr Lightwood,  'I  have  searched for you for  many months. You are suspected of a very terrible crime. I cannot leave you now.'

'Mr  Lightwood,  I   am  going  home  with  my  wife.   Please do  not  follow  us.  But  I  shall  be  happy  to  see  you  any  time tomorrow.'

Later that evening, John Rokesmith said to his wife.

'You  haven't  asked  me,  my  dear,  why  I  once  had  another name.'

97

John Harmon Comes Home

'No, John love. I should like to know, but I shall wait until you tell me yourself.'

'You can be sure that I am in no danger and that I have done no wrong. But you heard what Mr Lightwood said. Shall I tell you what he was talking about?'

'Yes, John.'

'My dear, he was talking about the murder of John Harmon - the man who should have been your husband.'

'You cannot be suspected of murder, John?'

'I can be - and I am.'

'How can they!' cried Bella. 'But I trust you, John. I trust you with all my heart.'

John took his dear wife in his arms and kissed her. They sat together in a peaceful silence as the room grew dark.

Th e door opened quietly, and a strange voice said: 'I think I

shall light these candles now.'

Bella and John looked up in surprise.

'You  have   seen  me  before,  sir,   but  your  wife  has  not,' said  the  police  Inspector.  'I  believe  you  wrote  down  a  name and  address  at  my  police  station,  a  long  time  ago.  I  have  the paper here.  An d  I  have  found  a book with some writing  in  it. "Mrs  John  Rokesmith.   From  her  husband  on  her  birthday." The  writing  is  the  same.  I  think  we  should  talk  about  this alone, sir.'

'Mrs Rokesmith can hear what you have  to  say.  She knows there is no reason to be afraid.'

'Really?' said the Inspector.  'Well, ma'am, your husband has given us a great deal of trouble. I would like him to come with me to the police station.'

'Why? Wha t is the charge^3  against me?'

'Well, now, I don't like to say this before a lady. But I must charge you with being in some way connected with the Harmon Murder. An d I must tell you that anything you say may be used as evidence^3.'

98

John Harmon Comes Home

'I  don't  think  it  will,'  said  John  Rokesmith,  standing  up.

'Would you come with me into the other room for a moment?' After  kissing  the  frightened  Bella,  John  went  out  with  the

Inspector.  They  were  together  for  half  an  hour.  Whe n  they returned,  the  Inspector  looked  very  surprised  indeed  and  there was a strange smile on his face.

In a very short time, Bella was driving through the streets of London  with  her  husband  and  the  Inspector.  Th e  cab  stopped down by the river, outside a small building with "Police Station" over its door.

'We are not going in there, John?' said Bella, holding onto her husband's arm.

'Yes, my dear. But we shall be out again very soon.'

'It's a small matter of identification,' the Inspector told Bella. They were given chairs. Th e Inspector went out and returned a little later with two poorly dressed men.

Th e  two  men  stared  at  John  Rokesmith  with  the  greatest surprise. On e of them cried: 'Look! Look there! It's him!'

These words  seemed to be  enough for the  Inspector and he led the two men away. Almost at once,  another cab was  called and  Bella  was  driving home  through  the  dark  streets  with  her husband. She knew nothing except that John was free and seemed very happy. She asked no more questions.

Th e following day, Bella had another surprise.

'My dear, I have some news,' John told her. 'I have changed my job.  I have found a better one which also gives  a fine,  new house. I'm going to take you to see it now.'

So once more,  Bella found herself in a cab,  driving through the streets of London. This time, they were streets she knew well. To her surprise, the cab stopped outside the house of the Golden Dustman, Mr Boffin.

'John, dear, do you see where we are?'

'Yes, my dear, and there's no mistake.'

Th e door opened. Inside, the house was full of flowers. John

99

John Harmon Comes Home

and  Bella  went  up  the  stairs  together  to  a  door  they  both knew well.

John took his wife's arm, opened the door and ran with Bella into the room. There stood Mr and Mrs Boffin, their faces covered with smiles.  Mrs  Boffin ran forward,  tears  of happiness  running down  her  face.  Taking  Bella  in  her  arms,  she  said:  'You  dear wife  of my  dear John!  Welcome  to  your  house  and  home,  my pretty dear!'

Bella could understand nothing. She looked at the happy, smiling  face  of  Mr  Boffin.  Where  was  the  look  of  greed  and cunning that had made her so unhappy?

Mrs  Boffin  and John  made  Bella  sit  between  them  and  Mr

Boffin stood smiling down at everyone.

'Old lady, if you don't begin telling Bella, someone must!'

'I'm going to begin, Noddy dear,' answered Mrs Boffin, laugh•

ing and clapping her hands. 'Now, tell me, Bella, who is this?'

'Who is this?' Bella repeated. 'My husband.'

'Ah, but tell me his name.'

'Rokesmith, of course.'

'No, it isn't!'

'Handford then.' - 'No, wrong again.'

'I suppose his name is John?'

'Ah, I should think so. I've often called him by that name. But what's his other name, his true name?'

'I can't guess,' said Bella, her face pale.

'Well, I guessed, didn't I, Noddy?'

'So you did, old lady.'

'Listen to me,  Bella dear,' Mrs  Boffin went on.  'It happened one night after a certain young lady had refused to marry him. I had to go to his room. I saw him sitting lonely and sad by his fire. He looked up at me, just as he used to do as a poor, lonely child. "I know you",  I cried.  "You're our John!".  So now what is your husband's name?'

100

John Harmon Comes Home

'Not  .  .  .  not John  Harmon?  That's  not  possible.  He  was drowned - murdered.'

'Everyone  thought  so,'  continued  Mrs  Boffin.  'But  that  is John Harmon's arm round your waist and you are  the dear wife of John Harmon!'

Bella looked at her husband, but she was too surprised to say anything. Mrs Boffin clapped her hands again and went on with her story.

'Noddy came  in when he heard me cry out that night. John told us that a certain young lady had refused to marry him. He was going away for ever. But we could not lose our John again. Noddy knew that you were a little spoilt,  Bella dear.  But he wanted to show John that your heart was pure gold.'

Mr Boffin nodded and he went on with the story.

'The three of us made a plan,' explained Mr Boffin. 'I became the cruellest, hardest master a man ever had. An d you believed it was all true, Bella, and so you married our John.'

'But  I  still  did  not  want  to  tell  you  the  truth,'  John  went on.  'You  knew  me  as  John  Rokesmith.  We  were  happy  and that  was  enough.  The n  we  met  Lightwood  and  the  truth  had to come out.'

Mrs Boffin kissed Bella again and they both began to laugh and cry. The n Bella looked up at Mr Boffin.

'I think I understand now, why you were always talking about money. You saw me becoming greedy and hard. So you pretended to be greedy and hard too, just to show me what it was like.'

'Yes!'  cried Mrs  Boffin.  'But  I  wanted to tell you the  truth, hundreds of times.'

'And you went to all this trouble, just to make me a little better and to help my dear John marry me!'

Bella turned to her husband with a smile.

'Now,  Mr John Harmon,' she said,  'let us welcome our dear friends to our new home - and to theirs.'

101

John Harmon Comes Home

It was a happy day in the new life of Mr and Mrs John Harmon when Mr and Mrs Eugene Wrayburn came to stay with them.

Eugene was able to walk with the help of his wife's arm, and he was growing stronger every day. His old careless manner had gone. He had made up his mind that he and Lizzie would go into Society and that Society would accept his wife, even though she had once been a boatman's daughter.

Mr Mortimer Lightwood found out that Society had this to say about his friends:  'A gentleman had feelings of respect and love. These feelings led him to marry a fine and beautiful woman. Surely that man is more of a gentleman than before and his wife may truly be called a lady.'

So Mr and Mrs Eugene Wrayburn were happy and Mr and Mrs

John Harmon were happy too.

One day, much later, Mr and Mrs Boffin watched John, Bella and their  little  child  sitting by  their  own fireside,  with  no  shadows near them.

'Noddy,'  Mrs  Boffin  said,  'old  John  Harmon's  money  has turned bright again at last.'

And the Golden Dustman smiled and agreed.

102

GLOSSARY

115

Glossary

SECTION 1

Terms to do with life in nineteenth-century England

Note on the term 'Society'

England in the middle of the nineteenth century grew wealthy. Many people suddenly became rich. People who had money could become part of Society. Society people were known as ladies and gentlemen. These people visited one anther's houses and went to dinners, parties and dances. They lived in fine houses with servants. Mr Boffin and

his wife were servants until they suddenly became very rich; then they were able to go into Society themselves.

The people in Society made rules for correct behaviour and correct dress: to be dressed according to these rules was to be dressed in the height of fashion.

Most people in England at this time did not have money. They could not become ladies and gentlemen. They were the working-class. Some working-class people, like Bradley Headstone and Charley Hexam, wanted to do better in life. They came from poor families but they wanted to improve themselves. Such people did not follow the

rules of Society: they wanted to improve themselves and others. Charley Hexam was ashamed of his sister and felt that she was a disgrace to him because she met and talked with Eugene Wrayburn - a member of Society. Charley Hexam and Bradley Headstone worked very hard to improve themselves. They were always afraid of losing

the position they had gained by hard work. This is why Charley Hexam thought that his sister's behaviour might drag him back to the old life or drag him down again.

117

SECTION 2

Terms to do with the river

A note on the River Thames

Much of this story takes place on or near the River Thames. Where it flowed through London, the Thames was dirty and crowded with boats and ships of all kinds. Many very poor people lived near the river and made their living on it.

But the Thames above London flowed through small country towns and beautiful countryside.

Plashwater Lock was near a small town about thirty kilometres from the centre of London. The village where Lizzie hid was further up the river.

The water in the lower part of the Thames (the part nearest to the sea) rose and fell with the tide. Higher up, large lock-gates were built across the river to stop the water flowing away too quickly. Riderhood's job as Lock-keeper was to open and shut these gates so that boats going up and down the river could pass through.

barge (page 25)

a large flat boat without sails and pulled by a horse on a path beside the river.

cabin (page 6)

a room on a ship where passengers sleep.

Deputy-keeper (page 68) See Lock-keeper below.

docks (page 11)

places on a river where large ships stop to unload goods or passengers.

lock (page 68)

See Note above and illustration on page 78.

lock-gates (page 77)

heavy, solid wooden gates built across a river. See Note above and illustration on page 78.

lock-house (page 79)

a house near the lock-gates where the Lock-keeper lived.

118

Lock-keeper (page 68)

the man in charge of opening and closing the lock-gates. The

Deputy-keeper was his assistant and helped him in his work.

tide (page 25)

See Note above.

SECTION 3

Terms to do with the law and the police

chambers (page 10)

rooms where lawyers lived near the Law Courts in London.

charge (page 98)

when a policeman accuses someone of a crime, he charges that person with the crime.

client (page 10)

a person who asks a lawyer to work for him or her becomes the lawyer's client.

evidence (page 98)

information which helps to prove the innocence or guilt of someone who is accused of a crime.

identified (page 14)

to identify a body is to look at it and to say who the dead man or woman is.

inherit (page 6)

See will below.

inquest (page 14)

a court to decide who a dead person is and how they died.

oath (page 22)

to swear an oath is to promise that what you have written down is the truth.

reward (page 18)

a sum of money paid to a person who helps the police to find a criminal.

suspect (page 56)

to think that someone has done something wrong.

swear (page 54)

See oath above.

119

will  (page  6)

before a person dies, they write down and sign a paper. Thi s paper is called a will and it says wh o is to receive thei r money whe n th e person is dead. Th e person who gets th e money

cab  (page  11)

SECTIO N  5

General

inherits it from th e person who has died.

witness   (page  16)

whe n someone signs thei r nam e to an agreement to say they know th e othe r person's signature is correct.

SECTIO N  4

Words describing character and emotions

awkward   (page   16)

awkwardly   (page  46)

stiff and uneasy.  Someon e wh o does no t speak easily, speaks awkwardly.

calm  (page 31)

no t made excited or angry easily.

desperate   (page  44)

a person so full of emotion s like anger or jealousy tha t he or she is ready to do anything , eve n to kill.

firm  (page  83)

determine d and no t easily persuaded to do anythin g you do no t wan t t o do.

idly  (page 22)

no t very interested. See lazy below.

lazy - lazy voice  (page  10)

at th e beginning of th e story, Eugene Wraybur n is no t really interested in anythin g at all. He finds everything uninterestin g and his way of speaking and movin g is very lazy.

rough - his voice was rough (page 9)

Riderhoo d was an evil, uneducate d ma n and he spoke in a loud and unpleasan t way whic h showed his wickedness.

spoilt  (page  30)

a person who has always bee n given wha t they wan t and believes tha t the y will always get wha t they want, is spoilt.

120

in moder n English - taxi. A cab in th e nineteent h century was a small carriage pulled by a horse.

cheat  (page  25)

someone who tricks someone else.

choke  (page  80)

th e blood from Headstone's nose ra n int o his throa t and made it difficult for hi m to breathe .

crutches  (page 35)

a thic k stick whic h fits unde r th e arm and helps someone to walk. See illustration on page 33 .

disguise   himself  (page  6)

dress himself in different clothes and wear false hai r and a false beard so tha t no on e knows wh o he is.

Dolls ' Dressmaker (page 32)

Jenn y Wre n made her living by making clothes whic h were pu t on wax dolls. See illustration on page 33 .

Friend -  Our  Mutual Friend  (page  19)

a person wh o is well-known by two people is th e mutua l friend of bot h of these people.

gloomy  (page 46)

a dark evening whic h makes a person feel sad and miserable.

insults  (page  68)

says rude and impolite things to someone.

neckerchief  (page   79)

a piece of clot h worn roun d th e neck .

pupil-teacher     (page 31)

someone wh o is learning, and teachin g junior pupils, at th e same school.

queer - my  legs are queer (page 31)

twisted, no t straight.

rival  (page 49)

if two me n love th e same woman, they are rivals for her love.

12 1

ruin (page 46)

a woman who attracts a man so much that he is almost mad because of his love for her, is the ruin of that man.

threatening (page 49)

to threaten someone is to say that you will do harm to that person.

SECTION 6

A note on the use of ungrammatical language

Some of the characters in this story, especially Riderhood, are uneducated and do not speak grammatically correct English.

122