Dodger: Chapters 9–12

Anyway, before he could do anything about it, Mister Dickens was called for and arrived shortly afterward, taking good care to shake Dodger very theatrically by the hand and then looking at Simplicity and saying, “You are surely not the young lady I last saw fair beaten up three nights ago?” Then he said that he had urgent business with the young cavalier, whatever that meant.

Dodger didn’t know the word “insinuated,” but he knew the thought, and Mister Disraeli insinuated himself, in some way never leaving anywhere until he was entirely somewhere else, whereupon he instantly became everywhere.

“Or,” he added, “it might just be sensible to lie low until said father-in-law finally has an apoplectic fit. As I understand it, from what Disraeli has gleaned, the rather unpleasant son might be more easy to deal with.”

“Well, miss, I reckon I can get through most windows in this city, and if I can, then so can someone more nasty than me, if you see what I mean.”
He was expecting a reproof, but what he got was a broad smile from Angela.

And so, after a day of dodging, he traipsed through the maze of streets, tired, hungry, and well aware that there was indeed not one mark on the shonky suit; it was now, in fact made up of marks.

He glad-handed Quince, the landlord, and a few of the other hangers-on of dubious repute with enough fire to send the word to those who had the eyes to see that this mark belonged to Dodger, and nobody else.

Reportedly, a good pickpocket could get his lunch just by strolling behind people who were intent on making the most of the entertainment. Dodger had himself tried this out once and hadn’t done too badly, but he had been surprised to find himself feeling a little ashamed at using such an occasion for profit and so he had redistributed the money he had expertly filched to a couple of beggars.

Dodger winced at this, but Solomon plunged on loudly with Old Testament firmness and waggled the finger of rectitude as if at any moment he would throw down the Ten Commandments.

Anger rose in him, a terrible anger that coalesced into one glittering shining certainty as the man’s blade gently stroked across his neck.

After a few moments’ thought, jingling the purloined coins in his hand, he walked back to his own streets, over to a small doorway, and knocked several times.

He shook Dodger by the hand and went on, “Mister Dickens told me the truth about what transpired on that day in Fleet Street, and it is wonderful, is it not, how the public perception of what is true these days seems always biased toward the macabre? It would seem that the common man likes nothing so much as an ‘’orrible murder.’”

As often as Tenniel had closely scrutinized Dodger, so had Dodger in his turn scrutinized him. He had seen not what was there, but at one point seen something very subtly out of kilter.

This was news to Dodger, but Solomon’s wisdom and efforts at basic hygiene had kept him alive so far, so it was almost inconceivable for Dodger to thwart his friend on this occasion; he dared not argue for fear that Solomon’s righteous zeal would cause him to drag Dodger there by the ear. Acquiescence was better than becoming a laughingstock in all the rookeries and stews.

The goat has never been distinguished by the fragrance of its aroma. I suspect you mean ‘unguents,’ which are perfumes distilled from fragrant oils.

The door to the bathhouse was up some steps, although there was nothing much else to recommend it; it certainly didn’t look like a haven for nubile Nubians of any kind. Once inside, however, they were greeted by a lady, which sent Dodger’s spirits up a bit, although the fact that she turned out to be quite old and had something of a mustache lowered them once again.

Mmm, oh, and what are you mmm exactly, my friend? Their subordinate? Their employee? Or, I would suggest, their equal?

“Mmm, as I recall, if you go around telling people that they are downtrodden, you tend to make two separate enemies: the people who are doing the downtreading and have no intention of stopping, and the people who are downtrodden, but nevertheless—people being who they are—don’t want to know. They can get quite nasty about it.”

Dodger wasn’t listening; a growler had a lot of places where somebody with quick wits could grasp and pull their way to the roof of the thing, in this case much to the extreme annoyance of the driver, who swore like the devil and shouted out above the noise of the storm that he would be mogadored if a poxy upstart was going to climb all over his vehicle.

Oh, that little telltale question in the statement which told the world that Izzy was just slightly uncertain, and, even more worryingly for Izzy, he was uncertain in the face of Solomon’s deadpan face.

Finally, since Solomon had washed his beard and primped it, the whole effect appeared to have an amazing power.

A canny politician would, I am sure, like to show his concern for this scandalous state of affairs. Our friends in Punch magazine would certainly portray you as a forward-looking politician, careful of the city as a whole.

Dodger took the lady’s outstretched hand and kissed it, to her surprise and his own, but to the great edification and amusement of both Charlie and Disraeli; Solomon certainly hadn’t told him to do this but, well, he was Dodger, and Miss Burdett-Coutts was smiling as if a favorite dog had done a good trick, but at the same time she would quite like the dog to know that it was allowed only one bite.

She looked at Solomon and said, “Ah, the most learned Mister Cohen, I presume? I have heard so much about you. I believe the Papal Nuncio told me a wonderful story about your perspicacity.”

Angela, glancing at Dodger, said, “When dinner is announced, I would be happy for you to take Miss Simplicity through to the dining area. You may sit beside me so that the proprieties are maintained.”

“That is Sir George Cayley, who certainly has demonstrated to us exactly why birds are able to fly and I believe is determined to see that humans do the same, although I suspect that William Henderson might beat him to it—I have been hearing much about his prototype steam-powered aerial carriage. If things look promising, I might consider funding further progress. It would be such a boon for mankind. Just imagine if you could fly to France in one day!”

Do you see that rather taciturn gentleman over there who looks as if he lost a guinea and found a farthing?

Dodger didn’t know the word “visceral,” he just understood the situation: you would do yourself no good mixing with the peelers, and now here he was in the same room as their boss, and as sure as sixpence Angela was going to introduce Dodger to him.

So gossip and people oscillated through the air, with at the moment himself and Simplicity in a little bubble.

Now, at last, Dodger was able to pay attention to the food in front of him: a rather good bowl of vegetable soup, even better than the stuff that Solomon made, and he said so as soon as he finished it, noticing as he did that no one else had dived into the soup with the same alacrity.

“It’s called julienne,” said Angela. “I really don’t know why that is so. I envy you your appetite!”

It was big and fat, but you had never seen such a sorry expression on the face of a fish before, although perhaps it might have been cheered up by the fact that along with the rather piquant sauce it tasted very nice.

Solomon, always fastidious about this sort of thing, had his own portable bucket with a little well-scrubbed wooden lid for those moments when a man just wanted a nice sit-down.

When he had finished, the voice of Sir Robert, still in his chair, said laconically, “Now you pull the porcelain knob on the chain to your left.”

“We are rather wondering,” Sir Robert mused, “if there might be another player here now; people are getting restive and want to see this whole matter cleared up..."

Of course, a keen policeman would still automatically think that said Mister Dodger, being somewhat annoyed by the lackeys of Sharp Bob, might see that some harm came to him or his associates.

...you and Miss Simplicity appear to be a reason why people are being killed. And why more people might be, unless we can resolve this, and very soon, since you must by now also realize that this affair has ramifications beyond Miss Simplicity and yourself.

Normally I would suggest that you should get enrolled in one of my Ragged Schools, but I fancy you would consider yourself too old for that, so instead, and so that I may begin to instill in you a love of words and the way they can be used, will you promise me that tomorrow night you will come with me and young Simplicity to the theater to see the new production of William Shakespeare’s Julius Caesar?

You must raise your play, Mister Dodger, because no man should waste his life tramping through sewers when he could be sailing through literature and the theater. Raise your play, Mister Dodger, raise your play! You already have the gingerbread, time to get the gilt!

“Oh dear, how remiss of me. Bazalgette, Joseph Bazalgette; here is my card, sir. May I say that if you are thinking of a journey into the sewers, I would be most pleased if I could come with you. Indeed, I would be honored!”

And so I have to think that I have been guided on a journey, and I don’t know where all the steps are, and I know the people who are my betters would like to see Simplicity shut away in some bleak house somewhere, so as she would cause no trouble.