port, but conscience intact, secure in the knowledge that he had served the law?
Thus he went like that, back and forth, for the better part of the afternoon. The serving girls kept him well supplied with an endless river of ale. And by four o'clock his besotted brain had at last slipped into a kind of welcome numbness.
Another hour and he was due to go back on the watch at Newgate.
In the event the Prince of Eden appeared tonight, and Jawster knew he would, he must have his answer ready.
FeeHng as battered as though he'd fought five hundred Waterloos, he stumbled to his feet, tossed enough coin on the table to cover his bill, and grasping his way from chair to chair, he arrived at the door and the blazing late afternoon sun beyond.
Someone called after him, but he didn't answer. Out on the pavement he stood for a moment as though in a stupor, the street noises magnified in his ears, his bleary eyes seeing all in triplicate. Pedestrians jostled against him. A street urchin tried to slip a grimy hand into his pocket.
"Be off with you," he shouted, waving wildly at the child. Then he saw the sullen eyes in the youthful face and softened his attitude. "Don't rob old Jawster today," he smiled. "He's a poor man, as poor as you." He leaned closer, grinning. "But come tomorrow. Then you can rob old Jawster, for he'll be a rich man."
The stream of pedestrians separated them, carrying the child in one direction, Jawster in the other. It astonished him to discover that in that instant the decision had almost been made.
He looked angrily about. No one in all those passing faces was paying the slightest attention to him. Well, then nothing to do but step out into the middle of the pavement and announce his news again. Everyone must know. Someone must care. He drew himself up and wished that the pavement would hold steady. He lifted his head, closed his eyes, and taking a broad stride, stepped directly out into the flow of carriages.
Then here it came, that great shadow bearing down on him. A man's voice, very close or so it seemed, shouted, "Watch—"
Jawster tried to do as he was told. Glancing upward he saw six horses pulling a crowded omnibus heading straight for him. He thought quite lucidly that he'd never seen such monsters before. Where had they come from? The huge beasts seemed to be flinging themselves about, sending a flurry of white foam from their mouths.
The noise and confusion boiled around him, the brutes coming closer. He stepped back before the onslaught; his boots caught on something and he was falling backward, the giants rearing up over him, hooves striking the pavement all about while Jawster cried out, "Jesus-"
Then he lay quietly on the pavement, pain and darkness increasing. Now and then a hissing sound slipped from his mouth. Through a dim red moist curtain his eyes moved from one to another of the horrified onlookers. "A rich man," he muttered.
Blood filled his mouth, a stream of blood spouting from his nose, his
splintered legs twisted beneath him. One hand moved up as though to hold his head together. A pain as sharp as a blade pierced through to the center of his brain. The grip of his teeth on his tongue relaxed. A decision had been made.
At five o'clock that afternoon, hopelessly stalled in a traffic crush near the White Bear on Oxford Street, Edward gazed out his carriage window at the chaos beyond.
Old John Murrey shouted down at him. "It's a horse-drawn omnibus, sir. Gone sideways it has. A lame horse, I reckon—"
"No rush, John," Edward called out. "Do your best."
As a direct ray of late afternoon sun struck his face, he closed his eyes. The restless interval which had passed for sleep had not really revived him. His thoughts went continuously back to Newgate, to Charlotte imprisoned there.
Rapidly he lifted his head and stared fixedly out the opposite window. Pray God old Jawster Gray had lost his battle with his conscience.
With a start the carriage lurched forward. John Murrey
Thus he went like that, back and forth, for the better part of the afternoon. The serving girls kept him well supplied with an endless river of ale. And by four o'clock his besotted brain had at last slipped into a kind of welcome numbness.
Another hour and he was due to go back on the watch at Newgate.
In the event the Prince of Eden appeared tonight, and Jawster knew he would, he must have his answer ready.
FeeHng as battered as though he'd fought five hundred Waterloos, he stumbled to his feet, tossed enough coin on the table to cover his bill, and grasping his way from chair to chair, he arrived at the door and the blazing late afternoon sun beyond.
Someone called after him, but he didn't answer. Out on the pavement he stood for a moment as though in a stupor, the street noises magnified in his ears, his bleary eyes seeing all in triplicate. Pedestrians jostled against him. A street urchin tried to slip a grimy hand into his pocket.
"Be off with you," he shouted, waving wildly at the child. Then he saw the sullen eyes in the youthful face and softened his attitude. "Don't rob old Jawster today," he smiled. "He's a poor man, as poor as you." He leaned closer, grinning. "But come tomorrow. Then you can rob old Jawster, for he'll be a rich man."
The stream of pedestrians separated them, carrying the child in one direction, Jawster in the other. It astonished him to discover that in that instant the decision had almost been made.
He looked angrily about. No one in all those passing faces was paying the slightest attention to him. Well, then nothing to do but step out into the middle of the pavement and announce his news again. Everyone must know. Someone must care. He drew himself up and wished that the pavement would hold steady. He lifted his head, closed his eyes, and taking a broad stride, stepped directly out into the flow of carriages.
Then here it came, that great shadow bearing down on him. A man's voice, very close or so it seemed, shouted, "Watch—"
Jawster tried to do as he was told. Glancing upward he saw six horses pulling a crowded omnibus heading straight for him. He thought quite lucidly that he'd never seen such monsters before. Where had they come from? The huge beasts seemed to be flinging themselves about, sending a flurry of white foam from their mouths.
The noise and confusion boiled around him, the brutes coming closer. He stepped back before the onslaught; his boots caught on something and he was falling backward, the giants rearing up over him, hooves striking the pavement all about while Jawster cried out, "Jesus-"
Then he lay quietly on the pavement, pain and darkness increasing. Now and then a hissing sound slipped from his mouth. Through a dim red moist curtain his eyes moved from one to another of the horrified onlookers. "A rich man," he muttered.
Blood filled his mouth, a stream of blood spouting from his nose, his
splintered legs twisted beneath him. One hand moved up as though to hold his head together. A pain as sharp as a blade pierced through to the center of his brain. The grip of his teeth on his tongue relaxed. A decision had been made.
At five o'clock that afternoon, hopelessly stalled in a traffic crush near the White Bear on Oxford Street, Edward gazed out his carriage window at the chaos beyond.
Old John Murrey shouted down at him. "It's a horse-drawn omnibus, sir. Gone sideways it has. A lame horse, I reckon—"
"No rush, John," Edward called out. "Do your best."
As a direct ray of late afternoon sun struck his face, he closed his eyes. The restless interval which had passed for sleep had not really revived him. His thoughts went continuously back to Newgate, to Charlotte imprisoned there.
Rapidly he lifted his head and stared fixedly out the opposite window. Pray God old Jawster Gray had lost his battle with his conscience.
With a start the carriage lurched forward. John Murrey
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