Pass the cigars, Scribe, said Chrayonne, again, in a louder key; while the policeman wagged his head, and smiled knowingly.
He cant, said the wretch, grinning outright.
Cant? said Chrayonne, with a puzzled look. Cant? But, I say, he exclaimed, jumping up, I beg your pardon, old fellow, I never thought about your being engaged. Im off. Excusez .
Prisner, said K9, grinning.
I am not, I exclaimed, indignantly; but it was of no avail, for the wretch pulled the table-cover on one side, and pointed to my manacled hands.
Chrayonne blew out his cheeky opened his eyes widely, and then whistled very softly. Then, after a pause
Very sorry, old fellow. Can I do anything? Bail friends solicitors
Yes, I exclaimed, furiously. Knock that scoundrel down, and take the key of these confounded handcuffs from him. Its a rascally piece of humbug its a trick.
Chrayonne looked at the constable, who winked at him in reply, and, to my intense disgust, I could see that for the moment he was more disposed to place faith in the impassive demeanour of the myrmidon of the law than in my indignant protestations.
Just then, however, by a desperate effort, and at the cost of some skin, I dragged one hand from its durance vile, and rushed at my captor, as he dubbed himself; but he coolly rose, took out the key, and released my other hand. Then pocketing the handcuffs, and winking at us both in turn, he opened the door, and the room knew him no longer. While, as a specimen of the advantage or disadvantage of first impressions, I may add that it took two cigars and words innumerable to make Chrayonne believe that my visitor had not departed with the expectation of a heavy bribe as payment for my release.
Chapter Four. Waiting for Arry
But that dont do no good, you know only makes one feel a bit lighter; and then Im up and off, so as to save all I can again my chap comes out; and then, good luck to us, I hope times ll mend.
Down the Dials we live. Not in the main street, you know, but just off in a court, and right up atop in the garret. You see, Arry gets his living by birds, and we can keep em alive up there better. Poor little things! they dies fast enough now; but when we lived on the ground-floor back it was awful. I spose it was the closeness and bad smells, for the little things would turn rough all over, and wouldnt eat, and then next morning there theyd be with their pretty little bright eyes half closed, and looking so pitiful that I used to cry about it, and then Arry used to call me a fool; but I know he didnt mind, for he allus put his arm round me and give me a kiss.
Pore little soft, downy things; it used to be sad enough to have em shut up behind them bars, beating their little soft breasts, and seeming to say, Let me out! let me out! but when they died it was ever so much worse. Sometimes of a night Ive woke up to hear a little scratching noise and a rustling in one of the cages; and then Ive known what it meant, for its one of the pore things little spirits flown away from this weary
life.
Arry used to be soft over it too, for hes werry fond of his birds, and when one went away from us like that, he used to roll the little body up in a bit of stiff paper, and take it down in the country with him and bury it.
Seems hard to ketch the poor things, he used to say; but we must get a living somehow.
When we got up atop of the house there was more light, and a bit of sun sometimes, so that the birds lived better, and used to sing more, and we sold a-many.
You see Arry had his nets, and traps, and call-birds, and in the fine weather we used to go down in the country together ketching linnets, and goldfinches, and redpoles. Sometimes wed bring home a larks or a nightingales nest, and I used to help him all I could cutting turves, and getting chickweed, and groundsel, and plantain, moss and wool for canary nests, and mosses and sprays for the bird-stuffers to ornament with, besides grasses of all kinds. Theres allus sale for them sorter things, you know, and its a honest living.
Why, it was like getting into heaven to run down with Arry into the bright country away from the dirt, and noise, and smoke; and I used to make him laugh to hear me shout and sing, and to see me running along a bank here to pick flowers, or stopping there to listen to the larks, and even running arter the butterflies; but he used to like it, I think, and allus took me with him when he could, for his mother lives with us and feeds the birds when were out. Spring, and summer, and autumn, it was allus beautiful: flowers and fruit, and bright sunshine, and soft, gentle rain, and the sweet, sweet scent of the earth after. Oh, sir, shut yourself up for a month in a dirty room in a close court, where you can hardly breathe live from hand to mouth, and praps not have enough and then go out into the bright sunshine and on the breezy hills, with the green, shady woods there, and the sparkling stream there the bees humming about on the heath bells, and all pure, and bright, and golden with the furze and broom and then feel how it all comes over you, choking like, as if you were so happy you must cry, for its all too sweet and beautiful to bear!