Fingersmith

He had passed two terms in prison, and always swore he would not pass a third.

The knock came again. Mr Ibbs said, 'All tidy? Now, be steady, boys, be steady. What do you say, Sue my dear, to opening that door?'

I looked again at Mrs Sucksby, and when she nodded, went and drew back the bolt; t h e d o o r w a s f l u n g s o q u i c k a n d h a r d a g a i n s t m e , P h i l t h o u g h t i t h a d b e e n shouldered— I saw him brace himself against the wall, bring out his knife and lift it.

But it was only the wind that made the door swing: it came in a rush into the kitchen, b l o w i n g h a l f t h e c a n d l e s o u t , m a k i n g t h e b r a z i e r s p a r k , a n d s e n d i n g a l l m y playing-cards flying. In the passage stood a man, dressed dark, wet through and dripping, and with a leather bag at his feet. The dim light showed his pale cheeks, his whiskers, but his eyes were quite hidden in the shadow of his hat. I should not have known him if he had not spoken. He said,

'Sue! Is it Sue? Thank God! I have come forty miles to see you. Will you keep me standing here? I am afraid the cold will kill me!'

Then I knew him, though I had not seen him for more than a year. Not one man in a hundred came to Lant Street speaking like him. His name was Richard Rivers, or Dick Rivers, or sometimes Richard Wells. We called him by another name, however; and it was that name I said now, when Mrs Sucksby saw me staring and called, 'Who is it, then?'

'It's Gentleman,' I said.

That is how we said it, of course: not how a proper gent would say it, using all his teeth on it; but as if the word were a fish and we had filleted it— Ge'mun.

'It's Gentleman,' I said; and Phil at once put his knife away, and spat, and went back to the brazier. Mrs Sucksby, however, turned in her chair, the baby twisting its scarlet face from her bosom and opening its mouth.

'Gentleman!' she cried. The baby started shrieking, and Charley Wag, let free by John, dashed barking to Gentleman and put his paws upon his coat. 'What a turn you gave us! Dainty, take a taper to them candles. Put the water on the fire, for a pot.'

'We thought you was the blues,' I said, as Gentleman came into the kitchen.

'I believe I am turned blue,' he answered. He set down his bag, and shivered, and took off his sodden hat and gloves and then his dripping greatcoat, which at once began to steam. He rubbed his hands together, then passed them over his head. He kept his hair and whiskers long and now, the rain having taken the kink from them, they seemed longer than ever, and dark, and sleek. There were rings at his fingers, and a watch, with a jewel on the chain, at his waistcoat. I knew without studying them that the rings and the watch were snide, and the jewel a paste one; but they were damn fine counterfeits.

The room grew brighter as Dainty saw to the lights. Gentleman looked about him, still rubbing his hands together and nodding.

'How do you do, Mr Ibbs?' he called easily. 'How do you do, lads?'

Mr Ibbs said, 'Very well, my tulip.' The boys did not answer. Phil said, to no-one,

'Come in the back way, did he?1— and another boy laughed.

12

Boys like that always think that men like Gentleman are nancies.

John laughed too, but louder than the others. Gentleman looked at him. 'Hallo, you little tick,' he said. 'Lost your monkey?'

John's cheek being so sallow, everyone always took him for an Italian. Now, hearing Gentleman, he put his finger to his nose. 'You can kiss my arse,' he said.

'Can I?' said Gentleman, smiling. He winked at Dainty, and she ducked her head.

'Hallo, charmer,' he said. Then he stooped to Charley Wag, and pulled his ears. 'Hallo, you Wagster. Where's police? Hey? Where's police? See 'em off!' Charley Wag went wild. 'Good boy/ said Gentleman, rising, brushing off hairs. 'Good boy. That will do.'

Then he went and stood at Mrs Sucksby's chair.

'Hallo, Mrs S,' he said.

The baby, now, had had a dose of gin, and had cried itself quiet. Mrs Sucksby held out her hand. Gentleman caught it up and kissed | it— first at the knuckles, and then at the tips. Mrs Sucksby said,

'Get up out of that chair, John, and let Gentleman sit down.'

John looked like thunder for a minute, then rose and took Dainty's stool. Gentleman sat, and spread his legs towards the fire. He was tall, and his legs were long. He was seven- or eight-and-twenty. Beside him, John looked about six.

Mrs Sucksby kept her eyes upon him while he yawned and rubbed his face. Then he met her gaze, and smiled.

'Well, well,' he said. 'How's business?'

'Pretty sweet,' she answered. The baby lay still, and she patted it as she had used to pat me. Gentleman nodded to it.

'And this little bud,' he said: 'is it farm, or is it family?'

'Farm, of course,' she said.

'A he-bud, or a she-bud?'

A he-bud, bless his gums! Another poor motherless infant what I shall be bringing up by hand.'

Gentleman leaned towards her.

'Lucky boy!' he said, and winked.

Mrs Sucksby cried, 'Oh!' and turned pink as a rose. 'You saucebox!'

Nancy or not, he could certainly make a lady blush. We called him Gentleman, because he really was a gent— had been,

he said, to a real gent's school, and had a father and a mother and a jster__all swells— whose heart he had just about broke. He had had money once, and lost it all gambling; his pa said he should never have another cent of the family fortune; and so he was obliged to get money the old- fashioned way, by thievery and dodging. He took to the life so well, however, we all said there must have been bad blood way back in that family, that had all come out in him.

He could be quite the painter when ht chose, and had done a little work in the forgery line, at Paris; when that fell through, I think he spent a year putting French books into English— or English books into French— anyway, putting them slightly different each time, and pinning different titles on them, and so making one old story pass as twenty brand-new ones. Mostly, however, he worked as a confidence-man, and as a sharper at 13

the grand casinos— for of course, he could mix with Society, and seem honest as the rest. The ladies especially would go quite wild for him. He had three times been nearly married to some rich heiress, but every time the father in the case had grown suspicious and the deal had fallen through. He had ruined many people by selling them stock from counterfeit banks. He was handsome as a plum, and Mrs Sucksby fairly doted on him. He came to Lant Street about once a year, bringing poke to Mr Ibbs, and picking up bad coin, cautions, and tips.

I supposed he had come bringing poke with him, now; and so, it seemed, did Mrs Sucksby, for once he had grown warm again before the fire and Dainty had given him tea, with rum in it, she placed the sleeping baby back in its cradle and smoothed her skirt across her lap and said,

'Well now, Gentleman, this is a pleasure all right. We didn't look for you for another month or two. Have you something with you, as Mr Ibbs will like the look of?'

Gentleman shook his head. 'Nothing for Mr Ibbs, I am afraid.'

'What, nothing? Do you hear that, Mr Ibbs?'

'Very sad,' said Mr Ibbs, from his place at the brazier.

Mrs Sucksby grew confidential. 'Have you something, then, for me?'

But Gentleman shook his head again.

'Not for you, either, Mrs S,' he said. 'Not for you; not for Garibaldi here' (meaning John); 'not for Dainty, nor for Phil and the boys; nor even for Charley Wag.'

He said this, going all about the room with his eyes; and finally looking at me, and then saying nothing. I had taken up the scattered playing- cards, and was sorting them back into their suits. When I saw him gazing— and, besides him, John and Dainty, and Mrs Sucksby, still quite pink in the face, also looking my way— I put the cards down.