They didn’t complain about him at Cascade’s, they didn’t think he was too much of a snarling haggler, considering the kind of louse he was, taking advantage of poverty, a bloodsucker, and so on. Naturally he’d handle things that came to him from Cascade’s, but never large quantities, just knick-knacks, odds and ends that the girls wangled from the customers, small stuff.. more or less as a joke.. more or less gifts.. Cascade didn’t encourage them… He didn’t like thieves.. but it was hard stopping them.. they were stubborn about it, they had to rummage around in pockets!. gold pencils!
cigarette holders!.. and even watches and chains!. Cascade didn’t want the stuff around!.. he’d fly right off the handle! Had to get rid of it! then and there!.. Titus for that, the sleight-of-hand artist, never a question!.. right to the melting pot!.. And that was the end of it!.. And he’d forget about it at once. Never a slipup. mum’s the word!. And he’d stop remembering even more quickly!.. neither the objects nor the women!.. He’d forget everything, lightning! He’d even kid us!. He didn’t even remember our faces!. That was his charm! the lightning way he forgot!. Lots of people came to his pawnshop. what a stream from five to six! people of all conditions. the modest and arrogant!. hell-raisers and ass-lickers. Bad luck strikes everywhere.. but his real business, his regular clients, were the ordinary people, the little crowd from the neighborhoods opposite.. jobbers, workmen, small business… Mainly from the other side of the Thames
Eastwall. Wapping. Beckleton. also a lot of little retired shopkeepers, waitresses, fishwives, artisans, a little of everything.. But the number of self-respecting people who didn’t want to be seen carrying their gewgaw "to be hocked”. And he had competition! He wasn’t the only one in the East!.. Mile End was jammed with pawnbrokers, hock shops in every building, but on top of one another, shops side by side, it got them pretty upset to be seen like that waiting around there. Whereas at Claben’s it was after all much more discreet!. there weren’t windows all around, just the clear view of the park. And then it was a trip, had to take the penny boat.. And besides, right next to the park… if you met anyone. if you were a little low at the moment. it was easy to be taking the air. you were just out walking. you could carry it off..
I’ve said that Claben didn’t talk much with the customers.. but he’d give the article a long going-over. he’d examine it in detail.. he’d squint at the trade-mark.. he’d come closer with his big glass… it would squeeze against his jowls, he’d press so hard on it that his cheeks would touch his ears… so passionately.. He’d forget his asthma.. He’d take another glass… a still bigger one!.. an enormous one… so as to see the thing better.. he’d be so nervous examining it that in his excitement he’d jolt everything, the table, the water-lamp, the armchair. he’d snuffle and flounder around so that he couldn’t talk… He didn’t have many teeth left, he’d splutter over his stumps, it kept him from swallowing.. Delphine had to chop up everything fine, especially meat, his big beefsteaks at two and six! The customers liked him as he was, that’s a fact, maybe because of his hocus-pocus, his oriental jacket, his Ali Baba style, his incense, his hangings, everything.. The English like it when foreigners remain quaint. and don’t start playing the gentleman, and stay as is, humbugs… a sort of monkey… I never saw Claben bawled out for his performance, his extortions, yet he was a louse, the worst vile stingy hyena when it came to usury and dishonesty! A skunk when it came to "lend and lease”! Never a day’s, a penny’s grace. the worst tyrant about extensions… he’d fleece them to zero!.. he’d finish off even the most decrepit woebegone wrecks.. he’d suck them beyond the bone!.. and he’d insult them besides into the bargain! Called them lower than worms for being the tiniest bit late! Should’ve heard his jabbering! The way he shook down poverty! It didn’t do him any harm. on the contrary!.. When he had one of his big attacks, almost dead, there’d be a rush, a crowd from all parts of the city asking about him, bringing him consolation, good wishes, flowers and fruit. he had some small customers who’d been skinned to the quick, from whom he’d taken everything, their tables, watches, door mats and who still came back to see him.. just so, without any hard feelings, who even brought him other customers, acquaintances from here and there, people who were also hard up… He didn’t even say thanks. Often they came from far away to pay him a quick visit, leaving their work when it was cold, freezing, rainy, hailing, just for the satisfaction of seeing their Horror at the back of his den gasping, sniffling, groaning, just to see that he wasn’t dead. That was the wonder of his charm. All he spoke to them about was hard cash, hardly ever a decent word.. That’s how it was and that’s all there’s to it. The worst cutthroats of the poor enjoy prestige.. often fawned upon, soft-soaped, while the nice ones are massacred. pulverize some poor guy and no crapping around!.. take advantage of utter misery so they puke blood, that’s the very essence of magic, real spellbinding, the height of beauty!
Let’s talk about it some more.
Here’s how the man and the shop presented themselves.. Titus Van Claben and partner. .The sign over the zinc emblem The Three Globes. Pawnbroker. On Securities and Personal Word. .right on the balcony in yellow and gold.. I never saw the partner.. Probably didn’t exist.. The personal word surely didn’t exist!
Titus wasn’t in a hurry to open his shop, he’d start around four o’clock.. sometimes later.. The customers who got impatient could take a walk in the park while waiting. could look at the landscape.. cross the lawns till they reached the trees, the big poplars a way off… I mean when the weather was nice.
It was full of games, merry-go-rounds, flocks of children!.. If the kids got in their hair the waiting customers could take refuge behind the kiosks, it was quiet there.. they’d feel their linings again.. Whether they’d lost anything.. their locket, their gadget.. Often it was more important, a household article. the coffee mill. the teapot. they’d redo the package.. the newspaper… As soon as Titus opened they’d all rush up..