Dodger Page 0,102
saying, ‘remember, you must be smart and in your best clothes again when you go to the theatre. Incidentally, what is that piece of paper rolling up in your hand? Unusual for you to try to read . . .?’
Dodger gave up the unequal struggle and said, ‘Tell me what this means, Sol, ’cos I think this one is important. I think these people are the people what mean Simplicity harm.’
The speed with which Solomon drank information off a page always seemed wondrous to Dodger, and the old man said, ‘It’s the address of an embassy.’
‘What’s an embassy?’ said Dodger.
It took a minute or two for Sol to explain the concept of an embassy to Dodger, but by the end of the explanation Dodger’s eyes were ablaze and he said, ‘Well, you know me and writing. Can you just tell me where it is?’
‘I wonder if I dare,’ said Solomon, ‘but I know you will not be satisfied until you find out. Please promise me, at least, that you won’t kill anybody. Well, unless they try to kill you first.’ He added, ‘A remarkable woman, Angela, isn’t she?’ He glanced out of the window and continued, ‘As a matter of fact I think I might be able to persuade the growler to go past the address.’
Five minutes later, Dodger was staring at the building like a pickpocket fixes his gaze on a lord’s trouser pockets. He said, ‘I’ll come back home with you right now to see you get in all right, but then don’t wait up.’
He itched with impatience all the way to Seven Dials as they rumbled through the darkened streets, and as they arrived home he apparently took no notice of the single man lurking in the shadows and the man paid them no apparent attention as they climbed up the stairs, a grumbling Solomon complaining about being so late for bed. Dodger spent some time feeding Onan and taking him for his usual nocturnal walk. When that was over, the dog followed him upstairs, and very shortly after that the watcher down in the street below saw the solitary candle go out.
On the other side of the building, Dodger – now dressed in his working clothes – climbed down the rope he utilized whenever he wanted to get back to ground level without being noticed. Then he slid round to where the watching man was still watching, silently tied his bootlaces together in the darkness and then kicked the man’s feet from under him, saying, ‘Hello, my name’s Dodger, what’s yours?’
The man was at first startled, then extremely angry, saying, ‘I am a policeman, you know!’
‘I don’t see no uniform, mister policeman,’ said Dodger. ‘I’ll tell you what, ’cos you have a nice face I’ll let you go, OK? And tell Mister Robert Peel that Dodger does things his way, all right?’
But he was, he thought, if not exactly in trouble with Scotland Yard, nevertheless certainly in a stew of sorts, and it was bubbling, wasn’t it just! Once the peelers from Scotland Yard got a hold of you they tended to hang on, and if the news got about that he had spoken to the peelers – especially the big Peel himself! – then the street people would think he was getting into bad company, and might be likely to peach on them.
Even worse, he was being spied on. Plain-clothed policemen! There ought to be a law against it; everybody said so – it was, well, it was unfair. After all, if you saw a peeler walking around, well, maybe you would think once or twice about dipping into someone’s pocket or dipping into something that didn’t really belong to anyone really, when you came to think about it, or just possibly knocking off something from a barrow when the owner wasn’t looking. After all, seeing policemen around kept you honest, didn’t it? If they were going to lurk around like ordinary people they were basically asking you to commit crimes, weren’t they? It was entirely unfair in Dodger’s opinion.
It had been a long night already indeed, but there were things that had to be done quickly, or else he would burst. So he ran through the dark streets until he came to the abode of Ginny-Come-Lately.
She answered the door on the third knock, and in something of a bad temper until she said, ‘Oh, it’s you, Dodger, how nice. Er, can’t invite you in quite yet, you know how it is, don’t ya?’
Dodger, who