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know one. He looked sharp as a knife, but probably the knife was his tongue; he was that kind of bloke – a smart person, but a definite geezer.
He looked at Disraeli and caught his eye, and Mister Disraeli winked – a tribute from one dodger to another dodger, perhaps. Dodger let himself smile, but didn’t wink back, because a young man could get into trouble winking at gentlemen, and up until then this place – all these statues, all these soundless carpets, all these pictures on the walls of elderly men with white hair and an expression of acute constipation – had been preying on his nerves, pushing him away, telling him he was small, insignificant, a worm. That wink had broken the spell and told him that this place was just another rookery: bigger, warmer, certainly richer, definitely better fed to judge by the stomachs and the redness of the noses, but after that wink just another street where people jostled for advantage and power and a better life for themselves if not for everybody else.
Dodger couldn’t stop grinning as he clutched this thought to himself, like a magic ring that gave you power and no one knew you had it. Then after this high came the low; this rookery was full of words, the place was full of books, and right now he could find no words at all.
At this moment there was a hand on his shoulder and Charlie said, ‘We, my friend, well, we have business to attend to. You can speak freely to me in front of my good friend Mister Disraeli, an up-and-coming politician of whom we have great hopes and who is aware of the certain current problem that we have. How are you, by the way? Would you like some refreshments?’ As Dodger struggled for words, Simplicity nodded her head politely and Charlie walked over to the door and pressed a bell pull. Almost immediately a man came in, had a whispered conversation with Charlie and went out again.
Charlie sat down in a big comfy chair, and so did Disraeli. Disraeli fascinated Dodger; there was no two ways about it. Dodger didn’t know the word ‘insinuated’, but he knew the thought, and Mister Disraeli insinuated himself, in some way never leaving anywhere until he was entirely somewhere else, whereupon he instantly became everywhere. This, of course, would make him dangerous, thought Dodger, and then he remembered what it was he had stuffed up his shirt.
With the servant off fetching drinks, Charlie said, ‘For heaven’s sake, sit down, young man, the chairs don’t bite! I am extremely glad to see that our young lady is progressing slowly but surely, which is very good news.’
Disraeli said, ‘Excuse me, but who exactly is the young lady? Is she . . .? Would someone please introduce me?’
He rose to his feet and Charlie stood up and piloted Disraeli towards Simplicity, saying, ‘Miss . . . Simplicity, may I introduce Mister Benjamin Disraeli.’
Dodger watched this from the edge of his seat with a certain incredulity. You never did things like that in Seven Dials. Then Charlie said, ‘Ben, Miss Simplicity is the lady who has been discussed.’
And, very sweetly, Simplicity said, ‘What has been discussed about me, pray?’
Dodger almost leaped back to his feet, ready to defend Simplicity if necessary, but quite sharply Charlie said, ‘Sit back down, Dodger. Best if you let me handle this, if you don’t mind, but feel free to break in.’ He looked across to Simplicity and said, ‘May I say that you can do the same.’ He cleared his throat and said, ‘The facts of the matter, as understood here in England, are that you lived out of the country with your mother – an English teacher, we believe, working abroad. Following her sad demise, sometime in the recent past you went through a form of marriage with a prince from one of the Germanys.’ Charlie looked at the girl as if fearing an explosion, but she just nodded so he continued, ‘We also understand that a short time later, you, miss, fled the country and landed up here in England – where we understand your mother was born.’
Glaring at him, Simplicity said, ‘Yes. And I left, gentlemen, because my husband became, as soon as we were married, a snivelling wretch of a man. He even tried to put the blame for our so-called marriage onto me, a trick, as you gentlemen must know, which is as old as Eden.’
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