Dodger Page 0,99
to do with anything.’
‘One day, Dodger, you should ask Solomon what a metaphor is.’
‘There’s another thing I want to ask please, miss,’ said Dodger. ‘That is, how can you be sure that nothing bad could happen to Miss Simplicity in the theatre; they are big places with lots of people in them.’
Angela smiled. ‘Sometimes the best place to hide something is exactly where no one would think to look. But if they do, then surely, Mister Dodger, we will be one step closer to reaching a happy conclusion to this affair? Simplicity will be in no danger – I have the ways and means to see that all of us will be able to enjoy the evening unmolested, you can be sure of that. My footmen have – you might say – hidden talents. But we may gain more than an evening’s entertainment from the excursion.’
She very carefully steered him then into yet another very well-appointed room in which comfy chairs were in abundance and so, on the whole, was everything else. Up in the attic Solomon had nothing that was not practical. The old man had his work table and a very narrow bed, and behind his curtain Dodger had a bedroll and a number of blankets, and if it was a cold winter sometimes Onan as well; the smell could get bad, but Onan was polite enough not to acknowledge it. But this room was full of . . . well, things! Things that as far as Dodger could see were there just to be seen, or perhaps things that were designed to have other things put on top of them, or inside them. It also had enormous displays of flowers in great big vases, and the place looked like Covent Garden. He wondered why people needed all these things, when he himself could carry everything he owned in quite a small bag, not counting the bedroll. It seemed to be something that happened when you were rich, like in the Mayhews’ house but with more knobs on.
But he pushed that aside in his mind to make way for his plan. It was a good plan, a shiny one, and it had come together finally because Mister Disraeli had tried to make fun of him. All evening long he had been piecing it together, trying to figure out which parts were likely to be straightforward – such as the breeches – and which parts there were where you would just have to trust to your luck; and the Lady, of course.
Tomorrow was going to be a very busy day.
He was looking around for Solomon when somebody else tapped him on the shoulder and said very politely, ‘I’m very sorry to intervene, but I hear that you habitually frequent the sewerage system.’
The unwanted enquirer was a young man some ten years older than himself with the beginnings of a very curly moustache in the current fashion, and the way the question was asked made Dodger suspect that the man might be something of an enthusiast when it came to drains. He was a gentleman who wanted to talk about drains and he – that is to say, Dodger – had to be polite, and so there was nothing for it but to smile nicely and say, ‘I’m no expert, sir, but since you ask, I am a tosher and I reckon I’ve been down every drain anybody can get down in the Square Mile, and then some. And you, sir, are . . .?’ He smiled so as not to give offence.
‘Oh dear, how remiss of me. Bazalgette, Joseph Bazalgette; here is my card, sir. May I say that if you are thinking of a journey into the sewers I would be most pleased if I could come with you. Indeed, I would be honoured!’
Dodger turned the card over and over in his fingers, gave in and said, ‘I was planning an . . . expedition with Mister Disraeli and Mister Dickens. The day after tomorrow, I believe. Perhaps one more . . .?’ After all, he thought, it could fit in very well with his plans, especially if one of the aforesaid gentlemen should change their minds, or find themselves ‘otherwise engaged’, as he believed it was described.
Mister Bazalgette was beaming with delight. Yes, he was an enthusiast for sure. A man who liked numbers and wheels and machinery, and quite possibly sewers. Mister Bazalgette, Dodger thought, might just be a gift from the Lady. ‘You must surely