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“Hardly that.”
“Hallo, Pouncer! Hallo, Honesty! How are London's crooks thesedays?”
“Busy,” Honesty answered.
“Unusually so,” added Trounce, frowning at Swinburne's use ofhis nickname.
“Maybe they think the steam hides their many sins! Moveyourselves! Let's be off!”
“Blast it, Algy!” Burton growled. “Where to? And have you beendrinking?”
“To see Kenealy and his corpulent client. They're about toperform at Speakers’ Corner! Yes, I have. Quite frankly, I'msloshed!”
“Speakers’ Corner?” Trounce cried. “The Claimant's only justbeen freed from Newgate!”
“I know! But the streets are abuzz with it; he'll be lecturingthe heaving throng within the hour! And I, for one, don't want thethrong to heave without me!”
“I'm with you, my boy!” Trounce enthused.
Burton took a leash from the hatstand and clipped it to Fidget'scollar. Jackets were buttoned, hats were placed on heads, caneswere retrieved, and the four men and dog hurried out of the houseinto the haze of Montagu Place.
“Let's leg it down Gloucester,” Swinburne suggested. “We'll bethere in five minutes.”
They strolled eastward, and, as they approached the corner, Mr.Grub's barrow came into view.
Burton touched the brim of his topper in greeting.
“Morning, Mr. Grub! How's business?”
“What's it to do with you?” came the snarled reply.
Burton halted and looked at the man in astonishment.
“I beg your pardon?”
“Oh, do yer? Well, you ain't gettin’ it, you blasted snob!”
“I say!” Swinburne gasped.
Detective Inspector Honesty turned toward the vendor and stuckout his chest. “Better watch your ma
“Betters, is it? Ha! You ain't no better than nuffink, an’that's a fact!”
“Why, what on earth has got into you, Mr. Grub?” asked Burton,and Trounce added: “Come, come, dear fellow. Surely that's no wayto talk!”
“Why don'tcha all clear off, hey?” Grub responded.
“Is something troubling you?” Burton enquired. “Has somethinghappened?”
“All that's bleedin’ well ’appened is that you're a-standin’ onme patch gettin’ in the way of them honest workin’ folks what wantsto buy cockles an’ whelks.”
“Well, what say I buy a bag?” Swinburne suggested. “I like mycockles with a sprinkling of vinegar, if you please.” Hehiccupped.
“I don't please, an’ you can keep yer bloomin’ money, youpipsqueak! Get away from ’ere! Go on! Skedaddle, the lot o’yer!”
The end of a tremendously long, thin leg thumped onto the roadbeside them as a harvestman of the order Phalangium opilio passed.The colossal arachnid-called by some a “daddy-long-legs”-was aone-man delivery vehicle. The carapace of its small oval body,which bobbed along twenty feet in the air as the eight elongatedlegs propelled it forward, had been carved into a bowl-shapeddriver's seat, behind which a steam engine chugged. Beneath thebody, a wooden crate dangled, held by netting.
The vehicle's twin fu
“Why don't you all bugger off!” he mumbled as the bizarrevehicle vanished around a corner.
“I'm placing you under arrest for-” began Detective InspectorHonesty.
“No,” Burton interrupted, gripping the smaller man's upper arm.“Leave him, there's a good chap. Let's move on.”
“But-”
“Come!”
Burton guided the Yard man away, followed by Swinburne andTrounce. The latter looked back at the street vendor inpuzzlement.
“By Jove! What extraordinary rudeness!” he muttered.
“And entirely out of character,” Burton observed. “Perhaps he'shaving trouble at home.”
“Should be arrested!” Honesty grumbled. “Insulting a policeofficer.”
“There are bigger fish to fry,” Burton noted.
They walked on down Gloucester Place until the northeasterncorner of Hyde Park came into view. A big crowd had gathered there,comprised almost entirely of working-class men, with rolled-upshirtsleeves, suspenders, and cloth caps. A few top-hatted gentswere hovering at the outer edges of the gathering. Dr. Kenealy andthe Claimant could be seen near a podium. They were encircled by anumber of foppishly dressed individuals-obviously Rakes-whoappeared to be acting as bodyguards.
“What a crowd!” Trounce observed as they pushed their way intothe mob.
“All come to goggle at the freak!” Swinburne said.
A man with pocked skin and bad teeth leaned close and said: “Heain't no bloomin’ freak, mister. He's an haristocrat what's beencheated outa what's rightfully ‘is by the blasted lawyers!”
“My good sir!” the poet protested.
“Go about your business,” Trounce commanded.
The man sneered nastily, turned his back, and hobbled away,swearing under his breath.
They stood and waited.
Ten minutes later, Burton asked, “Is it my imagination or are weon the receiving end of some rather hostile glances?”
“Shhh!” Swinburne responded. “The Claimant's about to speak!” Hepulled a silver flask from his jacket pocket and swigged fromit.
The grossly obese giant had heaved himself up onto the podium.The crowd spontaneously broke into song: “I've seen a great deal ofgaiety throughout my noisy life,
With all my grand accomplishments I ne'er could get a wife,
The thing I most excel in is the P. R. F. G. game,
A-noise all night, in bed all day, and swimming inChampagne!”
Swinburne laughed, and in a loud, high-pitched voice, joined inwith the chorus: “For Champagne Charlie is my name;
Champagne Charlie is my name,
Good for any game at night, my boys;
Good for any game at night, my boys,
Champagne Charlie is my name;
Champagne Charlie is my name,
Good for any game at night, boys;
Who'll come and join me in a spree?”
“Be quiet, you idiot-you're attracting attention!” Burtonhissed.
Dr. Kenealy climbed up beside his client and waved for the crowdto quiet down.
Reluctantly, it did so.
“I'd like to introduce to you,” he began, in a loud voice, “aman who is well acquainted with this country's aristocraticfamilies, due to the fact that he is himself one of theirnumber.”
“Boo!” hooted someone close to Burton and his colleagues.
“In fact,” Kenealy continued, “he is actually a distant cousinof my client!”
“Hurrah!” yelled the man who'd just booed.
“Please spare a little of your time for Mr. AnthonyBiddulph!”
Kenealy stepped down and a short, ski
“My friends,” Biddulph boomed, in a surprisingly powerful tone,“I could point out several English gentlemen who would not passmuster as English gentlemen any better-” he placed a hand on theClaimant's forearm “-than this man here does.”
Laughter and jeers from the crowd.
“For no matter the circumstances of their birth, they areapparently no better than farmers, and I would place Tichborneamong that class.”
“Cor blimey! You ain't suggestin’ that aristos are stupid, areyer?” someone shouted.
The crowd cheered.
“I refer to the accusations that have been levelled at this manwhich suggest he can't be who he says he is because he seemsuneducated. Well, let me tell you, I have heard of persons calledEnglish gentlemen who were so illiterate in conversations that youwould take them to be nothing better than pig-jobbers!”
“There ain't nuffink wrong wiv a pig-jobber!” cried a voice. “Ishould know, I be one meself-an’ I hain't hilliterate neither!”
More laughter.
“Quite so!” Biddulph cried. “And this man is unique in his classin that he knows what it means to earn his daily crust!”
Long enthusiastic cheers erupted.
Biddulph stepped down.