Our Mutual Friend - The Original Classic Edition. Dickens Charles

gone. NOW tell me I am a liar!' said the honest man.

       Mr Inspector stepped into the boat. Eugene and Mortimer looked on.

       'And see now!' added Riderhood, creeping aft, and showing a stretched rope made fast there and towing overboard. 'Didn't I tell you

       he was in luck again?'

       'Haul in,' said Mr Inspector.

       'Easy to say haul in,' answered Riderhood. 'Not so easy done. His luck's got fouled under the keels of the barges. I tried to haul in

       last time, but I couldn't. See how taut the line is!'

       'I must have it up,' said Mr Inspector. 'I am going to take this boat ashore, and his luck along with it. Try easy now.'

       He tried easy now; but the luck resisted; wouldn't come.

       'I mean to have it, and the boat too,' said Mr Inspector, playing the line.

       But still the luck resisted; wouldn't come.

       'Take care,' said Riderhood. 'You'll disfigure. Or pull asunder perhaps.'

       'I am not going to do either, not even to your Grandmother,' said Mr Inspector; 'but I mean to have it. Come!' he added, at once persuasively and with authority to the hidden object in the water, as he played the line again; 'it's no good this sort of game, you know. You MUST come up. I mean to have you.'

       There was so much virtue in this distinctly and decidedly meaning to have it, that it yielded a little, even while the line was played.

       'I told you so,' quoth Mr Inspector, pulling off his outer coat, and leaning well over the stern with a will. 'Come!'

       It was an awful sort of fishing, but it no more disconcerted Mr Inspector than if he had been fishing in a punt on a summer evening by some soothing weir high up the peaceful river. After certain minutes, and a few directions to the rest to 'ease her a little for'ard,' and 'now ease her a trifle aft,' and the like, he said composedly, 'All clear!' and the line and the boat came free together.

       Accepting Lightwood's proffered hand to help him up, he then put on his coat, and said to Riderhood, 'Hand me over those spare sculls of yours, and I'll pull this in to the nearest stairs. Go ahead you, and keep out in pretty open water, that I mayn't get fouled again.'

       His directions were obeyed, and they pulled ashore directly; two in one boat, two in the other.

       'Now,' said Mr Inspector, again to Riderhood, when they were all on the slushy stones; 'you have had more practice in this than I

       have had, and ought to be a better workman at it. Undo the tow-rope, and we'll help you haul in.'

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       Riderhood got into the boat accordingly. It appeared as if he had scarcely had a moment's time to touch the rope or look over the

       stern, when he came scrambling back, as pale as the morning, and gasped out:

       'By the Lord, he's done me!'

       'What do you mean?' they all demanded.

       He pointed behind him at the boat, and gasped to that degree that he dropped upon the stones to get his breath.

       'Gaffer's done me. It's Gaffer!'

       They ran to the rope, leaving him gasping there. Soon, the form of the bird of prey, dead some hours, lay stretched upon the shore, with a new blast storming at it and clotting the wet hair with hailstones.

       Father, was that you calling me? Father! I thought I heard you call me twice before! Words never to be answered, those, upon the earth-side of the grave. The wind sweeps jeeringly over Father, whips him with the frayed ends of his dress and his jagged hair, tries to turn him where he lies stark on his back, and force his face towards the rising sun, that he may be shamed the more. A lull, and the wind is secret and prying with him; lifts and lets falls a rag; hides palpitating under another rag; runs nimbly through his hair and beard. Then, in a rush, it cruelly taunts him. Father, was that you calling me? Was it you, the voiceless and the dead? Was it you, thus

       buffeted as you lie here in a heap? Was it you, thus baptized unto Death, with these flying impurities now flung upon your face? Why not speak, Father? Soaking into this filthy ground as you lie here, is your own shape. Did you never see such a shape soaked into your boat? Speak, Father. Speak to us, the winds, the only listeners left you!

       'Now see,' said Mr Inspector, after mature deliberation: kneeling on one knee beside the body, when they had stood looking down on the drowned man, as he had many a time looked down on many another man: 'the way of it was this. Of course you gentlemen hardly failed to observe that he was towing by the neck and arms.'

       They had helped to release the rope, and of course not.

       'And you will have observed before, and you will observe now, that this knot, which was drawn chock-tight round his neck by the

       strain of his own arms, is a slip-knot': holding it up for demonstration.

       Plain enough.

       'Likewise you will have observed how he had run the other end of this rope to his boat.' It had the curves and indentations in it still, where it had been twined and bound.

       'Now see,' said Mr Inspector, 'see how it works round upon him. It's a wild tempestuous evening when this man that was,' stooping to wipe some hailstones out of his hair with an end of his own drowned jacket, '--there! Now he's more like himself; though he's badly bruised,--when this man that was, rows out upon the river on his usual lay. He carries with him this coil of rope. He always carries with him this coil of rope. It's as well known to me as he was himself. Sometimes it lay in the bottom of his boat. Sometimes he hung it loose round his neck. He was a light-dresser was this man;--you see?' lifting the loose neckerchief over his breast, and taking the opportunity of wiping the dead lips with it--'and when it was wet, or freezing, or blew cold, he would hang this coil of line round his neck. Last evening he does this. Worse for him! He dodges about in his boat, does this man, till he gets chilled. His hands,' taking up one of them, which dropped like a leaden weight, 'get numbed. He sees some object that's in his way of business, floating. He makes ready to secure that object. He unwinds the end of his coil that he wants to take some turns on in his boat, and he takes turns enough on it to secure that it shan't run out. He makes it too secure, as it happens. He is a little longer about this than usual, his hands being numbed. His object drifts up, before he is quite ready for it. He catches at it, thinks he'll make sure of the contents of the pockets anyhow, in case he should be parted from it, bends right over the stern, and in one of these heavy squalls,

       or in the cross-swell of two steamers, or in not being quite prepared, or through all or most or some, gets a lurch, overbalances and goes head-foremost overboard. Now see! He can swim, can this man, and instantly he strikes out. But in such striking-out he tangles his arms, pulls strong on the slip-knot, and it runs home. The object he had expected to take in tow, floats by, and his own boat tows him dead, to where we found him, all entangled in his own line. You'll ask me how I make out about the pockets? First, I'll tell you more; there was silver in 'em. How do I make that out? Simple and satisfactory. Because he's got it here.' The lecturer held up the tightly clenched right hand.

       'What is to be done with the remains?' asked Lightwood.

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       'If you wouldn't object to standing by him half a minute, sir,' was the reply, 'I'll find the nearest of our men to come and take charge of him;--I still call it HIM, you see,' said Mr Inspector, looking back as he went, with a philosophical smile upon the force of habit.

       'Eugene,' said Lightwood and was about to add 'we may wait at a little distance,' when turning his head he found that no Eugene was there.

       He raised his voice and called 'Eugene! Holloa!' But no Eugene replied.

       It was broad daylight now, and he looked about. But no Eugene was in all the view.

       Mr Inspector speedily returning down the wooden stairs, with a police constable, Lightwood asked him if he had seen his friend leave them? Mr Inspector could not exactly say that he had seen him go, but had noticed that he was restless.

       'Singular and entertaining combination, sir, your friend.'