' 




MORE LIMEHOUSE NIGHTS 


By


Thomas Burke 


























COPYRIGHT. IMl. 
BT GEORGE H. DORAN OOMPANT 




PRINTED IN THE UNITED STATES Of AMERICA 



TO 

WINIFRED 



CONTENTS 



I PAGB 

The Yellow Soaep r. r. 11 

II 
A Game of Pokee • >• f 83 

m 

Katie the Kid i., • r, 49 

> 

IV 

The Heaet of a Child . . . • r. • • 65 

V 

The Dumb Wife 77 

VI 
Bluebell 95 

vn 

A Family Affair 117 

VIII 
The Little Flowebs of Fbances • • • • 133 



The Perfect Girl ....•••. 143 

vii 



viii CONTENTS 



X 

PAGB 

The Affaik at the Waeehouse ., ., . . 165^ 



XI 
Bio Boy Blue 171 



Mazitbka 18& 

XIII 

The Scarlet Shoes . . . . . • • • 19T 

XIV 
The Good Samaritans ....!•.. 221 

I 
XV 

Twelve Golden Curls ........ 231 

XVI 

Miss Plum-Blossom ......•• 245 

XVII 
The Cane ........... 289 

xvm 

The Sons or Ho Lino 271 



THE YELLOW SCARF 



?I-- 



THE YELLOW SCARF 

THE shape and soul of Shadwell are reflected 
in its name. Shadwell 1 Cold, grey, stony 
syllables, without lustre or savour; flat to the eye and 
the palate. It lies derelict between the river and 
Commercial Road. Its main streets are forlorn and 
bleak of aspect, and are named in cruel mockery — 
Formosa Terrace, Acacia Grove, Plum-tree Walk, 
Laburnum Court. Its dominant odours are fried 
fish and bilge-water. Its colour by day is of cobweb ; 
by night, of the jungle. Its noise is persistent; a 
brown drone overriden by intermittent crashes. It 
is sliced at intervals by alleys without light, whose 
silence is not peace, but silence so tense that one 
knows it must soon be broken by some sound of 
dread. On the flood-tide floats from Limehouse the 
bitter-sweet alluring smell of Asia; and the spring 
comes slowly up this way. 

It is a circus of harsh, unavailing endeavour. Here 
wealth does not accumulate, though men decay. Its 
people are casual labourers, outcasts, petty thieves, 
ineffectual shopkeepers. They are for ever splash- 

IX 



1« MORE LIMEHOUSE NIGHTS 

ily busy, without aim or hope, in this and that puny 
enterprise; and are perpetually harassed in chasing 
the cocky and elusive one-and-sixpence. Their eve- 
nings are as stressful as their days, for they bring 
to the quest for entertainment the flurried zeal that 
directs their businesses. In the beetling tenement 
houses they set their gramophones buzzing. In the 
mission halls venturesome voices lift the bathos of 
hymn-tunes to tragedy. From dim-lit bars the de- 
bilitated music of electric pianos brings ill-tidings of 
the search for gaiety; and above them all blares the 
band of the Salvation Army, strenuously wanton. 
In a minor street of this district stood once a small 
shop with dim, reticent windows. Through these 
dusty windows sniggering boys, would peer, and 
would nudge one another with furtive comment. 
The stock, dusty as the windows, seemed to have 
been thrown together by disdainful hands. There 
were faded photographs of monster-limbed ac- 
tresses, in tights ; a few books in paper covers, with 
titles matching the maladroit archness of the photo- 
graphs; some bottles of scent with variegated labels; 
and little packets of toilet accessories. The ill-in- 
formed might have assumed, from the style and con- 
dition of the display, that the owner was letting his 
businesis run to ruin; while, in fact, he was doing 
very well. The goods in his window were not ex- 
posed for sale ; they were a nod and a wink to the 
knowing ones that he had other tricks up his sleeve. 



THE YELLOW SCARF 18 

The shop bore no name on the front, but it was 
known to be the property of one Mr. Bronsden. He 
was a most worthy man. He kept himself to him- 
self ; and in England there is no more certain way of 
winning the respect of one's neighbours. He was 
a large man. His visage was sour; his complexion 
sanguine. His head was thatched with a mass of 
beer-coloured hair. His clothes and linen were al- 
ways soiled, and he kept himself in tune with them, 
and walked with humility in side streets. Sour as 
his visage was, he could, on occasion, be jocose, and 
was so ^th esteemed customers; but jocosity came 
heavily from him, and his jokes were as sour and 
muddy as the lips over which they crawled. 

This Bronsden owned, besides a comfortable little 
business, a wife. Few people had seen her. Few 
people indeed had even had sight of his private 
apartments. He was not a man who took pride or 
joy in his possessions. Though the wife was a recent 
acquisition, he took less account of her than some 
of his customers took of their home-made rabbit- 
hutches. Perhaps he was justified, for he had picked 
her off the streets. This is an action whose merit 
cannot be denied, for he found her when she had 
been but a few days in that situation, and, by his in- 
tervention, she was snatched from its attendant ca- 
lamities. Beaten and broken she was wandering 
about the streets, when he came across her, and lis- 



14 MORE LIMEHOUSE NI6HT9 

tened perfunctorily to her bitter words that were 
half appeal and half defiance. 

Without any clear motive, he gave her shelter. 
Then he dismissed the old woman who played at 
attending him and robbed him of food and money, 
and installed Hetty in her place, and married her. 
The contract was plainly set forth; she entered his 
establishment as indoor servant, with duties, per- 
sonal cash allowance, household allowance, and 
reasonable freedom of movement. Her position 
only differed from that of the ordinary domestic 
help by her being joined in holy matrimony to her 
employer : a rite upon which he had insisted so that 
she should be his fixed property. 

Now should she have been proud of the dignity 
conferred upon her — a wastrel of the alleys; and 
for a few weeks she was. Then, being a servant in 
a good home ceased to content her. She wanted to 
stir delight in the muffled heart of Bronsden, and 
found that it was not in her power to do so. In her 
company, or without it, he was passive ; her flutter- 
ing gesture and gamesome eye drew no response or 
quickening of the blood from him. He accepted 
her, as he accepted his pipe. Yet beauty rested in 
her weary face and her flowing figure, and she knew 
it and longed for its recognition. Because he was 
oblivious of her charms, she began to hate him; and 
because! to her honest mind, this neglect afforded 



THE YELLOW SCARF 16 



m 



ion 
;tic 
ler 
lat 



no proper reason for hatred, she began to cast about 
for a reason. 
Iter. She soon found one. Her distaste for her situa- 

iat tion developed rapidly. I think she was not a 

[ley, . woman of normal sensibilities. Though he was a 
ier. strong, silent man, she could not reverence him. 

Ills Though he was hard and heavy with his tongue, she 

jer- did not admire the brute. She was foolish enough 

iiid to want things to which she was not entitled : gentle 

hands, and respect, and little courtesies. Bronsden 
looked down to her from stony heights, but she did 
not look up to him. He had taken her from the 
streets in his big, abstracted way, on her first journey 
of misery, and had made her respectable. He had 
' given her money for frocks and chocolates and knick- 
I knacks. By Shadwell standards, he was the perfect 

husband. He was kind, in his aloof way, and oc- 
casionally sportive. She was indeed in a position 
to be envied. But ... he was her rescuer, her 
benefactor. By all human ideas he was entitled to 
her gratitude and her service. In the eyes of the 
''" world she was deep in his debt. It was this fact 

'^ that bit and burned her heart night and day. Here- 

^ in she found good and sufficient reason for hatred. 

' In a room at the rear of his shop, looking on to 

^ a blank wall, he had fixed a laboratory, and there 

he toiled by day and increased the wadded brown 
smell of Shadwell as he compounded his dreadful 
medicines and surgical goods* To the shop would 



m 
to 

id 



! ' 



\ 



16 MORE LIMEHOUSE NIGHTS 

come often men of horrid aspect and slinking de^ 
meanour. They would murmur diffident words to 
Bronsden and would follow him through the living- 
room to the laboratory at the back; and there the 
two would remain in murmurous confabulation, with 
interjected sniggers. And in the living-room Hetty 
would sit and feed upon her hate. 

Now all men are not so impervious to the graces 
of woman as this Bronsden. Tom the Toff was an 
inflammable young man; what is known, in certain 
circles, as a warm member. One glance from bright 
eyes would set him alight. He was as combustible 
as powder. And when, one morning, he passed 
Hetty in St. George's, her eyes applied the match. 
He followed her. He noted where she lived, and 
hung about each morning to watch for her appear- 
ance on the street with market basket. Time was 
his own ; for he was Tom the Toff, a free-lance, who 
worked West End crowds for purses and handbags. 
He had an easy conquest. She was as ripe for the 
bold smile of this debonair philanderer as he for her 
sidelong glances. 

He found early occasion for visiting the morose 
Bronsden in the way of business. He had a long 
talk with Bronsden. He told a tale, and listened to 
Bronsden expatiating on the merits of his remedies. 
Then he mentioned casually that he had a good deal 
of business in the West End; it might be worth 
Bronsden's considering whether he, Tom the Toff, 



THE YELLOW SCARP IT 

could work an agency for him among West End 
gentlemen. This proposal Bronsden considered, and 
it became necessary that Tom the Toff should visit 
the shop many times for conferences and discussion 
of terms. Within a week, Tom the Toff's presence 
in the shop was accepted as casually as the presence 
of a partner. 

And Hetty no more sulked and gnawed herself 
in the living-room. A light step on the threshold of 
the shop filled her with music and laughter. Youth 
leapt to youth. And when Bronsden was busy in 
the laboratory, and could not be disturbed, there 
were delicious minutes when they stood in each 
other's presence, and looked and talked — oh, any 
kind of talk, but a very special kind of look. It was 
inevitable that she should turn to him. For he had 
nothing to give her, in the way of material comforts. 
His West End raids were intermittent, and yielded 
a precarious income. It was, this time, for her, to 
give ; and she gave him with both hands the gift of 
her love. 

Tom the Toff felt the fri^d atmosphere with 
which Bronsden filled the house, and knew its effect 
on a limber-hearted girl. At first, in her presence, 
he was shy and diffident, dropping his easy, non- 
chalant air, and becoming awkward. By this Hetty 
knew that their hearts were beating in tune, and by 
exquisite gesture and significant attitude, sharper 
messengers than any words, they made mutual dis- 



18 MORE LIMEHOUSE NIGHTS 

covcry. The barriers went down, then; and they 
discoursed freely, as though there were no Bronsden 
bulking between them. 

But Bronsden was still there. Others knew it, 
If Tom and Hetty forgot it. Tom's father knew it, 
and said so. 

"Wodyeh think yer up to?" he would inquire. 
**Eh ? Going into business as a dealer in trouble — 
or what? This kind o* thing's going to be a lot o' 
use to you, ain't it? Messin' yesself up with another 
chap's wife. And what a wife 1 Yeh know where 
'e found 'er, doncher? Remember I'm yer father. 
I seen more o' the world'n what you *ave Besides, 
there's 'im. 'E ain't a man what says much, but, 
begor, I wouldn't like to be on the wrong side of 
'im. Them quiet kind, when they breaks out, they 
breaks out. And Gawd 'elp the one they breaks 
on. 

But Tom paid little heed to dad's garrulous ad- 
monitions. He had heard of dreadful things hap- 
pening to other people, but it had never seemed likely 
that dreadful things could happen to him. 

**I warn yeh!" went on dad. **I warn yeh. If 
anything comes o' this, yeh can't say I 'aven't 
warned yeh." 

"No, yer right there," replied the respectful son. 
"I couldn't truthfully say that, considering yer at it 
morning and night. Yeh got a nice pleasant voice, 



THE YELLOW SCARF 19 

dad, but I wonder yeh don't sometimes get a bit 
tired of 'earing it. I do." 

In the living-room at evenings, Hetty would be 
notably vivacious and happy-eyed. Springtide hung 
about her and moved with her; but the saturine 
Bronsden ate his supper and saw nothing. Until, 
reckoning too boldly on his obtuseness, Tom the 
Toff presented Hetty with a yellow silk scarf And 
Hetty, drunk with glamour, wore it. 

At supper on the night of its presentation, Brons- 
den noticed it. Only deliberately could he have 
ignored it. It was a brilliant yellow hue, with a long 
silk fringe. With it about her shoulders Hetty could 
have been picked up at a mile distant. 

"Where d'you get that?" 

"Get what?" 

"That scarf you got on," 

"Oh, that?" airily. "Oh, Tom the Toff give me 
that." 

"Tom the Toff gave you that? Whaffor?" 

"Oh, just a sort of present, like. Sort of acknowl- 
edgment of what he's made out of placing your 
stuff up there." 

"Give it to me," he said gently. 

"What?" 

"Take it off and pve it to me." 

"Whaffor?" 

His eyes snapped. His voice rose. "Never mind 
what for. Give it to me." 



«0 MORE LIMEHOUSE NIGHTS 

"Of course I shan't. It was given to mc.*' 

He stretched a hand, and spoke gently. **Give 
me- that scarf." 

"Shan't." 

In one movement his great form rose from the 
table and came to her. With a twitch of the hand 
he snatched it from her shoulders, crumpled it into 
a ball, and thrust it into his pocket. 

"Understand, prl, that you're my wife. I don't 
let my wife have presents from other men. See? 
Understand that?" 

Hetty shrank back. The shock of his action had 
staggered her. "Wha — ^wha — wha ? " Then 
tears came, and sobs, and she beat herself with her 
iists, imable to beat him. Then words came. 

"You beast 1 You brute. Gimme back my scarf. 
I'm not your slave. I ain't going to be crushed like 
this. You stifle me. You treat me like dirt. Gimme 
my scarf." 

"My wife won't take presents from other men. 
Understand?" 

"No, I don't. If I am your Tnfe, I'm a human 
l)eing. I got a right to live, ain't I? Oh, I know. 
. . . You think 'cos you played the Good Samari- 
tan, you can do what you like with me. But you 
can't. You can't. I'll show you you can't." 

"Now, Hetty, why talk like that? It isn't true. 
You know it isn't. Have I ever once thrown it up 
to you — about where I found you? Have I ?" 



THE YELLOW SCARP 21 

She knew he had not, and the fact angered her 
more. She went on in a torrent of words: 

"You crush me. You never speak a word to me. 
One wouldn't know you got a tongue. It's like 
living with the deaf and dumb. You — ^you — ^you're 
fat, y — ^you're old. You make me sick the way you 
treat me. 'Cos you're dull yesself , you want to make 
me as dull. But I won't be dull. There I I'll do 
what I like. I bin a good wife to you — you can't 
say I ain't — ^and I alwis looked after you proper. 
Why shouldn't I talk to Tom the Toff, if I want to ? 
Where's the harm in that? If you won't talk to me, 
you can't stop me talking to someone else who's — 
who's bright—and — and lively and — and got a bit 
of go in him." 

**Now, Hetty. Now, girl. What's the matter 
with me, exactly? Where am I wrong? He sought 
to soothe her with his voice, tolerantly, as one 
soothes a querulous child. It was the wrong way. 

"Oh, shut up I You're all wrong. You — ^your 

ways and your manners and " She knew what 

she wished to say, the fine distinctions of character 
she wished to draw; but her range of words was 
restricted. "Anyway, I'll please myself. A wife's 
supposed to be mistress of her own home^ ain't she? 
I'm like a kitchen-maid here. I ain't hardly able to 
call me soul me own. But you may as well know 
that I've asked Tom the Toff to supper to-morrow 
night." 



JB2 MORE LIMEHOUSE NIGHTS 

His manner changed from the soothing to the 
ruffled. His face began to close up. "Oh, you have, 
have you? And what have I got to say about it?" 

"Don't know and don't care. Gimme my scarf." 

"Tom the Toff won't come to supper to-morrow 
night." 

"He will I" she screamed. 

"He won't. He won't come into this shop again." 
He came closer to her* "You can assert your right 
to please yourself in some other way. Not this way. 
Understand? I don't coop you up or stifle you. 
I've only tried to protect you against yourself — 
against your own ignorance. If I hadn't, you'd 
soon a-been sliding back to where I found you. And, 
Hetty, don't try any tricks with me. See? Two or 
three people have found out that it don't pay to 
play tricks with me." 

She glared back at him, and saw something in his 
face that made her suddenly afraid. "You talk to 
me as if I was a kid I" she protested sullenly. "Why 
can't you treat me properly?" 

"Have I ever ill-treated you?" 

"Not the way you mean. But you done it by tak- 
ing all the life out o' me. By taking no notice of 
me — ^not more'n if I was that table. Gimme my 
scarf." 

"I shall not give you that scarf. I tell you — ^if 
you want to assert your right to please yourself, do 
it some other way." 



THE YELLOW SCARF 28 

"I don't want no other way I" She ground the 
words from her teeth, and then was sorry. Her 
secret was out. She knew that, from the dull spark 
that glowed in his eye. 

He regarded her intently; then said, quietly, as 
one dismissing a trifle: "I shall not ^ve you that 
scarf." 

She glowered, finished with words and without 
capacity for action. He returned to his chair, and 
relapsed into gloom. And for the rest of the eve- 
ning they sat in frightful silence, while he followed 
with his eyes her smallest movement. 

When she moved to clear the table, he rose, and 
went into his laboratory. She watched him go with 
hateful eyes. She saw him no more until midnight, 
when he came out, looking tired and bent. He 
moved about the kitchen. She continued to read the 
serial in The Sunday Fireside. 

"It's getting late," he said, after a long silence. 
"You coming to bed?" 

"Not yet. I want to finish this." 

He hung about for some minutes ; then went up- 
stairs. The moment she heard the click of the bed- 
room door, she dropped The Sunday Fireside, and 
got up. 

"The beast I Treats me like a kid, he does. I 
won't be treated like this. I wonder if he's got it 
on him. Or whether he's hidden it." 

She lit a candle, and went into the laboratory. 



24 MORE LIMEHOUSE NIGHTS 

Here she pottered, nosing around, pulling things 
about, opening drawers, humming and fretting to 
herself. At last she found it. He had screwed it 
tight into a ball and had thrust it into an old tin box. 
She snatched it savagely away, and thrust it inside 
. her corsage. 

"Ha 1 Mr. Clever Dick. I'm as smart as you." 

Bitter fury, loose and without dignity, possessed 
her. Her mind was yapping at his, and snarling and 
grimacing like a whipped child. His suave de- 
meanour under the quarrel had increased her hatred 
of him. She knew that she had dropped all grace 
and had become ludicrous in her rage, and she envied 
him his self-sufficiency. But she thrilled at the fact 
that she had retrieved the scarf, and this lent her 
some pride. 

She went up to bed swaggering, and no word 
passed between them that night or next morning. 
He shut himself in his laboratory till noon. Then 
he came out for dinner, and over the meal broke the 
silence. 

"l-rook here, Hetty, we can't go on like this. It's 
too silly. If you want Tom the Toff to supper, he 
can come. And anybody else you like to invite. I 
don't want you to think I crush you. If it's company 
and society you want, I know I'm not very gay. So 
if it'll make you happy to have him, have him. Peace 
and quietness is all I want." 

She looked up, surprised at this sudden change, 



THE YELLOW SCARF 25 

and found him regarding her gravely, scrutinising 
her, passing veiled eyes over her person. She was 
not ready for this surrender. She did not know how 
to accept it 

"Well, I do want company and all that," she said 
lamely. 

"I know. I know I'm old an d You please 

yourself." 

"Oh, well '' 

And so the quarrel was healed, and Tom the Toff 
came to supper. With that supper in the back room 
her desire for love and gaiety ended. Tom the Toff 
arrived on time, and found the table laid with cold 
meat, salad, beer, fruit, cheese. Bronsden was out, 
and he and Hetty snatched a few rapturous minutes ; 
but before she could tell him of what had passed 
last night, Bronsden returned, bearing a tin of 
salmon and a bottle of whisky, as a friendly addi- 
tion to the table. He seemed downcast, preoc- 
cupied; but he greeted Tom the Toff with his usual 
detached affability, and inquired what he had backed 
that day. 

"Got the tin-opener Hetty? he growled. 

She brought it, and he set to work on the tin. It 
was a tough one, and awkward to hold, tipping up 
when he pressed on its edge. 

"Dammit I Just a minute, Tom, will yeh? This 
is as hard as steel. Can't get the point in. Hold 
it firm, will yeh, while I have another try." 



«6 MORE LIMEHOUSE NIGHTS 

Tom came to the table, and placed both hands 
on the tin, holding it firm. They stood close to- 
gether, their heads meeting, and in silence Bronsden 
pressed on the cutter to drive its point through the 
tin. Then the silence was broken by a high ripping 
squeak. The cutter had slipped along the edge of 
the tin. 

With a sharp "Owl" Tom's hand flashed to his 
mouth. 

"I say, old man I" Bronsden stood, holding the 
cutter, his attitude one of much concern. "I say, 
I'm awfully sorry. The cutter slipped. Damn the 
thing." 

"Oh, it's all right," said Tom. "It's nothing." 
But when he took his hand from his mouth the blood 
ran around his wrist and down his fingers from an 
angry, jagged wound. It came pouring out to the 
tablecloth, and down that to the floor. It was no 
common wound. 

Immediately Hetty swerved from the side-table, 
where she had been cutting bread. 

"Oh, Tom I" 

"Bind it up I" snapped Bronsden. "Quick I" 
Hetty turned about the room with hands out for 
bandage. Then they flew to her breast, and out 
came the yellow scarf. 

Bronsden had gone to his chair, and sat back, 
calmly. At this sudden action his big head nodded 
in two minute movements. 



THE YELLOW SCARF 27 

"Where d'you get that?" he said quietly. "I 
thought I took it away from you." 

She made no answer, but twisted the scarf into a 
bandage. 

"Did you steal that from my room?" 

"Mind your own business." 

"You're not to use it," he said, in even tones. 

"I shall do as I please." 

"Hetty, I tell you not to use it. Get the towel." 

"Oh, shut up. Can't you see Tom's bleeding?" 

"Very well." 

She fussed over Tom, tender-wise, maternally, 
and wound the scarf tightly about his wrist. Then 
she forced him to a chair, and herself sat down. 
She sat down with a flirt of defiance too strongly 
marked to carry conviction of self-possession. This 
accident had given her opportunity for open chal- 
lenge of this man's bondage. She sat upright, her 
attitude expressing: "Well, and what now?" 

Bronsden poured two glasses of whisky, and 
passed one to Tom. "I'm sorry, old man," he 
growled. "Awfully sorry. Those damn tin-open- 
ers. I always said they were dangerous. Keep your 
arm up. Hetty'U have to cut your meat for you 
now, and feed you." 

Suddenly, Tom emitted a gasp — another gasp — 
then a scream. He pressed his free hand to the 
damaged wrist, and bent forward. His teeth were 
set close, his face twisted in pain. 



28 MORE LIMEHOUSE NIGHTS 

"What is it?" Hetty cried. 

"Oo, it's burning!" he gasped. "Burning like 
hell. 'StrewthI" Hetty came to him, in agitation, 
but as she reached him he leapt up, and dashed him- 
self against the wall, and screamed. Oo, God, I 
can't stand it I" He tore at the scarf and unwound 
it from his wrist. "It's going all over me. Oh, 
Hetty, what you done to me? What you done to 
me ? I'm going all funny. When you put that scarf 
on it started. Hetty 1" 

He sank back to the leather sofa, and Hetty 
rushed to him. She grabbed the whisky glass, and 
held some to him. She dithered. And, as she hung 
over him, uncertain what to do, unable to do one 
thing by thinking of others, she was suddenly seized 
by a feeling that something dreadful had entered 
the room. Involuntarily she turned her head and 
glanced about her. Then she saw the thing that 
had entered the room. Bronsden sat immovable in 
his chair ; but on his face was a wry, dark smile. 

"What is it?" she cried vaguely. "What's the 
matter ?" 

"Nothing." 

"What you smiling at?" 

"Nothing. You know, I told you not to use that 
scarf." 

Tom the Toff dropped like a log on the floor. 
She looked at him and at the yellow scarf and at 
the door leading to the dreadful laboratory, and 



THE YELLOW SCARF 29 

bade at her husband She went and staod over him. 

"You damn devil — wotter you done?" 

Quivering, she struck him in the face. But he */t 

only smiled. And, though she struck him again and Xff 



again, he still smiled. 




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A GAME OF POKER 



— n— 

A GAME OF POKER 

AS Archie Plumpton, known to his circle as 
Plum-plum, stepped from the glare of the Blue 
Lantern into the melting radiance that it diffused, 
and from that into the inhospitable darkness of 
Poplar, three men with flat faces and long eyes crept 
from their several observation posts and followed 
him. One walked behind him, one level with him 
across the street, and one a few paces ahead. From 
a side street ambled a small hooded van drawn by 
a pony. This, at a discreet distance, joined the 
party. Plum-plum walked upright, whistling to him- 
self, one hand in trousers pocket, the other swing- 
ing free. The others walked silently, with an air 
of abstraction and concern with personal affairs. 

It was a warm night of summer, and streets and 
houses were stewing in a viscid heat. Plum-plum 
strolled airly down East India Dock Road, glad of 
the slight breeze that wandered from the river and 
oblivious of the peril that moved busily with him. 
Certainly he had asked for the trouble that was 
coming to him; for, if it is injudicious to be funny 

33 



^4 MORE LIMEHOUSE NIGHTS 

with a policeman, it is more than folly to meddle 
with the affairs of a Chinese brotherhood. Plum- 
plum had done no less than thrust hand and foot 
into the intimate affairs of the Azure Dragon Tong. 

Word had come to him, some while ago, of an 
accumulation of carven vessels, gems and other ob- 
jects that please the eye of the connoisseur, which 
lay at a certain house in Poplar High Street, next 
door to which he had sometimes played at puckapoo. 
He had seen the stuff through the window of the 
front room, and had almost cried with professional 
vexation at seeing such a haul placed within finger- 
reach, to be obtained without the smallest exercise 
of technical skill or finesse. It almost seemed be- 
neath his position to take them. 

But he did take them. He walked in one after- 
noon, at the hour of sleep, and took them away in 
a bag, and passed them to his nearest friend and 
adorer. Flash Florrie. He thought he had done 
only what he had done many times before — inter- 
vened between police and receiver in the matter of 
the bunce. He did not know that he had admin- 
istered a dreadful affront to the most powerful 
Tong in Limehouse. 

He was soon made to know. Cold anger held the 
Azure Dragon Tong at the discovery of this insol- 
ence. It quickly became known about the district 
that it was Plum-plum's work and the boys, once 
their envy of his slimness had passed, talked of it 



A GAME OF POKER 85 

with appreciation and delight. They could under- 
stand the delicious impudence of it, and admire ac- 
cordingly; and Plum-plum became a public hero. 
But the Tong held a council to decide what proceed- 
ings should be taken against him. The president 
asked who accused Plum-plum, and two stepped 
forward and repeated the street-comer stories. To 
these two was assigned the duty of entering the 
house of Plum-plum and making an exact search for 
the treasure, at whatever cost to their persons or 
their liberties. This was done, and failure reported. 
Plum-plum came home one night and found his three 
rooms ransacked and torn apart; and he smiled. 
The Tong did not smile. Another meeting was 
held^ and it was decided that Plum-plum himself 
must be secretly apprehended, and made to discover 
the whereabouts of their property, and, after suit- 
able punishment, surrender it. 

At least (they held among themselves) if we do 
not by the means we are about to employ recover 
our property— at least the Englishman will receive 
a lesson that it is unwise to interfere with our affairs. 
He shall be an example to others. 

So the three men and the hooded van, now dog- 
ging Plum-plum, were engaged in carrying out the 
decision of -the council. And Plum-plum walked 
carelessly, still bearing about him something of that 
public glory with which his exploit had endued him. 
He was a dexterous and versatile lad, and had been 



36 MORE LIMEHOUSE NIGHTS 

desired by more than one gang, as partner. But 
he preferred to play a lone hand. He was not a 
crook by education or inclination. He would have 
liked to be a decent citizen, but found decent citi- 
zenship so dull. He had drifted into this game be- 
cause he liked its soldier-c^-f ortune atmosphere, and 
because he was too wayward and impatient of hours, 
regulations and the petty bonds of legitimate busi- 
ness. He had found, too, on his preliminary flourish, 
that he had a marked aptitude for it ; and every man 
likes to do the work that he can do really well and 
without consdous effort. He wore crime as a 
feather in his cap. He could appear in any society 
without crying at the top of his voice: ''I'm a 
crook 1" He could get away with a policeman's 
truncheon while being examined on suspicion. He 
could collect money for the missionaries with one 
hand and snaiSe the donor's watch with the other. 
These were small tricks; he did not preen himself 
with them. It was the bigger things, calling for 
strategy, that afforded him delight. But he had 
never tackled the Chinese before, and he had yet 
to learn that his tricks with them were as paper 
swords before steel weapons. 

To the end of East India Dock Road he went, 
and, at the Iron Bridge at Canning Town, he crossed 
suddenly, and passed into the void of Plaistow 
Marsh and its meagre lamps and its waist-high mist. 
He was going towards Beckton, where lodged Flash 



A GAME OF POKER 87 

Florrie. As he entered the Marsh the three fol- 
lowers drew together at a corner and exchanged, 
tacitly, emotions of satisfaction. A lonely, lugubri- 
ous bell announced ten o'clock, and the notes floated 
miserably about the waste. But Plum-plum was not 
conscious of his surroundings. His eyes were fixed 
on the line of lights that made the horizon, and he 
strode with nonchalant step, his thoughts hovering 
amiably about the bright person of Flash Florrie 
and her sturdy, tree-like beauty. 

But midway across the Marsh a sudden misstep 
of one of the Chinks came sharply to his ears. Mo- 
mentarily suspicion entered his mind, and drove out 
the bees and butterflies that fluttered there. He 
stood still, and heard no other step, and knew that 
he was being followed. This was nothing new. 
He was often shadowed by plain-dothes men, and 
could always feel their attentions and comport him- 
self circumspectly. But plain-clothes men do not 
walk about in slippers, and the step he had heard 
was a slippered step. As he stood there, a deeper 
sense of imminent personal danger grew within him ; 
and, even as he speculated upon its nature, it ar- 
rived. 

The struggle was brief. He fought hard for a 
few moments, and caught a glimpse of close, round 
faces and long eyebrows. Then something was 
pressed against his nose and he fell solidly among 
them. From the distance the pony-cart came to 



38 MORE LIMEHQUSE NIGHTS 

them; and into this, and its litter of greengrocer's 
baskets and potato sacks, he was bundled. The 
three companions followed him, and the cart moved 
forward. 

Slowly they crossed the Marsh, while Plum-plum 
slept stupidly. On the farther side they chose by- 
ways. They rumbled through alleys of ebony 
darkness, whose very noises had the hard quality 
of ebony; and through streets parallel with the 
placid river, about which dodged innumerable nimble 
tugs. Not a word passed between the company; 
a profound, uneasy silence held the van. 

And so they came to the little lost colony of 
Cyprus. Cyprus is a frigid, dusty region where the 
four winds and their branch winds meet, and where 
the sun comes seldom. Its houses are square brick 
boxes, at whose doors squat or lounge the docksmen. 
About the stony streets the children gambol day 
and night; and from slatternly windows peer the 
women. In this corner, whei:e the lips of the 
Thames dribble into little purposeless canals, silence 
cannot live. The Chinks had chosen their location 
well, for the business they had in hand. From year 
to year, hammer, crane, syren, hooter and bell per- 
form their rough, unceasing music; iron against iron, 
steel against steel, with a chorus of nail and rivet; 
and through the night the shunted trucks make a 
melancholy fugue. The glum streets and forlorn 
shops make dreadful efforts to assert the presence of 



A GAME OF POKER 89 

humanity, but Work prevails : one long-drawn hys- 
teria of toil ; one everlasting hosanna of noise. Men 
come and go in worried, clamant haste ; and through 
the stupendous turmoil tramps and destroyers crawl 
with an air of scornful idleness. 

To a narrow street of warehouses in this ill- 
named Cyprus came the greengrocer's van. It 
stopped at a tall door which was immediately 
opened, revealing a steep flight of stone steps. Up 
these steps Plum-plum was carried; and thence to a 
room on the top landing. The room was an un- 
used room, plainly arranged for the occasion. The 
boards were bare ; the plaster of the walls had fallen 
in a mess of chips ; and the windows, which looked 
into the chilly face of Cyprus, were heavily swathed 
with matting. Four lighted candles in bottles stood 
on a deal box. Round the fireplace stood a screen, 
and in the grate a clear fire was burning. 

The three men placed Plum-plum on the floor, 
and one brought sturdy cord and bound his wrists 
and feet. Another brought a bucket of water, and 
the water was thrown about his head and throat. 
After some seconds he opened his eyes and looked 
about him. He raised his head, and tried to move, 
and found he could only roll. He rolled over and 
looked up, and saw four silent yellow men regarding 
him. He looked long at them, slowly coming back 
from his deep sleep. Then he understood, and 
spoke. 



40 MORE LIMEHOUSE NIGHTS 

"Well, Oswald, what's the game? What-um 
you fella want to do me?" 

One, who seemed to be the leader of the party, 
and was addressed as Ah Kang, spok^ without mov- 
ing. He spoke as one delivering a functional ad- 
dress; in the cool, sleek tones of a chairman of a 
company meeting. 

"I so sorry disturb you, niisteh. I lika little talk 
with you 'bout t'ings you steal from my flen in 
Poplar. Huh ? I ting we talk more flenly lika diss." 

"Oh? I don't call this friendly." Plum-plum in- 
dicated the cord about his arms. "I could talk better 
if you untied me." 

Ah Kang gave a little indrawing of the breath, 
as one appreciating a jocularity. "Hp yess? We 
talk 'bout t'ings you steal us." 

"No savec, Oswald." 

Ah Kang's eyes snapped, but he did not move. 
"Wantum jewels," he said in peremptory tone. *. 
"You no go 'way less we get jewels." 

"No can. Ain't gottum jewels." 

Ah Kang ignored the denial. "What you do 
withum jewels?" 

"No can tell. Never seen 'cm." 

"You talk no-truth." Ah Kang stepped forward, 
and motioned to the others. They went to Plum- 
plum, and dragged him to a sitting posture, and 
pulled aside the screen. 

"You see-um fire ?" asked Ah Kang. 



A GAME OF POKER 41 

Plum-plum looked at it, and saw. "No can." 

You give back jewels. You tellum where they go. 
And it will be bettch — much bettch. If you no tell 
— prap fire 'e mck you tell. Huh?" 

Plum-plum looked at the unblinking fire and the 
shaded faces about him, and felt suddenly sick. He 
thought of Flash Florrie, under whose bed rested 
the property. They would not release him until the 
treasure was in their possession, and if he told them, 
he must remain in their custody while they went to 
her honie. By what method they would recover 
their property from her, and what penalty they 
would inflict upon her for her part in the affront, 
he did not like to think. He jerked his head at 
them. 

"Look 'ere, if you think you can muck about like 
this with Englishmen, you're dam fella well mis- 
taken — see? If you don't let me go pretty quick, 
there'll be heap trouble for you — and all the rest of 
your bunch. So I tell yeh ! Stop this foolery plenty 
dam quick and untie me. See I" 

Ah Kang stood over him. "You tellum where 
jewels are." 

"You go to hell!" 

Ah Kang permitted himself to smile, and flicked 
his fingers at the others. The screen was drawn 
around the fire, and Plum-plum heard the clatter of 
metal instruments. Next moment he was flung 
down, and his coat, shirt and collar were ripped 



42 MORE LIMEHOUSE NIGHTS 

from his shoulders by a sharp knife. He lay quies- 
cent. To struggle was futile. To shout for help 
he knew was vain. Where he was he did not know; 
but he knew enough of the Chinks to be sure that, 
having planned this business, they would have been 
careful to carry him where cries for help would 
pass unheeded. 

Ah Kang spoke again in suave tones : "You tellum 
where jewels are?" 

Plum-plum spat at him, then shut his teeth and 
looked away. From time to time the others moved 
about, nodding among themselves and exchanging 
smiles that were frightfully discordant with the busi- 
ness in hand. When Ah Kang reproved the smiles 
they went behind the screen, and Plum-plum heard 
them murmuring and grunting together. He heard 
the crackling of the fire, the rattle of coke as they 
replenished it ; and he was conscious of the increased 
warmth which the screen could not effectually en- 
close. 

There are some things before which no man can 
retain his faith ; to which the body must surrender, 
however steadfast the spirit; and Plum-plum knew 
that sooner or later he must give way. No creature 
can endure physical pain beyond a certain point, 
and that point is determined not by courage but by 
sensibility. The **strong" man is a creature of 
blunted nerves and brute skin; yet even he has his 
breaking-point. Plum-plum knew that his breaking- 



A GAME OF POKER 4S 

point was very near. He seemed to see through the 
screen the glowing fire, white-hot, and the prepara- 
tions of which it was the centre and he the object. 
He felt already the touch of hot iron; but, until he 
could endure no more, he would not speak. He did 
not suffer fear,' but he did suffer a physical nausea 
that almost drained him of resistance. 

He knew he would have to speak before he left 
that room — in one minute or two minutes or five 
minutes ; yet the spirit that had carried him so aptly 
through so many delicate engagements closed his 
lips. He could not speak now, while he was in full 
control of his faculties. He felt that to do so would 
be to turn himself from man into a mere husk cov- 
ered with everlasting self-loathing. Afterwards — 
after that — ^he would not be himself; and neither 
words nor actions would carry any sting of self- 
reproach. 

"Dissa pokeh prap 'e mek you talk, huh?" 

"You go to hell r 

From the streets, the strident but desirable streets, 
came distantly an organ^s titillating music; its exu- 
berant vulgarity overriding the stealthy crackling 
of the fire and the subdued movements of the hidden 
Chinks. Then Ah Kang uttered a curt word. Plum- 
plum was rolled over, and one pressed heavily on his 
neck. From behind the screen came another with a 
poker, its point glowing red. Plum-plum heard his 
slippered step, and, though he could not see, he 



44 MORE LIMEHOUSE NIGHTS 

could follow his steady approach; he could follow 
the movement of the extended arm; he could feel 
the glowing thing upon his back; he could see the 
horrid mark that it would leave. Ah Kang spoke 
again, and the man with the poker made a slow, 
drawing movement with it across the shoulders of 
Plum-plum. 

A rendering shriek came from the victim, and his 
whole body heaved in a spasm. Ah Kang made a 
movement, and the man with the poker stood aside. 

"You tellum where jewels are now, or—-" 

Plum-plum made no sound. 

"Huh? You no had-um plenty lesson? We try 
again." 

Again the poker was drawn across his shoulders, 
slowly, lingcringly. But this time it brought no cry, 
no movement. The four men exchanged glances. 
Ah Kang moved to Plum-plum and rolled him over. 
He placed a hand on his breast, and looked up with 
an expressionless face, while his mind suffered won* 
der, perplexity, anger. They would not now find 
the jewels. Plum-plum was dead. 

"He dead," said Ah Kang stupidly. 

"Dead?" The others echoed him stupidly. They 
said it again among themselves, and all looked 
stupidly at the poker. The man who held it was 
twisting it and snapping it to pieces in his hands — 
a wooden stick, painted to resemble steel, and, and 
its point, painted a shrill scarlet. 



A GAME OF POKER 46 

So they stood, dumb, anxious, impotent, until 
one of them went again to Plum-plum to touch 
him and turn him over; and at the same moment 
he sprang far back from the body with a high 
scream and a trembling arm outstretched to Plum- 
plum's back, 

"Hce-yah!" 

Across the shoulders was a long brown mark — 
the seared trail of a red-hot poken A tense and 
throbbing silence enveloped them — a silence of 
superstitious alarm; and in the close heat of that 
room they drew together, shivering. 



KATIE THE KID 



m 



KATIE THE KID 

KATIE THE KID was none of your rapturous, 
languishing, kiss-me girls. She was a Stunner. 
She was a Spanker. She was a jazz of a girl. She 
knew Shadwell, whose dun light was the first she 
saw, as few people know their native place. She 
knew it inside out. Many times had she taken it to 
pieces, that she might find out what made it work; 
and when she thus tampered with it, she seldom put 
it back correctly: there was usually a cog missing 
when she had finished with it. And for perhaps 
three or six months the proper motions of Shad- 
well would be retarded, while the cog picked oakum 
or made sacks under State supervision. 

Yes, Katie the Kid was a nark. She was by no 
means your common nark, who is a poor, spiritless, 
servile fellow, cringing to his employers and going 
in bodily fear of his victims. She had the game 
well taped. She knew all the tricks of the times, 
and her ample sleeve held others, not yet of the 
times. In heart and sinew she was concrete. She 
took money from the gangs, and money from the 

49 



60 MOHE LIMEHOUSE NIGHTS 

police, and sold the plans of each to the other. She 
walked about St. George Street and its cowering 
alleys with the tread of the conqueror. She strode. 
She moved with the sturdy grace of a steel ship, 
and her long, lusty limbs swayed forward as though 
making way through advancing seas. A nest of 
dense, crisp curls was built against her big, bright 
face, from which glowed defiant eyes of jet. She 
wore the best feathers and drank the best beer, and 
put a little bit by. 

And then the big fool fell in love. 

She fell in love with Freddie Frumkin, who was 
beginning to be known to vigilant sportsmen as a 
likely lad. She first saw him at a series of trial 
contests at a little boxing hall on the south of the 
river ; and the lithe, quivering figure and the shining 
white skin of him, as he danced about the ring and 
received blow after blow with game nonchalance, set 
her too a-dancing and a-quivering, and filled her 
with an emotion which she hardly understood. It 
was new to her. In the eighth round he was knocked 
out; and though, hitherto, she had felt only con- 
tempt for the defeated in any kind of contest, this 
knockout blow went straight to her heart. It first 
cracked — ^this concrete heart of hers — ^then swiftly 
melted. That night she took his image to her pil- 
low, and lay awake in blessed brooding, and knew 
that love had come to her; and being, with all her 



KATIE THE KID 61 

tricks, fiercely modest in physical matters, she was 
suddenly abashed and humiliated. 

Soon, diffidently, by means which every woman 
can employ, she sought his acquaintance, and won it. 
By the same means she made him know the state 
of her feelings ; and he — ^well, he was a big, healthy 
boy, and when he looked upon this big, healthy girl 
and heard her words, the thing was done. There- 
after they went about together and agreed in every- 
thing. At all his contests Katie the Kid was present, 
as near the ring as she could get, to exhort him to 
victory and blight his opponent to ineptitude. 

Glibly, as one long skilled in misrepresentation, 
she told him her story : how she was without parents, 
and worked in a cigarette factory near the Tower; 
how she lived alone, and spent her spare time in 
reading books borrowed from the Free Library, and 
never went about with boys, or strolled along her 
local Monkey's Parade, deeming such doings un- 
worthy any self-respecting girl. Whereat Freddie 
glowed, and wondered that so sweet and gentle a 
^rl should have seen anything in a rough young 
pug like himself, or should even suffer his company. 
He told her so, and said that she made him feel 
ashamed, and made him want to do better and big- 
ger things. You know how it is with your first girl. 

On this, Katie began to think. She began to think 
about herself, and her stock of self-esteem dropped 
sharply. If she inspired Freddie Frumkin with a 



62 MORE LIMEHOUSE NIGHTS 

desire for nobler ways of life, he in turn inspired 
her with yearnings. He was so dean and cool and 
simple that she discovered in herself a desire for 
clean and cool and simple things. She tried suddenly 
to cut the nark business and the secret commission 
business. To the loud derision of the Geranium 
Street police station she started the foUow-the- 
gleam business. As no man is so ardent a teetotaller 
as your reclaimed dipsomaniac, so with Katie the 
Kid. She placed herself in the hands of the local 
Settlement Workers, and set about looking for 
steady and decent employment. It was even said 
that she was to attend the open-air mission meetings 
at the corner of Love Lane on Wednesday eve- 
nings; but the police prevented this last indecency. 
Such backsliding didn't suit them. They made a 
. grand remonstrance. 
. "Dammit," said the sergeant, "what the hell's 
she want to turn pious for? With anybody else 
it'd a-bin all to the good for us. But her! We 
can't get on without her. We gotter git her back 
some'ow." 

They did. Remonstrances failed, but economic 
pressure succeeded. Her savings were soon ex- 
hausted ; and wherever the local Settlement Workers 
went among employers, with stories of her industry 
and moral rectitude, they found that the police 
had been before them. There was no job for Katie 
the Kid. So, quietly, she took up again her secret 



KATIE THE KID 63 

duties. Fortunately, Freddie's home was by Ber- 
mondsey Wall, and was severed from hers by the 
river. Gossip of the North side seldom reaches the 
South, and they had no common friends. Thus she 
was able to continue as a nark in Shadwell, while 
in Bermondsey she was a factory hand with yearn- 
ings towards self-culture. 

Three evenings a week, when Freddie was not 
engaged, she would go to him, and they would walk 
comfortably together in the flare and glitter of 
Jamaica Road, where the girls parade with frolic 
some frocks and gleeful eyes; or down the more 
modest byways where lights are few. It was just 
after her return to her old employment that Freddie 
spoke casually of his need of a punching-ball. He 
was not yet promising enough to attract ^fts of 
equipment from backers, and he had only the gym- 
nasium at the boxing booth in which to train, which 
was a damn nuisance. A punching-ball, to be fixed 
in the back-yard of his home, would be the very 
thing. But they were damn expensive. 

Katie pondered the idea at night, and she guessed 
why he could not purchase the ball. There had been 
rides on the bus on Sundays, some visits to the local 
music haU, and a little gilt cross and chain for her 
sapling neck. From her there had been as yet no 
gift: her savings were gone, and for the moment 
crime was short, and there was little coming in 
from the police. She went home that night to 



64 MOHE LIMEHOUSE NIGHTS 

devise means of raising money and to study sport* 
ing papers for some hint as to the price of punching- 
balls. 

Next day something came her way. In the street, 
local gossip made much of the theft of many rolls 
of cloth from a dry-goods warehouse. Thieves 
and cloth were well away, and the police were "pur- 
suing inquiries." The sergeant sought Katie, met 
her in the street, flicked an eye at her and disap- 
peared down an alley. She followed him. 

"Ah, Katie — ^just looking for you. Got a job 
for you. You heard about this cracldng of Hig- 
ginses' place. Well, there's four dozen rolls of 
cloth gone — ^good stuff, too. We're stuck on it, for 
the moment. We're watching all the boys, but 
haven't got anything so far. Now, it's up to you. 
Hig^nses are offering a reward, and if you can 
put us on to the stuff or the men, you'll do yourself 
a bit o' good. I dessay there might be a couple 
o' quid in it for you. See? So put yer back into it." 

"Right-o 1 I'll have a look round." 

That day her mind ran on rolls of cloth and 
punching-balls. A couple o' quid. That ought to 
be sufficient for the purpose. So she set to work, 
the punching-ball suspended before her, with gentle 
thoughts flitting about it, while, in the recesses of her 
mind, the rolls of cloth covered some crushed, but 
still moving instincts. It was her first job since her 
reformation; and soon the old fever of the hunt 



KATIE THE KID 66 

crept into her veins. It ran with her blood, and set 
a pace; and the thrills that some find in strong 
drink and some in sex and some in works of art 
coursed about her shoulders. 

Into the dark places of Shadwell she went; into 
places where discreet men would not go ; into places 
of dirt and crawling beastliness. She went, too, into 
bright places; into well-kept taverns, where men 
were clean and flashily dressed. She hung about 
highways and alleys. She gathered a word here, 
a half-sentence there. She drank heavily with old 
acquaintance and casual company. It was Dick the 
Duke who set her on the way, with a shrug and a 
few words. 

"Getting about a bit to-day, ain't you, Katie? 
What's the game, eh? You ain't going to tell me 
you're on Higpnses' affair? Eh? Good lordl 
Fancy wasting yer time on that. You're worth bet- 
ter jobs than that. Blasted lot of amateurs. 
They've hid it, kid. Hid kr 

Katie made no clear reply to his perfunctory 
remarks, but stood him another drink and drank 
with him ; and had another at his shout. Then she 
strolled idly away. There was but one place in 
Shadwell where amateurs hid things, and to that 
place she went. Near the old Basin, she stopped 
at an open-air coSee caravanserai, labelled 
"Jumbo's," which stood under an arch, backed 
against the doors of a disused storage vault. She 



66 MORE LIMEHOUSE NIGHTS 

took a cup of coffee here, and used her eyes. She 
made goo-goos at Jumbo, and chi-iked him. 

"Got a new suit, eh, Jumbo? My word, we're 
coming it, ain't we ? Nice bit o' cloth, too." 

A minute movement at the corner of his lips on 
the word "cloth," which would have been unper- 
ceived by others, or have conveyed nothing if it had 
been perceived, satisfied Katie. She was watching 
for it. 

She ambled back to Geranium Street. 

"I found thatbunce of Higginses." 

"Good girl. You shall have a nice sweety for 
that. Where is it?" 

"Old Jumbo's got it. In that vault behind 'is 
place. 'Tanyrate 'e knows all about it." 

"Oho. We'll send round and have a little chit- 
chat with Jumbo." 

"Right-ol I'll wait. When do I get the 
dough?" 

"Just as soon as we confirm it, ducky." 

The officer called for a plain-clothes man, and 
assigned him to a friendly cup of coffee with 
Jumbo. Within half-an-hour he returned. 

"I seen Jumbo, and warned him. Same old 
Jumbo. Injured innocence. First, he didn't know 
nothing about it. Then minding it for some cus- 
tomers of his. However, I put the wind up him 
prop'ly. They're calling for the stuff to-night — 
or one or two of 'em are — and I got a list of all 



KATIE THE KID ' 57 

the names out of him. It's a gang of six, ap- 
parently. I got the names 'ere. I warned Jumbo 
extra special, and put it across him. Said we'd 
have him for a stretch if he so much as winked 
an eye. So if we wait till to-night we can catch 
'em removing it, and then round up the others. 
Jumbo won't move at all — ^he's too fond of his 
own skin." 

"Right-ol Well, we may as well have an ob- 
servation man on there, in case. Get Gordon on 
to it." 

"Satisfied?" asked Katie. 

*Tes, kid, that's all right. Here you are. 
Now go and get yesself a good rump-steak, with 
lashings of onions — ^you look a bit all-gone." 

She took the money, but her first thought was 
not of food, but of the shop in Cable Street where 
athletic goods were sold. To it she went, and 
returned with her purchase. In her one-room home 
she cooked herself a hotch-potch meal, with tea; 
and when she had eaten she straightened herself, and 
set out for Bermondsey. 

During the walk her mind gambolled in pleas- 
ant pastures. She saw Freddie's strong white arms 
at work upon the punching-ball, and glowed with 
pride as she anticipated his raptures at the long- 
desired gift. They met near Cherry Gardens 
Pier, where it is dark, and at once his arms were 
about her, and his lips upon hers, while she 



68 MORE LIMEHOUSE NIGHTS 

fingered lovingly the blue scarf about his neck. 
Then they walked slowly towards Jamaica Road. 
Under the lamplight he noticed the unwieldy parcel 
she was carrying. 

"What you got there, kid?" 
"Aha! Never you mind. You wait and see." 
He led her to the "Man in the Moon," kept 
by a friend of his, who allowed him the use of 
the back room, where were seats and a fire. He 
was in high feather. "Now, Katie, order what 
you like. I bin a bit short o* the ready lately, but 
I just clicked fer a bit from old Briggles, who's 
trying to get me a match with Dotty Jewett I 
reckin I could settle 'im in three rounds if it 
comes orf. So 'ave just what yeh like." She chose 
a port-and-lemonade, and he ordered a dry-ginger 
for himself. "Now then, let's 'ave a button-hook 
at yer parcel." 

Proudly she tossed it to him. "Open it." 
He opened it. "Well, I'm damned 1 Now, 
Katie 1 Now who'd a-thought of you doing that ? 

Now, reelyl But, I say Well, well, well. 

And you bin an' bought this fer me ? No, but 



I I M 



Well, there! You didn't ought to 'ave, though. 
Reely, Katie, you didn't. They cost a lot o' money^ 
I know. More'n you can prop'ly afford. You 

didn't Oh, you dear kid! If you ain't a 

real pall" He tossed the ball to the ceiling, and 



KATIE THE KID 59 

caught it, and grinned broadly, and tossed it back 
again, then became serious. 

"No, but, Katie — ^you shouldn't a-done it. 
YouVe 'ad to work damn 'ard fer this, I know. A 
lot of overtime and saving-up. Fancy you think- 
ing all this of me, though. Just what I wanted, 
too. And from youl Katie — ^you think too much 
of me. I ain't 'alf good enough fer you. I don't 
deserve that a g^rl like you should think so much 

of me. I ain't worth you — ^your — love, I 

'Ere — ^what's the matter? Katie!" 

For suddenly Katie spluttered over her port, 
and burst into a howl of sobs, and big tears ran 
for the first time down those firm, dry cheeks. 

"Why, Katie kid, what's up? There now — ^you 
bin overworking — that's what it is. You ain't bin 
feeding properly. You bin starving yesself to get 
this ball. 'Ere, I say— oh, Katie 1" 

"Oh, I can't keep it up no longer, Freddie. 
'Tain't what you think. It's — it's me. It's — it's 
your — ^1-love. It's the way you think of me. I 
ain't worth it. I'm a beast. I'm a liar." 

" 'Ere, don't be silly, kid." He spoke roughly, 
awkwardly. "Pull yesself together 1" 

"I can't. I can't keep it up no longer. It's no 
good. Not when you talk to me like you bin doing. 
You're so clean and strong and — and — right. And 

I'm I told you I worked in a cigarette factory, 

and kep' meself respectable. And it's all lies. I 



60 MORE LIMEHOUSE NIGHTS 

never bin in a factory. And I ain't respectable. 
Go away. Don't come near me. Lemme go 'ome. 
I didn't buy that ball by saving up or overtime at 
the factory. I'm — ^I'm a c-copper's nark. That's 
what I am. A dirty, sneaking copper's nark. 
That's what bought your punch-ball. Narking. It 
ain't fit for you to use. It's dirty. Chuck it away. 
And chuck me with it, fer making you love me and 
l-leading you on w-with 1-lies." 

She put her head to the table, and Freddie turned 
about the little room, shamed, apparently, at the 
sight of woman's distress ; but his eyes were bright. 
He dug his hands deep into his pockets. 

"Er— Katie?" 

"You ain't telling me anything. I knew." 

"You knew? Knew what?" 

"What you was. I knew it before." 

''Knew? When? Who told yeh?" 

"I known it all along. From the first." 

"You known it all along? And bin out wi' me, 

and kep' up wi' me? You? You let me go about 

wi' yeh, and said all those things to me, as though 

you meant 'em?" 

"I did mean 'em. I do mean 'cm." 

"You — so clean and straight, going about wi' 

me, knowing what I was?" 

" 'M. I knew you was a nark. But I didn't 

want you to know I knew in case I should lose yeh. 



KATIE THE KID 61 

So I let you think I believed about the cigarette, 
factory. 'Cos — Katie — I see something fine about 
you. About the way you loved me. I see you 
wanted to be something better, cos* of me — ^like I 
felt about you. I knew you tried to cut it out — 
over in Shadwell. I 'card all about it. And I knew 
then that you was all right. And I loved you more 
for it. Any feller would. And I says to meself — 
she's straight, although she's bin a nark, and she 
loves me, and as soon as I can get a bit together 
she shall come out of it, and we'll make a fresh 
start. That's what I said. And I ain't going to 
throw you away. It's fer you to do the throwing. 
Listen, Katie. I loved you, knowing what you was. 
You loved me, thinking I was different from what 
I was. What d'you think my job is?" 

"Boxing, ain't it?" 

He made a noise of disgust. "Boxing? No! 
Boxing's only a side-line with me. I want to be a 
boxer, but there's no money in it yet. Katie — ^I'm 
just a common, dirty, side-door burglar — ^that's what 
I am. It was me and a pal what did that business 
of cloth from Higpnses what's all over the news- 
papers to-night, and Hi! George 1 Quick — 

brandy — quick 1 Katie's all gone I" 



THE HEART OF A CHILD 



^lY — 

THE HEART OF A CHILD 

AS unsearchable as the heart of kings is the 
heart of a child. It is good to believe that 
the heart of a child is the symbol of sunshine, clear 
as joy; but it is good sometimes to face facts and to 
recognise that the hearts of children are fashioned 
In as many shapes and colours as the hearts of men. 
In a corner of the saloon bar of the Blue Lantern 
sat one night Mr. Barney Flowers. Mr. Barney 
Flowers was a cold, lean man, frugal of speech and 
comradeship. He kept a small shop in Tonkin 
Road, in whose outer part he sold newspapers and 
tobacco. To known applicants at the side-door he 
sold other things: little packets of powder to put 
them right after a night at the Lantern, or little 
packets of powder to put them wrong after a spell 
of close attention to business. None knew the inner 
Barney Flowers. He was inaccessible. He sheathed 
himself, as it were, in a block of ice, and held him- 
self frigid, aloof. As the only man in the district 
who defied the law by dealing in secret remedies, he 
was able to do this. All that was known of him 

65 



66 MORE LIMEHOUSE NIGHTS 

was that he kept this shop, and that his home and 
person were tended by a child, Daisy, assumed to 
be his daughter, who also delivered the newspapers 
and served customers with cigarettes. The Blue 
Lantern saw him at irregular intervals. Then he 
would come in at opening-time, retire by himself to 
a corner, and drink until he was stewed. 

He was in -his usual comer to-night, palpably 
stewed. He sat with sagging head and damp, droop- 
ing mouth, limp fingers precariously supporting an 
empty glass. Comments passed: 

"Barney seems to 'ave 'ad a field day to-day — 
what?'' — "Ar, 'aving 'is reg'lar monthly, eh?" — 
"Well, 'e's certainly slopped this time. 'E's copped 
the brewer to-night, fair." 

Suddenly, as to the summons of a bell, he seemed 
to become conscious that his condition was remarked. 
With shaking hand he deposited the glass on a near 
table, after trying twice to put it where the table 
was not. Then he jerked back his head, pulled his 
lean limbs together, shot himself from his seat, and 
staggered through the swing doors. As he disap- 
peared, he shot a malevolent glance at the mutter- 
ing crowd. 

"Huhl" said one. "Got 'is monkey up. Now 
that kid of 'is will 'ave to go through it, I sup- 
pose." 

He slithered from the bar across the road, down 
Gill Street, and so to Tonkin Road. He slithered 



THE HEART OF A CHILD 67 

into his gas-lit shop, mumbling sticky words. His 
head rolled from side to side, peering and inquiring. 
Seeing nobody, he called in a wet voice, loudly, for 
"Dai-seel" None answered him; and after some 
seconds of stupid swaying he guided himself to a 
stool behind the counter, and sat, fumbling and hic- 
cuping. Some minutes passed. 

Then the shop door opened, and a ^rl entered 
with appearance of stealthy panic. A half-smile lit 
her face. She moved with a flirt of frodc, as one 
walking off a stage whereon a conquest has been 
made. Her face was the fresh, mobile face of a 
child, but at the comers of the mouth knowledge ^ 
rested. Her step was peremptory; her manner, for 
a child, too self-sufficient. She tossed back her 
pouring, dark hair, and smoothed the little frock of 
dirty linen. Then she saw the head of Barney 
Flowers above the counter; and the smile was shot 
away, and the step crawled, and her blood thinned. 
She tumbled from challenge to submission. 

"Where you bin?" he snapped. Her form 
dwindled, and she retreated to the farther wall, like 
a gambolling dog suddenly called to order by the 
one voice it fears. "Leaving the shop, eh ? Slipping 
out with them boys again, and leaving everything to 
look after itself, and get pinched? Thought I was 
out o' the way, and you could pop off ? 'Ow many 
times 'ave I told you about leaving the shop— eh? 
Wodder yeh think yer 'ere for — eh ?" He rose from 



68 MORE LIMEHOUSE NIGHTS 

the stool and steadied himself against the counter. 
He pointed with a scraggy arm. "Upstairs. Quick." 
He swung round to the door, and glowered; and 
slowly she crawled, an abject animal, from the shop 
to the narrow stairway. 

And suddenly he became sober. He bolted the 
shop door, and turned down the lights. From under 
the counter he took a clean cane, and passed it 
through lean fingers, delicately, as it were a flower. 
Then he too moved up the stairs ; and soon those in 
the Blue Lantern heard, through the jazz music of 
voice and glass and beer-engine, and the comment- 
ing chit-chat of the cash register, a sharp scream, 
followed by a burst of sobs. And they "Tch'd" to 
one another, and remarked that Barney was at it 
again, and that somebody ought to interfere there, 
and look after that kid. But neighbours are shy 
of unneighbourly interference. It involves all kinds 
of undesirable publicity, and the fierce light that 
beats upon the police court witness-box is much too 
strong for the sensitive folk of this district. They 
shifted the responsibility. "Best thing she can do's 
to go to the police, eh?" 

Upstairs, in a room empty of furniture, save for 
a mattress on the floor, with wall-paper hanging in 
dank strips, Barney taught Daisy not to leave the 
shop unguarded. The cane in his hands seemed a 
living thing, and whistled and sang, and bit and 
stung the young, bright body in time with his own 



THE HEART OF A CHILD 69 

stream of chill profanity. The child, a tumult of 
frocH and raving curls, screamed and writhed, 
strangling herself with sobs and appeals and efforts 
to break from the grip that held her down and the 
(laming thing that leapt about her. Looming above 
her, Barney whipped her with 3 kind of dazed 
ferocity, screaming his words in time with her cries; 
and the cries rose in pitch until the room seemed 
filled in every crevice with human wails. 

Then, abruptly, the cries and moaning ceased. 
Barney, with cane held above the disordered figure, 
paused on the sudden silence. He wrenched her 
round, and looked close at her, and then stepped 
back, in dull wonder. She was smiling. Upon her 
face he saw a curious secret smile that seemed to 
hang rather under the eyes than about the lips. He 
had caught her with this smile on the last occasion, 
and it had disturbed him. He could not understand 
it. He glared at her now, seeking by a long look to . 
discover its source; and a sudden intense hatred, 
touched with fear, of her seized him. Then the 
drink ran back to his brain, and again the rod fell, 
and again. But now her lips were tight, and she 
was silent, and nothing was heard in that room 
but the hiss of the cane and of his breathing. 

At last he dropped her, and flung the cane away. 
His lips were moist and pale. A spot of colour 
showed on either cheek. His eyes were heavy. As 
be left her, he looked back for a moment, perplexed* 



70 MORE LIMEHOUSE NIGHTS 

Then gave it up, and lumbered down the stairs. But 
the smile haunted him and hurt him and jeered him, 
and he pondered upon some means whereby he might 
rid himself of it. 

Next morning Daisy went as usual about the 
house, and at each encounter with Barney she 
brought to her face that smile, and noted the smile's 
effect upon him. Barney glowered upon her, and 
tried to avoid her and her smile; and at last went 
out to the Blue Lantern to lose it, and found it at 
the bottom of his glass, and on the floor, and in the 
air. He drank heavily, and the boys took note of 
him as he sat in his comer, beating time with a 
tumbler, and slobbering an old hymn-tune. 

At one o'clock Daisy peeked through the swing- 
door, as though in search of him, and smiled at the 
company and at him. To the company her smile 
was a child's smile of salutation, but to Barney it 
was much more. It was to him a deliberate provoca- 
tion, a challenge. Like a fool he accepted it. He 
brandished his glass at her and babbled: "Grr'outl 
I'll give yeh something to smile at ! I'll wipe that 
smile orf yer face!" and stayed in the bar until half- 
past two. 

At that hour he was put outside, very drunk; 
so drunk that at the chop suey restaurant, where he 
customarily took his afternoon meal, he called 
loudly for a shop steward. 



THE HEART OF A CHILD 71 

An hour later, at a time when Tonkin Road was 
filled with people, a high, shrill scream cut cleanly 
through the gentle stir. Screams of a kind were not 
uncommon here, but this was no ordinary scream. 
It was not the pitiful scream of a child being 
whipped, or the querulous scream of a wife against 
a violent husband,, but the imperative scream of 
alarm that could not be ignored. And following it 
came a young, thin voice: " 'Elp! 'Elp! 'E's lull- 
ing me 1" 

A constable on a near comer heard it, and, with 
dignified haste moved to the shop of Mr. Flowers. 
Encouraged by his presence, the crowd gathered and 
flowed into the shop behind him and overwhelmed 
him, and rushed upstairs. In the bare room they 
saw the child prone on the floor. They saw Barney 
Flowers dithering over her with infuriated gesture 
and grimace. They saw him turn, as the leader 
of the crowd reached the door, and rush upon it 
to slam it in their faces. But a quick foot and the 
pressure of many bodies countered the movement, 
and the room was quickly filled. At this moment 
the child stirred. Her lips opened, but no sound 
came. Weakly she raised an arm and pointed -it at 
Barney. Then her arm dropped, and she moved 
no more. 

On the floor at her side lay a tea-cup. The Man 
Who Knows What To Do, who makes one of every 
crowd, shouted: *'Get that cup! Don't let 'im 



72 MORE LIMEHOUSE NIGHTS 

smash it!" Somebody grabbed the cup. The con- 
stable, using valiant elbows, knocked the crowd 
aside. He went first to the child, made a brief 
examination, then quietly collared the cup from The 
Man Who Knew What To Do. He looked into it. 
He turned to Barney, who stood in the fierce grip of 
two of the crowd, speechless, white-lipped, damp- 
faced, glaring. He blew his whistle and hustled the 
crowd away. 

Well, of course Barney was arrested and, later^ 
hanged. At the trial local witnesses, eager now to 
come forward when the affair had assumed wide im- 
portance, showed, to the satisfaction of the twelve 
good tradesmen in the box, that the child had gone 
in terror of Barney; that he had consistently ill- 
treated and threatened her; that she was not his 
child, but had been bought by him from a tramp 
woman; that he kept stocks of poison in which he 
did illicit business; that nobody was in the house that 
afternoon save himself and the child; that the dregs 
of the poison found in the tea-cup corresponded to 
poison of which he held a supply, and that a new 
packet of it had been opened that day; that the child 
was insured for twenty pounds; and that he was a 
man of vicious turn of mind to whom the taking of 
life weighed little against his own dreadful inclina-^ 
tions. Then there was the child's last cry for help, 
heard by ten witnesses, and her last gesture of ac- 
cusation, to which there were six witnesses^ 



THE HEART OF A CHILD 78 

His demeanour in the dock greatly assisted the 
case for the prosecution. He protested his innocence 
furiously, with fevered movements, inarticulately, 
with torrents of words and sudden dams of speech- 
lessness. He contradicted himself clumsily many 
times. But his wljirling explanations were beaten 
down by the evidence. 

So they hanged him. You see, the general knowl- 
edge of the child mind is so slender that while men 
will credit the darkest and most tortuous motives to 
the adult mind, they are ever sure that a child could 
never carry out, or aven conceive, the !simp*lest 
scheme of spite or retribution. Not one member of 
the coroner's jury thought twice about the smile 
which Daisy wore in death — 9, chill, clear smile of 
triumphant satisfaction. 



THE DUMB WIFE 



V — 



THE DUMB WIFE 

DARK is this tale of love with woe as dark as 
the malefic arches that shut out light from 
the streets about the water-side. In these streets 
it is always chilly afternoon, grey-hued and empty 
of happy noise and welcoming windows. Here the 
narrow kerbs make boundaries for the puckered 
lives of their people; and feet fall without echo 
upon their stones. 

Yet, though all else perish here, beauty and love 
and sacrifice survive. In these waste places below 
London river mean iniquities propagate and flourish, 
and curl their soiling arms about all that would be 
brave and beautiful. Yet beauty persists. Even in 
the heart of darkness love takes root and spreads 
therein its eternal enchantments of gardens and 
moonrise and April airs and song. 

In one of these infelicitous streets, some distance 
from the main Chinese quarter, stood a small 
Chinese laundry. At an upper window of this 
laundry sat, for many years, a woman of semi- 
Oriental features. Day by day, month by month, 

77 



I 



78 MORE LIMEHOUSE NIGHTS 

she sat there, the object of that pity which those 
deep in misfortune bestow so largely upon others 
in misfortune. Part of her story was known. She 
was the wife of the owner of the laundry, Ng 
Yong; and she was dumb. 

Throughout the hours of light she sat at her 
window, her naturally placid face now coldly blank 
by her affliction; staring at nothing, hearing noth- 
ing; silent and still; a piece of Chinese carving. 
And deep in her narrow eyes lay a crouching hor- 
•ror, so that strangers, passing that window, quick- 
ened their steps to the friendly main road. What 
passed each day behind that rigid face may not 
be known; can only be conjectured. What hate — 
what fear — ^what resolution of vengeance and 
escape — what vacillation — ^what dark ideas and 
darker memories gathered there — ^these things are 
not to be told. 

Upoi^ recurring occasions she would, without 
warning, shed her impassivity, and a scene would 
follow. She would run to the door and strive for 
speech to the point of paroxysm, and utter 
anomalous noises, and make wild gestures in the 
direction of West India Dock. Then her husband 
would hasten to her. He would take her in hand, 
sadly, and lead her, with kind firmness, back to 
seclusion; and the neighbours would murmur in 
sympathy with him and his forbearance under his 
trials. 



THE DUMB WIFE 79 

He had early explained to them the misfor- 
tune that had befallen his house, and they had 
often aided him in quieting the sufferer. On her 
rare walks he went always with her, the minister- 
ing husband; when she turned and turned from 
street to street, as though in search of one desired 
spot, and stopped passers-by with her pleading face 
and working jaws, he would make forlorn play with 
his hands, and strangers would draw away, and 
those who knew would gather about him. 

This much was known. Here is the full story. 

When Moy Toon was bom in Poplar of an 
English mother and a Chinese father there was no 
warm place for her with her father's people, and 
none at all with her mother's. Her father's people, 
however, finding her lying about tmclaimed, and 
holding something of grace within them, did pro- 
vide her with bare necessaries. Left motherless in 
her early years, she was received into a tea-house 
in the colony to do the rough worie. In this tea- 
house she spent many tedious years whose days she 
scarcely counted. She had little capacity for 
thought; felt little; asked little; was as content as 
the slave born in slavery and untaught. Her birth 
had g^ven her a larger share of Oriental compliance 
than of Western scepticism and challenge. Things 
were what they were, and she accepted them. She 
grew up in the promiscuous company of the docks. 
Of moral training she had little, and no learnmg 



80 MORE LIMEHOUSE NIGHTS 

beyond that ^ven of custom to the Chinese woman 
of the coolie class. So she passed her young years In 
a kind of somnambulism. 

Then one night there came to the tea-house, in 
the fourth stage of inebriety, a young second mate. 
She had seen him many times about the streets; 
and, in her aimless way, had admired his happy 
stride and clear, sea-brightened face. On this occa- 
sion the wavering charm of the girl, unsettled be- 
tween English mobility and Eastern gravity, cap- 
tivated his beer-bound senses, and he made proposals 
to her. He had but to invite, and she went, her 
warped spirit mildly pleased at the attention from 
this man-wonder. 

Well, that night was the first of many. He made 
a fuss of her, and called her Baby Doll and other 
babbling names, and bought cheap gifts for hen 
On his next time ashore he again sought her out, 
and pleased himself with her simple company. Some 
months later he made a definite parting from her, 
telling her only that he was about to marry and 
settle down in another part of London; and she 
saw him no more. She took her dismissal placidly, 
without rancour, as she took all things, whether 
blows or endearments, and asked nothing of him. 

Later came the baby. The restaurant-keeper 
was a little chagrined at this clumsy misdemeanour, 
but he gave her rough attention, and the child was 
placed with an old woman, known to the Chinese 



THE DUMB WIFE 81 

colony, who lived at Blackwall. Now Moy Toon 
became quite silly about that baby. It was her 
living memory of the one adventure of her life, 
and she worshipped it. At first she clung to it 
defiantly, as a gesture of disdain against those about 
her who so lightly esteemed her wonderful achieve- 
ment of motherhood. But in a more sober moment 
she saw that in their advice lay her best course. 
With the child, she could not hope to earn even 
the scanty living that her abilities and known story 
permitted her to command to-day; and she had no 
taste for the life which other prls of her birth 
and dass affected. She had had her one adven*- 
ture, and desired, for the child's sake, to walk 
securely. She preferred the rough comfort of the 
tea-house to the dolorous enterprise of the streets. 
She knew that the child would receive, under 
other protection, at least the essentials of life, 
which she herself could not faithfully promise him. 
So she let wisdom beat down her sentiment, and 
surrendered the child, with the condition that she 
should see it from time to time as she wished. 

For six years, then, she followed her arid course, 
mother and no mother, accepting, without ques- 
tion or conjecture, the untowardness of her circum- 
stance; rather giving thanks that her course was 
broken, week by week, by visits to the boy. Often 
during these years her pillow shook to the vibra- 
tions of her sobbing breast, as she recalled the 



82 MORE LIMEHOUSE NIGHTS 

young strength and delicate small ways of him, and 
reached vain arms through the darkness to the 
child she might not openly claim. In the rough- 
and-tumble of the dock-side alleys he had grown 
into a wiry, alert urchin, big and bold for his age ; 
and delicious afternoons she spent with him, dress- 
ing him in a travesty of seaman's uniform — reefer 
jacket and g^lt buttons, with peaked cap and much 
cheap braid about it — and calling him "Mother's 
Sailor Boy"; afternoons that compensated for the 
lonely nights. 

Then old Ng Yong appeared. He had bought 
the laundry business of a compatriot who was re- 
turning to his own country, and he was doing very 
well with it. But, looking round the fittings of the 
house, which he had bought with the business, he 
felt that something was lacking, and discovered that 
it lacked a woman. He felt that a woman would 
be an agreeable piece of furniture, and would finish 
oS the establishment. He looked about for one, 
and at the tea-house of the Hundred Gilded 
Dragons he found Moy Toon. Moy Toon seemed 
to him to be just the article. He inquired of the 
keeper of the house concerning her, and found that 
she was available, and was in the gift of the keeper. 

Now Ng Yong was very strict on the sanctity 
of womanhood (from the prospective purchaser's 
point of view) and put to the keeper voluminous 
questions upon her life and behaviour. These the 



THE DUMB WIFE 83 

man behind the Gilded Dragons answered freely: 
not entirely truthfully, but freely, with an engaging 
air of candour. When Ng Yong demanded assur- 
ances of the unblemished character of the goods, 
these also he freely gave. No gentleman of com- 
merce has yet been known to cry down his wares ; 
and he knew that the disclosure of a certain adven- 
ture would appreciably lower the price of the article 
to that of shop-soiled. 

Moy Toon was privately told of the opening of 
negotiations, and was shown, by reports of Ng 
Yong's prosperity, how largely her situation should 
be uplifted by an alliance with him, and how neces- 
sary it was that the existence of the boy should 
be kept secret. It was urged upon her that she 
should renounce for ever any further part in him; 
but to that she answered nothing. To the pro- 
posed union she offered no objection. Ng Yong 
was old, but she was not repelled on that ground: 
she was sufficiently Chinese to regard the difference 
in ages as fitting. She saw here a chance of helping 
herself, and, indirectly, the boy, and was prepared 
to take it without a second thought. She never 
doubted her ability to keep her own secret. 

So, some nights later, she was inspected and 
questioned by Ng Yong, who expressed himself as 
satisfied with her person and with her demeanour 
of modesty. But he did not let the serious occasion 
of wife-taking pass without administering a sharp 



84 MORE LIMEHOUSE NIGHTS 

lecture on wifely deportment. He sat before her 
in the kitchen of the tea-house, his fleshy hands 
splayed upon his knees, his old head wagging, the 
secrets of his eyes shaded from the groping minds 
of his fellows. Ng Yong's wife, he told her, must be 
obedient; must give unquestioning and imceasing 
service to her lord; must give ready and regular 
attention to household duties; must sever all con- 
nection with the people about the tea-house; and, 
above all, must be honest and faithful. She must 
be all his and his alone. He quoted passages from 
the Four Books concerning the Virtuous Wife, and 
the others; and his voice dropped to a muttered 
monotone as he spoke of the punishment befitting 
the wife who failed in the first law. 

To this homily Moy Toon listened prefunctorily, 
and answered casually, with modest and low-toned 
responses. So the business proceeded, through many 
evenings of bargaining, until at last a middle price 
was agreed, the money paid to the Gilded Dragons, 
and Moy Toon lifted over the threshold of Ng 
Yong. 

AH that he required of her in service and obedi- 
ence she gave him. But she would not renounce 
her boy. Her heart had not been asked of her, 
and that she kept; and in it, guarded from all pro- 
fane contact, rested the boy. He was her joss, and 
through him and before him she worshipped. For 
the rest, she served Ng Yong well. She had no 



THE DUMB WIFE 85 

desire to do else. She was scrupulous in anticipating 
his wishes, studious in attending the house, and 
looked at no other man. 

Of this she had but little chance, for her husband 
was ever about her. Maybe her demeanour of 
modesty had not wholly convinced him. He watched 
her with vigilant eyes; never was she free from him; 
and even when she was out on shopping business 
she felt that she was under his regard. 

Her meetings with her boy became, therefore^ 
matters of delicacy. To go to the house in Canning 
Town, each Thursday, as she had done these six 
years, would at once arouse suspicion. He would 
note these regular, recurring disappearances; he 
would question her and perhaps not be satisfied by 
her answers; he would follow her or have her fol* 
lowed, and discover her secret; and then the pave- 
ment would receive her, and she and the boy would 
starve. 

She considered carefully new arrangements, and 
decided that future meetings must be haphazard, 
snatched at odd moments, and a different rendezvous 
must be appointed for each meeting. Discretion 
warned her to follow the Dragon's advice and 
abandon wholly these meetings. She was safe now 
and comfortable, and her daily life was well set* 
Better to take the chance of seeing the boy at a 
(^stance, without speech, or of getting word of his 
welfare from independent parties, than to risk all 



86 MORE LIMEHOUSE NIGHTS 

her present security and well-being for the idle 
whim of fondling him and talking with him. For 
discovery meant banishment from the house of Ng 
Yong and consequent privation and misery. Be- 
yond that her mind did not travel. Of the words 
of his homily on wifely decorum she remembered 
nothing: they had gone, as the phrase is, in at one 
car and out at the other. He would be angry 
and kick her out, and she and the boy would suffer. 
And suffering of any kind she could not face. She 
hated it and feared it. 

Yet, upon a night in the first month of marriage, 
as she lay awake, she thought of the boy and 
fancied his small arms about her, and his voice 
whispering childish prayers for pennies in her ear. 
Her boy. Next morning she managed to pass the 
word, through many channels, to the woman who 
had charge of him, that she should bring him, the 
following afternoon, to Tunnel Gardens. There 
she could sit with him and the woman, and hear 
him talk; and if Ng Yong or any friend of his should 
see her thus engaged, she could reply, quite suitably, 
that the woman and the boy were strangers; that 
the child at play had attracted her and she had 
spoken to him and his mother. No harm in that. 
So it was done, without misadventure. 

For the next meeting, a fortnight later, she ap- 
pointed a sweetstuS shop near Blackwall, where 
the boy was fed with cakes and ginger-beer. She 



THE DUMB WIFE 87 

spent an hour with him here, and when she re- 
turned, Ng Yong, who was customarily superin- 
tending the laundry at that hour, was awaiting her 
upstairs. He told her that she had been long gone ; 
and she answered that she had gone to the cheaper 
market at Shadwell, and had been delayed because 
the road was under repair. He looked strangely 
and closely at her, but she caught nothing of the 
look. Her eyes were full of her boy — ^how bonny 
he was looking and how pert of manner. 

The next meeting she fixed, after some thought, 
for a morning in a disused cellar in a remote corner 
near West India Dock. She had discovered this cel- 
lar some years ago, and it was to-day much as it 
was then. She and her sailor had spent some hours 
there one wet evening of summer, when he had 
been unable to find other temporary accommoda- 
tion. It was easily entered, and, as it held nothing 
that could be stolen, was never under observation. 
It had lain abandoned since the river first entered 
it and swamped its contents. Repairs had been at- 
tempted, but the river persisted ; and at every high 
tide it was waist-deep in water. It was entered from 
a narrow passage by a flight of broken steps so 
hidden that none could without guidance discover 
them. 

Hither, then, the boy was brought. The cellar, 
lit by Moy Toon's electric torch, did not daunt him. 
He was a lad of his father's spirit, she told herself, 



88 MORE LIMEHOUSE NIGHTS 

for he was delighted with the adventure, and 
trotted about the place, pr^ng here and there, and 
nourishing his mother's heart with smiles. She 
stood by him, blooming with pride and encouraging 
his tricks, careless of all save the small circle in 
which he moved. But in the midst of his gambolling 
the woman who had brought him lifted a nervous 
finger. 

"Listen! Quiet 1" 

He stopped suddenly, and Moy Toon gathered 
him against her skirt. They listened. 

"Oo— erl" croaked the woman. "Someone 
comin'. I was afraid we'd get into trouble comin' 
'ere. What'U we do? Where shall we go? Oo — 
er. I'm gointer get outer this. It's your affair. I 
ain't in it. I ain't gointer be mixed up in no ^" 

With a whirl of worried skirts and cumbrous 
boots, she pounded up the steps. Moy Toon, below, 
heard a sound as of a dull impact, and a shrill "Oo — 
er!" followed by "Look out, gel!" 

It was a moment of panic. The woman had seen 
something to affiright her, and Moy Toon's first in- 
stinct was the boy. At that moment she was with- 
out power of thought. She saw three feet from 
her an alcove in which the boy had been exploring. 
It was guarded by a heavy door with a great iron 
hasp and lock. She grabbed the boy by the arm, 
and put her mouth to his ear. 



THE DUMB WIFE 89 

"In there, darling. Quick — ^in there. Don't make 
a sound. It's for mummy." 

The boy understood and hopped into the alcove. 
She swept the door upon him and snapped it dose. 
She turned from it to reach the torch and extinguish 
it; and turned to see Ng Yong descending the last 
step to the cellar, with hand outstretched in com-^ 
mand which she instinctively obeyed. He reached 
the bottom, and stood motionless, looking about 
him, right and left. The sudden shock of his arrival, 
and the closing of the door, had left her breathless, 
incapable of act or word. She leaned against the 
wall, panting, her slow mind rolling round one idea : 
"What did he see? What did he see ?" Through 
his silence she prayed for him to speak. 

At last he spoke, quietly : "So this is where you 
meet your lover? Let us see him." 

"Lover? Me? No, I don't. Oh no— no— I 
don't. What d'you mean?" 

She knew that she was speaking stupidly, uncon- 
vincingly, but delight at his mistake about a lover 
made her careless. Inside herself she laughed. If 
she had to suffer his wrath, she would suffer; but 
at least the boy was safe, while the lover idea 
remained. 

"Where is your lover?" 

"Lover? I ain't got no lover." 

"What then would you be doing here?** 



90 MORE LIMEHOUSE NIGHTS 



ta 



"But — I mean — there ain't no lover. I come 'ere 



**So you come to this place — ^this place — ^to gossip 
with old women, huh? Bring out your lover." 

"But I ain't " She saw suddenly that her 

best plan, for the boy's sake, was to hold the idea 
of a lover, to develop it. 

"Well, I mean, suppose I ^" 

He raised a hand. "Look at mel" 

The instinct of obedience raised her eyes, and 
she looked full at him, and what she saw in his face 
turned her sick. She gibbered. 

"But I ain't— I ain't " 

"You — you to whom I gave my trust. Oh, child 
of a dog 1" 

"But I mean— I " 

A snarl broke from his lips. His hand dipped 
to his inner pocket. She watched it with foolish 
eyes, fumbling under his canvas coat. She saw 
it come out, holding a long curved knife, the blade 
dulled by long disuse. He held it by the ivory hilt, 
directed the point upon her, horizontally, and slowly, 
quietly approached her. Like dropping water, the 
words of his homily on the Virtuous Wife dropped 
through her mind. 

"You have chosen your place well. We are safe 
here. I told you how I would punish unfaithful- 
ness." 

With each step forward he took, she took one 



THE DUMB WIFE 91 

backward, shrinking from him. He followed her. 
She drew back, shuddering, arms extended, pressing 
herself against the wall as if she would force her- 
self into it. He followed her. Pat-pat, pat-pat, 
they moved softly along the damp floor. She con- 
tinued to step slow paces backward, eyes fixed on 
him. He followed her. He followed her until she 
had reached the far wall, where an iron grating 
gave out to the river. There she stood, mouthing 
at him, cornered ; fascinated, rabbit-like, by the dull 
tongue of steel that slowly floated towards her 
breast. Nearer and nearer it came. She felt the 
touch of it upon her corsage; then the prick of it 
upon her skin; and at this she opened wide her 
throat to scream: **Mercyl Mercy I I ain't got 
no lover I" 

But, though she opened her throat, none of 
these words came. Her mouth opened and shut, 
and her teeth came together and flew apart; but 
no sound could she utter. The knife rose and 
fluttered half-an-inch from her throat. Then Ng 
Yong dropped it to his waist, and drew back. He 
looked long at her before he spoke again. 

"Where is this lover?" 

Her lips moved, and she made meaningless noises, 
and shook her head and prayed with her hands. 
Ng Yong replaced the knife in his coat, and nodded 
gravely. The shock of discovery and the threatened 
punishment had taken punishment from his hands. 



M MORE LIMEHOUSE NIGHTS 

His wife was punished by an instrument keener than 
any blade of steel. She was struck dumb. 

He took her by the arm. She shuddered at the 
touch, and he smiled upon her. He drew her to 
the steps leading to the alley. As he led her away, 
she struggled, and pointed to the great door of 
the alcove, and made low noises : "Myw 1 Myw 1" 

Ng Yong, too, looked at the door, and gave a 
smile of understanding. With easy force he com- 
pelled her up the steps. She beat against his bent 
arm, and strove with hands and lips, as one ex- 
plaining. But he led her away, quietly, down that 
narrow passage, so that none noted their going 
until they reached the main road. And he led 
her home, and told sympathetic inquirers how his 
wife had suffered a sad shock from a street acci- 
dent, which had deprived her of speech and made 
her foolish of mind. 



BLUEBELL 



— VI — 
BLUEBELL 

SLIPPERY SAM, the copper's nark, stood in 
the bar of the Blue Lantern and drank bitter, 
while he complained to his only friend, Hank Hogan, 
the odd messenger, of the present discontents. At 
the other end of the bar a group of the Roseleaf 
Boys, who "worked'* the West End shopping 
crowds, delivered to the world generally, in high 
voices, their opinions of Slippery Sam, 

**Thinks 'isself smart, y'know* I reckon we got 
a beat on 'im lars' week." *'Smart ! Huh ! Nosing 
round Chinatown for dope shops is about all 'e's fit 
for." *Tlanted the bunce right under 'is dirty nose, 
I did." "Why, take a dekko at 'im. 'E looks like 
'is job. Any side-door cadger'd know it first time. 
Goes about with a black mask on and a brass band 
in front of 'im, playing 'I'm the copper's nark.' " 
"Yerce, if a faro crib opened next door to 'im and 
'ung out signs, 'e wouldn't know it for a week or 
two." 

Here the voices dropped. Slippery Sam had not 
heard what was spoken loudly, but he heard what 

95 



96 MORE LIMEHOUSE NIGHTS 

was murmured; his cars were adjusted that way. 
**Yerce, old 'Awkins 'as started a shop in Cable 
Street. Bin running these four weeks. ^E dunno 
it, though. 'E'll 'ear about it like 'e 'ears every- 
thing else — ^when 'e reads it in the papers." 

Slippery Sam drank up, excused himself to his 
friend and went out. 

The boys were right. He hadn't heard about it. 
But the name caught his ear, and he thought of 
a gentle walk to Cable Street. On another point 
the boys were wrong. He was good for something 
besides nosing for dope shops in Chinatown. He 
was good for nosing round women. He nosed 
round them like a dog. He sniffed. He fawned. 
He snapped. He snarled. He patted and mauled 
and showed his teeth. He was nosing round one 
now. Bluebell Hawkins. But in her case he 
could not snarl or show his teeth. There was noth- 
ing to bite on. Or there had been nothing to 
bite on. But the information given to him by 
the sour temper of the Roseleaf Boys indicated 
something substantial. Old Hawkins had started 
a Shop. In Shadwell a Shop means one thing. It 
does not mean a gambling den or a dancing den 
or a coining den or a shebeen; it means a Shop. 

As he passed up Gravel Lane there was a sudden 
outcry of young voices: 

"Come on, boys! 'Ere's Sing-a-song Joel 
Chase 'im, boys I Muck 'im about!" 



BLUEBELL 9T 

Slippery Sam stopped to watch and chuckle. 
Against a wall crouched a lanky, thin-faced, wispy- 
haired youth, in tatterdemalion clothes. In his leaa 
fingers he held a tin whistle. With this and with 
lifted leg he made aimless, slow gestures of defense, 
while his face wore the silly smile of the victim who 
tries to enter into the joke of his persecution. His- 
mouth made childish noises of protest. Slippery 
Sam stood by and grinned. This was Sing-a-song^ 
Joe, the half-witted character of the district; some- 
times drunk, sometimes running amok; but always 
the butt of the street boys, and always stupidly 
cheerful. When things were dull and amusement 
wanting, there was always Sing-a-song Joe to be 
dug out and baited. Whence he came none knew. 
He had appeared among them as a lad in knicker- 
bockers. The Union would not have him; the 
Asylum would not have him; the police were bored 
with him. He was helpless and harmless. Hia 
bed was any archway sheltered from the breeze. 
His food he cadged by promises— or, as some said, 
threats— to sing a song in return for broken scraps 
or cigarettes or beer. From those who knew him 
he mostly got the g^ft, and was hastily released from 
his promise of entertainment. It was only when 
he approached a stranger that the price would be 
accepted and the neighbourhood disturbed by fright- 
ful discords on his whistle, or additional horror 



98 MORE LIMEHOUSE NIGHTS 

lent by his cracked voice to obscene soldier and 
sailor songs. 

Slippery Sam stood and watched and urged on 
the boys. Then suddenly, through the crowd, broke 
the slim, bright figure of a young girl. She cuffed 
right and left with her hands, and came to the 
side of Sing-a-song, striking with words. 

"Let 'im alone, yeh little beasts. You leave 'im 
be. Never mind, Sing-a-song, I'll see to 'em. Here, 
mike off quick. Little blackguards, can't yeh leave 
the boy alone?" 

With profane comment and derisive gestures the 
boys strolled away to the next amusement, and she 
put an arm about the victim. 

**They bin hustling you, Sing-a-song?" she asked 
gently. 

He giggled. "No, no. I don't mind. They 
alwis do it. They like a bit o' fun. They think I'm 
cracked. But you know, don't yeh? You know 
I'm all right? I like you, Bluebell. You're kind 



to me." 



She smiled upon him. "You ought to stick up 
for yourself, boy, you're big enough now. Hit 'em. 
Knock 'em about. I know there's a crowd of 'em, 
but you hit one, hard, and it'll frighten the others. 
See?" 

"Oh, no, Bluebell, that ain't right. They don' 
mean nothing. Wouldn't be right to 'urt 'em." 

Slippery Sam strolled up. " 'Ullo, missic." 



BLUEBELL 99 

Bluebell Hawkins looked round and shuddered 
sharply. She moved closer to the half-witted Sing- 
a-song. 

"Hullo/' 

Sing-a-song observed that she was engaged. '^I'U 
go, Bluebell," he piped, humbly withdrawing. 

Bluebell stretched a hand. "No, don't." But, 
putting his whistle to his lips, and blowing a piercing 
blast, he capered round the corner and away. 

"Seem fond o' Sing-a-song," remarked Slippery 
conversationally. 

"Oh?" 

"Yerce. Never take no notice of yer friends 
when they pass in the streets^ but always looking 
after 'im." 

Bluebell thought of a rude retort, but did not 
make it. She was not sure of ^Slippery. She loathed 
him* The fact of his being in her neighbourhood 
affected her as the presence of a cat affects some 
people. And, somehow, though she felt no fear, 
she had a notion that he was to be feared. 

"What if I do?" she said. "He wants some- 
one to look after him, when everybody's tormenting 
him. Why should they? He's only a bit soft. 
There's nothing nasty or wicked about him. That 
boy'd do anything in the world for me." 

"Well, perhaps 'e would. Perhaps other people 
would, too. What could *e do for yeh, though? 
'£'s no good to anyone. Can't even look after 



100 MORE LIMEHOUSE NIGHTS 

^isself. There's other people that might be yer 
friends— real friends — ^and do things for ych, if 
yeh'd let 'em. Nobody never knows when they 
might want a friend — z real friend-" 

He looked at her and his eyes raked her face 
and then — or so she .felt — ^raked off her clothes 
and grinned upon her young body. She shuddered 
again and moved beyond him. His sloppy clothes, 
his sloppy limbs, his sloppy movements nauseated 
her. There was an odour of slops all about him. 
**Well, I must be going." 

"Right-o. But don't forget what I said. A 
friend's a friend. And yeh never know." 

She walked swiftly from him, in some trouble 
at his words. She walked lightly, and her feet 
barely disturbed the dust of the pavement. In 
Juniper Street, where was her home, she was known 
as That Refined Girl. It was agreed that she was 
Quite The Lady. There was gentleness in every 
line of her. Even the massed yellow of her hair 
seemed gentle against the brutal bricks and girders 
and the insistent dun of Shadwell ; and the startling 
combination of light curls with deep brown eyes 
lent her an air of waywardness that caused remark 
in a place where all things were blunt and deter- 
mined. Her merry hat, her bright mouth, her 
swinging arms gave a moment's courage to the 
cringing street as she passed; but her heart was 
troubled. 



BLUEBELL 101 

Mr. Hawkins, her father, had long done well 
in the second-hand wardrobe business; but lately 
he had disposed of his stock and goodwill, and 
was now much at home. He had told Bluebell, 
in a casual way, that he had started another busi- 
ness, in a new line, but what that business was 
she was not told. Certainly, it seemed more profit- 
able than second-hand clothes, for there was more 
money about the house. He did himself well, and 
gave Bluebell presents of new hats and frocks, and 
added many necessary comforts to their home. But 
Bluebell had wondered about this business, and his 
evasion of her questions. Lately, nasty words had 
crept about the district, and had been borne, by 
the sluggish wind of gossips' breath, to her ears. 
She began to scrutinise her father at the supper- 
table, while he was engaged with the evening paper; 
and, at last, putting words together, she framed 
something like the truth. She confirmed it by ques* 
tions to Sing-a-song Joe, who heard everything; and 
he told her, innocently, not knowing whether the 
business was good or bad, its nature. 

She had not known it long before her father dis- 
covered that she knew. Without a word from 
either, mutual knowledge was discovered; and there- 
after the bright tones of the Hawkins' home was 
subdued. Though never proclaimed, the knowledge 
pervaded the house like a fog. This nasty grey 
Fact loomed over them, and sat between them at 



108 MOHE LIMEHOUSE NIGHTS 

the fireside, and hovered above the table as they 
sat at meals, and sucked the warmth from their 
words and their advances, and lent a chill to any 
attempt at candid intercourse. And there were 
dreadful occasions when Hawkins would say, in 
the tones of a clumsy actor who has memorised a 
part till it becomes meaningless: "Well, girl, I 
shall be rather late to-night. Special business to see 
to, y'know. Don't wait up for me." And Blue- 
bell would reply in the same tones: "All right, 
dad; I'll leave something cold on the table for you." 

She did not dare to name to him her knowledge 
and her horror. Though a strong, undemonstrative 
love united them, his dark temper -had always for- 
bidden any attempt on her part to challenge any 
attitude or action on his. Don't think that she 
suffered any pangs of conscience at enjoying the 
new good things provided by this more prosperous 
business. She didn't. Nor, perhaps, was she at 
all concerned with the "wrong" side of it. It was 
to her only a thoroughly nasty business. What 
horrified and disgusted her, savagely insistent as 
she was on chastity, and loathing the fact of sex, 
was the dirtiness, the animalism, the disgrace of it 

He was not often out late. He was out at odd 
times morning and evening, but usually returned 
at ten o'clock. The place of business in Cable 
Street Bluebell had discovered. There he went each 
morning to collect the money paid by the night's 



BLUEBELL 103 

visitors, and to see that order was maintained among 
the terrible company who called themselves face- 
tiously his **staff." He was always quietly dressed; 
sleek; reticent in style and speech. A black beard 
lent him circumspection, and his manner was like 
a dark alley of shuttered houses. He was always, 
to his neighbours, "Mr." Hawkins. 

As Bluebell prepared the table for supper to- 
night the words of Slippery Sam still clattered in 
her head; and when at his proper hour her father 
came in, she quizzed him. He sat at the table with 
the evening paper, not, as usual, tranquil and self- 
contained. He fidgeted. Bluebell observed. After 
eating, he spoke. 

"You know Sara Booth?" 

"What — ^him they call Slippery Sam?" 

" 'M." 

"Yes, everybody does." The tone of voice clearly 
conveyed "and loathes him." 

"Oh, well — ^not a bad chap. I rather like him. 
You don't seem to?" 

"Well, can you ask? Like him? How can one 
like. a rat or a snake or anything slimy?" 

"Oh, he's not as bad as all that. You mustn't 
believe all people say about him. He's not really 
such a bad chap. However, I»only asked. But^you 
might be a bit nice to him. I saw him this evening, 
and he seemed to think you wanted to be rude to 



104 MORE LIMEHOUSE NIGHTS 

him. Be a bit ni&, like. Because — ^y'sec — ^I mean 
— ^he might be able to do me a good turn." 

Bluebell knew what her father was trying to say, 
and he knew that she knew; and her breasts seemed 
suddenly two blocks of ice. But she only answered : 
"Oh, well, you'd have to be pretty hard up to take 
favours from a worm like that." And she served 
him with beer, and tHey spoke no more until "Good- 
night." 

Next morning when she went shopping Slippery 
Sam stepped from an alley into her path, and simu- 
lated surprise. ** 'UUoj Bluebell. Out early, eh? 
My word, what a nobby frock I That cost a bit, I 
lay. But it ain't too good for you, whatever it 
cost. Your dad's doing well just now, eh?" 

She moved to pass him. **I believe so. . . . 
•Well, I got a lot of things to get this morning." 

** 'Arf a mo'. I got something serious to say 
to you. I mean it, reely. Something that concerns 
you. Supposing your dad was in trouble, and you 
could 'elp 'im. Would yeh?" 

"Don't be silly. You know me an' dad would 
do anything for one another." 

She looked steadily at him and he at her. He 
wondered if she knew; but her face was the face 
of a pretty girl busy with domestic matters. 

"Well, I won't keep yeh now. I'll tell yeh later. 
I don't want to worry your little 'ead. I dessay yer 



3LUEB]^LL 106 

father's told ych already that he might be in trouble 



some time." 



Bluebell walked on shuddering; partly from con- 
tact with Slippery, and partly from his words. She 
brooded and fretted all day, and that night her 
father spoke his awful lines: **Well, prl, I shall 
be rather late to-night Special business to see to, 
y'know. Don't wait up for me." To which she 
made the customary reply. 

Half-an-hour after he was gone came a knock at 
the street door. She opened it and found Slippery 
Sam. 

"Want to come in," he said hoarsely. "Want 
to talk to yeh, private-like." 

Her arm ached to slam the door upon his nose, 
but something restrained her. She let him enter. 
He slouched into the kitchen and stood awkwardly 
by the table. 

"It's true what I told yeh 'smorning," he began. 
"I found out about it. There'll be trouble fer you 
and your dad before long. But it could be stopped. 
I could get it stopped, I think." . 

She looked at him with orderly eyes. "Well, 
suppose it is true? What about it? Why come 
and tell me?" 

"Well, yeh said 'smorning yeh'd do anything to 
'elp your dad if 'e was in trouble. Well, now yeh 
got a chance, so I thought I'd tell yeh." 



106 MORE LIMEHOUSE NIGHTS 

"I see. You want to be squared, I suppose. How 
much do you want?" 

"Ah, I see you've rumbled it. But — er — ^well, it 
ain't a matter o' money. I can get money easy. 
There's some things better'n money. I thought I'd 
come to-night, seeing yer dad go out; 'cos if 'e 'eard 
you was ready to save 'im this way, very likely 'e 
wouldn't let yeh. Might be ready to stand the racket 
'isself , rather'n you should be — e^ — bothered. But 
I reckon you wouldn't like to let 'im in fer — ^well — 
bad trouble, when you could easy prevent it." 

She rested a hand on the kitchen table and leant 
across it. 

"What is it you want, you — beast?" 

Then he smiled and his awkwardness dropped 
from him. This was a language he understood. He 
asserted himself. 

"Why, if yeh look in the glass, ducky, yeh don't 
need to ask a man that. You know what I want." 

She took a deep breath, as though to blow him 
from the room. Then she recovered and spoke 
quietly. "No, you slimy reptile. No; Get out — 
quick 1" 

He did not move. "Nice words from you — ^slimy 
reptile — from you. And who are youf Where did 
that pretty frock come from? Where did those 
shoes come from? Eh? Who's worse — ^you, that 
swank about in new 'ats and frocks and look the 
lady, or the poor gels what make the money that 



BLUEBELL 107 

buys 'em? Eh? D'yeh know what your father is? 
'E's a " 

She clapped hands to ears. ''Don't say it. Beast. 
Don't say it. Ohl" 

"Arl I see yeh know. And still try to be the 
lady. Well, it won't last long, y'know. Not only 
your being a lady won't last. There's worse. Your 
dad'U be taken to the court. 'E'U be committed 
for trial. It'll all be printed in the papers. Twelve 
munce is a light sentence for that. An' 'e'U be put 
in convick dress, and.be 'eating 'is 'eart out in a cell, 
and working at miserable work — and not a soul 
to talk to all the tin^e. 'E'U be thinking of you — 
every minute of the day and 'arf the night. And 
where'U you be? Eh? When it's all exposed — 
where'U you be ? 'Ere? No. You'll be chased out 
of the place. You won't 'ave nowhere to go. You 
won't — ^you won't 'ave a place to lay yer 'ead. No- 
body'U look at yeh, when they know. Yeh'U be 
where the girls are what bring the money fer yer 
pretty frocks and 'ats. That's where you^ll be, 
unles s 'Arf-a-dozen words from me and — flip- 

flop 1" 

She dropped into a chair and hid her face. 
"Don't, don't 1 You beast 1 Oh, go away." 

He approached her. "Now don't be silly, geU 
I'll give y'a chance. Gimme a kiss now, and I won't 
do nothing for a day or two. I'll let yeh think it 
over. Come on.'* 



108 MORE LIMEHOUSE NIGHTS 

He shook her shoulder. She writhed at the touch, 
but she thought of father in prison, and slowly she 
rose, her lips parted in misery and disgust. Her 
skin tingled. He stood motionless at her side. 

"Come on, gel." 

Slowly she put her face to his, and gave' him her 
bright mouth. He grabbed her neck and pressed 
his tight lips hard against hers, and she sobbed and 
her throat made noises of revolt. "There I That's 
that! m go now, and you be sensible and think 
it over." 

She sank to the table again, and when she looked 
up he was gone. 

Long she sat thus, staring before her, while grim, 
grey thoughts moved nakedly across her mind. 
Then, chilled with solitude, she got up, took hat and 
coat, and went out. She did not know and did not 
care where she would walk — she wanted to be out. 
Suddenly, as she passed a lampless alley, the quiet 
of the street was rent by a screaming note from 
a tin whistle, and she knew that Sing-a-song Joe was 
about. She followed the direction of the sound, 
for she felt that Sing-a-song was the one person 
she could meet to-night. With Sing-a-song she could 
and did talk freely. She could tell him things she 
dare not tell to others — little fandes, whims, de- 
sires, that would have aroused bitter ridicule in 
others. He was a child. She could unpack her 



BLUEBELL 109 

mind to him in speech.without fear of compromising 
herself by revelation. 

She found him strutting gaily over the cobbles, 
whistle at mouth. He stopped at sight of her, and, 
though the inane smile remained on his face, his 
voice conveyed concern. 

" 'UUo, Bluebell. Don't yeh feel well. Bluebell? 
You got a pain anywhere, Bluebell?" 

"Oh, Sing-a-song, I'm so unhappy. Fm in trouble, 
Sing-a-song." 

"What? Ain't you had your dinner. Bluebell 1 
Or you lost your purse — or what?" 

"No, it isn't anything like that, Sing-a-song. 
Here, come down here." 

"That's right. Bluebell. You tell Sing-a-song all 
about it. You alwis look after Sing-a-song, so 'e'U 
look after you." 

Up and down the side street they walked for 
half-an-hour, while Bluebell told him, in plain, set 
terms that he could understand, the nature of her 
trouble. She did not tell him with any idea of find- 
ing advice or assistance, but because she must dis- 
charge her mind of its burden of horror, and he 
was the one person to whom she could confess 
without surrender of dignity and esteem. Cackles 
of thin laughter, which from Sing-a-song meant sym- 
pathy, interspersed her monotonous recital; and 
when he heard that Slippery Sam was the occasion 
of her troubled eyes and lagging steps, he shuffled 



110 MORE LIMEHOUSE NIGHTS 

his feet and blew wild notes on his whistle. Slippery 
Sam was his enemy too, and never failed to g^ve 
himself cheap sport by setting the street urchins 
about the witless boy when he found him. 

"Oh, Bluebell," he bleated. "Poor Bluebell I 
Never mind ; don't you cry. And don't you be afraid 
of Slippery Sam. Poor Bluebell 1" 

That was all the comfort he could ^ve her. But 
when he left her, and shuffled towards the Great 
Eastern arches to bed, blowing weird music from 
his whistle, his thoughts ran upon the business. His 
beautiful lady, his princess, was in trouble, and had 
told him all about it. But what could a softy do? 
Nobody would take any notice of him. Softy, they 
would call him. He wondered if he could kUl Slip- 
pery Sam. It would be nice if he could. Bluebell 
would admire him for that. But Slippery Sam was 
a strong man and could fight. Then people would 
find out that he had been killed, and there was awful 
punishment for that kind of thing. At this point 
a lantern flashed upon him, as he crouched under 
the arch. He. sprang nimbly to his feet, but a voice 
reassured him. It was the voice of P. C. Gossett, 
the only constable in that district who never annoyed 
or hustled him. He liked P. C. Gossett. He was a 
good policeman and big and strong and calm. 

"All right, kid," said Gossett "I didn't know 
it was you. Settle down and be good." 



BLUEBELL 111 

'^Slippery Sam's a bad man," said Sing-a-song in- 
consequently. 

"Just found that out, boy? Most people knew 
that a long time ago." 

^'Sing-a-song don't like Slippery Sam. 'E's un- 
kind to people." 

"No more don't I, old man. We ain't loved one 
another for a long time. But don't you worry. 
One o' these days I'll get him, and then he won't 
give you nor nobody else any trouble. I'm only 
waiting fer me chance. Now be'ave yesself, boy, 
and I'll see yer not shifted from here. Here — here's 
a crust of bread and cheese— bit o' my supper, but 
I don't fancy cheese to^iight." 

Sing-a-song grabbed the food and ate it; and all 
thi'ough the night he lay awake on the stones. The 
morning gave him an idea. One way there was, 
he saw suddenly, by which his Bluebell might be 
saved: a drastic way, which might put some pain 
upon her, but a pain less hideous and enduring than 
that which now threatened her. It was the only 
way he could see to assuage her present misery; and 
he set himself to take it. 

For a week of evenings the atmosphere of the 
Hawkins' home was like a dark forest, where surly 
red fire smouldered. The great Fact that sat al- 
ways between them at table had now a shadowy 
companion — a grim Idea that crouched behind it 
and made terrible grimaces at Bluebell. Darker 



118 MORE LIMEHOUSE NIGHTS 

and darker grew her father's manner, retreating 
from her day by day, until it seemed that never 
again would they reach one another; and day by 
day she suffered double torture: the torture of his 
strained face and the torture of Slippery Sam with 
his "Well, gel, when am I goin' to 'ave more'n a 
kiss, eh?" until she felt each night that the breaking- 
point had been reached, and the torture must be 
ended by the one act of sacrifice that was demanded. 

At the end of the week the surly red broke into 
iierce flame. Hawkins came home early that evening, 
before ten o'clock* He dropped heavily into the 
chair by the kitchen stove. Bluebell brought a bot- 
tle of beer and poured him a glass. She placed it 
on the table at his elbow, but he did not drink. 
He looked deep into the (ire, and spoke slowly: 

"Er— Bluebell— girL" 

"'Mr 

"Got some bad news for you?" 

"Bad news? Oh — ^bad news. Yes, what now? 
Bad news?" 

She was standing at the cupboard, replacing the 
bottle. He saw only her back. It was bent as to 
receive a blow. 

"Yerce. I'm in trouble." 

"Trouble?" The voice was a shred of a voice, 
naked. "You in trouble ? And Oh, go on." 

He turned round in the chair, faced her and spoke 
quickly, without a pause between phrases. 



BLUEBELL 118 

"Yes, girl, trouble. Big trouble. Fm going to 
be — ^I mean the police are after me. I bin doing 
wrong— running a crook business, and I'm going to 
be locked up. I can't get away. They know who 
I am and where I live, and they'll be here any minute 
now. I bin running a bad house, and somebody's 
give me away." 

The bottle slipped from her hand and fell with a 
jagged crash to the floor. She turned and faced 
him; and even in his own deep misery he thought 
he had never seen so terrible a face as that she 
showed him, with its wide eyes and blank, wet 
mouth. 

"Give you away? Who? Who? Sam Booth? 
Slippery Sam give you away?" 

**No— it wasn't Slippery Sam. He's been quite 
nice to me lately. It was that loony boy, Sing-a- 
song Joe they call him. He gave 'em the office. 
Put that nasty, superior kind o' copper, Gossett 
— you know him — on to it. Slippery Sam tried to 
stop it, but Gossett was too quick for him. Said 
that Sing-a-song Joe done it to help you. Dunno 
what he's talking about. What you staring at like 
that?" 

"Oh, God I My pal I Done for by my pall" 

"Done for? Here, prl, don't take on so. It 
ain't so bad, perhaps. There'll be a bit o' money 
for you to go with. I oughta known it was bound 
to come. If it hadn't come that way, it'd a-come 



114 MORE LIMEHOUSE NIGHTS 

by Slippery Sam. He found out about it a week 
or two ago. I've had to keep him quiet with money, 
but he wasn't satisfied with money. He's bin askin' 
me for all sorts of things. Things I'd never think 
of giving him. Bluebell, girl, it's just as well, per- 
haps, that I'm in for it, and don't have to think 
over what he wanted. Now that this has happened 
he can't bother us no more. Bluebell — ^he was ask- 
ing me for you.'* 

"Yes? That's what makes it more awful. That 
Sing-a-song should have done this — ^now. 'Cos, you 
see, dad" — the words dropped hard and black from 
her lips — **you see, to save you, I gave myself to 
Slippery Sam last night." 

Out of the quiet evening came the long scream of 
a tin whistle, as Sing-a-song pranced about the alleys, 
warm with the thought of service done to his lady. 



A FAMILY AFFAIR 



— vn— 

A FAMILY AFFAIR 

THERE was trouble down our street. There 
was something doing. There was a large fly 
in the sweet ointment of its social life. The wind 
was well up. And all along of that there little 
Connie Raymond and them there dirty Chinks. You 
could see at a glance that something was ''up/' for 
Mrs. Raymond was leaning across the sill of her 
open parlour window, which gave directly to the 
street; and Mrs. Raymond only sat in her parlour 
on solemn occasions, and only once before — ^when 
Aunt Polly upset the lamp— -had the window been 
opened. 

She was haranguing her two sons, Alf and Bert, 
who stood outside, smoking nonchalant cigarettes: 
Alf incipiently pugnadous; Bert, with a taste for 
diplomacy, thinking hard. A group of little ^rls 
gathered at a respectful distance, and sympathisers 
stood at their doors ; for it was felt that the affront 
fell not only upon the Raymond family, but upon 
the whole colony of Nugget Street. And they 
listened and nodded as Mrs. Raymond made her 
jeremiad. 

117 



118 MORE LIMEHOUSE NIGHTS 

"To think of it. Our Connie. Going with a 
Chink. And cv'body in the place knowing it. Alwis 
kep' ourselves respectable we 'ave. On'y twice in 
'is life was yer father put away. And you boys 
ain't on'y bin pinched oncer twice. Cpme to that— 
who ain't? Police trouble comes to ev'body — even 
the 'igh-up ones. But this — and with all the papers 
full o' stuff jus' now 'bout white gels going with 
Chinks, and 'ow it oughter be stopped. Goes and 
picks up one at that there Blue Lantern, and walks 
out with 'im. Night after night. It's enough to 
break yer 'eart. 'Er that I've kep' so respectable, 
too. Never bin anything like it in our family be* 
fore. All married fair and square, we was. And 
even if some of us picked wrong 'uns, leastways they 
was white. • . . Oh, don't stand there like a couple 
of lamp-posts. Say something 1" 

Alf looked at Bert, and Bert looked at his boots. 
Then Bill Higgins, the roadman, chipped in, and 
said something consolatory. 

**I don't wonder yer worried, missus," said Bill 
Hig^ns. 

"A nice gel like your Connie going with one o* 
them when she could 'ave the pick o' the street. 
It's shameful, that's what it is," said Bill Hig^ns. 

"And o' them dirty yeller boys. They eats rats, 
y'know. Yerce, they do. I seen 'em. And worship 
images. And never wash theirselves. And treach- 
erous— yeh never know wher y'are with 'enL Stick 



A FAMILY AFFAIR 119 

a knife In yer back fer tuppence, and think nothing 
of it. And who knows where this might end?" said 
Bill Higgins. 

"They might get 'old of Connie, and get *er to 
ane o' their dens, and you never see 'er again. Such 
things 'ave 'appened. Treat women worse'n dogs, 
they do. No reverence or respect for 'em. If Con- 
nie was a gel o' mine," said Bill Higgins, "and I 
caught 'er going with one of 'em, I'd flay 'er alive, 
I would." 

Mrs. Raymond "Ooo'd" at the reference to a 
knife, and Alf and Bert turned on the intruder. 
"Life and soul o' the party, yew are, aincher? When 
we want your advice, we'll send a post card — see? 
'OppitI" 

Higgins removed himself, and Alf and Bert 
looked at one another again. Mrs. Raymond re- 
peated herself. "Well, what yeh going to do about 
it? Do something. It's fer you to up' old the good 
name of the family." 

Alf turned back his cuffs and spat on his hands. 
"I'll show yeh what I'm going to do. Just lemme 
get 'old of the badstud fer five mintes. I'll " 

Mrs. Raymond sniffed. "Much better get 'old of 
'er first, and find out 'ow far it's gone. She won't 
listen to 'er mother. She may take more notice of 
you." 

"WeU, Bert," said Alf, "you get 'old of 'er, and 
ask 'er '' 



120 MORE LIMEHOUSE NIGHTS 

*'No, you're the eldest. ItM come better from 
you." 

"No, you^^ said Alf emphatically. **I spoke to 
'cr before — about that business of Aunt Amy's to- 
matoes. And she likes you better'n me." 

"Well, as you spoke before, you ought to now. 
She'll take it better, being the second time. She 
ain't likely to give you another eye like the one ^" 

"Look 'ere, you're the talking man. If you're 
afraid of the gel, say so." 

"Don't be silly. I ain't afraid of no gel.'* 

"Well, I am. Of Vr. So that's that. I ain't 
one fer words. I'm a man of action. I can't deal 
with women. But I can with men — ^if you can call 
a Chink a man. There won't be nothing said when 
I get 'old of 'im. There won't be much left of 
'im — ^not enough to attract gels, anyway." 

Bert spread his hands. "Ah, that's where you're 
wrong. You can't deal with these people that way. 
You wanter use tact. You gotter make 'em under- 
stand the situation. You can't settle everything 
with a punch on the jaw. We gotter get him to see 

the principle of the thing. A few words from 

IMA " 
me 

"I'll make 'im see a lot o' things besides principles 
when I " 

Mrs. Raymond lamented with her hands. "Well, 
don't stand there nagging at one another. Do 
something." 



A FAMILY AFFAIR 121 

"Well,** said Alf, "weVe going to. But I suppose 
the first thing to do is to find 'im." 

*Terce," said Bert pleasantly, "that'd be a good 
idea to start wiv, Brainy. As youVe the man of 
action, it'll be your move..** 

"But aincher going to say a word to Connie 
abou t 'Ush 1 *ere she comes/* 

Mrs. Raymond withdrew her head from the 
window-frame, and Alf and Bert looked up and 
down the street, and at their boots, and flourished 
their cigarettes and whistled. Through the door- 
way of the Raymond home stepped Miss Raymond, 
with the flourish of a young bird trying its wings. 
She stepped into the evening as though the evening 
had been ^'arranged" as a background from her. 
She passed her two brothers with a non-conmiittal 
nod, which they affected not to see. Her mother 
glowered at her back. As she swam down the street, 
Alf nudged Bert. 

"Now's the chance. She's going to meet 'im. If 
we follow 'em until she leaves 'im, and then follow 
'im, we can get 'im down a back-way, and 'ave 'im 
to ourselves, eh ?" 

Bert agreed, and imparted the plan to Mrs. Ray- 
njpnd, who passed it to the street; and away went 
the two champions of tender white womanhood 
against the wiles of the crawling reptiles of Penny- 
fields. And there was still greater excitement down 
our street when it became known that the two young 



182 MORE LIMEHOUSE NIGHTS 

Raymonds were about to enter Chinatown and track 
down the assaulter of their dignity, and work white 
justice upon a Chink. They were "seen off,'* as it 
were. They were pven a valedictory ovation. It 
was as though the loungers said amiably among 
themselves : "Well, we shan't see them no more." 
Tales were told to Mrs. Raymond of the things 
that had been done to white men who had crossed 
the path of the Chinks; and she became again 
voluble. 

"Ah, that's just what they are — ^like cats. I seen 
'im 'anging about the end of the street for 'er, and 
*c fair frightens me — the look of 'im. Just like 
a cat. You can't tell what 'e's thinking about. And 
you 'ear so much about this White Slave business 
now— it g^ves you the jumps." 

And Alf and Bert, conscious of the deep adven- 
ture to which they were committed, swaggered as 
they departed. 

And all this trouble down our street over a senti- 
mental interlude produced by an idle moment and 
the weather. It was late sunmier, the season of 
languid skies; the time of appointments in the dusky 
public gardens; when shadowy faces at street cor- 
ners greet shadowy passers; when streets, meagre 
and tattered by day, assume a chubby, self-satisfied 
air by night ; when, in the chilly twilight, all is blurred 
like a worn-out film, and, in the Essex fields beyond 
Barking, the corn stands as yellow as the hair of 



A FAMILY AFFAIR 128 

the Blue Lantern's barmaid. It was at one dim 
comer of West India Dock Road, on such an eve- 
ning, that the young Quong Foo filled his eye with 
the speaking face of little Connie Raymond. She 
called him with a smile, the smile of her age and 
class. It was not a happy smile, or a shy smile, 
or a satisfied smile, or a coy smile, but a wide, chill, 
masterful smile, to which he had no defence. Connie 
was an early adept in the technique of the game : she 
had a keen sense of the streets. As she stood negli- 
gently shouldering the corner of the alley, her 
flippant frock, that hung midway between knee 
and shoe, her saucy hat and blown brown hair could 
hardly fail to capture the heart of a bored exile. 
They did capture him; and Quong Foo and she 
walked together, and took a drink together at the 
Blue Lantern, and again walked together. 

That was all. Connie Raymond, the accomplished 
little flirt, had walked out some evenings with a 
grave and courteous Chink, putting herself in the 
way of any little tricks he choose to work upon her. 
Asking for it, in fact. And because of this, a 
pogrom was proclaimed against the Oriental colony 
of Limehouse, and Alf and Bert were about to 
open it. 

Near Limehouse Church they observed the meet- 
ing of Connie and her yellow boy, and each fortified 
the other with pronouncements of anathema upon 
all races that were not white of skin. 



124 MOBE LDIEHOUSE NIGHTS 

"Don't it make ycr blood boil, Bert?** 

"Not 'alf it don't. Disgusting, I call it" 

"There ain't a name for it" 

"I dunno. The papers what 'ave bin writing about 
Chinks getting 'old of white gels found all sorts o' 
names for it Fanqr names." 

"I dessay. But the thing's bad enough wivout 
giving it a name. 'Ere they are in our country, 
making free wiv everything, an d Ow, I can 

'ardly keep me 'ands orf 'im." 

"Ah, but you got to 'old yesself in. It don't da. 
Not with them. We gottcr 'andle it delicate-like. 
Wotter we going to say when we first pick 'im up?" 

**Sayf I ain't going to say nothing. I thought 
you was going to do the talking." 

"Yerce; but we got to interduce the subject, like. 
You know — polite but firm. The velvet 'and in the 
mailed fist." 

"I should feel inclined to interduce the subject 
with me boot." 

"Ah, but — s'pose 'e didn't take no notice of yer 
boot? Eh? You gotter be careful, y'know. 
They're crafty devils. Up to everything. S'pose 
while you're lifting yer boot 'e did something behind 
yer back. Yeh never know. That's why I believe 
in diplomatics." 

"Rotl You take 'em too seriously. A padc o' 
dirty Chinks. We gotter teach 'em a lesson — show 
'em they can't come messing round white gels. They 



A FAMILY AFFAIR 126 

gotter be taught their place. I redcon I'm a match 
for any three of them. They're yeller, and I'm 
white — and I'm dam well going to let 'em know it." 

"Shut up," said Bert. "Look — she's leaving 'im. 
Come in this shop 'ere. You buy something, and 
I'U watch." 

They entered a small tobacconist's, and Bert 
peeped from the door, and saw Connie mount an 
east-bound bus, and the Chink walk leisurely down 
West India Dock Road. 

"Comeon,Alfl" 

They scampered out, and followed hotly. 
"Damn! 'E's going right down to the Causeway. 
We shan't get no chance to get 'im down an alley. 
Never mind — ^we gotter go through with it." 

"Don't you worry,'' said Alf. "I'll see this 
through. Quick — 'e's gom down Pennyfields." 

They trotted after the unsuspecting philanderer, 
saw him in Pennyfields, and saw him enter a diminu- 
tive shop. Swiftly they came up, and paused to 
look at the place. Its front was encrusted with dirt ; 
its windows were dim with the smokes of many 
months. It was more unkempt, more blear of aspect, 
even more beset by evil odours than any house 
in their own street. Behind the window was a litter 
of tinned fruits and a few strips of fish. The wood- 
work of the shop was discoloured by the flight of 
ages. About it twined a filigree of spider's web. 

"Huh I" said Alf. "So this is where 'e lives. And 



126 MOBE LIMEHOUSE NIGHTS 

to think of anybody out o' this dirty, stinking yellow 
place coming after a white gel. And our sister, Bert, 
our sister— eh?" 

Bert was fired equally with indignation. "YouVe 
right, Alf. Well, now, you wait outside, and I'll 
go in. I know the kind of lingo they understand, 
and if talk don't 'ave no effect on 'im, or if 'e tries 
to do the dirty, you come in and put it across 'im. 
See?" 

So Bert dashed in, determined to stand no non- 
sense from eaters of dog. He looked about the 
dusty, airless shop, but saw no sign of the elegant 
yellow dude. He was beginning to wonder if he 
had mistaken the doorway, when a curtain at the 
back of the shop was pulled aside, and an elderly 
Chinaman, wearing a tattered canvas suit and steel 
spectacles, came forward. 

"Oh, ah— er — me wantum Chinkie just come in." 

The old man regarded him gravely, without ex- 
pression, as though waiting for him to speak. This 
disconcerted the diplomatist, and he repeated him- 
self. 

"Me wantum Chinkie just come in. Me wantum 
talkee young Chinkie." ' 

"Do I understand that you wish to speak to 
Quong Foo?" 

Bert looked sharply at the old man, ready to per- 
ceive trickery in every movement. 

"Me not know 'is name. Me wantee Chinkie just 



A FAMILY AFFAIR 127 

come in. Chinkie come muchee talkee-talkee my sis- 
ter — savvy? Chinkie go walkce-walkee my sister. 
Me wantum talkee Chinkie." 

The old man removed his spectacles and regarded 
Bert with cold eyes. Then he spoke in a polished 
English accent. 

"Ah. I am the father of Quong Foo. I believe 
he is the young man you speak of. Do I understand 
that you are the brother of that white girl with 
whom I have seen my son walking." 

"That's me." The cold precision of the old man's 
language drove Bert back from pidgin to Cocknese. 
"And I've come to see about it. A yeller man and 
a white gel. It's gotter stop." 

"I see. And you have come to treat in the mat- 
ter? Very well. How much?" He held out a 
wrinkled hand. 

"Eh?" 

"How much?" The question put Bert at a loss. 
He went to the door and drew Alf into consultation. 
" 'E says 'Ow muchf 'E's the bloke's father." 

Alf clutched the doorway for support. " 'Ow 
much? Meaning money? I'll give 'im 'ow much. 
It's blackmail, that's what it is. Blackmail, Bert. 
I'll g^vc 'i m " He dashed into the shop with 
hands ready for use. 

"What's this you're giving us, Chinkie ?'* 

The old man held out a hand, with a question: 
"Five pounds?" 



laS MORE LIMEHOUSE NIGHTS 

"Five pounds? F-pve — p-p-poundsf* Alf and 
Bert stared. Alf spluttered, and made rude noises. 
"Well, of all the bleedun impudence 1 A dirty yeller 
Chink to Look 'ere 1" — and Alf delivered that 

paralysing and, to most people, unanswerable ques^ 
tion: "Who th'ell d'yeh think yew are? Your 
blinking son'U be dam lucky if 'e gets orf wiv a mouf 
to eat i?nv, time I've done wiv 'inL Mucking round 
white gels — ^in our country, too. And then working 
blackmail on it. Five pounds? Understand this, 
Mister Chinkic. We ain't offering no bribes in this 
business. We don't ave to. Five poundsf We're 
English, and you're yeller. You're in England, and 
you gotter be'ave yesselves as such — see ? See that 
bunch of fives?" He held up a knotted fist. "It's 
made better men than you or your son spit out their 
ivories. White men, too. If you bring that son 
of yours out here, I'll learn 'im what it means 
to ^" 

Across Alf s pfaillipic cut the stern voice of the 
Chink: "I fear I am not sufficiently acquainted with 
the idiom of your language to follow all your re- 
marks. I gather only that the mention of five poimda 
arouses your indignation. Therefore, to settle the 
matter quickly, I will overlook any question of an 
apology for the affront, and will give ten, twenty, 
if need be fifty pounds if you will remove this 
whitp woman of your low-bom family from my son's 
neighbourhood and undertake that she shall at no 



A ^FAMILY AFFAIR 129 

time again seek him out and disgrace the honourable 
house of Quong by association with its upright son." 
' And then there was silence : Alf and Bert recog- 
nised, for the first time, that there are some situa- 
tions to which neither words nor blows are adequate. 



THE LITTLE FLOWERS OF FRANCES 



vm— 

THE LITTLE FLOWERS OF FRANCES 

THEY'RE a sorry crowd, the regulars of the 
Blue Lantern. Even the brightest of them, 
the flash boys and girls, carry their terribly new 
store clothes with a bedraggled air. The others are 
nakedly downcast, without clothing of bravado to 
cover them or weapon of spirit to arm them. 

The Blue Lantern stands on Chinatown comer, 
where the missionaries love to prowl. It is kept 
by an ex-bruiser known to his regulars as I^ckery 
Dock. It is to Limehouse what the village green 
is to the rural conmiunity. It is the centre of past 
history and of current endeavour. In its bars new 
friendship are formed, and old scores bloodily wiped 
out. There hot, hard words and vociferous debate 
lead to blows and the police court, or end, more 
ignobly, with shocking beer-shed. 

There valorous schemes are laid, and the vain 
cunning of the police is with sharper cunning frus- 
trated. There the keen wit of the Cockney meets 
the deceptive frankness of the Oriental and the 
tortuous reserve of the black, and is often bested. 

133 



184 MORE LIMEHOUSE NIGHTS 

Upon an evening of winter, when, in the mist, 
the substance of the streets melted into shadow, 
and shadow took on body, Dickery Dock looked 
about the house and stroked his chin with complacent 
gesture. At the same moment a policeman, trying 
to look like an ordinary citizen, looked in, and also 
made a complacent gesture. All the boys were there : 
vigilance could be relaxed for a while. Dick the 
Duke was there, with his usual crowd of worshipping 
ladies. There, too, were Binkie Flanagan, the auto- 
matic-machine expert, Nobby the Nark, Big Bessie, 
some of the Roseleaf Boys, old Quong Lee and John 
Sway Too, Flash Florrie, little Chrissie Rainbow, 
Greenstockings, and, in a corner, Sing-a-song Joe, 
the loony. All the regulars, in short, replenishing 
from pewter pot and uncouth glass their store of 
hope and enterprise, and recovering that calm ac- 
ceptance of the untoward which men call philosophy. 
As the rattle of coins on the counter increased, so 
did the buzz and clatter of the saloon and four-ale 
bars gather volume. Listening from without, the 
stranger would have said that everybody within was 
happy. Their noise flowed to the street like the 
quiet gurgle of a self-satisfied stream : a stream that 
ignores in its careless passage the muddy bed above 
which it flows. 

But one among the reg'lars was not happy; could 

v^ not even borrow an hour's delight on the usury of 

the glass. Frances of the Causeway, described 



THE LITTLE FLOWERS OP FRANCES 186 

colloquially as 'Tanny, poor kid," sat alone on a 
bench, face and hands listless. Although sitting 
with the crowd, she had dropped the mask of alert 
nonchalance assumed by girls of her class in public 
places : the strain of carrying it was too severe for 
her worn nerves. In the last two days she had 
realised that she was a back number. Such beauty 
as she had once had was now obliterated. Her 
hair was thin and colourless. Her face no longer 
took aptly the emmolients and powders that she 
applied. It was becoming an effort to be skittish 
and effervescent in the presence of potential cus- 
tomers. She was no longer facile in dalliance ; her 
profane comment no longer came pat to the occasion. 
Even the black men about the streets failed to 
look twice at her. 

She sat "all-gone," as she would have expressed t 
it. The bright light of invitation that customarily \ i/ 
sat on her face, once assumed as a trade trick, later ) 
to become habitual, was out, and the coarse face 
hung empty. But in every Une of the flagging figure 
was written disgust and yearning. She was done, 
and she knew it; and she held yet enough of her 
first girlhood's love of the good and the seemly 
to suffer disgust at her situation and impotent desire 
to amend it 

Others had played her game, and had done well 
out of it. Some had married Chinks, and now led 
silken lives, with flowered temples made to their 



1S6 MORE LIMEHOUSE NIGHTS 

honour. Others had moved up west, where they 
had found sleek protectors and had put money in 
the bank. Others had married seamen or small 
tradesmen. All had been careful where she had 
been gay, spending money as she got it and financing 
men friends when they were hard up. Little Chrissie 
would not be that sort of fooL She was in the 
game for solid reward, and saw that she got every 
promised penny out of it. Greenstockings, too, 
knew where to draw the line between frivolity in 
business hours and recklessness in leisure. But 
Fanny had been caught by the festal side of the 
life and the loud company, and had crowded a jag 
into every hour. 

And now she was through, and they talked of 
her. '^Whassup with Fanny, poor kid?" asked 
Greenstockings. ^'Looks as though she'd drawn the 
winner and lorst the brief." 

^1 dunno. Seems to 'ave got the fantods lately. 
No doing nothing with 'er. She can't get the boys 
now, and when she told me she was 'ard up, and I 
told 'er she ought to go to the Mission Workers, 
and they'd get 'er an honest job, she fair snapped 
my 'ead orf. Fact is, she's made a mess of things. 
She didn't ought never to 'ave bin in this game. 
She ain't fit for it. She's too— you know— too— 
thinks too much, like. She's told me. Although she's 
done things I'd never do, she ain't comfortable. 
Keeps on thinking of what she's done. She ought 



THE LITTLE FLOWERS OP FRANCES 18T 

to *ave bin respectable, reely. She*s made for that. 
Can't you see 'er bathing the baby and getting 'er 
old man's dinner? She ain't cot out for this. She's 
let it get 'old of 'er too much." 

Fanny sat brooding. A young seaman, in neat, 
shore-going clothes, brought a drink from the coun- 
ter, and sat down near her. He glanced at her; 
then edged away. She caught the glance and re- 
turned it, not professionally, but with appeal. She 
leaned towards him. 

"Lend us 'alf-a-crown, boy." 

He looked up again; edged a little farther away; 
then turned a shoulder and bent to his glass, 
awkwardly, as one afraid of such women while 
afraid of not behaving like a man of the world. 

"Lend us a shilling, then." 

He became confused ; remembered an appoint- 
ment; drank up and departed. 

Dickery Dock, seeing that she was without a 
drink, called to her: " 'Ave a drink, Fanny?" 

She went over to the bar. "No, thanks; I don't 
want a drink. I say, lend us half-a-crown, Dickery." 

"Lend you 'alf-a-crown? 'Ere — come orf it. 
This ain't a Finance and Mortgage Corporation. 
You can 'ave a drink on the 'ouse, if yeh like, 
but " 

"No, I want money." 

"Money? Well, I don't know what yer chances 
arc o' gettin' money 'ere. Where's yer security? 



188 MORE LIMEHOUSE NIGHTS 

Where are you going to get money — ^now? You 
ain't got nothing to sell now, Fanny. You realise 
that yesself, doncher? You're past it. No, Fan, 
you ain't got no chance with the boys about 'ere 
against little Cherry and young Greenstockings and 
the other flappers. No, kid, you'll alwis be wel- 
come to a drink 'ere, but money's another matter. 
You know I make it a rule never to lend money. 
I don't mind sticking up a drink when a chap's 
'ard up, but lend 'em money to spend in other 'ouses 
— *-no. 

"I don't want it to spend in other 'ouses.'* 

"Wodyeh want it for, then?" 

'I'm going away, an' I want to buy something 
most particular." 

"Going away? Well, if you ain't the bleedun 
limit I Wanter borrow money to go away with I 
You take the 'Untley and Palmer, you do. No, 
Fan, I'm sorry, but I 'ardly think that security would 
be good enough even for Mugg from Mugtown. 
'Ave a drink." 

"No, thanks. I'll go. Where I won't bother 
nobody." 

She turned from the bar, her face momentarily 
expressing chagrin until its lines deepened into utter 
misery. The landlord looked after her, puzzled 
at her attempt to break his rules, and at her attitude. 
As she crept through the swing doors, he looked 
at some of the boys standing at the bar. " 'Ear 



THE LITTLE FLOWERS OF FRANCES 189 

what she said ? I think she wants watching. 'Where 
I won't bother nobody/ she said. See if you can 
find old Nobby, and get *im to keep an eye on 'er. 
She looks as if she's got something in 'er 'ead — 
making a 'ole in the water, or some idea of that 
sort. She better be looked after. We don't want 
another scandal round this 'ouse, just on top o' the 
last." 

They dug out Nobby, and dispatched him on his 
errand; and the beer engines banged and hissed, 
and the cash register clattered and rang, and the 
turmoil of glass and voice rose with the rising hands 
of the dock. 

At half-past nine Nobby returned. He sat down 
on the lounge, and his shoulders and stomach 
vibrated and bass rumbles came from him. Nobby 
was laughing. He always laughed privately, with-^i ^^ 
in himself; but in the communism of the public- 
house private laughter is frowned upon. There 
men abide by the wisdom of the poet — that the 
weary old earth is in need of your mirth, it has 
enough grief of its own. 

"Now come on, Nobby, spit it out. Let's 'ave 
the joke. Don't keep it all to yesself." 

"G-get us a d-drink, someone. Bitter. I was 
laughing," he jerked from tremulous lips, "I was 
laughing at Fanny, poor kid. She's just bin nabbed." 

"Nabbed?" snapped Dickery Dock. "Whaffor? 



/ 



140 MORE LIMEHOUSE NIGHTS 

She ain't bin an' ^* He looked up and his great 

eyes rolled in elephantine agitation. 

*'No. Pinching — ^p-pinching f-flowersl" 

*Tinching flowers ? Shurrup 1" 

"True's I sit 'ere. Pinching a fourpenny bunch 
o' lilies-o'-the-vaUey from old Gorton's shop, an' 
old Gorton caught 'er at it, an' 'anded 'er over." 

"Well, it sounds queer, bjit I don't see nothing 
to laugh about like you're laughing." 

" 'Tain't the pinching — though that's funny. It's 
what she said when they arst 'er why she done it. 
Wod yeh think she said? Our Fanny, mindyer. 
Frances of the Causeway — knowing 'er and 'er ways 
as we do. Wod yeh think she said?" 

"Go on. What?" 

"Said she pinched 'em 'cos she 'adn't got no money 
and wanted 'em bad. Said she was fed up with 
things and was going to end it, and wanted the 
flowers 'cos — 'cos a bad girl like 'er couldn't go 
before God with nothing in 'er 'and. Fanny, mind 
yeh ! Talk about laugh 1" 

But Landlord Dickery Dock was indignant. 
"Laugh 1 I can't see nothing to laugh abaht. Seems 
to me solemn-like. 'Tain't no laughing matter — 
pore gelP* 



THE PERFECT GIRX. 



THE PERFECT GIRL 

IT is one of the little tales of John Sway Too, 
which he teUs at evenings to his wandering fel* 
lows in the half-lit room behind his store in Poplar 
High Street. There, amid the pungent odours of 
suey sen and jagree dust and unguents, tempered 
by the sweeter essence of areca nut, gather the 
youthful yellow seamen newly come to London* 
There, from the venerable lips of John Sway Too, 
they learn Rules of Conduct for this strange land 
and gather much entertainment besides, for John 
Sway Too has seen the passing of many seasons 
under the steel skies of Limehouse. 

"It is to be observed," he remarked one evening 
to a semicircle of young admirers, "that the white 
daughters of this stream which men call the Thames, 
by whose banks we now sojourn, are very apt in 
guile." 

"Aol" cried the company in chorus. 

"And now that statements of a highly objection* 
able nature are daily being made in the bazaars and 
in the printed leaves by the men of this land against 

143 



14* MORE LIMEHOUSE NIGHTS 

the association of their daughters with the serene 
and refined ones from the land of the White Poppy, 
this person who addresses you would advise you 
all to abjure the company of the white maidens/' 

He paused to reach from a shelf a jar of li-un, 
and extract a portion of its c6ntents with his yen- 
hok, 

**The refined assembly," he continued, "will doubt- 
less refrain from expressions of displeasure, and 
will concede from their own experience that the 
words of this person are weighted with wisdom 
when he tells them that the attraction which they 
possess for these white maidens is almost wholly 
in proportion to the number of taels — or, as the 
barbarian tongue has it, Bradburys — in their posses- 
sion ; whereby the maidens may be afforded refined 
and polished relaxation in tea-houses and theatres.'' 

The company looked doubtfully around the room 
and about the floor, but none met the eye of his 
fellows or the eye of John Sway Too. 

"Nevertheless," continued the narrator com- 
placently, "I have myself found one white maiden 
of these cold streets — a maiden of surpassing virtue 
and of beauty like to dew upon chrysanthemums* 
Fairer than the Great Night Lantern on the garden 
is she ; kinder than the sun to the bursting bud ; 
sweetest than the rain to the parched fields; more 
gracious than the nest to the tired bird." 



THE PERFECT GIRL 146 

"Hi-yahl" cried his audience. "WiU not the 
estimable John Sway Too tell us of her?" 

John Sway Too took the portion of H-un into 
his hand and rubbed it slowly into a pellet; and 
the company drew closer. 

"It was about the time of Clear Weather," he 
began, "when, in our country, the almond blossom 
is scattering its colour about the garden walks, and 
the swallow comes again ; when, beneath the brown 
earth begin those agreeable stirrings that rise at 
last to the full laughter of the harvest; when, be- 
neath the bosoms of refined youths such as those 
I now see before me, begin these not unpleasing 
tremors that come at last to harvest in a kiss. I 
had, on a fair evening of this season, followed my 
custom of visiting a tea-house within this street, 
and there engaging myself with white men in a 
game of fan-tan. But upon that evening some evil 
spirit was in possession of the cards, and all my 
skill could not prevent my losing many cash to my 
base associates. At a point when but a few cash 
were left to me, I resolved to play one game more, 
believing that my unremitting devotion to my an- 
cestors would lead them to intervene on behalf of 
their miserable son. The agreeable state of mind 
with which I entered upon this game was, however, 
violently displaced by emotions of the most agitat- 
ing nature ; for I soon observed that the cards which 
had fallen to my hand were intolerably inadequate 



146 MORE LIMEHOUSE NIGHTS 

to the purpose of recovering any portion of my coins. 
When, therefore, the game was well begun, I con- 
trived, by that dexterity which my dignified father 
had passed to me as his highest g^ft, to thwart the 
evil spirit that sought to undo me, and to substitute,' 
by a rapid movement of the arm, five cards of high 
value, which I carried always in my tunic as a charm 
«gainst evildoers, for those then in my hand. 

''But alas I misfortune pursues even those most 
attentive to the Four Books and most devout in 
service to their ancestors. Scarce had I effected 
the substitution, when the pig4ike eye of the wholly 
detestable Bill Hawkins perceived the movement; 
and, disregarding all the laws of the Book of Rites, 
he cried aloud his discovery in that voice which 
many have likened to the filing of an iron chain by 
a number of watermen under the influence of rice 
spirit. Immediately the assembled company laid 
aside their dignity, and fell upon me with blows 
and base comments upon my accomplished father 
and the method by which he bred me. With a total 
loss of the perpendicular, I was hurried from the tea- 
house to the Causeway, and there subjected to 
usage of a degrading and highly painful nature. 

"Suddenly, at a point when the repeated blows 
had become well-nigh unbearable, they ceased, and 
a silence fell upon my persecutors; and there ap- 
peared in our midst a white maiden of loveliness 
surpassing any loveliness that this person had at 



THE PERFECT GIRL 14T 

any time conceived; Dazed as I was by my brutal 
treatment, I was yet swift to note how my heart 
leapt and cried at sight of her. Dense dark hair 
with the sheen of water at midnight, streamed about 
her milk-white brow. Whiter than the blossom 
of the cherry were her hands, and her eyes shone 
with the lights of a thousand festival lanterns. The 
running lines of her limbs were as happy to the eye 
as the flashing curves of the swallow in the middle 
air; and through the dusk her face glowed like an 
evening water-lily. 

"While I- lay prone on the hard road, she ad- 
dressed high words to my tormentors, and her bright 
hands flashed against them like fire-flies; and I 
felt that sweeter to my wounds than all ointments 
and dressings would be one caress from those hands. 
And lo 1 when she had made an end of speaking, my 
persecutors crept sadly away, and she bent to me 
— ^to this utterly degraded and altogether insignifi- 
cant person — ^and placed an arm about me, and 
helped me to a position of dignity. Like s^ roll of 
silk was her arm, and my heart became as the sun 
at high noon. I murmured foolish words to her, 
not thanking her as my rescuer, but blessing her for 
the touch of her hands and for her gracious pres- 
ence ; blessing her for her beauty and for that I was 
vouchsafed to gaze upon her. 

"Then she led me away to her palace. I have 
wandered much about these parts, alongside this 



148 MORE LIMEHOUSE NIGHTS 

stream, but in all my wanderings had found nothing 
but the large, ungainly buildings of the merchants 
and the disreputable hovels where dwell the mean 
and the base of this city. Scarce, however, had we 
made one turn out of the Causeway, than we came 
upon a noble and dignified mansion, with iron gates, 
tiled paths, and a green door. By means of a key 
this maiden olF surpassing loveliness opened the 
green door and motioned me to enter. With 
trembling limbs, partly due to the vile treatment 
to which I had been subjected, and partly due to 
the mystery and enchantment of her presence, I 
did so. When she had made light, she illuminated 
two lanterns, and I found myself walking upon soft 
rugs in a chamber garnished with flowers aiid silks. 
Bidding me rest upon a purple couch, she retired; 
and presently returned with soft water and 
unguents, and with these she blessed my bruises—* 
ay, with those lily hands she tended me. While I 
lay there in all my baseness and misery, this white 
maiden soothed and caressed my hurt places, and 
fed my bosom with the rich light of her eyes. When 
I was fully comforted, she brought me wine and 
sweet foods, and sat by me as I ate, and ate with me, 
and my heart grew so light as I received her smiles 
that I scarce knew it was there ; nay, it had changed, 
I think, into a little murmurous song or a soft flower 
of the springtide. ^ 

"The hours grew to the noon of night Yet I 



THE PERFECT GIRL 149 

moved not. I could not move, for her beauty held 
me in delicious bonds* As she sat by me, my heart 
danced with the fumes of the time of Clear Weather, 
and little white thoughts flowed and fluttered be- 
tween our hearts, and the room was sweetened by 
them. My offending fingers wandered through the 
forest of her hair. Her lucid face was a field for 
my eyes to rove in. In my arms I held her, heart 
to heart, and all her shining loveliness was mine. 
Her soft robes ran through my fingers, and the strip 
of lace about her neck was to me fairer than the 
jewels of the temple. When the lanterns faded, 
her eyes flooded the night with silver, and with 
my head upon her young breast I dreamed of these 
streets in Limehouse, and how all men were kind 
to us; where white maidens scoffed not at us because 
our faces are golden like the sun; nor deceived us 
with soft words for the purpose of obtaining taels 
from us. 

"To me, John Sway Too, she gave these hours 
of beauty. But she gave me more than this. She 
gave me her inner mind. She gave me kindness 
and warm understanding; and though our spoken 
words fell without significance upon each other's 
ears, we had full knowledge without them. So 
passed the hours in the bliss of sympathy and beauty. 
All these gifts I had of her without return. Nay, 
far from requirmg money of me for the gift her 
charms, as other white g^rls do, she gave me of 



160 MORE LIMEHOUSE NIGHTS 

her own store — pressed it upon me that I migh: 
replenish my purse by play. 

"Yea, truly, when at last I felt that I should 
depart, she pressed upon me many taels, knowing 
that I was without substance, and a basket of elegant 
provisions. When I would have made a dignified 
refusal, she smiled upon me, and I then took what 
she had offered me and knew that I need speak no 
words of thanks. She led me herself from her own 
noble mansion to the door of my base and despicable 
hovel; and there, in the street, she left me with a 
memory of love that scattered wonder and beauty 
upon the mean houses about me, and made even 
the shadows of the shops that fell upon the path- 
way she had trodden, more dear and desirable than 
all the substance of my own country." 

John Sway Too paused, and reached for his pipe, 
while the company sat mute with shining eyes and 
gaping mouths. 

Presently — ^"And did you never see her again— 
this maiden of surpassing vijtue and loveliness?'* 
asked one. 

^'Many times since have I seen her, my son. And 
each time she is more lovely and gracious, and pours 
sweeter blessings upon my unworthy person.'' 

"Ao 1 Ao I" they cried eagerly. "She is still here 
then? She is still to be seen about these streets? 
Could it be granted that we might at some time 



THE PERFECT GIRL 161 



catch even a distant glimpse of her enchantmentj 
could for one moment behold her?" 

"In truth, yes. More than that, you may see her 
and be with her even as I have been with hen You 
may feast of her white beauty and rare mind even 
as I." 

**Hi-yah 1 Where, oh, where may we find her, O 
refined and elegant John Sway Too. Tell us quickly. 
Direct us to her, to this one white maid who will 
not scorn our worship." 

"The gracious and high-minded company," replied 
John Sway Too, "who have listened so attentively 
to my trivial and wearisome discourse, may find the 
Perfect White Maid even as I found her; and once 
they have found her they will renounce the company 
of all other daughters of this sunless land. They 
will find her in anyone of these little pellets of li-un 
which I am about to smoke in this very ordinary and 
ill-constructed pipe." 



THE AFFAIR' AT THE WABEHOUSE 



— X — 

r 

THE AFFAIR AT THE WAREHOUSE 

IT is a pitiful story, this of George and Violet, 
Silly, I call it. Motiveless. To young lives 
pulled about, and the ends twisted into nothing. 
Nobody to blame. All doing the right thing, as 
they saw it. But that's the way of things. 

Commercial Road East is a loud London thor- 
oughfare, packed with poor shops and stalls. In it 
the modem jostles the antique, and the antique 
shames the modem. A few tawdry cinemas throw 
upon it a thin festal glow. It links Whitechapel 
with Limehouse. So well acquainted are its people, 
with petty crime and rough justice that the discovery 
of the bodies in the warehouse made little impres- 
sion upon them save as a topic for the evening in 
the bars. Three days after the inquest it was for- 
gotten. Here are copied the few surviving 
documents by which the story became public. 



Well Joe this is a hell of a thing to do, but we 
are going through with it. I was called up last 
week. But I am not going and I cant go till me 

155 



166 MORE LBiEHOUSE NIGHTS 

and Violet have had a bit of time together. Aint 
it awful we should be like this — always at someones 
beck and call. Oh Joe love does make a difference 
to you. I hope some day you will find a girl — not 
like what we used to click with in Commercial Road 
but a real girl. Violet was 15 on Tuesday, so we 
decided to make it that day. I met her as she come 
from the factory Joe and we went a long walk and 
then a tram ride and then got back these parts 
about midnight. I had got it all fixed. I had been 
looking round for some time and found what we 
wanted where nobody would ever dream of looking 
for us. It was a warehouse Joe over in the Island 
but it had been empty for a long time. I had got 
in the night before and had a look round and it 
was all nice and dry on the first floor and I found 
a lot of straw shavings and things and I made up 
a bit of a bed like and tied a lot of it together and 
made hassicks to sit on and I fixed up a few old 
planks to make a sort of table. Lucky it was warm 
weather else we should have been cold because it 
wouldnt have done to have started a fire in the 
stove because someone who knew the place might 
see the moke coming out. Well Joe that is where 
I took hen I had laid in a bit of grub of a sort 
and at one in the morning we sat down there to- 
gether as cosy as you please and had it. We didnt 
neither of us eat much. We was too excited I 
think. 



THE AFFAIR AT THE [WTAREHOUSE 167 

Oh Joe we was happy. I hope Joe some day 
you will be as happy because you have been a good 
pal to me and I always liked you Joe and I want 
everybody to know how happy you can be together 
with a girl you love and what loves you. Oh Joe I 
never knew before how beautiful things were. I 
never knew how lovely girls are and what a differ- 
ence comes into a girls face when she looks at her 
boy and nestles up to him. Joe do you remember 
how we used to joke about love and getting mar- 
ried. Its seems horrible to thin^ of it now. But 
I hope Joe you wont have to hide like a rabbit and 
only slink out at night all because you love some- 
body — that is what we got to do. 

• ••.•• 

Dear Joe — we have been here twenty-four hours 
now. I suppose V has been missed from the factory 
and from home and I reckon they are wondering 
where I got to but I know you wont give a pal away 
Joe. 

I slipped out last night to get some more grub in. 
Good job the streets is dark. Anyhow I didnt show 
my face at any shop round here. I went up to 
Canning Town. I couldn't get much because we 
darent use our ration books us being registered at 
local shops for this and that which would have got 
us nabbed if we shown our faces where we was 
known. But I called at Fat Freds place up at 
Canning Town and got some boiled beef and pease 



168 MORE LIMEHOUSE NIGHTS 

from him without a coupon. I pumped him a bit 
and he didnt know anything was wrong. There 
wont be nothing in the papers for a bit I suppose 
but I bet V's father will go to the police if she aint 
home to-night. I managed to get some beer and 
some lemonade and I pinched a glass from the 
lemonade shop. 

Oh Joe when I got back I slipped in quiet like 
and V didnt hear me and what do you think I saw. 
She was sitting on one of the hassicks and just as I 
got there she reached for my old cap— what I 
thought I hadnt better wear because it is a bright 
brown colour and might be known — and hugged it 
to her and kissed it. Oh Joe I cant tell you what it 
makes a chap feel when he sees his g^rl do like that. 
As soon as I see what she was doing I slipped out 
again and come back again and made a bit of a noise 
this time so she would know. Oh Joe how I love her. 
Joe if we was to die at the same time I want you 
to go to her people and mine and make them swear 
to let us be buried together. You will do this for me 
Joe wont you. You wont let a pal down will you. 
You got to do it in case anything happens. 

I expect her father wont half be wild but if it 
did happen you must tell him it is my wish and V*s 
wish. It is a bit out of the ordinary I know but if 
he loved his daughter and wants to do something 
to make up for those awful bruises that she carries 
on her arms and legs from him I think he will agree 



THE AFFAIR AT THE WAREHOUSE 159 

to it. If he doesnt and there is a Judge above us 
I hope he will meet out punishment to those what 
have deserved it by keeping us apart and treating 
her so shameful. TeH him that Joe. 

But why am I going oh like this. We are just 
in love with everything at present and we both 
laugh a lot at having to sneak out and lie doggo 
all day. I took V out for a stroll at about eleven 
and we mooched round a bit and it was a lovely 
night. Although we dont talk to nobody but each 
other we aint lonely. You aint Joe when you love 
properly. 

• •••*. 

Well Joe last night we skipped away about eleven 
and it was another lovely night so we walked to 
Liverpool Street. We caught a late train. I didnt 
know where it was going but we hopped on without 
a ticket and went miles and miles into the country. 
And when it stopped at a place that looked nice we 
got out and I paid the fares from Liverpool Street. 
It was lovely. We got there about one in the morn- 
ing and we walked a bit of a way till we come to a 
wood and then we laid down under a tree where it 
was all mossy and soft and we woke up about six 
when it was light and it looked just like God's own 
country — all lovely. V did enjoy it. Well we just 
lazed about in them woods and played hide and seek 
and run races. Come on says V come and catch me. 
And off she went and she can run too. She did lead 



160 MORE LIMEHOUSE NIGHTS 

me a dance. And then she bolted into anodier wood. 
I was yards behind her and there I heard her voice 
saying I am lost come and find me. So I went after 
where the noise come from and then I heard it 
behind me — I am lost come and find me. And then 
I seemed to hear it everywhere but when I went 
there it come from somewhere else. And all of a 
sudden Joe I felt so lonely like in that wood because 
I couldnt see her nowhere but only heard her saying 
come and find me. And I didn't like it. And I got 
tired of the wood. So I called to her come out and 
there she was rig|it behind me. We didnt play that 
game no more. We was getting hungry. So we 
walked into a village and had a slap up time with 
eggs and tea and lettiss and radishes and things. 
There was a piano there and V sat down and played 
all the ragtimes for about an hour. She always 
was one for a bit of music as you know. The old 
g^rl who kept the place thought we was just a couple 
of London munition workers what had got a day 
o£f and she was so took with V she couldnt do enough 
for us. We had a fine wash and brush up there and 
wanted it. That is what troubles us most We cant 
find not water in the warehouse. She said she could 
let us have rooms if we wanted to stay the night but 
me and V didnt want to be separated and we thought 
sleeping out nicer. So we slept out that night again 
but not in those woods because we found a nicer 
place just on the banks of a river. 



THE AFFAIR AT THE WAREHOUSE 161 

V is no end tickled by the way I talked to the old 
girl and the way I manage things and find out the 
cheap places. She said she never knew I had so 
much swank in me that is because I have always been 
a bit quiet and awkward with her like a chap is when 
he is really in love. 

• . • • • a 

We come back to the warehouse to-night. Every- 
thing looked alright. It didnt look as though any- 
body had spotted us. I wish there was some way of 
your dropping a note into the place so I can hear 
the news and know what is going on and whether 
there is any trouble about our going away. Joe 
that is quite right that about a friend in need being 
a friend indeed. You have always been the best pal 
a chap ever had and we have had some great times 
together aint we. You have been closer than a 
brother to me Joe. I will say that. You will easy 
know the place. Second to the right as you get into 
Folly Wall — a big empty place with a couple of 
pulley cranes outside and a notice to Let. Stick it 
under the door Joe but dont try to see us. We cant 
take no risks. 

• • • a • a 

Got your note old man. I guessed how it would 
be but it is a good thing they don't put two and 
two together. I hope the police didnt upset my 
landlady when they called round. She is a good 
old body. I suppose they think I have just bolted 



16« MORE LIMEHOUSE NIGHTS 

to avoid military service and dont guess we have 
gone together. I cant help laughing at that when I 
know how we was both looking forward to joining 
up when we was eighteen wasnt we. But that was 
before I met V. I am sorry her Dad has written to 
the papers about her disappearance. I showed V 
your note and she says she will never never go back 
to her Dad Oh Joe if you had seen the bruises 
and weels on her dear body you would feel like I 
do like as if I could do a murder on the man what 
done it. Bad as things are when I see my little 
white darling all marked like that and think of the 
shame and torture that I have saved her from I 
am glad over again for taking her away. As long 
as we are not caught I dont care a dam whether 
the whole world knows we have gone together. I 
never did mind what people thought about me no 
more do you. We have always kept ourselves to 
ourselves havent we and V was always refined and 
didnt mix much with the other lot and took no notice 
what they said about her. She asks me to thank 
you for what you have done for us and for keeping 
our secret. You are the only man in the world beside 
ourselves that knows. V never told a soul — 'shc 
hadnt got anybody she could trust like I can trust 
you old man. One thing troubles me. When V 
had read your letter and the bit about the cops being 
after me she looked rather funny. She seems to be 
happy enough and I think she is for God knows I 



THE AFFAIR AT THE WAREHOUSE 16S 

would cut my throat if that would make things any 
nicer for her. But she has said once or twice that 
she has been a lot of trouble to me and to everybody 
else and she said it again this time and I dont like 
to hear her talk that way. Oh Joe — ^what a won* 
derful girl she is. Such character and principals she 
has got — I never met anyone like her for that among 
our set which is all the kind I know. If ever there 
was a real good girl it is her. And so lively and all 
— over what we have to put up with in this place. 
• ••••• 

Oh Joe Joe. It has happened. I knew it would. 
I never dared think of it. I never said so to 
myself. I just knew it deep down like. Yoq will 
say that sounds silly but it is a fact. I knew it all 
the time. And it has come. 

Joe I had been out to get something for supper 
and I come back with some hard-boiled eggs and 
some beer and a loaf of bread and some bananas 
and some saveloys what I had knocked off while 
the chap was arguing with someone. And I was 
looking forward to the feed we was going to have 
jjoe — and oh Joe it is awful to write about. Me 
coming in with those things what I had had such 
fun in getting for her. And then Joe there she 
was lying on the bed of shavings all still. I knew 
before I looked at her. She was dead Joe and 
there was a bottle of something by her side. How 
she had got it I don't know because she never went 



164 MORE LIMEHOUSE NIGHTS 

ioto any shop without me. She must have brought 
it with her in case. But oh Joe she is dead now — 
my darling little V. Oh God I loved her Joe more 
than I thought one could and it is me what has 
killed her. I didn't ought to have interfered I 
didn't ought to have taken her from her home but 
what could I do Joe when I loved her so and see 
her suffering like that. I never thought that being 
in love meant what it has to me. I never see none 
of these awful things coming Joe when I first knew 
her. She had left a letter for me for good-bye. 
This is what she says Joe my precious little girl: 

Sweet, 

I love you too much to see you in any more 
trouble than you have already got into through 
loving me so. I will now say good-bye sweetheart 
for the last time and when you see Joe say Hullo 
for me and tell him I hope we will all meet again 
some day. You will let Dad know wont you sweet- 
heart. I thought after a while we might have gone 
back and got married when he had calmed down 
a bit but there seems no way out. 

Why cant we do what we want to so long as we 
dont do nobody any harm. When I met you dear 
I knew then that the world was good and all a 
lovely place. Why did they bother us so. I won- 
der why we cant all be happy. I thought the world 
was so big and good but really it is like being in 



THE AFFAIR AT THE WAREHOUSE 166 

a cage. You cant do anything in the world unless 
somebody else lets you. I am myself and so are 
you. Why cant we be let alone. 

Tell Joe that if he finds a nice girl I hope he 
wins her and dont have nobody saying you shant 
and he will be happy as I know I would if I could 
live for always with you dear. 

Well Joe I want you to take this letter to the 
police and tell them to come here and they will 
find us because this is Goodbye for me too Joe. 
I cant help thinking as I write this and look at her 
lying there so still what she was saying in the woods. 
It seems I Can hear her voice in this warehouse 
Joe saying I am lost come and find me. So I am 
going to her Joe. I got that little gun what we 
bought for a lark in Bethnal Green Road and I 
got two cartridges. Joe — dont you forget what 
I said in one of the other letters about our being 
side by side. You got to see it done Joe for the 
sake of your old dead paL And now goodbye and 
all the best to you and all the rest of the chaps at 
the works. It is all over. It had to end somehow 
I suppose and I knew this would be it and perhaps 
this way is just as well.. There is a lot of misery 
in the world Joe that nobody can help. My 
darling had a rough time all her life but she looks 
very quiet now like as though she had dropped 



166 MORE UMEHOUSE NIGHTS 

off to sleep after being very tired. I hope you will 
have a better time when you meet your gjrl Joe. 

• •••••• 

From the Local Press. 
When information was taken to Ephraim Car- 
fax, who was found at the Wesleyan Chapel at 
Foljambe Street, that the dead body of his daugh- 
ter, Violet Beatrice Carfax, had been found in 
a disused warehouse side by side with the dead 
body of a man who was being sought by the military, 
he made no comment beyond saying: *'I thought 
she had gone vntYi a man. This is a sad blow. 
What are they going to do with the bodies? I 
suppose this will get into the papers." Mr. Car- 
fax, who has an ironmongeiy business in Maroon 
Street, is a well-known chapel worker, and is highly 
respected in the district. . 

• • • ^ • • • 
At the inquest on the bodies of Violet Beatrice 

Carfax, 15, and George Borrowdale, 18, verdicts 
of ^idde while of unsound mind were returned in 
each case, a rider being added to the effect that the 
girl was clearly under the influence of the man at 
the time. Letters from the deceased were put in 
which seemed to call for no other verdict. The 
father of the girl, giving evidence, stated that she 
had disappeared on Wednesday the i8th. Regard- 
ing certain passages in the letters, he admitted 
having frequently whipped her in order to stop her 



THE AFFAIR AT THE WAREHOUSE 16"r 

from ''going with boys," and to make her come .in 
by nine o'clock. She was always in the streets. He 
was not aware that on several occasions when she 
had not come home until half-past ten, and had been 
punished, her factory was working overtime. He 
had not believed her when she pleaded this, as she 
was not always truthful. 

The jury expressed their sympathy with the father 
in his bereavement, who is a prominent and highly- 
respected chapel worker. 

• •••••• 

The funeral of Violet Beatrice Carfax, who, to- 
gether with a man, committed suicide in a disused 
warehouse, took place to-day at Poplar. Although 
the deceased had expressed in their letters a wish 
that they might be buried together, the father of 
Carfax refused to permit this. The body of the 
man was interred to-day at Islington. There were 
no mourners in either case, Mr. Carfax, who is 
well known locally as a chapel worker, being con- 
fined to his home with a chill. 



BIG BOY BLUE 



BIG BOY BLUE 

BIG BOY BLUE had been for some years the 
most adroit cop of his station. He was a 
good mixer. He had presence, carriage, and ad- 
dress, and could wear mufti without looking like 
a policeman. He was big, calm, taciturn; slow to 
speak, quick to smile; and in all situations imper- 
turbable. The most exacting business, the cleanest 
skin-of-the-teeth extraction from disaster, seemed 
to afford him no thrill. If he discussed his adven- 
tures with others of his division, he did so per- 
functorily, in flat tones, as though speaking of 
another. He seemed always the spectator, observ- 
ing himself as well as others. He drank with his 
fellows, and received their confidences, giving 
nothing in exchange beyond a call for the next 
roimd. He seemed to stand aloof from the harm- 
less human follies of his circle; was impervious to 
the beauty of girls; did not gamble; took little 
interest in games; did not tell the kind of anecdote 
that men tell one another; yet found himself wel- 
come in any crowd. 

171 



17« MORE LIMEHOUSE NIGHTS 

His colleagues liked him; bar-tenders liked him; 
crooks liked him and stood him drinks and chaffed 
him about their mutual relationship. He was even 
welcome in Chinatown. Little misconduct took 
place in those streets while he was about. When- 
ever a Tong battle was imminent Big Boy Blue 
was told off to see to it; and he saw to it by walk- 
ing up to the battling Chinks and calmly demanding 
their weapons; which were immediately g^ven up 
to him. 

At the Tea-house of Ah Fat he was notably wel- 
come, and the best tea was served to him with 
selected chrysanthemum buds. He was welcome 
here for two reasons: because Mr. Ah Fat was 
wise in Western ways and had discovered the ex- 
pediency of standing well with the police, and 
because Mr. Ah Fat had a daughter who, from 
her shuttered retreat, looked forth and worshipped 
the valiant form and grave demeanour of Big Boy 
Blue. Ah San Lee was so carefully guarded by 
her father that few knew of her existence. Seldom 
was she seen by strangers. On rare occasions, cus- 
tomers at her father's tea-house had seen, mo- 
mentarily, at the end of the dim passage leading to 
the kitchen, a round, moonlike face with flat, black 
hair; but it was gone before one might say whether 
it belonged to man or woman. 

But Boy Blue had seen her. When, on unpre- 
meditated occasions, he had called at a late hour 



BIG BOY BLUE 178 

at the shop of Ah Fat, and entered the rooms for 
a tour of inspection, Ah Fat had received him 
with courtesy; and, after the inspection, had pressed 
upon him a pot of suey sen. Then he would ac- 
company him to a table in the empty restaurant and 
Ah San Lee would come forth and wait upon them. 
The exquisite finish of her form and the grace of 
her movements and her plaintive smile were lost 
upon Boy Blue; he observed only men; and he 
would talk to her, with tolerant, heavy humour, and 
in the manner which some men think pleasing to 
children. 

**Well, Angel-Face, d'you back the winner yes- 
terday? No? Come, come. And after what I 
told you. I told you to back Ching-Chang for the 
two-thirty." And: **Well, Gladiola, when are 
you going to grow up and get as big as me, eh?" 

And Ah Fat would sit back and say nothing and 
look nothing, while San Lee would droop her eyes 
and roll her head and worship. Very powerful was 
Ah Fat in Chinatown. He was the chief of his 
Tong (The Silver Chrysanthemum) , and men had 
named him the Fire-spouting Dragon. Greed sat 
upon his brow and ate into his skin. He was the 
richest of all the Quarter, and his riches had come 
to him by the misfortunes of others: not by the 
honourable means of trade or the gaming-table. 
He was a money-lender, and crafty in his method. 
When sums loaned became due, he would simulate 



174 MORE LIMEHOUSE NIGHTS 

kindly concern ^th the affairs of his debtor, and 
would gently pass bade a portion of the money; 
and few were at first sufficiently keen-witted to de- 
tect the trick. Always he was affably ready with 
cash assistance to the needy and unfortunate; and 
as men do not freely talk of their pecuniary em- 
barrassments, or compare notes upon their treat- 
ment by usurers, it came about that half Chinatown 
was in great or small degree in his power. When 
he began to use his power he became a nuisance; 
and store-keepers and laundry-men began to suffer 
acute disorder of mind. Unable to resist his power, 
they directed their animosity against those of his 
Tong; and again those street battles, which Boy 
Blue had so often quelled, broke out again. This 
caused so much irritation to peaceful seamen and 
dock workers, who found that public bloodshed 
interrupted their private beer-shed, that complaints 
were laid; and Boy Blue was assigned to see to it. 

He saw to it, and, from his inquiries, learnt the 
full story of the iniquities of Ah Fat in the matter 
of his usury. He reported. Plans were then laid 
for breaking the power of Ah Fat and his Tong, 
and relieving his victims from his duress ; and news 
of these plans came to Ah Fat. 

Ah Fat set himself to see to it. He waddled 
about his tea-house and his kitchen, and thought. 
Then he sent for San Lee. 

^'Dissa Big Boy Blue," he said, "he get veh busy 



BIG BOY BLUE 175 

jus' now. Big Boy Ske he make heap damn fella 
trouble." He smlltd and showed his teeth, pink 
from much chewing of areca-nut. 

San Lee listened and said nothisgf 

"Dissa Big Boy Blue— he gotta g^f And San 
Lee shivered. "He gotta go— quick I** 

He left her then, and went to the kitchen, I&' 
the evening he came to her again. 

"He too quick and clever for Ah Fat. He no 
trust Ah Fat. He watch evehting Ah Fat do. Yoh 
poh un'appy father — ^he got no way to mek Big 
Boy Blue go. But li'l Ah San Lee — Big Boy 
Blue no watch her like he watch Ah Fat San Lee, 
she 'elp 'er ole father?" 

San Lee stood mute under the steady drip of his 
words. 

Next day he spoke again, plaintively, of the 
trouble that Boy Blue's activities implied to him; 
and he threw out hints to San Lee ; hints that filled 
her with horror and set her skin tingling with 
loathing. Boy Blue was her prince — ^remote, in- 
accessible, austere, but a prince, the fact of whose 
existence thrilled her with rapture. It seemed even 
presumption on her part to attempt to shield so 
noble a figure from danger ; but she attempted. She 
pondered how to give him warning, but Ah Fat 
was watchful. "Huh! Huh I You like-a dissa 
Big Boy Blue, huh? Sol" Not a step could she 
take from the kitchen; no chance came to her of 



_ I 



176 MORE LIMEHOUSE NIGHTS 

passing to the kindly Ho Ling, who had long de- 
sired her, such a message as he might convey to Boy 
Blue. 

That night, when she had again and flatly re- 
fused to carry out the wishes of her honourable 
father, he took her to the basement beneath the 
kitchen, and there, for some hours, he employed 
certain terrible means of persuasion. And when 
he carried her up, bruised and torn, she was pliant 
to his will. He was not accustomed to being 
thwarted. 

"So nex' time Missa Big Boy Blue *e come, you 
know watta we do, huh ?" 

And San Lee implied that she understood. 

Boy Blue continued his inquiries and spoke to 
his colleagues of their fruit. "I shall have to have 
another chat with Mr. Ah Fat. That kid of his 
had been mighty useful to me, at times. He's as 
cute as they make 'em, but she's like a baby. She 
may know something that'll put the lid on him." 

So at ten o'clock the next Saturday he went in 
plain clothes to Mr. Ah Fat's tea-room. The bars 
were closing, and much noise beat about the by- 
ways. The rum-hounds of Limehouse bayed to the 
moon. Random whiffs of chandoo came to his nose. 
He made a note of the house whence they came, 
and decided to see to it to-morrow; and passed 
on through the heavy, dry air of the Quarter. As 
lie turned into Pennyfields, Ah Fat was watching 



BIG BOY BLUE ITT 

from his window. With a iumbcring but swift 
movement he waddled to the tea-room, seized a 
rod of split bamboo, and stood over San Lee. 

" 'E come. 'E come to damage yoh poh father. 
You 'member what I say?" 

She nodded. He looked at her doubtfully, and 
brandished the bamboo; then moved swiftly to the 
kitchen and made hasty preparation for the com- 
ing of Boy Blue. Then he called San Lee to the 
kitchen, and pointed to a tray on which stood two 
cups. He shook her and showed her the cup near- 
est the edge of the tray. **Dissa cup, San Lee. 
Dissa cup, O affliction to a miserable father. You 
savee ?" 

San Lee nodded mth blank face, gulping and 
quivering, and Ah Fat folded his hands and also 
nodded. He was in no mood to put up with a re- 
calcitrant child. The occasion was desperate and 
called for extreme action. If Boy Blue were suc- 
cessful in his plan for breaking his power, he was 
wholly undone. He could no longer hold his head 
high above the poor wretches of storekeepers and 
laundrymen whose names stood on the wrong side 
of his account leaves. He would be a figure for 
ridicule. Men would dofi their gravity at sight 
of him. He would be abject. Life would not be 
worth living. It must not happen. Anything be- 
fore that. It should not happen. He was careless 



178 MORE LIMEHOUSE NIGHTS 

of all other consequences if he could avert that 
supreme disaster. 

As the lumbering tread of Boy Blue was heard 
on the stairSy he shook her again— -''Dissa cup, 
huh?" — released her, and descended to the cellar. 
When Boy Blue entered the tea-room, she went for- 
ward, following, dazedly, the part that had been 
so sharply taught her. Even as she walked. Ah 
Fat seemed to be at her ^de, and his dreadful voice 
in her ear, exacting obedience to his conmiands 
under pain of sufferings worse than death. If she 
failed to play her part, if she warned Boy Blue of 
his danger, torments unbearable lay in store for 
her. But there was one other way of saving him 
— a way which she could face with even mind. 

**Ho, good-ev-cn-ing, sir. You wan' look aroimd ? 
Ho yess, sir. I so sorry Mi^teh Ah Fat 'e not- 
atome. 'E be in veh soon." 

Boy Blue looked down at her and chuckled her 
under the chin with a large hand. "Right-o, Angel- 
Face. And what's the latest with you, eh? I'll 
come in and wait for Mr. Ah Fat." He loomed 
above her down the passage, his lounge suit as 
severe as armour in contrast to the dumpling figure 
in slack linen ; his burly boots gigantic alongside the 
timid list slippers. He had his eyes all about him, 
and pushed open the door of the kitchen and looked 
round it. He saw nothing to disturb him, and fol- 
lowed San Lee to the table near the window. She 



BIG BOY BLUE 179 

did not give him the smiles knd head-wagging which 
usually greeted his persiflage, but he paid no heed 
to it, beyond remarking : "What's up, kiddie ? Got 
the f antoodleums ?" 

'*Ho no, misteh. I veh tired. You like li'l sucy 
sen, sir? You take cuppa tea with me?" 

"Tea? Well, I don't mind if I do. A slice o' 
lemon in mine. Then if you shut the door we can 
have a quiet li'l talk, leh?" 

"OUight. I go get tea." 

She went into the kitchen and got the tray, and 
got a glowering look from the face of Ah Fat, 
which was level with the top of the cellar stairs. She 
returned to the tea-room, carrying the tray with 
nice care. She set it down and looked behind her 
to the kitchpn. From the street came throbs of 
dark sound, above which climbed the lugubrious 
wail of a fiddle and the grinding of a gramophone. 
She stood stolid at the table. Her great moment 
had tome. Her hero was in danger of his life, and 
must at all cost be saved. She alone — sweet thought 
—could save him. The cellar beneath the kitchen 
had in its time held many secrets, but it should not 
hold Boy Blue. It was rapture for her, this mo- 
ment that had given to her the chance of rendering 
to him the highest of all service. Covering the 
tray with her person, she took a piqce of lemon 
from a plate and dropped it in the cup that stood 



180 MORE UMEHOUSE NIGHTS 

in the middle of the tray ; and passed the cup steadily 
to her guest. 

The other cup she took herself, and sat down 
opposite Boy Blue. 

*^We dlink together, sin As yoh gentlemen say: 
I look towahds you. And veh soon I tell you some- 
thing useful." 

*Well, cheerio, kid." 

They drank. San Lee sat calm, her eyes fixed 
on Boy Blue. He noted the steady gaze, and, know- 
ing the Chinks, let her take her own time for dis- 
closing what she had to disclose. But she was only 
trying to tell him through her eyes that she was 
glad, and that in a moment he would have a clear 
case against Ah Fat. She took another mouthful 
from the cup, and felt free to speak, for she knew 
that she was going beyond the reach of any human 
persecution. But when she opened her mouth she 
found she could not speak. No matter. Boy Blue 
would soon discover the truth for himself. 

As she felt the sudden sharp pains stabbing her 
limbs, and the cold damp upon her face, happiness 
beyond words was hers. She had given all that she 
had to give to her valiant prince, and great was the 
joy of giving. Her head drooped, for it was very 
heavy; but she felt that his eyes were upon her, and 
felt them as a parting benediction, a Nunc dimittis. 

Until, with an effort, she raised her head to meet 
his glance, and saw his face. In his eyes was a look 



BIG BOY BLUE 181 

of awful questioning. His face was as marble* 
white as hers. Sweat stood in beads upon his skin. 
As the room glimmered about her and the walls 
approached and receded, the last look that she re- 
ceived from her hero was one of unutterable and un* 
quenchable hatred. Ere he collapsed, he seized the 
cup he had received from her hands and flung it full 
at her. 

Ah Fat, being no sport, and taking no chance with 
undutiful daughters, had poisoned both cups. 



MAZUREl^ 



MAZUBKA 



CHRISSIE RAINBOW stood on the balcony 
of her tenement home and looked down upon 
the evening life of Limehouse. In the warm sap- 
phire dusk even the vociferant dock-side lay 
hushed, expectant; and footsteps crackled like fire- 
works. Clusters of boys and girls hung at street 
corners, chatting and softly giggling. Yellow men 
paired Ynth silent, ogling females, and swam into 
quiet by-ways. Hard-faced women collared simple 
sailors. Malays hovered and desired, not daring 
to pounce. 

Then the big lamp outside the Blue Lantern was 
lit, and lights appeared behind its many windows, 
and an organ stopped at its doors, and sprayed 
the neighbourhood with a rapid fire of rag-time. 
Its bright summons set young feet a-tapping and 
old heads a-wagging, and into the gas-lit circle 
moved flaring hats and wide-grinniAg faces. The 
great sea of roofs that swept out to Essex began 
to twinkle with luminous points, anl all-night fac- 
tories made gashes of light across the distant gloom. 

IBs 



186 MORE LIMEHOUSE NIGHTS 

As the twilight deepened to night the loungers be- 
gan to pull themselves together and to make cer- 
tain movements towards substantial entertainment. 
The two music halls, shrinking behind their bold 
veils of light, flung open their doors to a clamant 
crowd of seekers after mirth. The cinemas were 
'^now showing,'* vehemently, Lillian Gish and 
NazimoVa. 

The organ stopped its ragging. Chrissie heard 
its rasping wheels bear it away, and with its pass^ 
ing the motley murmur of the crowd again vexed her 
ears with its uneasy calm. For some minutes she 
stood thu^, drawing to herself, the breath of the 
city. Then from -the little Chinese cafe at the 
corner of King's Street came a sudden burst of music, 
as its latest attraction, a penny-in-the-slot piano, 
clattered its way through a new record — ^the 
Mazurka from Coppelia. 

Straight through the open window to her it came, 
riding joyously, insolently, above the purring street ; 
and it captured the idle half of her mind, and she 
found herself smiling in welcome to it I The chorus 
songs of the street she knew, and the organ music 
which had just passed; and felt at no time any 
litheness of limb to their rhythms* But here was 
something novel ; charged with colour and various 
melody, and rippling with lightness of heart and 
holiday ; something strange to her, yet made to her 
own heart's measure. It carried to her an invitation 



MAZUKKA 187 

as flagrant as the nod and beck of a passing reveller 
at camivaL It disturbed her and set her in effer- 
vescence. The tired, purposeless crowd below took 
on colour for her eyes; she saw them at revels. 
And while the saucy, provocative phrases of the 
Mazurka stirred her heart to petulance, her skin 
tingled with delight, vibrating to them. 

And, suddenly, she wanted to be out — ^just Out: 
anywhere with the crowd, touching fingers or brush- 
ing shoulders with people ; looking into other faces, 
and mixing and exchanging emotions. It teased 
her with its message. She wanted to throw herself 
into this London and become one with it and part 
of it. Like a caged bird she stood, her breast against 
the bars of the balcony, her arms outstretched to 
the great plain of London. Blunt of face, and 
without colour, she yet held charm in her figure. 
Sturdy and pliant as a young tree she stood, her 
frock blown, her limbs rippling to the music, her 
face rapt. Twice the mechanical contraption went 
through the new record, while she stood and longed 
and bubbled with foolish smiles. 

With an impudently triumphant flourish it fin- 
ished, and she turned slowly away to her roo];n. 
In the chill halfgloom of the summer night, it 
looked mean and fusty and bare. She discovered 
a sudden disgust of it and its petty appointments. 
She moved about it. She picked up a book, and 
threw it down. She sat on the edge of the bed 



188 MORE LIMEHOUSE NIGHTS 

She got up and straightened an ornament on the 
mantelshelf. She again took up the book. But 
her mind was outside. She was listening to the 
crisp gossip of young feet to the pavement. She 
was seeing the long Barking Road — all breeze and 
glare and glitter of lamps and shop windows. She 
was seeing the happy encounters of boy and g^rl; 
and she felt the odour of lilac floating from the 
public gardens. The streets were breathing softly, 
closely, wooing her. The Mazurka still simmered 
within her. 

Until to-night her evenings had followed a 
changeless routine. Home from the factory — ^wash 
— a meal of some tinned food and tea — ^necessary 
repairs to garments — then a book of some educa- 
tional course — and bed. By her fellows at the fac- 
tory she was voted slow. Miss Stuck-up was her 
name there. "Look at The Stuck-up going 'omc 
to keep 'erself FureP* "We ain't good enough for 
the chaste Stuck-up I" All their invitations to 
"evenings" and "crawls," to " 'ave a bit on,'* she 
declined; and when, on the pavement outside the 
factory, the girls stood in chattering groups, to 
argue the evening's indulgence, she would slip 
through them and away, followed by muttered ob- 
scenities. To all their gibes she had one reply—- 
an exasperating smile of self-sufficiency. 

But to-night she could not rest; she was not 
company for herself. The benignant dusk, the 



MAZUHKA 189 

crooning of the summer evening, and the bright 
challenge of the Mazurka had entered her blood. 
Solitude now distressed her. She longed to be in the 
life that was all about her. She longed to be ac- 
cepted by the crowd, and to be one of it; and sud- 
denly she rose from the bed, snatched her hat, and 
adjusted it at a rakish angle. With a few deft 
touches she smoothed the poor cotton frock; then, 
with thrilling pulses, she ran down the stone stairs 
to the street, and surrendered herself to the crowd. 

She was Out. Cleverly she copied the saunter 
of the other girls: the swinging arms, the swirling 
frock, the roving eye. In the high charm of her 
fifteen years she strode. Her thin brown hair 
flowed about her shoulders, and the swift lines of 
her limber legs curved aptly from pendulous skirt 
to natty shoe. She was prepared now to accept 
all things, and to find greater joy in the common 
street. She needed not to-night the rarefied atmos- 
phere in which she had hitherto held herself from 
contact with the mob. She had come down off 
her perch, and was now warm and fluent 

But the street made no demonstration at her 
condescension. None looked twice at her. The 
East End boy looks only for faces; if they be not 
pretty, all other charms are without virtue. She 
searched here and there for some of her work- 
fellows. They were certainly "out," amusing them- 
selves somewhere, and it would be pleasant to join 



190 MORE LIMEHOUSE NIGHTS 

them. It would be pleasant to be popular with 
them. They would perhaps find her a boy, who 
would walk with her and take her arm; for she 
thought that she wanted a boy to walk out with and 
talk with. Really, she wanted to talk with London 
and be friends with it 

Up and down the street she strolled, but saw 
no familiar face, nor any that sought to make itself 
known. Tiring after four turns, she went to the 
Tunnel Gardens; and here she boldly invited with 
feet and eyes. A few lads looked at her, but with 
sniggers and ribald comment. These were the 
knowing ones, who chose carefully. "Pasty-face I" 
was the welcome she got from them. Other lads 
looked at her without remark, but these were the 
bashful, the inexperienced, who did not know how 
to force an introduction; novices, like herself. 

But at the farther gate of the Gardens she found 
Adventure. Mr. Sam Ling Lee, in straw hat, 
brown boots and store suit, was leaning against a 
railing, twirling a whangee cane. His face was 
placid, his appearance highly respectable; and he 
seemed lonely. She came to him and passed him 
with a flutter of frock, and gave him a long, ex- 
pressive look. He smiled. Some paces away, she 
looked back. He was still looking. She stopped 
at the railings, and smiled. He came to her. 

Well, they walked out of the gardens towards 
Pennyfields. Great elation was hers, and her little 



MAZUBXA 191 

lips were pursed tightly to hold back the smile that 
would have lodged there. She was living. She 
had Got Off. She was no longer to be sneered at 
as the Stuck-up, the timid. She could cut a dash 
as well as anyone else. Mr. Sam Ling Lee, too, 
was proud. A white girl had given him the glad eye, 
and was coming to Pennyfields to take a cup of 
tohah and to eat with him. 

At the tea-house of the Golden Chrysanthemum 
they sat at a marble table ; and she drank tea and 
ate little cakes, and thrilled to his quaint accent 
the turns of speech. And he leaned across the 
table and pressed her hand, and she returned the 
squeeze. And he told her, by many difficult words, 
that he knew the keeper of the tea-house, and that 
there was a nice quiet room upstairs where they 
could sit and talk. And he would like to sit and talk 
with her. 

So they went upstairs. 

It was past public-house closing-time when she 
came down. She stepped into Pennyfields, narrow, 
dark and deserted, and her light shoes made clear 
staccato sounds. She walked dreamily. Her eyes 
were heavy. But there was a warmth and fullness 
about her face that was new, and that became her. 
She carried herself with confidence. She was a 
woman. The others could no longer swank before 
her. She knew. 

Then, as she turned into West India Dock 



192 MORE LIMEHOUSE NIGHTS 

Road, the darkness screamed at her. Snarls and 
growls and cat-calls met her, and vile words leapt 
upon her. And suddenly ^e was surrounded by 
a dozen of her worrk-fellows. Too dazed by the 
attack to speak, she shrank away. But they were on 
all sides: horrid faces and writhing lips that spat 
beastly things at her. The full significance of the 
situation scarcely reached her at the moment. It 
was an attack; that was all she could clearly under- 
stand; and she turned blindly to break through 
them and run. And as she turned, one pushed her 
between the shoulders, and she stumbled against 
another who pushed her back. Dumb, except for 
sobs, she waited, terrified, in their midst; and they 
encircled her with stretched arms and pointed 
fingers; and she stood breasting a ring of living 
spears. 

Then they joined hands, and danced about her 
with a song: 

"Who got orf with a Chink? 

Who got orf with a Chink? 

She did I 

She did/ 

Shb Dm! 

Yahr 

And from point to point of the circle she was 
pushed and hustled and bunted like a sack, until 
she dropped. 

Then, clamorously, they indicted her: '*There*s 



MAZUKKA 193 

yer quiet ones 1 There's yer pure work-girl. There's 
yer Stuck-up 1 Gom with a Chink 1 Ugh, the 
dirty cat I That's all that would 'ave 'er, I suppose. 
Ugh, the dirty bitch 1" They let her go then, and 
went off in a grinning, giggling mass, chanting to 
the night: 

"Chrissie Rainbow's bin with a Chink 
Yahl Yahl Yah!" 

Slowly she crawled to her feet, and slowly she 
crawled home, numb, sobbing, stricken. It was 
spring no more. The scent of flowers was gone. 
The air was heavy with the religious odour of 
fried fish. There was no more of colour and 
revelry and happy street life. She looked upon the 
every-night Limehouse, and saw grey streets, gruff 
buildings, ragged roofs and walls, tram-cars, buses, 
dark pubs, and ugly, dolorous noise. And as she 
staggered into her room, and collapsed upon her bed, 
an uglier noise broke forth below, and a danmed 
jingling, hiccuping, penny-in-the-slot piano gibed and 
reviled her with the Mazurka from Coppelia^ 



THE SCARLET SHOES 



/ 



THE SCARLET SHOES 

SORROWFUL are the streets of Limehouse by 
day; crowded with purposeless noise and cold, 
unfruitful endeavour. But the evening is kind to 
them, and with the coming of the dark they are set 
a-tinkling with brilliant girl-laughter, and the moon 
lends grace to the most forlorn by-way. 

About these streets and lanes walked one time 
San-li-po, a maiden of the land of water-liles, whose 
patched garments of yellow cotton, with cheap em- 
broidery enriched, gave vigour to the flat tones of 
warehouse walls and hovels. Willowy and dew- 
like was San-li-po, but seldom did her laughter swell 
the happy twilight chorus. Not since babyhood 
had her lips opened in merriment, for there was 
little in her life to warm her heart to satisfaction. 
A waif, bom in the Pool on an incoming tramp, 
and abandoned to the clustering alleys, she had 
found her first shelter with the wicked Lee Yip, and 
with him, because she was in a strange land and 
knew of no other shelter, she had remained these 
seventeen years. Hard and cheerless was her life 
with him; nor could the animated streets give her 

197 



198 MORE LIMEHOUSE NIGHTS 

even a reflection of their gladness. The white men 
mocked at her moon-like face; her countrymen re- 
garded her not while they might feed their eyes 
with the beauty of white girls. 

Lee Yip was a man of low mind and empty of 
all good feeling. All he desired was sufficiency' of 
rice-spirit and ongaway, and, despite all his forlorn 
shifts and subterfuges, never could he fully satisfy 
that desire. His nights were spent in drinking; 
his days in petulant consideration of ways and means 
of procuring the night^s indulgence. Dirt and rags 
were proper to him, and he seemed to shed their 
savour wherever he walked; so that refined and 
polished keepers of stores and of registered lodg- 
ing-houses, coming suddenly upon him, would pass 
him with as much space between them as could be 
achieved. One room he had over the Laundry of 
the Pure White Water-Lily; and in that room lived 
he and San-li-po. To it he would sometimes bring 
stranded Chinese seamen of the baser kind, who 
would not pay the price of the registered lodging- 
houses, but could ^ve him, in return for his shelter, 
the few cash that would buy rice-spirit; and San- 
li-po would crouch unhappily upon her pallet in the 
comer, and sleep fearfully in this room with four 
or five drunken seamen. 

But it is with one night in \irinter that we are 
here concerned; the night when sweet adventure 
came to his sad room and stretched radiant hands 



THE SCARLET SHOES 199 

towards San-Ii-po. At a late hour on this night, 
Lee Yip made his accustomed entry to their abode, 
fumbling and shouldering his way up the stairs, and 
emitting nasty noises from his mouth. San-li-po, 
hearing other footsteps yet on the stairs, stood by 
the table with blank expression, ready to receive 
the wretched fellows who alone would consort with 
her guardian. 

And lo I there entered to her Wing Dee, a youth 
of, fair aspect and seemly demeanour. His hair 
was heavily oiled. His eyes were reticent. He 
held himself upright in his canvas jacket and canvas 
trousers, and when he perceived San-li-po, his round 
face glowed like a lit lantern. He did not slouch 
to a comer, with pig-like sounds, as their other 
guests: he passed compliments to her; asked if she 
had eaten her rice ; and continued, using a courteous 
form of phrase above the requirements of the oc- 
casion : 

"This person is mortified at the inconvenience 
which he fears his undignified presence in this truly 
refined apartment will bring upon the honourable 
and flower-like maiden to whom he addresses him- 
self. He would not have ventured, but " 

He was interrupted at this point by Lee Yip, 
who had spoken no word since his entrance, be- 
cause he could not. With a gentle sway he slid 
along the wall against which he had been leaning, 
and fell in an untidy heap to the floor and slept. 



200 MORE LIMEHOUSE NIGHTS 

Wing Dee looked at him and at San-li-po, and trou- 
ble came into his face; then, ignoring the interrupt 
tion, he continued his courteous address. Now these 
were the first polished words that any visitor had 
addressed to San-li-po, and she shivered with de- 
light as she heard them, while wondering griev- 
ously whether the apparently gentle youth was sub- 
jecting her to ridicule. But as he continued to 
speak, she knew that this was not so, and her heart 
leapt; and she hastened to prepare food for the 
honourable guest 

With Lee Yip in his drunken sleep, they were 
virtually alone, this man and this maid, and much 
joyful service did she givt to the making of that 
poor meal which they were to share; the cook 
of the highest mandarin could not have pressed 
more care upon a banquet of forty courses than she 
on two dishes of yak min and sam se. The eyes 
of Wing Dee were upon her as she worked, and 
now and then she caught them with hers, and into 
the dishes went a sweet flavouring that was made 
from the mixing of their glances. 

When her task was done, they two sat to eat 
in bashful intimacy; and while Lee Yip snored on 
the floor. Wing Dee made neat praise of the dishes, 
and smiled upon the lips of San-li-po that made 
their first shy efforts at opening in delight. Sweet 
lips that never formed a lie; that moved only to 
gentle syllables and pleading phrases I Grave eyes 






THE SCARLET SHOES 801 

wherein nestled meditations pure and kindly I Gra* 
cious hands, busy only in service to the beast in the 
corner I Poor, tattered clothes, so thin and worn, 
yet clothing so aptly that small figure that should 
have gone in silk and lace I Thoughts of the Great 
Night Lantern above fair gardens came to Wing 
Dee as he gazed his fill upon her until she burned 
and shivered and looked only at the table, and as 
he wondered about her and about the room and 
the pig who had brought him here; and his face 
became suffused with the divine humility that at 
once shames and ennobles the youth in the presence 
of his first maid. She spoke little to him save 
single timid words in reply to his compliments ; but 
something more potent than words passed between 
them. 

After the meal, she pointed to a comer, and to 
it he retired and she went to her pallet. Sleep 
came at once to her, and with it gracious adventures 
with a fair and high-minded youth ; but Wing Dee 
lay awake through the long night and the velvet 
voice of silence murmured from the darkness and 
spoke beautiful words to him. He thought of his 
own country; of rivers; of stars; of blossomtime; 
of a goodly house with many servants, and of San- 
li-po in costly raiment flitting about it. Then the 
grey of the morning fell across the coloured dream, 
and he hid it away in his heart. He awoke to the 
rough room, and Lee Yip's beastly noise. He rose 



£02 MORE LIMEHOUSE NIGHTS 

from the chill boards and looked out upon the sun- 
less street and its fatigued activity. He looked at 
the sodden face of Lee Yip, and shuddered. To- 
wards the corner where lay San-li-po his heart for- 
bade him to look, though great was his desire to 
go to her, and place by her pallet goodly gifts of 
warm silk. But he knew that he had scarce suffi- 
cient money to procure food for the space of days 
that must elapse before the ship that had engaged 
him left London. Even the poorest offering was 
beyond him, for a chance game of Peh Bin had 
cleared him of the bulk of his wages, and it was 
in that impoverished and remorseful condition that 
Lee Yip had found him. 

Suddenly, at a movement and a grunt from Lee 
Yop, San-li-po awoke. Hastily gathering her robe 
about her, she exchanged morning greetings with 
Wing Dee, and served out a small portion of rice 
to each of them. When it was eaten he turned to 
go. He passed to the mumbling and still bemused 
Lee Yip the number of coins previously arranged 
between them as the price of his lodging, and moved 
to the door. He made a gesture of courtesy to- 
wards San-li-po. 

"This illiterate person," he said, "is totally with- 
out words with which to express his intense gratitude 
for the refined and elegant entertainment which he 
has received from his dignified and high-minded 
friends." 



THE SCARLET SHOES 209 

He hesitated at the door. He looked back. And 
lo I San-li-po was staring at him with rigid features 
and blank eyes. Maiden modesty was no longer 
in hef bearing: her face spoke yearning and regret. 

She knew nothing of him, nor he of her. He 
had come to them out of the night. He had looked 
long upon her, and had spoken fair words to her. 
But that was all. Whence he came, whither he 
was going, she knew not; nor could she decently 
ask of him these questions. His movements were 
no concern of hers. Doubtless he had spoken 
courteously and kindly towards her,'^ because he 
was sorry for her situation. Yet, having had this 
little of him, she was anxious that he should give 
more. 

"Honourable guest going — going away?" she 
murmured, and stopped with half-open lips, as 
though about to say more. 

Wing Dee caught the restrained fervour of her 
voice, and rejoiced that she should thus have spoken. 
So wouldjie have spoken his regret at parting; yet 
dared not. 

"If this insignificant person might come again 

to-night ^" he began, looking at her and Lee 

Yip. 

Lee Yip nodded his tattered head vigorously. 
"Con^e every night," he grunted. "For the few 
cash which this person charges for his lodging, 
poor as it is. Wing Dee cannot find better. Aol" 



204r MORE LIMEHOUSE NIGHTS 

So he came again that night, and, after leaving 
the house the following morning, he met San-li-po 
in the streets. There, at a comer of West India 
Dock Road, they talked. They told each other their 
stories. With awkward glances and shy hesitancies, 
with gushes of speech and cold blocks of silence^ 
they exchanged talk for about an hour, each de- 
lighting in this sudden meeting, each fearful of 
saying too much. They parted abruptly, rudely, as 
is the way of boy and girl in first love. But when 
they were gone on their way, they knew that each 
was the other's friend for ever, and great was the 
desire of Wing Dee to lift San-li-po across his 
threshold; great the desire of San-li-po to receive 
the Napi of Wing Dee. 

Four nights he spent as their lodger; and joy 
illumined that musty room, and sweetness passed 
in the air and hovered about the table as they sat 
at rice. All things became beautiful to him. He 
found delight in the narrow alley where she lived; 
and its stones were to him more holy than the stones 
of the temple. These strange streets were all part 
of her, and she was part of the streets and the 
hard sky and the ships; and the mean life of China- 
town became to him suddenly noble and desirable: 
for it was the life she knew. His immediate wish 
was to remove her from the beast in whose charge 
she was held, but the wish, he knew, was futile. 
Hatred and loathing seethed in his heart as he 



THE SCARLET SHOES 806 

thought upon the things that the maid had told him,, 
and he longed again to lay violent fingers upon the 
wry neck of Lee Yip. 

At the end of the week, much thought showed 
him the way to his desire* He would not rejoin 
his ship. He would stay in Limehouse and work 
at any toil, however base, until he had saved enough 
money to carry them both to his own comitry. 
There they would marry, and he would settle on 
his father's farm and work it for her delight. To 
this plan he moved, and, after some disappointment 
and much perseverance, he obtained employment, 
and employment in the Laundry of the Pure Water- 
White Lily, above which she lived. By sparse liv- 
ing and a little fortunate gambling, he contrived to 
gather and hold a few coins ; then, delicate of feel- 
ing, he slept no more in her room, but obtained 
lodging in a neighbouring Oriental store where he 
might still be near her, and in any mischance, 
succor her. 

Each night, when his work was done, and the 
fat Lee Yip had gone forth to seek delight in the 
saloons and beer-houses about the waterside, he 
would go to San-li-po, and they would spend to- 
gether some delicious hours. 

"O San-li-po, your voice is to me as the bells of 
the Great Temple, and you are a garden where I 
gather the most dignified rest and refreshment. 
Soon, O San-li-po, I shall take you home to your 



806 MORE LIMEHOUSE NIGHTS 

country that you have never seen, and there by my 
side you will taste pleasures of which you have 
never learnt." 

"O Wing Dec, lord and master, your words arc 
more intoxicating to me than the most rare per- 
fumes. I am your slave." 

As the hour grew late, he would leave her, and 
wait in the West India Dock Road for the home- 
coming of her drunken protector. When he saw 
him bringing other drunkards to sleep in that room 
with his chrysanthemum, he would approach the 
sailors stealthily, and draw them apart from their 
staggering guide ; and would put it to them whether 
it were not entirely more desirable that they should 
spend the night in his clean room without charge 
than that they should pay valuable coins to the 
drunken Lee Yip for the privilege of sleeping in 
the underground den infested with rats and drain- 
water, to which he was conducting them. By his 
knowledge and use of sailor signs he was quickly 
able to convince them of evil reputation of hce Yip. 
So that this person, arriving at the door leading to 
his room, would be seized by vague astonishment 
and sharp anger on finding that the guests who had 
been following him had melted away ; and San-li-po, 
waiting upstairs, would be rid of her disquieting 
tremors, and, smiling at her lover's ruse, would sleep 
tranquilly. 

Now it was not long before Wing Dee possessed 



THE SCARLET SHOES «07 

sufficient cash to permit him to make his first gift 
of intentions to San-li-po. After much scrutiny of 
shop windows, he saw something that was within 
his means and fitting to the occasion. At a shop 
near Limehouse Church his eye was taken by a hot 
splash of colour — a pair of slipper^ of scarlet silk, 
made surely for the dainty feet of his maid. Long 
he looked upon them, while delicious thrills tickled 
his heart. They were to be the first gift he had 
ever made to /a girl, and they were to symbolise 
his worship of little San-li-po, and set a glowing 
seal upon their friendship. He looked upon the 
warm, suave silk that sheathed them, and the little 
pert bows that embellished them, and saw them 
upon her feet, peeping from the patched cotton 
robe, and thought how they would chime with and 
confirm her olive face and golden eyes. Then, with 
happy assurance, he entered the shop and cere- 
moniously paid the price that should secure them. 
Close to his heart he held them as he walked home, 
and they seemed to pass through the canvas of his 
coat and glow against his breast and lend him 
warmth. 

That evening, when they were alone, he made 
his offering. He took them from the rough paper 
in which they were wrapped, and standing before 
her, he covered them with kisses and breathed his 
sweet heart into him. Then, while she trilled de- 
lightedly to him, he placed them tenderly upon her 



JM8 MORE LDfEHOUSE NIGHTS 

feet. Immediately she arose and pirouetted before 
him, and pattered up and down die bare floor of 
ber home, and could look only from tbe shoes to 
her lover and from her lover to die shoes; until 
at last she tripped into the half-drde of his arms 
and he knew that g^ory had been vouchsafed him. 
Gladly she came to him, and sweedy danced the 
hours of that evening around diem. 

Now vigorously and sturdily he worked in die 
laundry, urged by the imperious patter of little 
scarlet feet on the floor above him, tapping out 
messages of behest and encouragement. None 
moved about so spryly as he. None washed and 
starched with such industry and such accompaniment 
of smiles and polished address. The lamp of his 
soul which he had long kept so neady trimmed was 
now lighted by love, and shone through his blunt face 
for all to see. So life went fairly for them for 
many days. 

Then trouble came. One midnight, as he watched 
near the poor temple of his lady, Lee Yip ap* 
proached, and with him were three dishevelled 
water-rats. Lee Yip was drunk, and reeled; turn- 
ing now and again to beckon his guests to follow 
him, and reeling at every turn. Swiftly Wing Dee 
noted the situation; and as they drew near he 
slipped from his hiding place and crept between 
host and guests. Turning to the seamen, he mut- 
tered a seaman's greeting, gave them a sign of 



THE SCARLET SHOES 20» 

warning, and hustled them into an alley-way. There 
he told them, with prodigal embellishment of fact, 
of the offensive hovel to which Lee Yip was taking 
them, and made them his accustomed offer of free 
accommodation in his own room. Some interchange 
of talk convinced the seamen that the offer was of 
fair intent, and that Wing Dee was one topside 
good fella chap; and the four went from the alley 
by the farther outlet 

But Lee Yip, drunk as he was, retained yet some 
control of his faculties. Too often lately had evil 
spirits, hovering in the middle air, swooped down 
and removed from his custody likely guests from 
whom good measures of rice-spirit might have been 
obtained ; and when he discovered that this evening's 
company had also vanished, he felt that the time 
had come to turn his mind upon the matter. Call- 
ing upon his ancestors, he slithered across the road, 
looked at the doors about him, and found them 
shut; and up and down the street, and found it 
empty. He came to the mouth of the alley, and 
looked down it, and he was there in time to see 
four dim figures disappearing at the other end. • To- 
wards them he shuffled at an angular run, and came 
stealthily to them. With well-nigh insufferable in- 
dignation he recognised his guests, and heard the 
voice of Wing Dee conversing affably with them on 
the base reputation and horrid iniquities of himself, 
Lee Yip. 



810 MORE LIMEHOUSE NIGHTS 

In a state of amazement and disgust he retired 
abruptly to the shelter of the alley, and crouched 
against the wall. The sudden shock of this dis- 
covery drove the drink swiftly from his brain, and 
left his faculties dear, though its poison still turned 
and crawled In his blood. He reviewed the situation 
in detail. He saw himself outraged, scoffed at, re- 
viled behind his back by this pig of a seaman who 
had eaten of his rice. Seeking a motive, he sud- 
denly remembered San-ll-po, and here he saw clearly 
things that his bemused mind had noted without 
fully perceiving their import. He began to remem- 
ber certain looks that had passed between San*li-po 
and Wing Dee In his room at evenings. He began 
to remember that the meals that San-li-po had cooked 
when the youth was present were more sumptuous 
and more daintily served than those to which he 
had accustomed hini. He remembered now, very 
sharply, how San-li-po had often served larger por- 
tions and choicer tit-bits to the guest than to himself. 

And now two streams of anger broke from his 
breast and surged through him: one against the 
youth; the other, the greater, against the outcast 
waif, San-li-po, who had thus basely deceived him 
by accepting the advances of this pig who sought 
to rob him of his means of life. Hot was his rage 
against the base and treacherous thing that had 
subsisted on his charity these many years, when no 
other would help her, and now had turned against 



THE SCARLET SHOES 211 

him. He could not conjecture why these two should 
wish to do him harm; he only saw himself as the 
victim of their malicious hearts; and sorely up- 
braided himself for showing kindness to a woman. 

Then the two streams ot anger united, and became 
one, and in their murky waters a dreadful dark 
thing began to grow. He faced the way that Wing 
Dee had gone, and made cruel signs with his hand, 
and his mouth bristled with vile words; and hjls 
brain fed on the dark things and gave back suste- 
nance to it. By the time he reached his door the 
thing had grown until it had full possession of him; 
and he stumbled up the stairs to work his wrath 
upon the corrupt deceiver whom he had so long 
harboured in his home, and, through her, upon the 
guest who had abused his roof. 

When he entered, San-li-po was sitting on the 
floor, and from her towzled skirt peeped the little 
scarlet shoes which were tapping the floor to some 
secret tune of glee. His dull eye sharply noted 
them, for she had not yet worn them in his presence, 
and he guessed whence they came ; and the flood of 

* 

his anger threatened to break its gates. He con- 
trolled himself. With deliberate thickness of speech 
and with heavy countenance he approached her. 

"O San-li-po, there is one asking for you. He 
desires to speak at once with you. It is the young 
guest who lately visited our dwelling. He is at 
the tea-house of Ho Foo in some distress. There 



«1« MORE LIMEHOUSE NIGHTS 

was a base and undignified disturbance at the Blue 
Lantern, and he lies wounded. I think his mind 
wanders and he speaks from the middle air, for he 
spoke much of you and requested me to bring you 
to him," 

Sore alarm rose to the quiet eyes of San-li-po 
at these words, and Lee Yip noted it, and knew 
then that she was indeed in conspiracy with that 
person against him. She moved quickly to a peg 
where hung a loose covering robe. This she 
wrapped about her, and they went out to the dark 
streets and into the flowing hum of London's silence. 
Through road and alley they went, he lumbering in 
his broken British boots, she in the scarlet shoes 
that tripped along with her to the sick one who had 
given them. They passed from the Causeway to 
Narrow Street, and so under many arches that held 
uncomfortable noises. 

**Did I mistake, O Sun at Noon? I thought you 
spoke of the tea-house of Ho Foo, which is in——" 

Lee Yip replied with a snarl and a grunt; and, 
lest she offend him at this time when her presence 
was so much desired by another, she kept silence 
and followed him. Down a sloping lane of coal- 
dust he led her, till, at a sudden turn, they faced 
the broad, rough river. Behind them were the 
arches; on either side deserted wharves. Then he 
turned upon her. 

*'0 San-li-po, creature of corruption and deceit I 



THE SCARLET SHOES 21» 

O venomous snake ! O female dog of the city ! O 
pig of behaviour I Your insufferable conspiracy 
against the one who has fed you and clothed you is 
known to me. The nature of your relations with 
the detestable and evil-minded Wing Dee is known 
to me. It is for some purpose which you know 
that he takes from me my evening guests, my only 
means of living. It is because of you that he has 
taken to labour in the clothes-cleansing business be* 
low our apartment. What more is in your black, 
heart I know not, but never shall it come out ta 
injure me. Hi-yahl" 

Ere she could utter one word or cry he fell upoa 
her. With his curling hands he worked for some 
minutes what beastliness he would upon her. Then 
he took her by the throat, tore from her her gar- 
ments, lifted her from the ground, and dropped her 
from the wharf to the full, surging river; and the 
waters closed upon her. 

Next morning, as Wing Dee plunged a mass of 
clothes into the boiling cauldron, and worked vigor* 
ously upon them, he listened for his morning greet- 
ing — the patter of little shoes upon the floor above 
— and was disappointed that he did not hear it. He 
continued his work with quickened ears, awaiting 
it, but throughout the morning no sound came from 
that upper room. He was disturbed; and at mid* 
day he went upstairs to see. Neither Lee Yip nor 
San-li-po was there. He worked automatically 



814 MORE LIMEHOUSE NIGHTS 

through the afternoon without zesty wondering at 
this interruption of habit, and fearing and dismiss- 
ing fear. In the evening he went again to the room. 
It was still vacant. He inquired of people about 
the street for San4i-po, but none could answer him. 
He sought the saloons of the Quarter for Lee Yip, 
but found him not, nor had any seen hhn or had 
word of him. When shops, teahouses and saloons 
all were closed, he returned to his room in a spirit 
of no-tranquillity. There he bowed before the joss, 
and lit a joss-stick, and burned prayer papers; but 
no comfort came to him, and the night passed with 
hollow tread. Empty of hope, too, was the next 
day. There was no sign or sound of San-li-po, and 
as he worked in the laundry with languid arms, his 
nlind moved upon their happy times together. 
Again he went to the room, and found it still de- 
serted, and though he sought he found no poor 
robe of hers nor the scarlet shoes. She was gone, 
fully dressed. Now grief and dismay entered his 
heart and settled there ; and in the evening he went 
to his room, and stood against its wall, empty of 
purpose and with no appetite for sleep. His mind 
wandered, and as it wandered about their love, he 
remembered how, when he had presented his g^ft 
of intentions, the scarlet shoes, he had bestowed 
his kisses upon them and breathed into them, that 
they should be for ever part of him, and that San- 
li-po should ever have something of him about her. 



THE SCARLET SHOES 816 

And remembering this, he called softly upon them : 
^'O little scariet shoes that I placed upon the feet 
of the willowy and dew-like San-li-po, if you are 
with her bring her to me. Little shoes, you are 
part of me, for I left myself inside you when I gave 
you to hen Come to me, O little scarlet shoes. 
Carry her to me or bring me news of her." 

And he bowed his head to the wall, and stood 
thus, while the hours crept across the face of the 
night. Suddenly, when the mid-hour had newly 
passed, he seemed to hear, through the enveloping 
quiet, a gentle clatter as of little feet on the pave- 
ment With leaping heart he looked from his win- 
dow. The street was dark and void of any human 
figure, and no sound came up from its shadow. He 
turned away, and his arms dropped in dolour. But 
again he heard it, and this time it was a distinct 
sound of feet on his stair. He stood still and 
tense, listening. The sound drew nearer, and now 
pattered outside his door — ^it seemed to 'him, im- 
patiently, pleadingly. 

With vague tremblings in his breast, he stole 
softly to the door, stretched a hesitating hand to 
the fastening, unlatched it, and looked out. The 
tiny landing was empty. His hand groped at the 
darkness and touched nothing, and he knew that he 
was deceived again. But as he moved to close the 
door, the »lence of the stairway was shattered by 
a peremptory stamp of little feet on the landing. 



816 MORE LIMEHOnSE NIGHTS 

He bent dose to the floor, and saw nothing, but very 
clearly he heard the steps beating out their morning 
message — now on the landing, now two or three 
steps down, now back to the landing. 

Crushing down the hope that grew within him, 
he went into his room, saluted the joss, called upon 
his ancestors, and returned to the doorway. Down 
the stairs ran the sharp tattoo of shoes. At the 
bottom they stopped. Slowly he followed them, and 
opened the lower door. As he stepped into the 
street, he heard them tapping the pavement that led 
to West India Dock Road, and knew that this time 
he was not deceived ; and now in full faith he com- 
mitted himself to their direction and followed them, 
caring not whither they led him, confident that they 
would lead him to San-li-po. Across the road they 
went towards the Causeway, and above the sirens 
and the clamour of the dock trains his ears picked 
out their chattering guidance. 

As he followed them he babbled to them, crying: 

^*0 little scarlet shoes that have trotted so softly 
beside my noisy feet, thank you for answering my 
call. You are leading me to her to whom you be* 
long, and soon you will be warmed again by her 
little feet. I hear you singing to me, little shoes, 
and I will kiss you as I kissed you before, when we 
are with her." 

Clitter-clatter, clitter-clatter, they tripped before 
him. Lightly they kissed the pavement of that 



THE SCARLET SHOES 817 

Causeway upon whose face so many brute feet had 
stamped and stumbled; and the pavement was re- 
sponsive to their timid touch, and whispered to 
them. And so they moved before him into Narrow 
Street, and from Narrow Street to a sloping lane 
of coal-dust, where he found himself on a wharf 
facing the river, and thence alo^g a dark landing- 
stage. The sky was clouded ; few stars were visible, 
and the river lacked even that dull lustre thrown 
up at night by large waters. Groping his way, he 
followed the steps to a narrow ledge. Here they 
ceased, and he halted in uncertainty. For some 
seconds he stood, peering into woolly darkness, 
listening intently for the sound of shoes. Then he 
took a step forward. 

And so Wing Dee came to San-li-po. The tide 
was at flood and the waters rushed to receive him 
as he fell. They sucked him down and beat over 
him, and washed him to mid-stream, and there they 
came together. 

• •••.•• 

Next morning there was trouble in the shop of 
a second-hand wardrobe dealer of Poplar. 

"Hil" cried the wife, "what about them Chinese 
shoes you brought 'ome the other night, what you 
bought orf the Chink? 'Ow much d'you give for 
'em?" 

"One-and-six. What about it?" 

"What about it? Why, they ain't worth tup- 



218 MORE LIMEHOUSE NIGHTS 

pence. TheyVe all worn out and fit fer nothing." 

"Worn out be blowedl Why, they're as good 
as new. They ain't bin worn more'n once. I reckon 
I know me own job." 

"And I reckon I know what I see. The soles is 
worn right through, and they're smothered all over 
in mud. Come an' 'ave a look." 

Husband came and had a look. 

"Well I'm damned I" 

"Huh I Good as new, eh? That's the kind o' 
thing you buy after a night at yer precious Blue 
Lantern^" 

"Well, I could 'a sworn " 

"GrrrI" 

And the scarlet shoes, that brought two lovers 
together, still make domestic discord in Poplar. 



THE GOOD SAMARITANS 



XIV 



THE GOOD SAMARITANS 

IF you approach the West India Dock by way of 
Commerdal Road, you will notice, west of 
Limehouse Church, a long, narrow street of small 
houses debouching on to the highway. It is flat, 
colourless, empty, by day; and by night dark and 
adumbrating queer adventure. It is the street that 
my memory first evokes when I think of the East 
End, for it held forward place in my childish fancies. 
The corner of that street I would then figure as 
my meeting-place with a girl; a g^rl of my own 
creation. We would meet at nights at that dark 
comer, and from it we would survey the great road, 
its bronze gloom broken by gouts of gas-light, while 
behind us waited the long ranks of silent houses, 
threatening and alluring, behind whose windows 
happened nightly things dreadful and things beauti- 
ful. I did not make a paradise of that street, but 
I gave it magic properties, and peopled it with 
my own characters, so that, as occasion called, it was 
a street of romance or squalor. And every night, 
at its corner, stood the dream-child, waiting for 

921 



222 MORE LDIEHOUSE NIGHTS 

me. Sometimes she had curls of yellow, and som& 
times thick black curls, or tresses of brown; and 
her frocks would change from filmy things to fiirry, 
with the season. 

I have since shown my street to other people, and 
they have seen a hopeless, littered alley, housing 
aims without hope and hearts that have never beat 
high in grace or villainy. It is to^ay as it always 
was. It has not grown ; it has not aged ; for it has 
spent nothing in endeavour or desire. It is now 
a street like all other streets, and holds no more 
the power to change its aspect or its character. It 
is no longer wholly awful or wholly romantic. No 
rare adventure and gallant rescue make it their 
setting. And no dream-child now stands at its 
comer. Women stand there all day and through 
much of the night, between the opening and the 
closing times of the Blue Lantern; but my g^rl 
went with its vanished past. The street I had 
built from its ugly bricks, and the child I had placed 
there could not survive inspection under the cold 
light of common sense. 

To-day Greenstockings and Flash Florrie, two 
of the most prominent of the Blue Lantern noctam- 
bulists, live in that street; and I am still foolish 
enough to cherish my fancies and to believe that 
they have gobbled up my dream-child. For in each 
of them is something of the grace and fluent good- 



THE GOOD SAMARITANS 228 

ness that clothed the little girl who stood $o often 
at that comer. 

Anyway, I now connect the street with them. 
They lived together, sharing two rooms in one of 
the crestfallen houses of the street; and they were 
seldom without company. They kept themselves 
decently,, and chose their men carefully. Green- 
stockings was of pocket size, slender, dark, frail; 
while Flash Florrie walked with masculine stride, 
from wide hips, and held a large head upright under 
a mass of yellow hair. She could, and sometimes 
did, lift Greenstockings from the floor with one 
hand. A strangely assorted couple, drawn towards 
each othen They were friendly, in a casual, man- 
like way, for the greater part of the year; but at 
recurrent periods the lacerated nerves of Green- 
stockings would meet the fever-heat temper of Flash 
Florrie; and then there were ructions. 

Upon a night they sat together in the Blue Lan- 
tern. The hours were mounting, and the crowd 
had thinned; only a few niggers and a somnolent 
sailor remained. Flash Florrie had undergone 
severe ordeal by bottle, and her manner gave warn- 
ing of trouble. The sonmolent sailor failed to 
respond to her amicable approaches, and she began 
to look round for something to swear at. Among 
the most prized of the appointments of the Blue 
Lantern are four canaries, whose cage hangs from 
the chandelier above the centre of the saloon. For 



224 MORE LIMEHOUSE NIGHTS 

many years they have lived there, syncopating, with 
their piercing cries, the sedate confabulations of 
bookmakers and love-bargainers, who have often 
expressed the pious wish that some hungry genera- 
tion would tread them down. Flash Florric, find- 
ing her one-sided conversation with the sailor non- 
productive in the way of business, turned her at- 
tention to the birds. She had been telling him 
of the coimtry vicarage where her early years were 
spent imder the care of her father, "the dear ole 
vicar — ^the ole home, dearie — ^I can see it now — 
with roses all around the door and Gawd is Love 
over the mantelpiece in fretwork — and a governess 
cart and a pony in the stable — and rabbit-shooting 
at Easter and prayers every morning — ^I can see it 
now, dearie. I was a fine gel then — the old dad 
was that proud of me — I got engaged to a viss- 
count. Well, one day, dearie, a stranger come to 
the Vicarage, and the ole dad in the kindness of 

his heart gave him shelter and Oh, can't- 

Sow:^one^kitt-thwe'bloody'birds'I»caii? t' ear^meself' 
thinkr 

Greenstockings stood up. " *Ere, stop it, Florric. 
Come on 'ome, dear. You're proply blotto to- 
night." 

"Blotto be damned 1 Shan't I Don' wanner 
g'ome. And don' in'rup' me when I'm talkin' to 
frien'. You go'n' make those bloody birds shurrup. 
They're doing it a-purpose to 'noy me." 



J 



THE GOOD SAMARITANS SStS 

"No, they ain't, dearie. You come on 'ome." 

"Shan't 1 Not till them birds shurrup. You 
go'n' stop 'em. Else I will.". 

"Now, Florrie dearl" 

The birds danced about their cage, screaming, 
cheep-cheeping, and chirruping to the merry bang of 
the beer-engine. With a surprisingly adroit move* 
ment the drunken Florrie stretched a huge arm, 
grabbed her pot of beer, and flung it fiercely up- 
wards at the cage. It did its duty; it drenched the 
birds, and their debate ended abruptly in a flutter of 
wings. 

Greenstockings turned wrathfuUy upon her friend. 

"Oh, Florrie, you cruel thing! Oh, Florrie 1'^ 

Florrie got up. "I'll learn the bahstuds to in'cr- 
rup' me." 

She put a foot on a chair and reached up to 
them. 

"Le'm alone I" squalled Greenstockings in im- 
potent anger. "Oh, the pore li'l things I Le'm 
alone, Florrie. Oh, you beast I" 

Florrie held in her hand a lighted match. Green- 
stockings flew at her and grabbed her about the 
waist. Florrie shook her ofi, and the trouble began. 
She came down awkwardly from the chair and 
swerved towards the kid. 

"Eh? Whassat? You call me a beast? I don^ 
'low no-no-body call me a beast. Who cr you to 
call me beast — eh? You — yer mangy skinnygalee 



826 MORE LIMEHOUSE NIGHTS 

— ^you — ^yer little rag-tag street baggage what I 
could pick up and put in me pocket — ^youl" 

The drink was in her brain and in her eyes. She 
was big and strong, and she knew it, and, being 
drunk, was ready to demonstrate it. She saw 
before her a little slender body, taut with anger, 
but consciously shrinking at its own daring. She 
shot an arm across the table behind which it shrank, 
and grabbed it by the throat 

"Come out — ^you I Beast, am I ? I'll learn yeh I" 

Bang I went the table to a running comment of 
smashing glass. In the next minute horrid things 
happened. The big g^rl and the little girl fought in 
naked fury. Florrie aimed blow after blow with 
the fist at the little, worn face, while Greenstockings 
responded with the teeth, and bit at the hand that 
held her, and kicked and screamed. As the teeth 
met, Florrie howled and dropped her hold. Green- 
stockings flew in then, and clawed at her, ripping 
from her neck the cotton blouse, and tearing with 
frantic fingers at her breasts. She butted with her 
head, and used her feet with dire purpose. Both 
sobbed and emitted animal noises. 

Then Florrie forced her to the loimge, and got 
her down, and gave back what she had received, 
and more. She tore her blouse from her, and 
clawed and thumped her, pulling her up and beating 
her heavily down, and tearing at her bare arms. 
Together, in a frenzied embrace, they rolled from 



THE GOOD SAMARITANS 227 

the lounge to the floor. Greenstockings drummed 
with her feet, and struggled and cried under the 
torture of Florrie^s hands, and bit again and again. 
Then Florrie found her throat and closed upon it, 
and her eyes glared down upon her victim. She 
was not then choking Greenstockings, her little com- 
rade. She had her hands upon an enemy, upon the 
embodiment of all the unkind things that had be- 
fallen her; and she was wrenching its life from it. 
No cries came from Greenstockings now; only hard 
moans that grew fainter and fainter. 

In less than a minute had all this happened: 
before any of the customers could follow its action, 
and before the landlord had had time to come round 
from his private room behind the jug-and-bottle bar. 

Then two of the Malays leapt from their comer 
and feU upon Florrie. They leapt just in time. 
Scarcely a breath was* left in the torn body of 
Greenstockings. But Florrie would not be denied 
her vengeance. She freed one hand and strove to 
beat them off; but they were two to one, and they 
dragged her back from her enemy. But they could 
not hold her. With lithe movements she fought 
them, and broke from them, and, ere Greenstock- 
ings could stir from her prostration, seized her 
again. 

"And this time Til finish ych, blast yeh I" 

Again the Malays came to her, and she fought 
them and Greenstockings by turn. Manfully and 



«28 MORE LIMEHOUSE NIGHTS 

whiteljr they stuck it. In a few moments they had 
bleeding faces and torn clothes, and many times had 
rolled in the muck of the floor. But at last one col- 
lared her loW| beneath the breasts; and the other 
seized an arm and twisted it. In -this way, only, 
could they save the poor thing that Florrie hated. 
Straining, panting, their black faces smeared, their 
mouths open and steaming, they dragged her from 
her friend. Writhing within their a,rms, she 
screamed, blasphemed, and spat. But slowly they 
staggered with her to the door, and paid no heed to 
the curses she laid upon Greenstockings and the 
tale of horrid punishments that she would inflict 
upon her when she got her alone. 

Then, as they pulled back the swing doors with 
their feet, Greenstockings sat up, and looked about 
her. She looked round for Florrie, wondering from 
which comer the next blow would fall, and could 
not see her. When she did see her she saw her 
struggling in the arms of two aple blade men. Next 
moment Flash Florrie was free.- A piercing cry 
shocked the attention of her captors from their 
charge, and an antic figure leapt upon them and 
overwhelmed them with worse words than Florrie's 
and with sharper fingers. A bruised, bleeding, tat- 
tered little figure was upon them, shielding Florrie 
from them with outstretched arms, and crying: 

"Grrr, yeh dirty blasted niggers I Leave 'er be I 
'Ow dare yeh put yer dirty black 'ands on a white 
geH Leave my pal alone, yeh bloody niggers I" 



TWELVE GOLDEN CURLS 



f— XV — 
TWELVE GOLDEN CURLS 

THE littk home of Quong Lee in Limehouse 
Causeway rang with the noise of the evening 
revellers of the Quarter, for a feast was in celebra- 
tion. Across the blind of his window, lit by the 
shop lamps of the narrow street, raced and raced 
the antic shadows of those who danced and frolicked. 
But Quong Lee is old and wise, and sits apart from 
youth-time pleasures. As I entered his room, I 
entered purpurical darkness in which the window- 
blind made a single slab of radiance. In a comer 
about half-a-yard from the floor glowed a bead of 
blue light. The air was loaded with the reek of 
chandu. The light spoke swiftly and softly. "Ao. 
Baitho I" it chanted. I stood by the door and won- 
dered how I could be expected to find a seat in a 
room which was blank with darkness and bare of 
furniture. Then a match spluttered, and Quong 
Lee shuffled to his feet, lit an oil lamp, put his pipe 
away, and showed me a cushion on the floor. 

He bade me welcome; asked if I had eaten my 
rice, and could I lend him half-a-doUar? I could 

231 



282 MORE LIMEHOUSE NIGHTS 

and would, on condition that he told me an entirely 
new and true story. He accepted my condition and 
my half-dollar; and, while the crowding noise of 
the festival rose to alcoholic pitch, he spoke some- 
what in this wise : 

About these great docks of London, not a while 
ago, lived one Nobby the Nark, who lounged about 
the water-side, and ran messages for men ; or, more 
accurately, proceeded at a moderate pace upon such 
occasional business as other men might require of 
him. During the day, when not thus occupied, he 
would meet men who took sums of money from 
him, and promised him six to four, or, it may be, ten 
to one, should the results of certain perfofmances 
by horses, which were to take place in the afternoon, 
be favourable to their doing so. At evenings he 
would frequent the gaming-rooms kept by the 
honourable Ho Foo. Sometimes he w^uld gain a 
little, and sometimes he would lose much, for very 
highly skilled was Ho Foo in games of hazard. 

There came a night when Nobby the Nark would 
play pinkipo and chausa-bazee, games that do not 
lightly yield their benefits to the cumbrous mental 
processes of those who do occasional work at the 
water-side. Very seriously did Nobby strive with 

# 

the games, but at the night's end honourable Ho 
Foo held not only the cash of Nobby, but the 
scrawled promise of Nobby to pay very much more. 



TWELVE GOLDEN CUBLS 233 

Now it was imperative that Nobby should hasten 
to redeem that promise ; for, should he fail to do so, 
he would be for ever forbidden the gaming-room 
of Ho Foo, and Ho Foo would pass the word to 
all other gaming-rooms ; and life without a gaming- 
room would have but little savour for Nobby the 
NarL 

Four days passed into the upper air, and no 
word came to Hoo Foo from Nobby of the money 
that should fulfil the written promise. Now Nobby 
was the father of a daughter, who kept house for 
him, and worked for both of them at an adjacent 
factory; and this story to which the honourable 
mister deigns to listen is properly the story of this 
daughter. 

On the evening following. Ho Foo was taking 
the air around the gates of the West India Dock, 
where the seamen gather to talk, when he heard 
soft sounds as of one ill at ease. Drawing near 
he saw, in a dim comer, this daughter of Nobby. 
He knew her well; for often she had come to his 
gaming-room to drag her father home. Very fair 
was this maiden, and brave was her carriage. Upon 
her head were many honey-coloured curls, cun- 
ningly held captive by a little time-worn hat ; and her 
bright voice never failed to please those to whom 
she addressed herself. But to-night her carriage 
was subdued, the curls had escaped, and some hung 
pendulous ; and about her large eyes hovered many 



284 MORE LIMEHOUSE NIGHTS 

tears. Now to the keeper of a gaming-house noth- 
ing is more moving than the sig^t of distress ; and 
Ho Foo approached her and engaged her In sym- 
pathetic talk. 

As he heard her tale, sorrow and anger rushed 
upon him, and he reproached himself that his 
gaming-house should have brought such disorder of 
mind upon so fair a maid. For, from her iirords, 
he learnt that Nobby, her father, had encountered 
much difficulty in procuring the necessary sum that 
should redeem his written leaves and admit him once 
more to the gaming-tables; and, growing fretful 
from this continued abstinence from his favourite 
pastimes had bade her go out to the dock gates, 
where gathered the seamen, and procure it by some 
means from them; nor should she return to their 
home until she had done so. 

Emotions of an unpleasant nature enveloped the 
mind of honourable Ho Foo at this, and he folded 
his hands and turned his thought, inward. There- 
after he spoke, saying: 

"This one is indeed in torment at words of daugh- 
ter of Nobby the Nark. O maiden, go home, go 
freely home. Turn from this base resort and go 
home in tranquillity. Return to altogether despic- 
able one. Nobby, and say to him that his written 
leaves are restored to him. Take them, little chrys- 
anthemum, and put your mind in order, and fill 



TWELVE GOLDEN CXJRLS 236 

your heart once again with emotions of agreeable 
nature." 

From the fold of his canvas jacket he produced 
the written leaves of Nobby and presented them to 
her. These words were not the true words of 
honourable Ho Foo, for he spoke in something of 
his fathers' tongue and something of that of this 
country; but his attitude of mind conveyed itself 
to the maid; and there sprang into her face that 
which told him his words were good to her. So 
they parted; she happily, to her father, no longer 
fearful of what the mght might bring; while Ho 
Foo passed on to take the air, and his mind walked 
in the clear spaces of right-doing. 

But there were certain base men, hirelings of 
the law-givers, who, knowing nothing of this right- 
doing, fixed their eyes upon his wrong-doing in dis- 
regard of their laws against gambling. And so it 
fell one night that a company of men set out from 
an office of the law, and entered the gaming-house 
of Ho Foo, and haled him before the justices. There 
they laid two charges upon him: that he was the 
keeper of a gaming-house, and that he had in his 
possession many ounces of the Great Tobacco. 
Heavy was the sum that he was commanded to 
surrender to them ere he might go free; nay, all 
he possessed, and more, so that he was driven to 
sell the things of his house that he might satisfy 
them. 



S86 MORE LIMEHOUSE NIGHTS 

Much wisdom was in the mind of the sage who 
observed that the misfortunes of one are the enter- 
tainment of the many. Ho Foo was now driven 
to sleeping in a poor bade room, empty of any ap- 
pointments; and there he lay unheeded, while about 
the streets his downfall occasioned much agreeable 
diversion among his friends and those who had fre- 
quented his tables. 

There he lay, and to his uneasiness of mind came 
sickness of the body. None came to succour or to 
nourish him. On the bare floor he lay in misery; 
and those who heard of his plight said that they 
hoped others were providing him with what was 
necessary. But in a space of days, the tale of his 
sickness came to the ears of the daughter of Nobby 
the Nark; and her heart was moved and she was 
sorely troubled. She had not forgotten — ^what 
woman would? — ^his beautiful service to her in her 
distress, and she cast eagerly about her for means 
to help him. But alas I turn as she would, she found 
none. Ho Foo, she had been told, was stricken with 
a fever, and his malady demanded fresh fruits and 
cool jellies and gentle draughts, which were not to 
be had for the few pence that remained from her 
week's wages after household dues were met. She 
even looked about their miserable attic home lest 
there might be something that she could spare on 
which some shillings might be obtained. But noth- 



TWELVE GOLDEN CXJRLS J87 

ing was there save the poorest and most necessary 
appointments of dally life. 

Then, one morning, as she dressed hastily for 
the factory, pondering still the case of Ho Foo, and 
looking blankly into a chipped scrap of mirror, it 
suddenly came to her that she had long been carry- 
ing money about her person. It was in her hands 
now, fine coils of spun gold which she was piling 
loosely upon her head. There lay her means of 
succouring Ho Foo, and the aid would be sweeter 
and more potent since it was part of herself. 

Well, that evening, when she came home from 
the factory, she sat down before the scratched mir- 
ror, and let down her hair, which tumbled in a 
cascade of light. Slowly, sadly, yet glad for the 
service that she might bring a friend, she took 
scissors and cut off a curl from either side, and laid 
them on the table before her, and wept upon them. 
Then, resolutely, she cut two more curls. So did 
she yet four times more, till twelve golden curls 
lay spent upon the table. These she made into a 
small parcel. Then, ^barbed and cropped of her 
beauty, ludicrous to look upon, she crept out to one 
who had dealings in hair. And when that one saw 
the refined quality of the hair, his eyes glistened, 
and he turned his mind into itself for a space of 
minutes. When he spoke he named a sum of money 
which, he said, he might with great ado recover 
when he should have treated the curls with the 



288 MORE LIMEHOUSE NIGHTS 

skill that was his; a sum utterly inadequate to the 
purpose for which it was required. But the large 
experience which the maid's penury had given her 
in bargaining came to her aid, and much talk and 
manoeuvre passed between them, until at last she 
left with many shillings. 

Then did she hasten to procure delicacies and 
comforts for poor Ho Foo; and O my son, this 
child, shorn and disfigured as she was, careful as 
she was of her fair name, steadfast as she was in 
bearing herself properly before her neighbours, 
hesitated not to go to the bare room where lay my 
countryman, and tend him, and lave his head, and 
feed him with the dainty foods that he was too 
weak to g^ve himself. Bold was her spirit in thus 
challenging the good report of her kind and im- 
perilling her bright fame ; bold her spirit and very 
tender her heart. Many nights she went to him, 
and gave him of her care, and sorely grieved was 
he when his eyes discovered the sacrifice of her 
beauty. He would have refused her ministrations 
and her baskets of delicacies, but she would not hear 
him, and he was indeed too weak to contest. So 
she continued to visit him till the store of shillings 
was spent. Then she came no more. But her work 
was done, and soon Ho Foo was able to rise and 
take the air of Pennyfields. 

She came to him no more. Many days he lingered 
about West India Dock Road, hoping to see her. 



TWELVE GOLDEN CURLS 289 

and tell her of his thankful heart He would not 
gp to her, lest he thus bring base remarks upon 
her; he would wait at corners, thinking that she 
might pass. But she came no more ; and at last he 
dispatched a little boy as messenger to say that he 
again was well and was burning prayer-papers in 
her name for gratitude. 

Ill-tidings came back with the messenger. Her 
sweet service had driven the fever from Ho Foo, 
and it had entered into her. On the bed in her 
attic she lay, broken of beauty, and suffering, while 
her ill-famed father gave her what casual attention 
he could spare from the water-side and the gaming- 
room. 

Meekly did Ho Foo plead to Nobby the Nark 
that he might be permitted to attend her; to sit 
at her door in case of urgent need; to perform do- 
mestic duties. But Nobby the Nark replied with 
coarse words and evil insinuations and brutal looks 
and snarls. So Ho Foo could but wait in the street 
outside, and watch, and call his good spirits to her 
aid. 

In a few days it was done. From that poor attic 
she passed, even as Ho Foo stood in the street 
below, with bowed head, as he had stood every 
day since his first visit. 

But that is not the end. When the news came 
to him. Ho Foo went from that darkened street 
with a high resolve. A few small coins he had; 



240 MORE LIMEHOUSE NIGHTS 

and when he had performed rites above them, he 
took them to a gaming-house, then newly opened, 
and his good spirits went with him. He came away, 
long past the noon of night, and his belt was 
weighted with many coins and rolls of paper money. 

Next day he sought piously for the merchant in 
hair; and when he had found him he inquired of 
him concerning twelve golden curls recently bought. 
And lo I there, in a small box, they lay, even as they 
had been delivered. Then did Ho Foo inquire the 
price at which the merchant would relinquish them ; 
and when the merchant demanded of him four times 
that which he had paid for them, Ho Foo quietly 
counted out the money and carried the curls rever- 
ently to his room. 

Sorrow and misfortune had come at once to two 
poor people remote in birth and creed — ^Ho Foo 
and the daughter of Nobby the Nark — and from 
this bond sprang love everlasting. For, with the 
rest of the large sum of money that he had won. 
Ho Foo opened a little tea-house in the Causeway; 
and in a corner of that tea-house he made a shrine; 
and in that shrine he hung the twelve golden curls, 
and beneath them he wrote fairly, in his own char- 
acters and in the characters of this country, their 
story; and the place is known as the Tea House 
of the Twelve Golden Curls. 

The Tea House of the Twelve Golden Curls is 
built on sacrifice and gratitude; and there, because 



? «^ ? .????? ^.^^ 



TWELVE GOLDEN CURLS 241 

of one white girl's gracious heart, your countrymen 
and mine now gather in friendship and pass the 
hours in amity. And if any dispute ever arise be- 
tween a white man and one of us, it is the custom 
that if one of them cry, "Let us talk of it at the Tea 
House of the Twelve Golden Curls," the dispute is 
ended, and courtesies pass in place of angry words. 
And that is the story of the Twelve Golden Curls. 

"Quong Lee," I cried indignantly, "it isn't true. 
I don't believe a word of it. The Chinese and the 
whites don't dwell together in amity. You know 
as well as I do that they don't. And there's no 
tea-house here called the Tea House of the Twelve 
Golden Curls." 

But Quong Lee was impenitent. Pladdly he 
picked up his hap-heem pipe. "The words of the 
elegant visitor to this despicable hovel," he re* 
marked, "have much truth. The nature of the 
relations at present existing in this quarter between 
the white men and my countrymen is undoubtedly 
not to be described as amicable. Even to-day, if 
the nobler sort of Englishman observes a Chinaman 
gaze upon a white ^rl his instincts of chivalry are 
aroused, and he indites stem epistles to the Printed 
Leaves. Which is precisely the reason why this one 
has just invented and related the unprofitable and 
wholly fabulous story to which the refined and 
exalted mister has so politely listened." 



MISS PLUM-BLOSSOM 



XVI 



MISS PLUM-BLOSSOM 

IT is the tale ol the wooing and winning of Lily 
Lily-Ling, called Miss Plum-Blossom; of how 
she was pursued; and of her capture by her neigh- 
bour and countryman Sam San Phung. 

Miss Plum-Blossom was London-Chinese, and 
first saw the fog of this world on a cargo-boat as 
it crawled up the Thames from the great seas. She 
was registered as a native of Stepney, but her round 
face and blunt features and olive skin furnished a 
dear dementi of that statement. For eighteen years 
she had lived among her countrymen, seeing little of 
the other corners of London which are not Chinese, 
and now was under the care of Lee Tack, known 
as the Dragon-with-Jaws-of-Fearful-Proportions, 
which is to say that he was a bad man; and she 
worked as serving-maid at his establishment. 

Now Sam San Phung, as he took tea and bitter 
melon at the tea-house of Lee Tack, cast slanting 
eyes upon the melting beauty of Plum-Blossom, and 
would have prepared for her a shrine in his two- 
roomed cottage in Gill Street. But lo I there arose 

245 



246 MORE UMEHOUSE NIGHTS 

another, one Ah Toy, the Mighty One of Bodily 
Perfection, who had much fame as a vaudeville 
. wrestler; and upon Miss Plum-Blossom he cast di- 
rect, disconcerting eyes, so that he dazzled her. 

Where to bestow her heart the maid knew not. 
She had walked in Poplar Gardens with each, and 
with each had ^ven and received certain salutations. 
But somehow . . . Ah Toy was strong and clever 
and admired, and he had money ; but he came from 
Canton. Phimg was poor and shifdess, and cut 
but little ice ; but he was of Mongolia, like herself, 
and, like herself, was registered as a native of Step- 
ney. Greatly she desired to escape from the uncouth 
voice and hands of Lee Tack; but when she dedded, 
in her mind, for the one, her heart turned straight 
to the other. When she was with Phung she wanted 
Ah Toy; when with Ah Toy it was Phung who 
seemed desirable. So it is with the young maid 
throughout the world. 

And so the merry comedy went on; and when 
the two men met in the Limehouse streets or about 
the West India Dock, Ah Toy would thrust forth 
the mighty stomach that had made him famous, 
and beetle upon his withering opponent. And when 
he had passed Phung would turn and make the sign 
of spitting and the five fingers. 

But the happiness of Miss Plum-Blossom was at 
length achieved, and this was the way of it. 

It .was the night of the Feast of Lanterns, in mid- 



Tm^M^JM^^MJ||UHJJU|»«-M II • ~ • "~ *"?--?- 1 ? I 



MISS PLUM-BLOSSOM 247 

January, and Limehouse was doing its utmost to let 
London know about it In Lee Tack's tea-house 
carnival reigned, and Miss Plum-Blossom was trot- 
ting backwards and forwards with tea and cakes 
and noodle and chop suey and illicit drinks. From 
a table beyond the farthest depths of the tea-house 
came a volume of noise that beat against the noise 
of the streets, and those near the doorway, who 
sat in the line of the two waves of sound, were 
drowned beneath them. In the back room, before 
a table, stood Sam San Phung, and with him were 
Lee Tack and Ah Toy. Ay Toy was making his 
presence known. 

^'Ho Ess 1 Dissa one he say to hon'ble Sam San 
Phung 'at he fight with dissa one, and if dissa one 
he t'row hon'ble Sam he tek Miss Plum-Blossom." 
He swayed slightly, for his bulky form was the 
more bulky by many doses of rice-spirit. "And if 
hon'ble Sam he t'row dissa one, 'en he tek Miss 
Plum-Blossom. For Miss Plum-Blossom she no can 
say wedda she like dissa one or hon'ble Sam, so dissa 
one he " 

But here Lee Tack stepped forward with the 
dignity of a mandarin, and raised a fat yellow hand. 

**Dissa one he wan no fight in dissa mis'ble litty- 
o-saloon. Ho ho I Hon'ble Ah Toy he wan fight 
cos he heap big fighting fella. Ho, Plum-Blossom I" 

Plum-Blossom trotted forward at the call, and 
sidled to the table, her hands playing at her throat 



S48 MORE LIMEHOUSE NIGHTS 

as she glanced from one to the other. Her fiat 
face showed perplexity. 

"Which you like for husband?** demanded Lee 
Tack. "Hon'ble and upright Sam San Phung or 
noble and round-bodied Ah Toy?** 

"No can say/* she murmured after a pause, scan- 
ning Lee Tack's face as though fearing she should 
do wrong whatever answer she gave. 

"Hoi** snapped Ah Toy, "if the son of a sea- 
slug, Sam San Phung, no fight ^'* 

Again Lee Tack silenced him. 

"Fighting no good," he declared. "No equal 
chance. You t*row cards, huh? Dissa one bring 
five card, and plenty number he win — ^huh?** 

Miss Plum-Blossom, still immobile, nodded. Ah 
Toy grunted. Sam San Phung looked agreement 
Lee Tack clapped and gave an order for cards. 
While they waited, Sam San Phung moved to the 
girlj and took her hand, and prattled a moment, 
until Ah Toy thrust out his stomach, and sent Phung 
staggering back many paces. Lee Tack raised a 
reproving arm. Then from between the curtains 
that concealed the staircase swam a figure carrying 
a pack of Chinese cards. 

The news bad galloped round the tables in the 
outer room and had been passed to the street; and 
soon the room was full. The musicians ceased play- 
ing. The boys stopped dicing. Two pipe-smokers 
alone remained placid. The rest of the room 



MISS PLUM-BLOSSOM 249 

centred, in a tangle of oily heads, about the little 
wicker table in the centre. Lee Tack took the cards, 
cut them, and dealt five to each man. Ah Toy took 
his five and looked at them; and curses dropped 
from his lips like spitting toads. Phung threw first 
— defiantly, a two. There was a bubble of exclama- 
tion as Ah Toy threw four. 

Ah Toy delivered an unnerving grimace, and the 
men pressed hard on the players. Phung turned a 
little pale as he threw three, and Ah Toy followed 
it with two. He raised an arm, and pleaded with 
the crowd: 

"Back, Foo ; back. Sway Lim." 

Plum-Blossom watched with impassive face, won- 
dering whither the cards would send her — ^to the 
bold Ah Toy or to the gracious Phung. 

"Movel Movel" pleaded Phung again, as the 
crowd hung heavily around him. He moved a hand 
to his head, and pressed them with his elbow. He 
threw eight. Ah Toy swore, and cleared the audi- 
ence with a jerk of the arm as he threw eight, 
followed by nine from Phung. But they crowded 
still doser now, watching for the last throw. It 
was not the excitement of the prize that held them. 
A woman — what did it matter? But the result of 
a gamble — ^that did interest them. 

Ah Toy wiped his nose on his arm and threw, 
airily, a six. They stood now Phung twenty-two 
and Ah Toy twenty. What would the final cards 



250 MORE LIMEHOUSE NIGHTS 

do? The next throw settled it. Phung, with a 
wooden face, wiped his brow, stretched his ned^ 
and turned up his last card — ^ten. 

There was a noise of indrawn breaths. The great 
wrestler was beaten, and the girl was Phung's. Ah 
Toy broke back, lifted up arm and voice, and 
declared his intention of inflicting upon Phung a 
chastisement that would cause the utmost discom- 
fort and degradation to him and his totally in- 
significant ancestors ; but Lee Tack, alert for forms 
and ceremonies, caught his arm and recalled him 
to a sense of the proprieties. He opened the door. 
From the street came crude music and the shuffle 
of feet. Then the curtain was twitched aside, and 
the giant form of Ah Toy was propelled into the 
midst of the street revellers. 

Well, Plum-Blossom was Phurig's, and he paid 
the bridal money and took her home with him. 
And next day the wedding feast was held at Lee 
Tack's — a feast of many dishes, with wines, whisky, 
rice-spirit and fruits. When the barbarity was at 
its height of heat and clang, Phung slipped a hand 
to Plum-Blossom and they shuffled from the restau- 
rant, and out to Gill Street, and so to the shrine 
that he had prepared for her, radiant with blue 
and silver and ivory, and odorous with punk-sticks. 

But on the fourth day after the card-drawing 
there were those who twitted Ah Toy. They twitted 
him with the loss of Plum-Blossom, and they twitted 



MISS PLUM-BLOSSOM 261 

him for not showing better form when wrestling 
the previous night on the stage of the Poplar Hippo- 
drome. And they twitted him for being outdone 
by a poor thing like Sam San Phung. Whereupon, 
being a little discommoded by the existing order of 
things in this and other worlds, he went from cafe 
to cafe and from pub. to pub., and drank much 
ongaway; and at the Blue Lantern he finished with 
gin, and called upon his ancestors to assist him in 
wreaking vengeance upon one who had wrought 
such removal of gravity among those who had once 
respected him. He swayed from the bar, and 
marched with conquering, if erratic step down the 
by-way of West India Dock Road to Gill Street, to 
interview this Sam San Pl^ung. He flung his tre- 
mendous weight upon th^ door, which was not 
fastened, and so precipitated himself into the front 
room of his enemy. A friendly table helped him 
to recover his dignity, and he looked around. At 
first the room seemed empty; then he saw Plum- 
Blossom alone, and an enormous smile spilt his 
moon-like face. As she was now the property of 
Sam San Phung, she would serve his purpose of 
vengeance equally well. 

Behold him, then, lurching upon her. Behold 
him mouthing to her in explanation of his unhappi- 
ness. Behold the gin taking command of him, and 
impelling him to weep tears of self-pity. Behold 
her shrinking from him, with little low exclamations 



252 MORE LIMEHOUSE NIGHTS 

of terror. Behold him grasping her in his rolling 
arms, using her with the rage of the man who is 
softly answered. 

But now — a quick whisper of feet on the stairs, 
and a sharp cry behind the combatants. Ah Toy^s 
hands fell. He turned. Behold the insignificant 
son of a water-rat, now transformed into an out- 
raged husband, fearful in dignity. Behold Sam San 
Phung in the doorway, face peering, mouth screwed. 

He howled and sprang into the room. He slid 
to Plum-Blossom, grasped her, and drew her against 
him. Instinctively Ah Toy bent low, arms out- 
stretched. Phung saw the movement, and under- 
stood. This Ah Toy would fight him in his wrestling 
way in which he was an aduiowledged master. Well, 
Phung would fight in his own way, and' avenge the 
disgrace of the mauling of his Plum-Blossom. For 
some moments the men stared at each other: Ah 
Toy, truculent, hands and face working, Phung im- 
mobile. Plum-Blossom shrank into a comer, her 
little robe of blue linen drawn about her slender 
limbs. 

Ah Toy took a preliminary step, playing for an 
immediate throw from which the water-rat would 
arise crippled. Phung did not meet the challengCt 
but fell back till he stood by the little cupboard in 
the comer. His right hand disappeared. Mr. 
Jamrach, the St. George*s dealer in wild live-stock, 
does not get all the live-stock that is landed in Lon- 



MISS PLUM-BLOSSOM 268 

don. Otherwise Phung would not be as happy as he 
is to-day. 

Suddenly his right hand reappeared under his 
tunic. It quarrelled nervously with something. 
Then it shot forward, and something went full at 
the face of Ah Toy. At the sudden touch of the 
furry, quivering thing he fell. The thing crawled 
about and fastened itself now here, now there. He 
delivered a high-pitched and far-reaching cry, and 
fought it with his hands. Then he grabbed it. It 
fought him hideously, with tiny claws and teeth, and 
the champion wrestler screamed. Hero on the mat 
as he was, this new opponent had found him out. 
He rolled, and fought to find his feet while fighting 
the thing; but, move as he would, the thing was 
about him at all points. 

At last, with a spasmodic heave, he scrambled to 
his knees, and drew his knife. The monkey's teeth 
were in his arm. He slashed at it, and missed, and 
blubbered, while Phung stood away and smiled and 
smiled. The second cut got home. The monkey 
fell ; and he dashed for the door. Phung, still smil- 
ing, shot a lightning foot. Ah Toy fell again, and 
again the little claws were about him; but this time 
he was up swiftly, dashed it away, and with a twist 
brought the great knife down to Phung's left side. 
There was a rip of cloth. Phung fell. Lurching 
and blubbering, Ah Toy bolted through the door. 



254 MORE LIMEHOUSE NIGHTS 

And now Plum-Blossom awoke, and gave a cry, 
and would have fainted. But Phung was up and 
at her side at once. He gathered her in liis arms, 
as one would a flower, and soothed her with gentle 
phrases. Her little hands ran all about him, fearing 
for her lord's safety. The knife — ^where did it go? 
He was wounded, yes — he was in pain? 

But no. Oh no I He opened his tunic, showing 
the long sUt made by Ah Toy's knife. He displayed 
the blue shirt, which showed no mark at all; for 
inside the tunic, which he threw open, hung some- 
thing that had been sliced through, and had saved 
him. 

"Phung's mascots, O Springtime Blossom of the 
Plum Tree. Mascots — all-same devil-chasers — 
gLVc Phung his Plum-Blossom for bride, and save 
Phung's life." 

With quick fingers he detached them from, the 
fastening that held them, and showed them to the 
wondering Plum-Blossom. Then, with salutations, 
he placed them before the little joss in the comer. 
There were two Chinese cards, such as could be 
slipped from the tunic while pressing the crowd 
back in a hot room; the nine and ten which, pro- 
duced at the right moment, had won for him the 
game in Lee Tack's saloon. 

He picked up the gibbering monkey and stowed 
it in its basket beneath the cupboard. He stretched 



MISS PLUM-BLOSSOM 266 

hands to Plum-Blossom, who trotted to him. He 
laughed 

**Hor' Ah Toy come here no more. Phung 
make him plenty frighten. Ho 1 embrace me, pao* 
pet, embrace me — ^nine and ten times I" 



THE CANE 



—xvn— 

THE CANE 

THE schoolmaster of the mixed school in the 
dock-side quarter was a most circumspect 
man. He walked, as it were, in a fri^d and dry 
odour of sanctity. He took himself and his posi- 
tion seriously, and his manner was fitting to his 
calling. He looked upon himself as the keeper 
of a charge. The young, rude citizens of the future 
were under his care, and it behoved him to walk 
warily and so comport himself as to bring no faint 
suggestion of the indecorous before the notice of 
the young minds among whom he spent his days. 

Living in this fashion, he was, to a large extent, 
severed from the realities of life, and there were 
many subjects and aspects of subjects upon which 
the young minds could have enlightened him. But, 
by his training and calling, he was incapable of 
crediting children with personality. Children were 
children, and youth was youth — or, as he preferred 
to name it, young life. The child was not, to him, 
a soul, but an immature adult. His dass was not 
a dass of boys and girls, but grouped spedmens of 

^59 



S60 MORE LIMEHOUSE NIGHTS 

Child As a giraffe was a giraffe, so a child was 
a child* Such-and-such would a child think upon a 
given subject; such-and-such would be its conduct. 
He had got the child-mind standardised and taped; 
and that was all there was to it. Psychology in the 
schoolroom he dismissed. He had passed his exams., 
and was a school teacher, and possessed all the 
qualifications which, according to his managers, 
completed a teacher's equipment. These managers 
did not include imagination as part of this equip- 
ment. 

School and lodgings and a seaside holiday in the 
summer were his life. Theatres were beyond his 
means, and few new books were obtainable. His 
evenings he spent in his bed-sitting-room, correcting 
exercises, rereading his old books, or discussing the 
newspaper with his landlady, and smoking two pipes 
of tobacco. A walk round the houses preceded bed. 
He chose his walks carefully: there were such ter- 
rible places in the neighbourhood — ^public-houses 
and low places of entertainment. He gave these 
places a sad glance and walked hurriedly past them, 
lest he should receive contamination which might 
affect his pupils. Apart from their reputation and 
unsavoury atmosphere, he never would have entered 
these places. So conscientious was he, this meagre, 
parched little man, that he felt that he must, like 
the clergy, hold himself aloof from all human 
pleasure save of the mildest sort He must stand 



^«f«^i-^>«^"*^nMP«^i«Mf'"""^^iHM«M^a^M^^^2M^MnlMM^ 



^ '•<? ^ -'^g— i^*^i^l«--^^^ 



m^mmmi^mme9imm^mmBammmmamm^mBmmii^mmr^ 



THE CANE Ml 

outside even the suggestion of reproach; and he 
had therefore enforced upon himself total abstinence 
from liquor. He strove to be a shining example and, 
like King Wenceslas, to exude moral worth and 
integrity from his very footsteps. 

His school was a mixed school, and he took 
classes of girls and boys alternately. The scholars 
were gathered from the two-roomed cottages of 
the side-alleys of the district, and were a difficult 
team. The street was their first playground, and 
when they came to school the task of breaking them 
in to concentrated study was no casual matter. Bom 
in those cramped alleys, and running wild from 
babyhood, their ^ense of social values was choked 
in birth. Among the methods of breaking them 
in, the managers gave first place to corporal punish- 
ment, administered indiscriminately to boys and girls 
alike. They held that it was the only punishment 
the children understood, and that it showed beneficial 
results; and inattentive or unruly girls received the 
cane from the men teachers in the same measure 
as the boys. 

When he had first taken up his duties he was 
much averse from observing this rule against the 
girls. He was a shy man, and the mere fact of 
taking a girl's dass had somewhat perplexed and 
disconcerted him. The order to inflict punishment 
with the cane when, in his opinion, the children 
merited it, still further abashed him; he had even 



28S MORE LIMEHOUSE NIGHTS 

protested Somehow ... it seemed to him • . . 
it wasn't quite . . • But the managers said ^^Rub- 
bish/' and pointed out that this was a low and unruly 
district, and that they were a rough lot of girls 
from slummy homes, and he would have endless 
trouble and disorder unless he followed the school 
system. It was all for their good, and he ifvrould 
be failing in his duty as teacher if he did not use 
these measures. If they were not taught to behave 
now, they would never learn: they would foUow 
their elders of the district and develop into street 
wastrels. They concluded by telling him not to be 
silly, and there was then nothing more to be said. 
When, at any time, he was told not to be silly, he 
collapsed, for he recognised that worldly wisdom 
was not his strong point; and if a thing were ac- 
cepted as usual, he, too, accepted it without further 
examination. 

So, in a few weeks, he had become accustomed 
to the school and his classes, and now inflicted 
punishment on the girls, perfunctorily and in an 
absent way, whenever their conduct required it, 
and thought no more about it. He had discovered 
the truth of what the managers had said about 
unruly characters. Naturally nervous, he hated dis- 
order of any kind, and soon found that without 
the cane he could not maintain quiet. 

He thought no more about it for some years. 
Then some silly busybody, without knowledge of 



THE CANE 263 

"the district, discovered the practice of this form 
of discipline, and wrote to a leading daily paper 
^bout it. Quickly it became public; and, when other 
newspapers took it up, in a large way, the story 
of this school where girls were caned by men, a 
^torm broke over the school and its managers. Let- 
ters appeared denouncing the "odious practice," the 
'**f rightfulness" of it, the "appalling degradation" of 
it, for masters and pupils. For weeks the con- 
troversy raged, and drastic action was threatened; 
but a sudden political crisis arising at this point, the 
papers dropped it, and it passed out of the public 
mind. The managers ordered that the system 
should continue. 

The public controversy led, naturally, to discus- 
sions among the teachers, who dismissed it pro- 
fessionally, as a journalistic "stunt;" as foolish 
vapourings by people who didn't understand; and 
it led this particular teacher to a study of the corre- 
spondence. This correspondence ^set him thinking. 
Some of the arguments advanced against the prac- 
tice were curiously vague, full of dark hints that were 
strange to him. 

He began to be disturbed. He began to take an 
interest in the matter, and to find in these letters 
much that Jie had never before perceived. Grim, 
covert suggestions had been made, and they re- 
mained with him. He remembered having read 
somewhere that every man carried with him a demon, 



S64 MORE LIMEHOUSE NIGHTS 

and he had accepted the theory — ^about other men. 
Had anyone suggested that he nursed a demon, he 
would have laughed. But that week something 
happened that filled him with fear. He had occa- 
sion to call out for punishment a g^rl who had 
hitherto g^ven him no trouble ; Dolly Latham, a big 
girl of thirteen. Dolly was pert; dark of hair and 
eye and gay-footed; a girl of apple-blossom, pink 
and white, adumbrating the golden beauty to come* 
She moved with the delicious insouciance of the 
child, mixed with the first conscious grace of woman ; 
and the shy, uncertain lines of her figure carried in 
their promise as much beauty as the perfect achieve- 
ment. 

The thing that startled him, that left him sitting 
scared and dumb at his desk, was, that after he 
had used the cane upon her, and she was returning 
to her seat, she flashed a backward glance at him 
from the depths of her big eyes: a glance that 
linked itself in his mind with the curious things 
upon which he had lately pondered. Until this 
day he had hardly noticed her. She had given little 
trouble, and had been to him but one of a group 
of children, a unit, identified only by a name. It 
was not until this close relationship occurred be- 
tween delinquent and master, and that curious 
glance. ... It sat upon his mind. 

Next day he had occasion again to punish her, 
and a sharp emotion swept over him and drove out 



THE CANE «66 

the detached judicial motive. An emotion which 
filled him, on the one side, with disgust, as he 
tried to ignore it, and, on the other side, with a 
cold and dark delight. He feared it and fought 
it while secretly hugging it. That night he walked 
home in a mixed state of concern and abandon ; and 
his landlady noted his condition, and he was con- 
scious of her attention, and cunningly gave her 
cause to think he had been drinking. This low sub- 
terfuge, so unusual to him, set him wondering still 
further about himself. He hardly dared to think, 
lest he should discover somewhere in a recess of 
his mind something that knew and understood the 
cause of his disorder. 

'He wanted to talk to his colleagues about it; to 
discover whether they, too, had suffered these queer 
disturbances on similar occasions; but he felt some 
awkwardness in approaching the question. If he 
introduced it and threw out hints, they might mark 

• _ 

him as a monster. Perhaps he was a monster. Or 
perhaps it was stupid sensitiveness on his side. From 
the attitude they had taken on the newspaper at- 
tacks, it was clear that they were in no way troubled 
by their duty and thought nothing of the detailed 
indictments. It was a part of the day's routine 
to which they gave no consideration. No, he could 
not talk to them : he could only wonder and specu- 
late, and, by wondering, he slowly fed this strange 
disorder. 



«66 MORE LIMEHOUSE NIGHTS 

All through the class hours he was conscious of 
the girl, and began to notice that, from this raw, 
unkempt herd^ she stood out bold, bright, alert. 
He found himself making a mark of her, and doing 
deliberately what hitherto he had done perfunc- 
torily. He seized every trivial occasion to indulge 
himself with this intoxicating power, concentrating 
upon her, and even manufacturing excuses for call- 
ing her out; and when her large eyes clashed ivith 
his he was filled with a quiet ferocity. He wanted 
to hurt her. He flicked and lashed her with bis 
tongue throughout the day, holding her up to the 
laughter of the class ; and he noted, with a pleasure 
he could not stifle, the slow crimson that crept up 
her face as the chosen words stung her. He dared 
not honestly recognise the dreadful enjoyment that | 
was his as he stood over her, cane in hand, and 
she stood shrinking before him ; and how each gasp 
of pain that he drew from her was coldly echoed 
within him. But something in him did recognise 
with horror that Dolly set herself in every way, 
by inattention and unruly behaviour, to challenge 
him. The more often she was whipped, the more 
she seemed to presume some sinister alliance be- 
tween them ; unspoken, yet known to both. 

"Can't think what's come over my genterman 
lately," his landlady said to her next-door lady. 
*' 'E don't seem like the same man. Always was 



THE CANE «67 

quiet, but 'c's got quieter lately. And a funny way 
about him — sheepish, like." 

He grew more and more morose, shutting him- 
self away from all intercourse. He began to won- 
der whether the ideas that rambled in his mind 
-were perceived by others. It seemed at times, to 
his heated fancy, that the girls of his class began 
to give him closer attention. Each time he pun- 
ished a girl it seemed to him that they watched 
him with cute, secret glances. When he called 
Dolly out, she walked out flirtatiously, and it seemed 
to him that his class was one broad grin. He knew 
that all of them were aware of the newspaper 
attacks on the school, and he began to wonder if 
they saw; if they knew. But it was of Dolly that 
he most thought. No matter how severe the punish- 
ment, always, as she returned to her seat, she would 
toss that backward glance of understanding. He 
began to want earnestly to talk with her; to discover 
what that bright head held; to reassure himself that 
she was just an idle, careless hoyden of the slums, 
answering discipline with the facetious defiance of 
ill-breeding. 

So he thought and thought, and day by day the 
beast grew within him, and night by night he would 
go home to his lodgings, stricken. Horror walked 
at his elbow and plucked at his sleeve, and stabbed 
him with wink and leer. He lived in a spate of light 
intoxication, ^s though a fluent fire were plajring 



968 MORE LIMEHOUSE NIGHTS 

within him. He began to cast about him for means 
of escape from this possession. He thought of re- 
signing his position, and finding another school 
where the custom was not in operation, but the 
thought of change was startling to him : he had lived 
in this district for twenty years now. And some 
quiet, chuckling voice inside him said No; a quiet 
voice, but stronger than the strongest of the op- 
posing voices. 

He knew now what it was that he nursed within 
him, and he ceased to think or to care. He sur- 
rendered himself to the exquisite drug, and thought 
with delight of the secret paradise to which he 
had access. 

And one afternoon, when he had dismissed the 
dass, he kept Dolly in, and punished her in private, 
ferociously, and talked with her. 

It was late when he let her go, and the sidelong 
rays of the evening sun as they slid through the 
schoolroom windows slanted upon his desk, and a 
poor, cnmipled man that sat before it, bowed and 
sick. When, after some long time, he raised his 
eyes they fell upon the school cane. With a sudden 
effort he roused himself. He sprang from the chair, 
seized the frightful thing, twisted it into many shape- 
less fragments, and hurled it to a comer, with horrid 
curses upon those who had compelled him to use it 

Then he took his hat and coat and went out He 
was last seen on a wharf at the river's edge. 






THE SONG OF HO LING 



— xvm— 

THE SONG OF HO LING 

BEHIND the small candle-lit windows of a cot- 
tage in Poplar High Street maladroit fingers 
were plucking from a Chinese guitar a yearning 
song of two notes, and a metallic voice was singing 
out of time and out of tune with the guitar. Fingers 
and voice belonged to young Ho Ling, and the 
song was a song of Acknowledgment and Avowal. 
On the first notes of the song the curtains of the 
window opposite were twitched aside, and between 
them appeared the head and shoulders of Amber 
Goldstein. About the head and shoulders swirled 
an eddy of dense auburn curls, and the bright mouth 
and fine nose were lit by yet brighter eyes. A 
girl of spirit and ability. 

Nightly this ceremony was performed. Nightly 
at six o'clock Ho Ling would drag his guitar from 
its place beneath the bed and carry it to the win- 
dow; and there he would sit and sing to Amber 
Goldstein his song of a service rendered and of 
an holy obligation as yet unfulfilled, but to be ful- 
filled at whatsoever time he should be called upon 

271 



87« MORE LEMEHOUSE NIGHTS 

by hift benefactress, the young lady across the road 
And nightly the young lady would appear at her 
window and smile a quick acknowledgment of bi% 
declaration of fidelity. And Ho Ling would smile 
back, worshippinjg the marvellous, pale, bright 
beauty of her. 

Very pious was Ho Ling in his observance of 
the teachings of the Four Books. None so devote 
in worship of his ancestors and in service to his 
aged father with whom he lived. None so careful 
a student of the Book of Filial Piety and the I-Ii 
and the Li-Chi. From the hands of the white 
woman across the road he had received a service. 
He was under a deep obligation to her. His faith 
required that that obligation be discharged; now 
or later, he or some other member of the house 
of Ho must serve that woman at any time when 
she stood in need of service. Nothing must come 
between him and the performance of that solemn 
duty. He must wait and watch until occasion arose 
for the redemption of his assurance. 

The favour which she had bestowed upon him 
was of a somewhat intimate nature; nothing less 
than misleading the police in their marshalling of 
evidence against his old and too gay-hearted father. 
It was Amber Goldstein who, for some womanly 
whimsy — ^possibly some amused concern at the im- 
potent despair of Ho Ling; possibly some fleeting 
thought of his forlorn butterfly smile — ^it was she 



THE SONG OF HO LING 878 

who smeared her fresh lips with a lie, and proved 

to the police that old Ho Wong was not a bird, 

and could not be in two places at once. Dearer 

than life to Ho Ling was this aged and roguish 

father of his. For him he lived and worked and 

strove^ and sometimes stole, following the precepts 

of the Books; and a service done to the old man 

was esteemed by him more highly than a greater 

service done to himself. 

The charge was that old Ho Wong was con- 
cerned in the stabbing of Lop-ear Langford, an 
officer of the Blue Lantern's Army of Hiccupation. 
The charge was truly laid. Lop-ear Langford had 
pulled, the nose of Ho Wong and had knodced over 
his drink: ^'learning the yeller bahstuds to keep their 
places," he called it; and the night following Ho 
Wong had waited in an alley-way for the Lop-ear, 
and had used his knife upon him in a way sufficient 
to justify a conviction for causing grievous bodily 
harm. Two people saw and identified Ho Wong, 
and the case looked bad for him. In exceeding 
agitation of mind and body, his dutiful son went 
about the Quarter, seeking to discover some who 
had seen his sire at that hour in other places ; but 
as he had but four or five shillings to his hand, he 
found none who could say, assuredly, that they had 
seen him. 

It chanced, however, that the two witnesses 
against him had themselves made frequent appear- 



f74 MORE LIMEHOUSE NIGHTS 

ancet in the dock, and the magistrate hinted to the 
police that sudi witnesses required corroboration. 
This could not be brought; wherefore, when Amber 
Goldstein voluntarily came forward, and stated that 
Ho Wong had spent the whole evening in her shop, 
playing chess, the charge was dismissed. For Amber 
was a respectable young woman, with a thriving 
second-hand clothes business. The police had no 
official knowledge of her, and agreed that her testi« 
mony might be considered as imimpeachable. 

Upon this, young Ho Ling came to Amber with 
many protestations of gratitude, desiring to know 
in what manner he might repay her. But Amber 
made light of it ; dismissed it, airily, as a matter of 
no consequence ; as a thing that was done perfunc- 
torily, the outcome of a mood, carrying with it 
nothing to justify a second thought. She did not 
say that virtue was its own reward; but she implied 
that she had done this to please herself, and that 
there was nothing to make a song about. But 
Ho Ling ransacked his poor room ; and came across 
with gifts ; a cast-off opium pipe of bamboo, a Chi- 
nese banner, two little tasselled devil-chasers, an 
empty ganger-jar and his guitar. But Amber would 
have nothing. She smiled upon his gifts, and 
refused them; and when he pressed them upon her, 
she drove him, in mock exasperation, from her shop, 
and commanded him never to mention it again. 

But he was not so easily quieted. What was 



THE SONG OF HO LING 275 

bo her a trifle, an idle digression, an unrehearsed 

gesture, was to him a sacrament, a precious gift, 

something whose value could not be weighed or 

measured or computed; something that would rest 

upon him and his family until requited. Had it 

been a mere casual service, costing her nothing, its 

effect upon him would have been the same. But 

it was more: she had made a sacrifice for him; 

she had told a lie in his behalf. It could not be 

forgotten. 

And, deliberately flouting her statement, that it 
was nothing to make a song about, he retired to 
his room and made a song about it; and, as I have 
-told you, sang it to her every evening thereafter. 
His honourable papa, however, was not so zealous 
as himself in observing the precepts of the founder 
of the ancient line of Ho, and the song made 
frequent quarrels between them. Ho Wong's at- 
titude towards these matters was rather that of 
the white man than the yellow — "I didn't ask her 
to do it. If it pleases people to go out of their 
way to help others, let them do it. If they didn't 
like doing it they wouldn't do it. We didn't ask 
for it. We have given thanks, and that's enough." 
And he rated his son soundly for wasting his eve- 
nings by singing to Amber Goldstein, and hanging 
about her shop during the day, watching for oppor- 
tunity to serve her. And as young Ho Ling loved 
his father, he suffered under these reproaches. 



876 MORE LIMEHOUSE NIGHTS 

Often he tried to make his father acknowledge the 
solemn obligation under which the house of Ho 
rested, but his father only made signs with his 
fingers and spoke the Chinese equivalent of ''Rats!" 
It seems that his father had little respect for the 
ancient house of Ho: so long as he could eat his 
rice in tranquillity he felt that he could comfortably 
leave the house of Ho to look after itself. Venera- 
tion of family history, usually strong in fathers and 
weak in sons, was here to be found only in the son. 

Ho Wong spoke further, and in harsh terms, of 
his son's subjection to this white woman, fearing 
that she was doing him a bit of "no-good," and was 
making him neglectful of his true business of touting 
for lodgers for the lodging-houses— on commission 
— ^and thereby reducing the slender income and sup- 
plies of rice-spirit of himself. It did not need a 
peevish father to observe that Ho Ling, from grati- 
tude for service rendered, was speedily drifting 
towards a deeper feeling for the benefactress. 

"She is a woman, and she is white, O son with 
the brains of the peacock. If she looks thus fondly 
upon you at evenings in response to your song — 
which, to my untutored ear, is as the grinding of 
iron wheels upon sandstone — ^it is because she desires 
to ensnare you and work her guile upon you. This 
person, who has seen the passing of many years, 
might — ^were he to cast off the restraint of experi- 
ence — find something not wholly displeasing in her 



THE SONG OP HO LING m 

pale-faced, beauty. But I am past your age, and 
am "wist — and poor. Think not that I speak against 
her out of rivalry with you. Were I dowered with 
your youth and vigour and attainments — and 
ignorance — and she smiled upon me, I do not say 
that I would not in some measure imitate the accom- 
plished manoeuvres of the duck expiring under a 
thunder-storm. But it is not so. I am of an age to 
be read in the ways of woman. Mysterious and 
deadly are they all towards men, and most dark 
and hostile when they are white-skinned. There- 
fore, O son, take heed. For there is that in the face 
of the white woman which is not for your good. 
She will bring sorrow upon you, my son. Ay, and 
sorrow upon me also. Did you not last week bring 
home a barely-to-be-looked-upon three shillings for 
the sustenance of your much-enduring father? Take 
heed." 

Whereto Ho Ling lifted up his voice and cried: 
*'0 my father, nothing holds with me before the 
desire to serve my august and venerable father. 
But is it not clear to you that but for this white 
woman my august father would be languishing in 
a cold and indescribably dreadful English prison, 
eating the food of coolies and toiling for white mas- 
ters? O my father, great debt our house owes to 
this woman, for she saved us from dishonour and 
you from misery. I cannot look upon her without 
thinking of that load of service to be discharged* 



«78 MORE LIMEHOUSE NIGHTS 

Surely virtue and beauty must dwell in one who 
could so venture herself as to render service to 
us who are nothing to her?" 

To which old Ho Wong again spoke the Chinese 
phrase implying "Rats I" 

But a week later the occasion of their quarrel was 
removed. Opportunity was g^ven to Ho Ling to 
redeem his vows, and set free the house of Ho from 
its obligation. He came home on Saturday evening, 
and handed two shillings to his venerable father, as 
his week's allowance for social dalliance; and when 
his father demanded more, he replied that his 
labours had been but ill rewarded that week, and 
there was no more, save what should keep them in 
food. And his father rose and employed terms of 
no-veneration against his son, accusing him of hav- 
ing wasted time upon the white woman which might 
better have been used in earning money. He spoke 
of himself as suffering under emotions of the most 
disagreeable and hardly-to-be-endured nature, and 
went angrily. 

Left alone, Ho Ling moved for awhile about 
the room; then, having sung his evening song, and 
waited vainly for acknowledgment from the op- 
posite window, he too went out and mixed himself 
in the melancholy turmoil of Chinatown's evening. 
He walked up West India Dock Road, and stopped 
at the Causeway, and stood looking along its narrow 
length. In its primrose twilight many figures 



J 



-mammim 



]j THE SONG OF HO LING «79 

r^^^tirolledy stood, shuffled and turned He stood in 

ri^lank indecision for some moments ; then, moved by 

some impulse, he glided into its inviting dusk, and 

.;. passed through it to Narrow Street. Along this he 

Tvalked some way until he came to the derelict 

,. "wrharves. Here he stood for some moments snuffing 

: like a dog at the dark perfume of the water-side, 

a,nd gazing across the river, which threw up a leaden 

\ light. 

He was turning to the Causeway again when he 
heard voices. He looked round, and saw nobody; 
hut from behind a pile of rotting barrels fell a 
cascade of sibilants; and following it a firm, sharp 
voice: "You leave me alone I D'y'ear? Else I'll 
call the police 1" 

The voice of Amber Goldstein. Hot upon it fol- 
lowed the thin, shrilly voice of his father, who spoke 
English so chaotically that even sailors could not 
understand him. Ho Ling moved forward to get 
a view of the disputants and discover what was to-do. 
Here were his two nearest ones quarrelling : he must 
intervene, and skilfully, without giving offence to 
either. As he turned the corner, Amber's voice rose 
again. *'I dunno wod yer talking about. But you 

leave me alone, yeh dirty beast 1 Else I'll " 

And he saw that his father held Amber by the wrist, 
and was pushing her, and that she stood on the edge 
of the wharf with her back to the water. A mo- 
ment's loss of balance and she would be over. 



280 MORE LIMEHOUSE NIGHTS 

Without thinking, he sprang forward to place 
himself between them and part them. But, as he 
did so Amber, already scared, saw only an antic 
figure leaping upon her out of the dusk; and, antici- 
pating some fresh peril, tried to step aside to avoid 
it. Flurried, she missed her footing and slipped* 
She slithered and kicked for a moment over the edge 
of the wharf, and grabbed the sleeve of Ho Wong, 
who had her wrist. Then, together, they shot over 
into the river. 

A flood-tide was beating up ; and Ho Ling saw 
his father and his benefactress struggling against the 
currents. Neither, he knew, could swim. A quick 
glance satisfied him that there was no boat within 
hail and that the wharf was bare of rope or belt. 
He knew that he must go in; he knew that with 
that tide running he could not save both. In that 
moment, he was faced with a frightful problem. 
Which must come first — ^his sacred blood-tie with 
his father or the equally sacred obligation to the 
white woman who had served his house. 

Through his mind flashed the words of The Book 
of Filial Piety enjoining utmost sacrifice for the 
parentis sake; and with them the words of Mencius 
on the solemnity of discharging services rendered 
by strangers. His father was at the point of death, 
and he could save him. But his benefactress was 
in like position, and he recalled his song and its 
solemn vow made before the joss. Here now was 



THE SONG OF HO LING «81 

the opportunity to perform that vow and discharge 
the obligation from the house of Ho. Now or 
never — for he knew that Amber Goldstein had no 
family, no blood-relation upon whom he might later 
discharge it. Now was the time or for ever he 
must wander with this burden upon him and his 
house, this unrequited service to lie as a curse upon 
his children and their children's children. 

Yet his father — dare he neglect him even for such 
a vow as this? After all, his father was a man, 
a father of a son, and this other was but a woman 
— ^ white woman. Too, she herself had made 
nothing of the service, and had persistently declared 
that it called for no reward. But there were his 
vow and his song. Yet the most holy of all ties 
bound him to his father. What would be said of 
him by the spirits when it became known that he 
left his father to die and saved some white woman ? 
Yet how would he stand when the charge was made 
that he had left a benefactress to die, with his ob- 
ligations undischarged, when the power to save her 
was in his hands? There was the unchangeable law 
of requital of service and sacrifice ; the more stringent 
in such a case as his, where the service was bestowed 
by a white. And there was the everlasting law of 
utmost duty to parents. 

For two seconds Ho Ling stood, while he thought 
of these things. This short, sharp conflict of in- 
stincts, battling with each other, lasted no longer* 



C82 MORE LIMEHOUSE NIGHTS 

Then, his hekd whirling with the combating im- 
pulseSy he dropped his canvas coat, poised on his toes, 
and leapt to the water. As his head split the water, 
the icy shock of it cleared him, and he made his 
decision. With sturdy strokes he swam towards one 
of the struggling figures. 
Which? 



THE END 



•s • 







^-^ 



x>