Saint Giles’s clock strikes nine. We are punctual. Where is Inspector4 Field? Assistant Commissioner5 of Police is already here, enwrapped in oil-skin cloak, and standing6 in the shadow of Saint Giles’s steeple. Detective Sergeant7, weary of speaking French all day to foreigners unpacking8 at the Great Exhibition, is already here. Where is Inspector Field?
Inspector Field is, to-night, the guardian9 genius of the British Museum. He is bringing his shrewd eye to bear on every corner of its solitary10 galleries, before he reports ‘all right.’ Suspicious of the Elgin marbles, and not to be done by cat-faced Egyptian giants with their hands upon their knees, Inspector Field, sagacious, vigilant11, lamp in hand, throwing monstrous12 shadows on the walls and ceilings, passes through the spacious13 rooms. If a mummy trembled in an atom of its dusty covering, Inspector Field would say, ‘Come out of that, Tom Green. I know you!’ If the smallest ‘Gonoph’ about town were crouching15 at the bottom of a classic bath, Inspector Field would nose him with a finer scent16 than the ogre’s, when adventurous17 Jack18 lay trembling in his kitchen copper19. But all is quiet, and Inspector Field goes warily20 on, making little outward show of attending to anything in particular, just recognising the Ichthyosaurus as a familiar acquaintance, and wondering, perhaps, how the detectives did it in the days before the Flood.
Will Inspector Field be long about this work? He may be half-an-hour longer. He sends his compliments by Police Constable21, and proposes that we meet at St. Giles’s Station House, across the road. Good. It were as well to stand by the fire, there, as in the shadow of Saint Giles’s steeple.
Anything doing here to-night? Not much. We are very quiet. A lost boy, extremely calm and small, sitting by the fire, whom we now confide22 to a constable to take home, for the child says that if you show him Newgate Street, he can show you where he lives — a raving23 drunken woman in the cells, who has screeched24 her voice away, and has hardly power enough left to declare, even with the passionate25 help of her feet and arms, that she is the daughter of a British officer, and, strike her blind and dead, but she’ll write a letter to the Queen! but who is soothed26 with a drink of water — in another cell, a quiet woman with a child at her breast, for begging — in another, her husband in a smock-frock, with a basket of watercresses — in another, a pickpocket27 — in another, a meek28 tremulous old pauper29 man who has been out for a holiday ‘and has took but a little drop, but it has overcome him after so many months in the house’ — and that’s all as yet. Presently, a sensation at the Station House door. Mr. Field, gentlemen!
Inspector Field comes in, wiping his forehead, for he is of a burly figure, and has come fast from the ores and metals of the deep mines of the earth, and from the Parrot Gods of the South Sea Islands, and from the birds and beetles30 of the tropics, and from the Arts of Greece and Rome, and from the Sculptures of Nineveh, and from the traces of an elder world, when these were not. Is Rogers ready? Rogers is ready, strapped31 and great-coated, with a flaming eye in the middle of his waist, like a deformed32 Cyclops. Lead on, Rogers, to Rats’ Castle!
How many people may there be in London, who, if we had brought them deviously33 and blindfold34, to this street, fifty paces from the Station House, and within call of Saint Giles’s church, would know it for a not remote part of the city in which their lives are passed? How many, who amidst this compound of sickening smells, these heaps of filth35, these tumbling houses, with all their vile36 contents, animate37, and inanimate, slimily overflowing38 into the black road, would believe that they breathe THIS air? How much Red Tape may there be, that could look round on the faces which now hem2 us in — for our appearance here has caused a rush from all points to a common centre — the lowering foreheads, the sallow cheeks, the brutal39 eyes, the matted hair, the infected, vermin-haunted heaps of rags — and say, ‘I have thought of this. I have not dismissed the thing. I have neither blustered40 it away, nor frozen it away, nor tied it up and put it away, nor smoothly41 said pooh, pooh! to it when it has been shown to me?’
This is not what Rogers wants to know, however. What Rogers wants to know, is, whether you WILL clear the way here, some of you, or whether you won’t; because if you don’t do it right on end, he’ll lock you up! ‘What! YOU are there, are you, Bob Miles? You haven’t had enough of it yet, haven’t you? You want three months more, do you? Come away from that gentleman! What are you creeping round there for?’
‘What am I a doing, thinn, Mr. Rogers?’ says Bob Miles, appearing, villainous, at the end of a lane of light, made by the lantern.
‘I’ll let you know pretty quick, if you don’t hook it. WILL you hook it?’
A sycophantic43 murmur44 rises from the crowd. ‘Hook it, Bob, when Mr. Rogers and Mr. Field tells you! Why don’t you hook it, when you are told to?’
The most importunate45 of the voices strikes familiarly on Mr. Rogers’s ear. He suddenly turns his lantern on the owner.
‘What! YOU are there, are you, Mister Click? You hook it too — come!’
‘What for?’ says Mr. Click, discomfited47.
‘You hook it, will you!’ says Mr. Rogers with stern emphasis.
Both Click and Miles DO ‘hook it,’ without another word, or, in plainer English, sneak48 away.
‘Close up there, my men!’ says Inspector Field to two constables49 on duty who have followed. ‘Keep together, gentlemen; we are going down here. Heads!’
Saint Giles’s church strikes half-past ten. We stoop low, and creep down a precipitous flight of steps into a dark close cellar. There is a fire. There is a long deal table. There are benches. The cellar is full of company, chiefly very young men in various conditions of dirt and raggedness50. Some are eating supper. There are no girls or women present. Welcome to Rats’ Castle, gentlemen, and to this company of noted51 thieves!
‘Well, my lads! How are you, my lads? What have you been doing to-day? Here’s some company come to see you, my lads! — THERE’S a plate of beefsteak, sir, for the supper of a fine young man! And there’s a mouth for a steak, sir! Why, I should be too proud of such a mouth as that, if I had it myself! Stand up and show it, sir! Take off your cap. There’s a fine young man for a nice little party, sir! An’t he?’
Inspector Field is the bustling52 speaker. Inspector Field’s eye is the roving eye that searches every corner of the cellar as he talks. Inspector Field’s hand is the well-known hand that has collared half the people here, and motioned their brothers, sisters, fathers, mothers, male and female friends, inexorably to New South Wales. Yet Inspector Field stands in this den46, the Sultan of the place. Every thief here cowers53 before him, like a schoolboy before his schoolmaster. All watch him, all answer when addressed, all laugh at his jokes, all seek to propitiate54 him. This cellar company alone — to say nothing of the crowd surrounding the entrance from the street above, and making the steps shine with eyes — is strong enough to murder us all, and willing enough to do it; but, let Inspector Field have a mind to pick out one thief here, and take him; let him produce that ghostly truncheon from his pocket, and say, with his business-air, ‘My lad, I want you!’ and all Rats’ Castle shall be stricken with paralysis55, and not a finger move against him, as he fits the handcuffs on!
Where’s the Earl of Warwick? — Here he is, Mr. Field! Here’s the Earl of Warwick, Mr. Field! — O there you are, my Lord. Come for’ard. There’s a chest, sir, not to have a clean shirt on. An’t it? Take your hat off, my Lord. Why, I should be ashamed if I was you — and an Earl, too — to show myself to a gentleman with my hat on! — The Earl of Warwick laughs and uncovers. All the company laugh. One pickpocket, especially, laughs with great enthusiasm. O what a jolly game it is, when Mr. Field comes down — and don’t want nobody!
So, YOU are here, too, are you, you tall, grey, soldierly-looking, grave man, standing by the fire? — Yes, sir. Good evening, Mr. Field! — Let us see. You lived servant to a nobleman once? — Yes, Mr. Field. — And what is it you do now; I forget? — Well, Mr. Field, I job about as well as I can. I left my employment on account of delicate health. The family is still kind to me. Mr. Wix of Piccadilly is also very kind to me when I am hard up. Likewise Mr. Nix of Oxford56 Street. I get a trifle from them occasionally, and rub on as well as I can, Mr. Field. Mr. Field’s eye rolls enjoyingly, for this man is a notorious begging-letter writer. — Good night, my lads! — Good night, Mr. Field, and thank’ee, sir!
Clear the street here, half a thousand of you! Cut it, Mrs. Stalker — none of that — we don’t want you! Rogers of the flaming eye, lead on to the tramps’ lodging57-house!
A dream of baleful faces attends to the door. Now, stand back all of you! In the rear Detective Sergeant plants himself, composedly whistling, with his strong right arm across the narrow passage. Mrs. Stalker, I am something’d that need not be written here, if you won’t get yourself into trouble, in about half a minute, if I see that face of yours again!
Saint Giles’s church clock, striking eleven, hums through our hand from the dilapidated door of a dark outhouse as we open it, and are stricken back by the pestilent breath that issues from within. Rogers to the front with the light, and let us look!
Ten, twenty, thirty — who can count them! Men, women, children, for the most part naked, heaped upon the floor like maggots in a cheese! Ho! In that dark corner yonder! Does anybody lie there? Me sir, Irish me, a widder, with six children. And yonder? Me sir, Irish me, with me wife and eight poor babes. And to the left there? Me sir, Irish me, along with two more Irish boys as is me friends. And to the right there? Me sir and the Murphy fam’ly, numbering five blessed souls. And what’s this, coiling, now, about my foot? Another Irish me, pitifully in want of shaving, whom I have awakened58 from sleep — and across my other foot lies his wife — and by the shoes of Inspector Field lie their three eldest59 — and their three youngest are at present squeezed between the open door and the wall. And why is there no one on that little mat before the sullen60 fire? Because O’Donovan, with his wife and daughter, is not come in from selling Lucifers! Nor on the bit of sacking in the nearest corner? Bad luck! Because that Irish family is late to-night, a-cadging in the streets!
They are all awake now, the children excepted, and most of them sit up, to stare. Wheresoever Mr. Rogers turns the flaming eye, there is a spectral61 figure rising, unshrouded, from a grave of rags. Who is the landlord here? — I am, Mr. Field! says a bundle of ribs62 and parchment against the wall, scratching itself. — Will you spend this money fairly, in the morning, to buy coffee for ’em all? — Yes, sir, I will! — O he’ll do it, sir, he’ll do it fair. He’s honest! cry the spectres. And with thanks and Good Night sink into their graves again.
Thus, we make our New Oxford Streets, and our other new streets, never heeding63, never asking, where the wretches64 whom we clear out, crowd. With such scenes at our doors, with all the plagues of Egypt tied up with bits of cobweb in kennels65 so near our homes, we timorously66 make our Nuisance Bills and Boards of Health, nonentities67, and think to keep away the Wolves of Crime and Filth, by our electioneering ducking to little vestrymen and our gentlemanly handling of Red Tape!
Intelligence of the coffee-money has got abroad. The yard is full, and Rogers of the flaming eye is beleaguered68 with entreaties69 to show other Lodging Houses. Mine next! Mine! Mine! Rogers, military, obdurate70, stiff-necked, immovable, replies not, but leads away; all falling back before him. Inspector Field follows. Detective Sergeant, with his barrier of arm across the little passage, deliberately71 waits to close the procession. He sees behind him, without any effort, and exceedingly disturbs one individual far in the rear by coolly calling out, ‘It won’t do, Mr. Michael! Don’t try it!’
After council holden in the street, we enter other lodging-houses, public-houses, many lairs72 and holes; all noisome73 and offensive; none so filthy74 and so crowded as where Irish are. In one, The Ethiopian party are expected home presently — were in Oxford Street when last heard of — shall be fetched, for our delight, within ten minutes. In another, one of the two or three Professors who drew Napoleon Buonaparte and a couple of mackerel, on the pavement and then let the work of art out to a speculator, is refreshing75 after his labours. In another, the vested interest of the profitable nuisance has been in one family for a hundred years, and the landlord drives in comfortably from the country to his snug76 little stew77 in town. In all, Inspector Field is received with warmth. Coiners and smashers droop78 before him; pickpockets79 defer80 to him; the gentle sex (not very gentle here) smile upon him. Half-drunken hags check themselves in the midst of pots of beer, or pints81 of gin, to drink to Mr. Field, and pressingly to ask the honour of his finishing the draught82. One beldame in rusty83 black has such admiration84 for him, that she runs a whole street’s length to shake him by the hand; tumbling into a heap of mud by the way, and still pressing her attentions when her very form has ceased to be distinguishable through it. Before the power of the law, the power of superior sense — for common thieves are fools beside these men — and the power of a perfect mastery of their character, the garrison85 of Rats’ Castle and the adjacent Fortresses86 make but a skulking87 show indeed when reviewed by Inspector Field.
Saint Giles’s clock says it will be midnight in half-an-hour, and Inspector Field says we must hurry to the Old Mint in the Borough88. The cab-driver is low-spirited, and has a solemn sense of his responsibility. Now, what’s your fare, my lad? — O YOU know, Inspector Field, what’s the good of asking ME!
Say, Parker, strapped and great-coated, and waiting in dim Borough doorway89 by appointment, to replace the trusty Rogers whom we left deep in Saint Giles’s, are you ready? Ready, Inspector Field, and at a motion of my wrist behold90 my flaming eye.
This narrow street, sir, is the chief part of the Old Mint, full of low lodging-houses, as you see by the transparent91 canvas-lamps and blinds, announcing beds for travellers! But it is greatly changed, friend Field, from my former knowledge of it; it is infinitely92 quieter and more subdued93 than when I was here last, some seven years ago? O yes! Inspector Haynes, a first-rate man, is on this station now and plays the Devil with them!
Well, my lads! How are you to-night, my lads? Playing cards here, eh? Who wins? — Why, Mr. Field, I, the sulky gentleman with the damp flat side-curls, rubbing my bleared eye with the end of my neckerchief which is like a dirty eel-skin, am losing just at present, but I suppose I must take my pipe out of my mouth, and be submissive to YOU— I hope I see you well, Mr. Field? — Aye, all right, my lad. Deputy, who have you got up-stairs? Be pleased to show the rooms!
Why Deputy, Inspector Field can’t say. He only knows that the man who takes care of the beds and lodgers94 is always called so. Steady, O Deputy, with the flaring95 candle in the blacking-bottle, for this is a slushy back-yard, and the wooden staircase outside the house creaks and has holes in it.
Again, in these confined intolerable rooms, burrowed96 out like the holes of rats or the nests of insect-vermin, but fuller of intolerable smells, are crowds of sleepers97, each on his foul99 truckle-bed coiled up beneath a rug. Holloa here! Come! Let us see you! Show your face! Pilot Parker goes from bed to bed and turns their slumbering100 heads towards us, as a salesman might turn sheep. Some wake up with an execration101 and a threat. — What! who spoke102? O! If it’s the accursed glaring eye that fixes me, go where I will, I am helpless. Here! I sit up to be looked at. Is it me you want? Not you, lie down again! and I lie down, with a woful growl103.
Whenever the turning lane of light becomes stationary104 for a moment, some sleeper98 appears at the end of it, submits himself to be scrutinised, and fades away into the darkness.
There should be strange dreams here, Deputy. They sleep sound enough, says Deputy, taking the candle out of the blacking-bottle, snuffing it with his fingers, throwing the snuff into the bottle, and corking105 it up with the candle; that’s all I know. What is the inscription106, Deputy, on all the discoloured sheets? A precaution against loss of linen107. Deputy turns down the rug of an unoccupied bed and discloses it. STOP THIEF!
To lie at night, wrapped in the legend of my slinking life; to take the cry that pursues me, waking, to my breast in sleep; to have it staring at me, and clamouring for me, as soon as consciousness returns; to have it for my first-foot on New-Year’s day, my Valentine, my Birthday salute108, my Christmas greeting, my parting with the old year. STOP THIEF!
And to know that I MUST be stopped, come what will. To know that I am no match for this individual energy and keenness, or this organised and steady system! Come across the street, here, and, entering by a little shop and yard, examine these intricate passages and doors, contrived109 for escape, flapping and counter-flapping, like the lids of the conjurer’s boxes. But what avail they? Who gets in by a nod, and shows their secret working to us? Inspector Field.
Don’t forget the old Farm House, Parker! Parker is not the man to forget it. We are going there, now. It is the old Manor-House of these parts, and stood in the country once. Then, perhaps, there was something, which was not the beastly street, to see from the shattered low fronts of the overhanging wooden houses we are passing under — shut up now, pasted over with bills about the literature and drama of the Mint, and mouldering110 away. This long paved yard was a paddock or a garden once, or a court in front of the Farm House. Perchance, with a dovecot in the centre, and fowls111 peeking112 about — with fair elm trees, then, where discoloured chimney-stacks and gables are now — noisy, then, with rooks which have yielded to a different sort of rookery. It’s likelier than not, Inspector Field thinks, as we turn into the common kitchen, which is in the yard, and many paces from the house.
Well, my lads and lasses, how are you all? Where’s Blackey, who has stood near London Bridge these five-and-twenty years, with a painted skin to represent disease? — Here he is, Mr. Field! — How are you, Blackey? — Jolly, sa! Not playing the fiddle113 to-night, Blackey? — Not a night, sa! A sharp, smiling youth, the wit of the kitchen, interposes. He an’t musical to-night, sir. I’ve been giving him a moral lecture; I’ve been a talking to him about his latter end, you see. A good many of these are my pupils, sir. This here young man (smoothing down the hair of one near him, reading a Sunday paper) is a pupil of mine. I’m a teaching of him to read, sir. He’s a promising114 cove14, sir. He’s a smith, he is, and gets his living by the sweat of the brow, sir. So do I, myself, sir. This young woman is my sister, Mr. Field. SHE’S getting on very well too. I’ve a deal of trouble with ’em, sir, but I’m richly rewarded, now I see ’em all a doing so well, and growing up so creditable. That’s a great comfort, that is, an’t it, sir? — In the midst of the kitchen (the whole kitchen is in ecstasies115 with this impromptu116 ‘chaff’) sits a young, modest, gentle-looking creature, with a beautiful child in her lap. She seems to belong to the company, but is so strangely unlike it. She has such a pretty, quiet face and voice, and is so proud to hear the child admired — thinks you would hardly believe that he is only nine months old! Is she as bad as the rest, I wonder? Inspectorial117 experience does not engender118 a belief contrariwise, but prompts the answer, Not a ha’porth of difference!
There is a piano going in the old Farm House as we approach. It stops. Landlady119 appears. Has no objections, Mr. Field, to gentlemen being brought, but wishes it were at earlier hours, the lodgers complaining of ill-conwenience. Inspector Field is polite and soothing120 — knows his woman and the sex. Deputy (a girl in this case) shows the way up a heavy, broad old staircase, kept very clean, into clean rooms where many sleepers are, and where painted panels of an older time look strangely on the truckle beds. The sight of whitewash121 and the smell of soap — two things we seem by this time to have parted from in infancy122 — make the old Farm House a phenomenon, and connect themselves with the so curiously123 misplaced picture of the pretty mother and child long after we have left it, — long after we have left, besides, the neighbouring nook with something of a rustic124 flavour in it yet, where once, beneath a low wooden colonnade125 still standing as of yore, the eminent126 Jack Sheppard condescended127 to regale129 himself, and where, now, two old bachelor brothers in broad hats (who are whispered in the Mint to have made a compact long ago that if either should ever marry, he must forfeit131 his share of the joint132 property) still keep a sequestered133 tavern134, and sit o’ nights smoking pipes in the bar, among ancient bottles and glasses, as our eyes behold them.
How goes the night now? Saint George of Southwark answers with twelve blows upon his bell. Parker, good night, for Williams is already waiting over in the region of Ratcliffe Highway, to show the houses where the sailors dance.
I should like to know where Inspector Field was born. In Ratcliffe Highway, I would have answered with confidence, but for his being equally at home wherever we go. HE does not trouble his head as I do, about the river at night. HE does not care for its creeping, black and silent, on our right there, rushing through sluice-gates, lapping at piles and posts and iron rings, hiding strange things in its mud, running away with suicides and accidentally drowned bodies faster than midnight funeral should, and acquiring such various experience between its cradle and its grave. It has no mystery for HIM. Is there not the Thames Police!
Accordingly, Williams leads the way. We are a little late, for some of the houses are already closing. No matter. You show us plenty. All the landlords know Inspector Field. All pass him, freely and good-humouredly, wheresoever he wants to go. So thoroughly135 are all these houses open to him and our local guide, that, granting that sailors must be entertained in their own way — as I suppose they must, and have a right to be — I hardly know how such places could be better regulated. Not that I call the company very select, or the dancing very graceful136 — even so graceful as that of the German Sugar Bakers137, whose assembly, by the Minories, we stopped to visit — but there is watchful138 maintenance of order in every house, and swift expulsion where need is. Even in the midst of drunkenness, both of the lethargic139 kind and the lively, there is sharp landlord supervision140, and pockets are in less peril141 than out of doors. These houses show, singularly, how much of the picturesque142 and romantic there truly is in the sailor, requiring to be especially addressed. All the songs (sung in a hailstorm of halfpence, which are pitched at the singer without the least tenderness for the time or tune143 — mostly from great rolls of copper carried for the purpose — and which he occasionally dodges144 like shot as they fly near his head) are of the sentimental145 sea sort. All the rooms are decorated with nautical146 subjects. Wrecks147, engagements, ships on fire, ships passing lighthouses on iron-bound coasts, ships blowing up, ships going down, ships running ashore148, men lying out upon the main-yard in a gale130 of wind, sailors and ships in every variety of peril, constitute the illustrations of fact. Nothing can be done in the fanciful way, without a thumping149 boy upon a scaly150 dolphin.
How goes the night now? Past one. Black and Green are waiting in Whitechapel to unveil the mysteries of Wentworth Street. Williams, the best of friends must part. Adieu!
Are not Black and Green ready at the appointed place? O yes! They glide151 out of shadow as we stop. Imperturbable152 Black opens the cab-door; Imperturbable Green takes a mental note of the driver. Both Green and Black then open each his flaming eye, and marshal us the way that we are going.
The lodging-house we want is hidden in a maze153 of streets and courts. It is fast shut. We knock at the door, and stand hushed looking up for a light at one or other of the begrimed old lattice windows in its ugly front, when another constable comes up — supposes that we want ‘to see the school.’ Detective Sergeant meanwhile has got over a rail, opened a gate, dropped down an area, overcome some other little obstacles, and tapped at a window. Now returns. The landlord will send a deputy immediately.
Deputy is heard to stumble out of bed. Deputy lights a candle, draws back a bolt or two, and appears at the door. Deputy is a shivering shirt and trousers by no means clean, a yawning face, a shock head much confused externally and internally. We want to look for some one. You may go up with the light, and take ’em all, if you like, says Deputy, resigning it, and sitting down upon a bench in the kitchen with his ten fingers sleepily twisting in his hair.
Halloa here! Now then! Show yourselves. That’ll do. It’s not you. Don’t disturb yourself any more! So on, through a labyrinth154 of airless rooms, each man responding, like a wild beast, to the keeper who has tamed him, and who goes into his cage. What, you haven’t found him, then? says Deputy, when we came down. A woman mysteriously sitting up all night in the dark by the smouldering ashes of the kitchen fire, says it’s only tramps and cadgers here; it’s gonophs over the way. A man mysteriously walking about the kitchen all night in the dark, bids her hold her tongue. We come out. Deputy fastens the door and goes to bed again.
Black and Green, you know Bark, lodging-house keeper and receiver of stolen goods? — O yes, Inspector Field. — Go to Bark’s next.
Bark sleeps in an inner wooden hutch, near his street door. As we parley155 on the step with Bark’s Deputy, Bark growls156 in his bed. We enter, and Bark flies out of bed. Bark is a red villain42 and a wrathful, with a sanguine157 throat that looks very much as if it were expressly made for hanging, as he stretches it out, in pale defiance158, over the half-door of his hutch. Bark’s parts of speech are of an awful sort — principally adjectives. I won’t, says Bark, have no adjective police and adjective strangers in my adjective premises159! I won’t, by adjective and substantive160! Give me my trousers, and I’ll send the whole adjective police to adjective and substantive! Give me, says Bark, my adjective trousers! I’ll put an adjective knife in the whole bileing of ’em. I’ll punch their adjective heads. I’ll rip up their adjective substantives161. Give me my adjective trousers! says Bark, and I’ll spile the bileing of ’em!
Now, Bark, what’s the use of this? Here’s Black and Green, Detective Sergeant, and Inspector Field. You know we will come in. — I know you won’t! says Bark. Somebody give me my adjective trousers! Bark’s trousers seem difficult to find. He calls for them as Hercules might for his club. Give me my adjective trousers! says Bark, and I’ll spile the bileing of ’em!
Inspector Field holds that it’s all one whether Bark likes the visit or don’t like it. He, Inspector Field, is an Inspector of the Detective Police, Detective Sergeant IS Detective Sergeant, Black and Green are constables in uniform. Don’t you be a fool, Bark, or you know it will be the worse for you. — I don’t care, says Bark. Give me my adjective trousers!
At two o’clock in the morning, we descend128 into Bark’s low kitchen, leaving Bark to foam162 at the mouth above, and Imperturbable Black and Green to look at him. Bark’s kitchen is crammed163 full of thieves, holding a CONVERSAZIONE there by lamp-light. It is by far the most dangerous assembly we have seen yet. Stimulated164 by the ravings of Bark, above, their looks are sullen, but not a man speaks. We ascend165 again. Bark has got his trousers, and is in a state of madness in the passage with his back against a door that shuts off the upper staircase. We observe, in other respects, a ferocious166 individuality in Bark. Instead of ‘STOP THIEF!’ on his linen, he prints ‘STOLEN FROM Bark’s!’
Now, Bark, we are going up-stairs! — No, you ain’t! — YOU refuse admission to the Police, do you, Bark? — Yes, I do! I refuse it to all the adjective police, and to all the adjective substantives. If the adjective coves167 in the kitchen was men, they’d come up now, and do for you! Shut me that there door! says Bark, and suddenly we are enclosed in the passage. They’d come up and do for you! cries Bark, and waits. Not a sound in the kitchen! They’d come up and do for you! cries Bark again, and waits. Not a sound in the kitchen! We are shut up, half-a-dozen of us, in Bark’s house in the innermost recesses168 of the worst part of London, in the dead of the night — the house is crammed with notorious robbers and ruffians — and not a man stirs. No, Bark. They know the weight of the law, and they know Inspector Field and Co. too well.
We leave bully169 Bark to subside170 at leisure out of his passion and his trousers, and, I dare say, to be inconveniently171 reminded of this little brush before long. Black and Green do ordinary duty here, and look serious.
As to White, who waits on Holborn Hill to show the courts that are eaten out of Rotten Gray’s Inn, Lane, where other lodging-houses are, and where (in one blind alley) the Thieves’ Kitchen and Seminary for the teaching of the art to children is, the night has so worn away, being now
almost at odds172 with morning, which is which,
that they are quiet, and no light shines through the chinks in the shutters173. As undistinctive Death will come here, one day, sleep comes now. The wicked cease from troubling sometimes, even in this life.
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eddy
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inspector
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commissioner
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standing
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| n.持续，地位；adj.永久的，不动的，直立的，不流动的 | |
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7
sergeant
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| n.警官，中士 | |
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8
unpacking
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| n.取出货物，拆包[箱]v.从（包裹等）中取出（所装的东西），打开行李取出( unpack的现在分词 )；拆包；解除…的负担；吐露（心事等） | |
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9
guardian
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| n.监护人；守卫者，保护者 | |
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10
solitary
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| adj.孤独的，独立的，荒凉的；n.隐士 | |
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11
vigilant
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| adj.警觉的，警戒的，警惕的 | |
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12
monstrous
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| adj.巨大的；恐怖的；可耻的，丢脸的 | |
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13
spacious
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| adj.广阔的，宽敞的 | |
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14
cove
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| n.小海湾，小峡谷 | |
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15
crouching
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| v.屈膝，蹲伏( crouch的现在分词 ) | |
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16
scent
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| n.气味，香味，香水，线索，嗅觉；v.嗅，发觉 | |
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17
adventurous
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| adj.爱冒险的；惊心动魄的，惊险的，刺激的 | |
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18
jack
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| n.插座，千斤顶，男人；v.抬起，提醒，扛举；n.（Jake）杰克 | |
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19
copper
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| n.铜；铜币；铜器；adj.铜(制)的；(紫)铜色的 | |
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20
warily
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| adv.留心地 | |
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21
constable
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| n.(英国)警察，警官 | |
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22
confide
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| v.向某人吐露秘密 | |
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23
raving
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| adj.说胡话的；疯狂的，怒吼的；非常漂亮的；令人醉心[痴心]的v.胡言乱语(rave的现在分词)n.胡话；疯话adv.胡言乱语地；疯狂地 | |
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24
screeched
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| v.发出尖叫声( screech的过去式和过去分词 )；发出粗而刺耳的声音；高叫 | |
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25
passionate
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| adj.热情的，热烈的，激昂的，易动情的，易怒的，性情暴躁的 | |
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26
soothed
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| v.安慰( soothe的过去式和过去分词 )；抚慰；使舒服；减轻痛苦 | |
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27
pickpocket
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| n.扒手；v.扒窃 | |
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28
meek
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| adj.温顺的，逆来顺受的 | |
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29
pauper
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| n.贫民，被救济者，穷人 | |
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30
beetles
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| n.甲虫( beetle的名词复数 ) | |
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31
strapped
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| adj.用皮带捆住的，用皮带装饰的；身无分文的；缺钱；手头紧v.用皮带捆扎(strap的过去式和过去分词)；用皮带抽打；包扎；给…打绷带 | |
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32
deformed
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| adj.畸形的；变形的；丑的，破相了的 | |
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33
deviously
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| 弯曲地，绕道地 | |
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34
blindfold
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| vt.蒙住…的眼睛；adj.盲目的；adv.盲目地；n.蒙眼的绷带[布等]； 障眼物，蒙蔽人的事物 | |
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35
filth
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| n.肮脏，污物，污秽；淫猥 | |
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36
vile
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| adj.卑鄙的，可耻的，邪恶的；坏透的 | |
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37
animate
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| v.赋于生命，鼓励；adj.有生命的，有生气的 | |
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38
overflowing
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| n. 溢出物,溢流 adj. 充沛的，充满的 动词overflow的现在分词形式 | |
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39
brutal
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| adj.残忍的，野蛮的，不讲理的 | |
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40
blustered
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| v.外强中干的威吓( bluster的过去式和过去分词 )；咆哮；（风）呼啸；狂吹 | |
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41
smoothly
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| adv.平滑地，顺利地，流利地，流畅地 | |
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42
villain
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| n.反派演员，反面人物；恶棍；问题的起因 | |
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43
sycophantic
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| adj.阿谀奉承的 | |
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44
murmur
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| n.低语，低声的怨言；v.低语，低声而言 | |
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45
importunate
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| adj.强求的；纠缠不休的 | |
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46
den
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| n.兽穴；秘密地方；安静的小房间，私室 | |
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47
discomfited
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| v.使为难( discomfit的过去式和过去分词)；使狼狈；使挫折；挫败 | |
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48
sneak
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| vt.潜行(隐藏,填石缝)；偷偷摸摸做；n.潜行；adj.暗中进行 | |
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49
constables
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| n.警察( constable的名词复数 ) | |
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50
raggedness
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| 破烂，粗糙 | |
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51
noted
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| adj.著名的，知名的 | |
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52
bustling
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| adj.喧闹的 | |
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53
cowers
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| v.畏缩，抖缩( cower的第三人称单数 ) | |
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54
propitiate
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| v.慰解，劝解 | |
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55
paralysis
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| n.麻痹(症)；瘫痪(症) | |
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56
Oxford
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| n.牛津（英国城市） | |
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57
lodging
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| n.寄宿，住所；(大学生的)校外宿舍 | |
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58
awakened
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| v.（使）醒( awaken的过去式和过去分词 )；（使）觉醒；弄醒；（使）意识到 | |
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59
eldest
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| adj.最年长的，最年老的 | |
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60
sullen
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| adj.愠怒的，闷闷不乐的，(天气等)阴沉的 | |
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61
spectral
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| adj.幽灵的，鬼魂的 | |
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62
ribs
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| n.肋骨( rib的名词复数 )；（船或屋顶等的）肋拱；肋骨状的东西；（织物的）凸条花纹 | |
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63
heeding
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| v.听某人的劝告，听从( heed的现在分词 ) | |
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64
wretches
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| n.不幸的人( wretch的名词复数 )；可怜的人；恶棍；坏蛋 | |
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65
kennels
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| n.主人外出时的小动物寄养处，养狗场；狗窝( kennel的名词复数 )；养狗场 | |
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66
timorously
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| adv.胆怯地，羞怯地 | |
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67
nonentities
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| n.无足轻重的人( nonentity的名词复数 )；蝼蚁 | |
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68
beleaguered
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| adj.受到围困[围攻]的；包围的v.围攻( beleaguer的过去式和过去分词)；困扰；骚扰 | |
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69
entreaties
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| n.恳求，乞求( entreaty的名词复数 ) | |
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70
obdurate
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| adj.固执的，顽固的 | |
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71
deliberately
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| adv.审慎地；蓄意地；故意地 | |
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72
lairs
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| n.（野兽的）巢穴，窝( lair的名词复数 )；（人的）藏身处 | |
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73
noisome
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| adj.有害的，可厌的 | |
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74
filthy
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| adj.卑劣的；恶劣的，肮脏的 | |
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75
refreshing
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| adj.使精神振作的，使人清爽的，使人喜欢的 | |
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76
snug
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| adj.温暖舒适的，合身的，安全的；v.使整洁干净，舒适地依靠，紧贴；n.（英）酒吧里的私房 | |
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77
stew
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| n.炖汤，焖，烦恼；v.炖汤，焖，忧虑 | |
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78
droop
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| v.低垂，下垂；凋萎，萎靡 | |
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79
pickpockets
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| n.扒手( pickpocket的名词复数 ) | |
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80
defer
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| vt.推迟，拖延；vi.(to)遵从，听从，服从 | |
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81
pints
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| n.品脱( pint的名词复数 )；一品脱啤酒 | |
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82
draught
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| n.拉，牵引，拖；一网（饮，吸，阵)；顿服药量，通风；v.起草，设计 | |
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83
rusty
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| adj.生锈的；锈色的；荒废了的 | |
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84
admiration
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| n.钦佩，赞美，羡慕 | |
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85
garrison
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| n.卫戍部队；驻地，卫戍区；vt.派(兵)驻防 | |
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86
fortresses
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| 堡垒，要塞( fortress的名词复数 ) | |
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87
skulking
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| v.潜伏，偷偷摸摸地走动，鬼鬼祟祟地活动( skulk的现在分词 ) | |
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88
borough
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| n.享有自治权的市镇；(英)自治市镇 | |
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89
doorway
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| n.门口，(喻)入门；门路，途径 | |
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90
behold
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| v.看，注视，看到 | |
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91
transparent
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| adj.明显的，无疑的；透明的 | |
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92
infinitely
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| adv.无限地，无穷地 | |
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93
subdued
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| adj. 屈服的，柔和的，减弱的 动词subdue的过去式和过去分词 | |
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94
lodgers
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| n.房客，租住者( lodger的名词复数 ) | |
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95
flaring
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| a.火焰摇曳的，过份艳丽的 | |
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96
burrowed
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| v.挖掘（洞穴），挖洞( burrow的过去式和过去分词 )；翻寻 | |
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97
sleepers
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| n.卧铺（通常以复数形式出现）；卧车( sleeper的名词复数 )；轨枕；睡觉（呈某种状态）的人；小耳环 | |
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98
sleeper
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| n.睡眠者，卧车，卧铺 | |
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99
foul
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| adj.污秽的；邪恶的；v.弄脏；妨害；犯规；n.犯规 | |
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100
slumbering
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| 微睡，睡眠（slumber的现在分词形式） | |
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101
execration
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| n.诅咒，念咒，憎恶 | |
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102
spoke
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| n.（车轮的）辐条；轮辐；破坏某人的计划；阻挠某人的行动 v.讲，谈（speak的过去式）；说；演说；从某种观点来说 | |
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103
growl
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| v.（狗等）嗥叫，（炮等）轰鸣；n.嗥叫，轰鸣 | |
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104
stationary
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| adj.固定的，静止不动的 | |
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105
corking
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| adj.很好的adv.非常地v.用瓶塞塞住( cork的现在分词 ) | |
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106
inscription
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| n.（尤指石块上的）刻印文字，铭文，碑文 | |
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107
linen
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| n.亚麻布，亚麻线，亚麻制品；adj.亚麻布制的，亚麻的 | |
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108
salute
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| vi.行礼，致意，问候，放礼炮；vt.向…致意，迎接，赞扬；n.招呼，敬礼，礼炮 | |
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109
contrived
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| adj.不自然的，做作的；虚构的 | |
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110
mouldering
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| v.腐朽( moulder的现在分词 )；腐烂，崩塌 | |
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111
fowls
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| 鸟( fowl的名词复数 )； 禽肉； 既不是这； 非驴非马 | |
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112
peeking
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| v.很快地看( peek的现在分词 )；偷看；窥视；微露出 | |
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113
fiddle
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| n.小提琴；vi.拉提琴；不停拨弄，乱动 | |
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114
promising
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| adj.有希望的，有前途的 | |
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115
ecstasies
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| 狂喜( ecstasy的名词复数 )； 出神； 入迷； 迷幻药 | |
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116
impromptu
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| adj.即席的，即兴的；adv.即兴的(地)，无准备的(地) | |
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117
inspectorial
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| n.检查员；视察员；检查员的管辖区 | |
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118
engender
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| v.产生，引起 | |
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119
landlady
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| n.女房东，女地主 | |
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120
soothing
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| adj.慰藉的；使人宽心的；镇静的 | |
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121
whitewash
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| v.粉刷，掩饰；n.石灰水，粉刷，掩饰 | |
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122
infancy
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| n.婴儿期；幼年期；初期 | |
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123
curiously
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| adv.有求知欲地；好问地；奇特地 | |
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124
rustic
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| adj.乡村的，有乡村特色的；n.乡下人，乡巴佬 | |
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125
colonnade
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| n.柱廊 | |
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126
eminent
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| adj.显赫的，杰出的，有名的，优良的 | |
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127
condescended
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| 屈尊，俯就( condescend的过去式和过去分词 )； 故意表示和蔼可亲 | |
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128
descend
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| vt./vi.传下来，下来，下降 | |
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129
regale
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| v.取悦，款待 | |
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130
gale
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| n.大风，强风，一阵闹声（尤指笑声等） | |
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131
forfeit
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| vt.丧失；n.罚金，罚款，没收物 | |
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132
joint
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| adj.联合的，共同的；n.关节，接合处；v.连接，贴合 | |
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133
sequestered
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| adj.扣押的；隐退的；幽静的；偏僻的v.使隔绝，使隔离( sequester的过去式和过去分词 )；扣押 | |
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134
tavern
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| n.小旅馆，客栈；小酒店 | |
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135
thoroughly
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| adv.完全地，彻底地，十足地 | |
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136
graceful
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| adj.优美的，优雅的；得体的 | |
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137
bakers
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| n.面包师( baker的名词复数 )；面包店；面包店店主；十三 | |
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138
watchful
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| adj.注意的，警惕的 | |
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139
lethargic
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| adj.昏睡的，懒洋洋的 | |
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140
supervision
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| n.监督，管理 | |
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141
peril
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| n.(严重的)危险；危险的事物 | |
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picturesque
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| adj.美丽如画的，（语言）生动的，绘声绘色的 | |
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143
tune
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| n.调子；和谐，协调；v.调音，调节，调整 | |
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144
dodges
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| n.闪躲( dodge的名词复数 )；躲避；伎俩；妙计v.闪躲( dodge的第三人称单数 )；回避 | |
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145
sentimental
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| adj.多愁善感的，感伤的 | |
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146
nautical
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| adj.海上的，航海的，船员的 | |
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147
wrecks
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| n.沉船( wreck的名词复数 )；（事故中）遭严重毁坏的汽车（或飞机等）；（身体或精神上）受到严重损伤的人；状况非常糟糕的车辆（或建筑物等）v.毁坏[毁灭]某物( wreck的第三人称单数 )；使（船舶）失事，使遇难，使下沉 | |
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ashore
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| adv.在(向)岸上，上岸 | |
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thumping
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| adj.重大的，巨大的；重击的；尺码大的；极好的adv.极端地；非常地v.重击(thump的现在分词)；狠打；怦怦地跳；全力支持 | |
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150
scaly
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| adj.鱼鳞状的；干燥粗糙的 | |
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151
glide
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| n./v.溜，滑行；(时间)消逝 | |
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152
imperturbable
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| adj.镇静的 | |
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153
maze
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| n.迷宫，八阵图，混乱，迷惑 | |
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154
labyrinth
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| n.迷宫；难解的事物；迷路 | |
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155
parley
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| n.谈判 | |
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156
growls
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| v.（动物）发狺狺声， （雷）作隆隆声( growl的第三人称单数 )；低声咆哮着说 | |
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sanguine
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| adj.充满希望的，乐观的，血红色的 | |
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defiance
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| n.挑战，挑衅，蔑视，违抗 | |
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159
premises
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| n.建筑物，房屋 | |
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substantive
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| adj.表示实在的；本质的、实质性的；独立的；n.实词，实名词；独立存在的实体 | |
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161
substantives
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| n.作名词用的词或词组（substantive的复数形式） | |
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foam
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| v./n.泡沫，起泡沫 | |
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163
crammed
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| adj.塞满的，挤满的；大口地吃；快速贪婪地吃v.把…塞满；填入；临时抱佛脚( cram的过去式) | |
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164
stimulated
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| a.刺激的 | |
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165
ascend
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| vi.渐渐上升，升高；vt.攀登，登上 | |
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166
ferocious
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| adj.凶猛的，残暴的，极度的，十分强烈的 | |
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167
coves
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| n.小海湾( cove的名词复数 )；家伙 | |
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168
recesses
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| n.壁凹( recess的名词复数 )；（工作或业务活动的）中止或暂停期间；学校的课间休息；某物内部的凹形空间v.把某物放在墙壁的凹处( recess的第三人称单数 )；将（墙）做成凹形，在（墙）上做壁龛；休息，休会，休庭 | |
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169
bully
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| n.恃强欺弱者，小流氓；vt.威胁，欺侮 | |
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170
subside
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| vi.平静，平息；下沉，塌陷，沉降 | |
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171
inconveniently
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| ad.不方便地 | |
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172
odds
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| n.让步，机率，可能性，比率；胜败优劣之别 | |
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173
shutters
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| 百叶窗( shutter的名词复数 )； （照相机的）快门 | |
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