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.His boots were hardly visible beneath the hem of his coat, though from what I could see of them they were held together with strips of cloth and tar.Will greeted the old man cordially.They shook hands, Dick’s face aglow with pleasure.I wondered when anyone but Will had touched his hand, or shown any interest in him at all, and I felt wretched.It would not have taken much to visit the old chap now and then, and yet I had never bothered to do so.I shook his hand too.The ancient bandages that bound his palms were damp and sticky.I tried not to shudder.As soon as the door to Dick’s hovel closed behind us, I wished we had stayed outside.The place was repulsive – filthy and low ceilinged, rank with mildew and smoke and the stench of burnt food.The table was fit only for firewood, and the chair (upon which Will sat as guest of honour) leaned drunkenly.The hearth was a blackened pit set into the wall of the cottage, the coals mean and brown and discharging a trickle of acrid smoke.I felt instantly unclean.‘Been here for ever,’ Dick was saying in answer to something Will had asked.‘Born here too.’ He jabbed a tortoiseshell fingernail at me.‘I know you.You’re Jeremiah Flockhart’s lass.’‘Lad,’ I said.‘That what you tell ’em, is it?’I slid Will a glance, but he was looking in disgust at something slimy on the table top that he had leaned in, and he didn’t seem to have noticed.‘Were you out in the graveyard last night, Mr Wrigley?’ I said.‘Who’s Mr Wrigley?’ cried Dick, suddenly looking fearful.‘You are, sir,’ said Will.‘Your name is in the parish register.’‘But I’m Ol’ Dick.’Out of the corner of my eye I could see Will smiling at my exasperation.‘Well, Old Dick,’ I said.‘Were you out in the graveyard last night?’‘I’m always out there.’ He spoke as though my question was the stupidest thing he had ever heard.‘At night?’‘Course at night!’‘Did you see anyone last night?’He grinned, revealing empty gums.‘I always sees ’em when they come,’ he said.‘It’s them young doctors.They come to dig ’em up.The ones I just put in the ground.’‘That was years ago, Dick,’ I said.‘There are no resurrection men now.I’m talking about last night.’‘Frighten ’em with me lantern, I do,’ said Dick.‘And me dog.’‘You don’t have a dog,’ I said.‘Don’t I?’ Dick frowned.‘But I always ’ave a dog.’I glanced at Will.‘He’s never had a dog,’ I muttered.‘I’m eighty!’ cried Dick.‘Ninety! One hunner! I’ve had plenty o’ dogs!’I sighed.‘Thank you, Dick.’ This was useless; the old fellow was talking gibberish.I made as if to leave.But Dick was speaking again.His tiny eyes shifted from my face to Will’s, his right eye dead and misted with cataracts, his left blinking in the candlelight, as bright as an apple pip.‘Used to watch ’em,’ he said.‘Them what came from the ’ospital.Dug up anyone they could.Paid me not to see, but I always saw.Sometimes I took their money, sometimes I didn’t.Up to me, ain’t it? Took a stick to ’em once, chased ’em out the place.’Ad my dog then.’ He chuckled, and shook his head.‘In and out the ground they go.In and out and in again.No peace for ’em even here.Even now.’‘In again?’ said Will.Dick nodded sagely.‘Puttin’ ’em in.They did that too.That’s my job, ain’t it, and I can’t say as they did it right.But I left ’em to it.No one asks Ol’ Dick nuffink any more, so why should I tell ’em how to do the job like it should be done? Why should I tell ’em where they should be diggin’?’‘I’m asking you,’ said Will.‘You know this graveyard better than anyone, Dick.Did you see them last night?’‘Yes,’ said Dick.‘Who?’ I cried.‘Medicals,’ said Dick.‘Always the same ones.’I sat forward.‘Did you see who they were? Their faces? Can you describe them? How many did you see?’‘Nah!’ said Dick, recoiling.He scowled at me.‘Didn’t see nuffink!’‘Come along, man,’ I cried.‘You said you saw someone, so who did you see?’Will put a hand on my arm.He stood up, and coaxed Dick to sit on the chair, then crouched down at the old man’s side.‘Now, Dick, just you tell us what you saw.You remember last night, don’t you? Out there in the dark.Who did you see? Could you tell who it was?’‘Yessir,’ Dick nodded, peering down at Will fondly.‘It’s one to watch and two to dig, when they’re takin’ ’em out.Take it in turns, that’s the way.But not when they put ’em in.When they put ’em in there’s two of ’em – man and boy.Should o’ taken my dog an’ chased ’em.’ He stroked his chin and looked perplexed.‘Didn’t atcherly see ’em dig though.Not this time.Didn’t hear ’em dig neither.Usually do.Must be me deafness.’ He frowned.‘Used to be dark when they came.Dark as pitch, and the lantern movin’ amongst the gravestones like will-o’-the-wisp.Even that’s changed now.They come in the moonlight now.’ He grinned.‘One big-small.Nine guineas, when it’s the season for cuttin’ ’em up! But I’ll let you take ’em all if you give me a shillin’.’Will smiled, and pressed a coin into the old man’s hand.‘You drive a hard bargain, sir,’ he said.‘But I will take them all.’‘Two of them,’ I said, as we walked back to the excavations.‘He said he saw two of them.A man and a boy.A boy! D’you think one of Joe’s gang is a party to his murder?’‘Unless he was referring to Joe himself.Perhaps he meant Joe and his attacker.’‘Perhaps.And he said there was no digging.“Didn’t see ’em dig, didn’t hear ’em dig neither.” That’s because there was no digging, not last night.’‘What did he mean by “One big-small”?’ said Will.‘It’s resurrection men’s talk for a large child,’ I said.I had not heard the term for years.‘Nine guineas was the top price some anatomy schools paid.And Dick was surprised to see them putting the body into the ground rather than taking it out.“That’s my job,” he said.Pity he didn’t see their faces,’ I added.We fell silent as we walked back towards the mound of bones.The rain drummed on the hoods of our oilskins and trickled down our faces.The men laboured in the pit, and around the bone pile, but they did so in silence, their faces turned to their grim work [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]