Dodger

epicentre of a hubbub that was loud enough to be considered a hubbub with at least an extra hub, not to mention bub. Faces watched him from every direction, and there was a gasp every time he moved, and in his rather troubled state he dimly heard the voice of one of the peelers who had just emerged from the cellar saying, ‘He just stood there. I mean, he just stood there, eyeball to eyeball with the man, not blinking at all, just waiting for a moment to grab the wretched weapon! We didn’t dare say a word, ’cos we saw the malefactor was in some kind of dream, a dream in the mind of a man flourishing a dreadful weapon! What can I say? I beg you, ladies and gentlemen, do not go down into the cellar. Oh no, ’cos if you do, you might see something that you really would not like to see. Stop them, Fred! Calling it dreadful carnage would not do justice to the crimes. You must trust me on this – I was a soldier once. I was at Talavera and that was bad enough. When I went down there I threw up, so I did, all over the place. I mean, well, the stink! No wonder the neighbours had been complaining! Yes, sir, you sir, can I help you?’
    Blearily, Dodger saw Charles Dickens arrive on the heels of the peelers. Charlie said, ‘My name is Dickens, and I know young Dodger here to be a most excellent and trustworthy individual; he is also the hero who saved the staff of the
Morning Chronicle
just the other evening, and I’m sure you have all heard of that.’
    Dodger began feeling rather better now, especially as there was tremendous applause, and he brightened up still further when he heard somebody in the crowd shout, ‘I propose we make up a subscription for this young man of such exceptional valour! I pledge five crowns!’
    He tried to get to his feet at this point, but Charlie Dickens, who was bending over him, pushed him gently back down into the chair, bent down until his lips were very close to Dodger’s ear and whispered, ‘It would be in order to groan a little in response to your terrible encounter, my friend. Trust me as a journalist; you are a hero of the hour, again, and it would be a pity if an unguarded comment at this juncture spoiled things.’ He leaned an inch closer and whispered, ‘Listen to them shouting out how much they will pledge to the hero, and so I will carefully get you to your feet and take you to the magnificent offices of the
Chronicle
, where I will pen an article the like of which has never been written before, since possibly the time of Caesar.’
    Charlie smiled. Rather like a fox, Dodger thought, in the spinning, roaring, suddenly baffling world. Then he inched closer, and said, ‘Incidentally, my intrepid friend, it would interest you to know that I have been told just now that Mister Sweeney Todd used his razor to slit the throats of six gentlemen who came to him earlier this week for a haircut and a close shave. But for your almost magical response you would have been the seventh of them. And these were my best trousers!’ These words were shouted, or more accurately screamed, because Dodger had thrown up his breakfast all over Charlie.
    Sometime after, Dodger was seated at the long table in the editor’s office of the
Chronicle
, wishing he could be on his way to see Simplicity. Opposite him was Charlie, who was somewhat less angry now since, being a man of means, he had acquired another pair of trousers and sent the other ones to be cleaned. The inner wall of the office was one of those half-height affairs so that people passing by in the newsroom could see what was happening, and now, how they
did
pass by. And linger too, with every writer, journalist and printer finding an excuse to see the young man who, according to the magical telegraph of the streets, had wrestled to the ground the terrible Demon Barber of Fleet Street.
    Dodger was getting rather annoyed about this. ‘I hardly touched ’im! I just pushed ’im gently down and took the wretched razor off ’im, that’s all! Honest! It was as if he had been taking opium or something, ’cos he was seeing dead soldiers – dead men coming towards him, I swear it, and he was talking to them, like he was ashamed that he couldn’t save them. God’s truth, Mister Charlie, I swear I was seeing them too, come the finish! Men blown all to pieces! And worse, like men half blown to pieces and screaming! He wasn’t a demon, mister, although I reckon he may have seen Hell, and I ain’t a hero, sir, I really ain’t. He