Dodger

the bank, Dodger reminded Solomon, somewhat reluctantly, that he was due in the offices of
Punch
magazine, so that some artist or other could draw a picture of him for the front cover.
    Mister Tenniel turned out to be a young man only a little bit older than Dodger and whose brown hair seemed closer to red. With Dodger in a seat in front of him, the two of them chatted away while the artist drew. Being drawn by Mister Tenniel wasn’t all that difficult, and a lot less difficult, Solomon said, than being drawn and quartered, at least. That was apparently a Solomon joke; one he didn’t explain to Dodger.
    Perhaps, Dodger thought, he should have said that the process was not difficult but occasionally worrying, because Mister Tenniel would scribble and scribble and then suddenly dart a glance towards Dodger, which pinned him like a butterfly, and then just as soon disappear as Mister Tenniel got back to the scribbling again. Only the top of his head could be seen as the artist bent over his work, while Solomon sat drinking coffee and reading a complimentary issue of
Punch
.
    To Dodger’s amazement, being drawn didn’t take very much time, and finally Tenniel made a sudden few last-minute adjustments to the portrait on his easel and turned it towards Dodger with a grin. ‘I’m pretty pleased with this, Mister . . . may I call you Dodger? I think I have your essence down pat, but of course the paper is always somewhat cluttered, and I will be expected to add a few other details to give the public some vision of what transpired in Mister Sweeney Todd’s shop. I need to draw Mister Todd too, you know – the public demands both hero and villain.’
    Dodger swallowed. ‘But Mister Todd wasn’t really a villain, sir—’ he tried.
    Tenniel cut him off with a wave of his brush. ‘I hear that Talavera was a most dreadful battle. They say that Wellington simply threw men forward into the mouths of the cannons in abandon, and to great loss of life. One can only hope that the deaths were worth the sacrifice, if that could be possible.’ He shook Dodger by the hand and went on, ‘Mister Dickens told me the truth about what happened on that day in Fleet Street, and it is wonderful, is it not, how the public perception of what is true these days seems always biased towards the macabre? It would seem that the common man likes nothing so much as an ’orrible murder.’ He paused and added, ‘Is there something the matter, Mister Dodger?’
    As often as Tenniel had closely scrutinized Dodger, so had Dodger in his turn scrutinized him. He had seen not what was there, but at one point seen something very subtly out of kilter. It took a while for him to see it properly and to find the words.
    Embarrassed at being caught staring, he decided to make a clean breast of it and said, ‘I believe you have something wrong with your left eye, don’t you, Mister Tenniel? I hope it ain’t too much of a drawback in your profession?’
    The artist’s face froze and then thawed into a lopsided smile. ‘The scar is so small, I believe that you are the first man I have met to notice it. In fact, it was a trivial childhood accident.’
    Dodger, watching the smiling face, thought: Not, I think, so trivial.
    ‘Charlie was right in what he said about you the other day!’
    ‘Oh? Mmm, and what
did
Charlie say about my friend Dodger the other day, if you please, sir?’ Solomon rumbled, standing up and packing the magazine into the depths of his coat. ‘I would very much like to know.’ He smiled, of course, but the wording was emphatic.
    This was most certainly picked up by Tenniel, who blushed and said, ‘Since I have put my foot in it, sir, I can do no more than tell the truth – will you please not tell Mister Dickens that I mentioned it? What he said, in fact, was: “Mister Dodger is so sharp that one day his name will be known on every continent, possibly as a benefactor of mankind, but also quite possibly as the most charming scoundrel ever to be hanged!”’
    Mister Tenniel took a step backwards in amazement when Solomon, laughing, said, ‘Well, at least Mister Dickens is a wonderful judge of character, and directness in a man such as himself is admirable. But should you meet him before I do, please tell him that Solomon Cohen is endeavouring to see that the first option will prevail! Thank you very much for your time, sir, but please excuse us now, because I must go with the young ruffian to a place where he will get