<SPAN name="71"></SPAN>
<center>
<h3>CHAPTER LXXI. John Crumb Falls into Trouble</h3>
</center>
<br/>
<br/>It was on a Friday evening, an inauspicious Friday, that poor
Ruby Ruggles had insisted on leaving the security of her Aunt
Pipkin's house with her aristocratic and vicious lover, in spite of
the positive assurance made to her by Mrs Pipkin that if she went
forth in such company she should not be allowed to return.
"Of course you must let her in," Mrs Hurtle had said soon after the
girl's departure. Whereupon Mrs Pipkin had cried. She
knew her own softness too well to suppose it to be possible that
she could keep the girl out in the streets all night; but yet it
was hard upon her, very hard, that she should be so troubled.
"We usen't to have our ways like that when I was young," she said,
sobbing. What was to be the end of it? Was she to be
forced by circumstances to keep the girl always there, let the
girl's conduct be what it might? Nevertheless she
acknowledged that Ruby must be let in when she came back.
Then, about nine o'clock, John Crumb came; and the latter part of
the evening was more melancholy even than the first. It was
impossible to conceal the truth from John Crumb. Mrs Hurtle
saw the poor man and told the story in Mrs Pipkin's presence.
<br/>"She's headstrong, Mr Crumb," said Mrs Hurtle.
<br/>"She is that, ma'am. And it was along wi' the baronite she
went?"
<br/>"It was so, Mr Crumb."
<br/>"Baro-nite! Well;—perhaps I shall catch him some of these
days;—went to dinner wi' him, did she? Didn't she have no
dinner here?"
<br/>Then Mrs Pipkin spoke up with a keen sense of offence.
Ruby Ruggles had had as wholesome a dinner as any young woman in
London,—a bullock's heart and potatoes,—just as much as ever she
had pleased to eat of it. Mrs Pipkin could tell Mr Crumb that
there was "no starvation nor yet no stint in her house." John
Crumb immediately produced a very thick and admirably useful blue
cloth cloak, which he had brought up with him to London from
Bungay, as a present to the woman who had been good to his
Ruby. He assured her that he did not doubt that her victuals
were good and plentiful, and went on to say that he had made bold
to bring her a trifle out of respect. It was some little time
before Mrs Pipkin would allow herself to be appeased;—but at last
she permitted the garment to be placed on her shoulders. But
it was done after a melancholy fashion. There was no smiling
consciousness of the bestowal of joy on the countenance of the
donor as he gave it, no exuberance of thanks from the recipient as
she received it. Mrs Hurtle, standing by, declared it to be
perfect;—but the occasion was one which admitted of no
delight. "It's very good of you, Mr Crumb, to think of an old
woman like me,—particularly when you've such a deal of trouble
with a young un'."
<br/>"It's like the smut in the wheat, Mrs Pipkin, or the d'sease in
the 'tatoes;—it has to be put up with, I suppose. Is she
very partial, ma'am, to that young baronite?" This question
was asked of Mrs Hurtle.
<br/>"Just a fancy for the time, Mr Crumb," said the lady.
<br/>"They never thinks as how their fancies may wellnigh half kill a
man!" Then he was silent for a while, sitting back in his
chair, not moving a limb, with his eyes fastened on Mrs Pipkin's
ceiling. Mrs Hurtle had some work in her hand, and sat
watching him. The man was to her an extraordinary being,—so
constant, so slow, so unexpressive, so unlike her own
countrymen,—willing to endure so much, and at the same time so
warm in his affections! "Sir Felix Carbury!" he said.
"I'll Sir Felix him some of these days. If it was only
dinner, wouldn't she be back afore this, ma'am?"
<br/>"I suppose they've gone to some place of amusement," said Mrs
Hurtle.
<br/>"Like enough," said John Crumb in a low voice.
<br/>"She's that mad after dancing as never was," said Mrs Pipkin.
<br/>"And where is it as 'em dances?" asked Crumb, getting up from
his chair, and stretching himself. It was evident to both the
ladies that he was beginning to think that he would follow Ruby to
the music hall. Neither of them answered him, however, and
then he sat down again. "Does 'em dance all night at them
places, Mrs Pipkin?"
<br/>"They do pretty nearly all that they oughtn't to do," said Mrs
Pipkin. John Crumb raised one of his fists, brought it down
heavily on the palm of his other hand, and then sat silent for
awhile.
<br/>"I never knowed as she was fond o' dancing," he said. "I'd
a had dancing for her down at Bungay,—just as ready as
anything. D'ye think, ma'am, it's the dancing she's after, or
the baro-nite?" This was another appeal to Mrs Hurtle.
<br/>"I suppose they go together," said the lady.
<br/>Then there was another long pause, at the end of which poor John
Crumb burst out with some violence. "Domn him! Domn
him! What 'ad I ever dun to him? Nothing! Did I
ever interfere wi' him? Never! But I wull. I
wull. I wouldn't wonder but I'll swing for this at Bury!"
<br/>"Oh, Mr Crumb, don't talk like that," said Mrs Pipkin.
<br/>"Mr Crumb is a little disturbed, but he'll get over it
presently," said Mrs Hurtle.
<br/>"She's a nasty slut to go and treat a young man as she's
treating you," said Mrs Pipkin.
<br/>"No, ma'am;—she ain't nasty," said the lover. "But she's
crou'll—horrid crou'll. It's no more use my going down about
meal and pollard, nor business, and she up here with that
baro-nite,—no, no more nor nothin'! When I handles it I don't know
whether its middlings nor nothin' else. If I was to twist his
neck, ma'am, would you take it on yourself to say as I was wrong?"
<br/>"I'd sooner hear that you had taken the girl away from him,"
said Mrs Hurtle.
<br/>"I could pretty well eat him,—that's what I could. Half
past eleven; is it? She must come some time, mustn't
she?" Mrs Pipkin, who did not want to burn candles all night
long, declared that she could give no assurance on that head.
If Ruby did come, she should, on that night, be admitted. But
Mrs Pipkin thought that it would be better to get up and let her in
than to sit up for her. Poor Mr Crumb did not at once take
the hint, and remained there for another half-hour, saying little,
but waiting with the hope that Ruby might come. But when the
clock struck twelve he was told that he must go. Then he
slowly collected his limbs and dragged them out of the house.
<br/>"That young man is a good fellow," said Mrs Hurtle as soon as
the door was closed.
<br/>"A deal too good for Ruby Ruggles," said Mrs Pipkin. "And
he can maintain a wife. Mr Carbury says as he's as well to do
as any tradesman down in them parts."
<br/>Mrs Hurtle disliked the name of Mr Carbury, and took this last
statement as no evidence in John Crumb's favour. "I don't
know that I think better of the man for having Mr Carbury's
friendship," she said.
<br/>"Mr Carbury ain't any way like his cousin, Mrs Hurtle."
<br/>"I don't think much of any of the Carburys, Mrs Pipkin. It
seems to me that everybody here is either too humble or too
overbearing. Nobody seems content to stand firm on his own
footing and interfere with nobody else." This was all Greek
to poor Mrs Pipkin. "I suppose we may as well go to bed
now. When that girl comes and knocks, of course we must let
her in. If I hear her, I'll go down and open the door for
her."
<br/>Mrs Pipkin made very many apologies to her lodger for the
condition of her household. She would remain up herself to
answer the door at the first sound, so that Mrs Hurtle should not
be disturbed. She would do her best to prevent any further
annoyance. She trusted Mrs Hurtle would see that she was
endeavouring to do her duty by the naughty wicked girl. And
then she came round to the point of her discourse. She hoped
that Mrs Hurtle would not be induced to quit the rooms by these
disagreeable occurrences. "I don't mind saying it now, Mrs
Hurtle, but your being here is ever so much to me. I ain't
nothing to depend on,—only lodgers, and them as is any good is so
hard to get!" The poor woman hardly understood Mrs Hurtle,
who, as a lodger, was certainly peculiar. She cared nothing
for disturbances, and rather liked than otherwise the task of
endeavouring to assist in the salvation of Ruby. Mrs Hurtle
begged that Mrs Pipkin would go to bed. She would not be in
the least annoyed by the knocking. Another half-hour had thus
been passed by the two ladies in the parlour after Crumb's
departure. Then Mrs Hurtle took her candle and had ascended
the stairs half way to her own sitting-room, when a loud double
knock was heard. She immediately joined Mrs Pipkin in the
passage. The door was opened, and there stood Ruby Ruggles,
John Crumb, and two policemen! Ruby rushed in, and casting
herself on to one of the stairs began to throw her hands about, and
to howl piteously. "Laws a mercy; what is it?" asked Mrs
Pipkin.
<br/>"He's been and murdered him!" screamed Ruby. "He
has! He's been and murdered him!"
<br/>"This young woman is living here;—is she?" asked one of the
policemen.
<br/>"She is living here," said Mrs Hurtle. But now we must go
back to the adventures of John Crumb after he had left the house.
<br/>He had taken a bedroom at a small inn close to the Eastern
Counties Railway Station which he was accustomed to frequent when
business brought him up to London, and thither he proposed to
himself to return. At one time there had come upon him an
idea that he would endeavour to seek Ruby and his enemy among the
dancing saloons of the metropolis; and he had asked a question with
that view. But no answer had been given which seemed to aid
him in his project, and his purpose had been abandoned as being too
complex and requiring more intelligence than he gave himself credit
for possessing. So he had turned down a street with which he
was so far acquainted as to know that it would take him to the
Islington Angel,—where various roads meet, and whence he would
know his way eastwards. He had just passed the Angel, and the
end of Goswell Road, and was standing with his mouth open, looking
about, trying to make certain of himself that he would not go
wrong, thinking that he would ask a policeman whom he saw, and
hesitating because he feared that the man would want to know his
business. Then, of a sudden, he heard a woman scream, and
knew that it was Ruby's voice. The sound was very near him,
but in the glimmer of the gaslight he could not quite see whence it
came. He stood still, putting his hand up to scratch his head
under his hat,—trying to think what, in such an emergency, it
would be well that he should do. Then he heard the voice
distinctly, "I won't;—I won't," and after that a scream.
Then there were further words. "It's no good—I won't."
At last he was able to make up his mind. He rushed after the
sound, and turning down a passage to the right which led back into
Goswell Road, saw Ruby struggling in a man's arms. She had
left the dancing establishment with her lover; and when they had
come to the turn of the passage, there had arisen a question as to
her further destiny for the night. Ruby, though she well
remembered Mrs Pipkin's threats, was minded to try her chance at
her aunt's door. Sir Felix was of opinion that he could make
a preferable arrangement for her; and as Ruby was not at once
amenable to his arguments he had thought that a little gentle force
might avail him. He had therefore dragged Ruby into the
passage. The unfortunate one! That so ill a chance
should have come upon him in the midst of his diversion! He
had swallowed several tumblers of brandy and water, and was
therefore brave with reference to that interference of the police,
the fear of which might otherwise have induced him to relinquish
his hold of Ruby's arm when she first raised her voice. But
what amount of brandy and water would have enabled him to
persevere, could he have dreamed that John Crumb was near
him? On a sudden he found a hand on his coat, and he was
swung violently away, and brought with his back against the
railings so forcibly as to have the breath almost knocked out of
his body. But he could hear Ruby's exclamation, "If it isn't
John Crumb!" Then there came upon him a sense of coming
destruction, as though the world for him were all over; and,
collapsing throughout his limbs, he slunk down upon the ground.
<br/>"Get up, you wiper," said John Crumb. But the baronet
thought it better to cling to the ground. "You sholl get up,"
said John, taking him by the collar of his coat and lifting
him. "Now, Ruby, he's a-going to have it," said John.
Whereupon Ruby screamed at the top of her voice, with a shriek very
much louder than that which had at first attracted John Crumb's
notice.
<br/>"Don't hit a man when he's down," said the baronet, pleading as
though for his life.
<br/>"I wunt," said John;—"but I'll hit a fellow when un's
up." Sir Felix was little more than a child in the man's
arms. John Crumb raised him, and catching him round the neck
with his left arm,—getting his head into chancery as we used to
say when we fought at school,—struck the poor wretch some
half-dozen times violently in the face, not knowing or caring
exactly where he hit him, but at every blow obliterating a
feature. And he would have continued had not Ruby flown at
him and rescued Sir Felix from his arms. "He's about got
enough of it," said John Crumb as he gave over his work. Then
Sir Felix fell again to the ground, moaning fearfully. "I
know'd he'd have to have it," said John Crumb.
<br/>Ruby's screams of course brought the police, one arriving from
each end of the passage on the scene of action at the same
time. And now the cruellest thing of all was that Ruby in the
complaints which she made to the policemen said not a word against
Sir Felix, but was as bitter as she knew how to be in her
denunciations of John Crumb. It was in vain that John
endeavoured to make the man understand that the young woman had
been crying out for protection when he had interfered. Ruby
was very quick of speech and John Crumb was very slow. Ruby
swore that nothing so horrible, so cruel, so bloodthirsty had ever
been done before. Sir Felix himself when appealed to could
say nothing. He could only moan and make futile efforts to
wipe away the stream of blood from his face when the men stood him
up leaning against the railings. And John, though he
endeavoured to make the policemen comprehend the extent of the
wickedness of the young baronet, would not say a word against
Ruby. He was not even in the least angered by her
denunciations of himself. As he himself said sometimes
afterwards, he had "dropped into the baronite" just in time, and,
having been successful in this, felt no wrath against Ruby for
having made such an operation necessary.
<br/>There was soon a third policeman on the spot, and a dozen other
persons, cab-drivers, haunters of the street by night, and
houseless wanderers, casuals who at this season of the year
preferred the pavements to the poorhouse wards. They all took
part against John Crumb. Why had the big man interfered
between the young woman and her young man? Two or three of
them wiped Sir Felix's face, and dabbed his eyes, and proposed this
and the other remedy. Some thought that he had better be
taken straight to an hospital. One lady remarked that he was
so mashed and mauled that she was sure he would never "come to"
again. A precocious youth remarked that he was "all one as a
dead un'." A cabman observed that he had "'ad it awful
'eavy." To all these criticisms on his condition Sir Felix
himself made no direct reply, but he intimated his desire to be
carried away somewhere, though he did not much care whither.
<br/>At last the policemen among them decided upon a course of
action. They had learned by the united testimony of Ruby and
Crumb that Sir Felix was Sir Felix. He was to be carried in a
cab by one constable to Bartholomew Hospital, who would then take
his address so that he might be produced and bound over to
prosecute. Ruby should be even conducted to the address she
gave,—not half a mile from the spot on which they now stood,—and
be left there or not according to the account which might be given
of her. John Crumb must be undoubtedly locked up in the
station-house. He was the offender;—for aught that any of
them yet knew, the murderer. No one said a good word for
him. He hardly said a good word for himself, and certainly
made no objection to the treatment that had been proposed for
him. But, no doubt, he was buoyed up inwardly by the
conviction that he had thoroughly thrashed his enemy.
<br/>Thus it came to pass that the two policemen with John Crumb and
Ruby came together to Mrs Pipkin's door. Ruby was still loud
with complaints against the ruffian who had beaten her lover,—who,
perhaps, had killed her loved one. She threatened the
gallows, and handcuffs, and perpetual imprisonment, and an action
for damages amidst her lamentations. But from Mrs Hurtle the
policemen did manage to learn something of the truth. Oh
yes;—the girl lived there and was—respectable. This man
whom they had arrested was respectable also, and was the girl's
proper lover. The other man who had been beaten was
undoubtedly the owner of a title; but he was not respectable, and
was only the girl's improper lover. And John Crumb's name was
given. "I'm John Crumb of Bungay," said he, "and I ain't
afeared of nothin' nor nobody. And I ain't a been a drinking;
no, I ain't. Mauled un'! In course I've mauled
un'. And I meaned it. That ere young woman is engaged
to be my wife."
<br/>"No, I ain't," shouted Ruby.
<br/>"But she is," persisted John Crumb.
<br/>"Well then, I never will," rejoined Ruby.
<br/>John Crumb turned upon her a look of love, and put his hand on
his heart. Whereupon the senior policeman said that he saw at
a glance how it all was, but that Mr Crumb had better come along
with him just for the present. To this arrangement the
unfortunate hero from Bungay made not the slightest objection.
<br/>"Miss Ruggles," said Mrs Hurtle, "if that young man doesn't
conquer you at last you can't have a heart in your bosom."
<br/>"Indeed and I have then, and I don't mean to give it him if it's
ever so. He's been and killed Sir Felix." Mrs Hurtle in
a whisper to Mrs Pipkin expressed a wicked wish that it might be
so. After that the three women all went to bed.
<br/>
<br/>
<br/>
<div style="break-after:column;"></div><br />