"Full up," he said and shut the door.
"Another night of it," groaned the Carpenter. In the dim light the
Carter looked wan and grey.
Indiscriminate charity is vicious, say the professional philanthropists.
Well, I resolved to be vicious.
"Come on; get your knife out and come here," I said to the Carter,
drawing him into a dark alley.
He glared at me in a frightened manner, and tried to draw back. Possibly
he took me for a latter-day Jack-the-Ripper, with a penchant for elderly
male paupers. Or he may have thought I was inveigling him into the
commission of some desperate crime. Anyway, he was frightened.
It will be remembered, at the outset, that I sewed a pound inside my
stoker's singlet under the armpit. This was my emergency fund, and I was
now called upon to use it for the first time.
Not until I had gone through the acts of a contortionist, and shown the
round coin sewed in, did I succeed in getting the Carter's help. Even
then his hand was trembling so that I was afraid he would cut me instead
of the stitches, and I was forced to take the knife away and do it
myself. Out rolled the gold piece, a fortune in their hungry eyes; and
away we stampeded for the nearest coffee-house.
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