This eBook was produced by Tapio Riikonen
and David Widger
That Mr. Grabman slept calmly that night is probable enough, for his gin-bottle was empty the next morning; and it was with eyes more than usuallyheavy that he dozily followed the movements of Beck, who, according tocustom, opened the shutters of the little den adjoining his sitting-room,brushed his clothes, made his fire, set on the kettle to boil, and laidhis breakfast things, preparatory to his own departure to the duties ofthe day. Stretching himself, however, and shaking off slumber, as theremembrance of the enterprise he had undertaken glanced pleasantly acrosshim, Grabman sat up in his bed and said, in a voice that, if not maudlin,was affectionate, and if not affectionate, was maudlin,—
"Beck, you are a good fellow. You have faults, you are human,—humanismest errare; which means that you some times scorch my muffins. But, takeyou all in all, you are a kind creature. Beck, I am going into thecountry for some days. I shall leave my key in the hole in the wall,—you know; take care of it when you come in. You were out late lastnight, my poor fellow. Very wrong! Look well to yourself, or who knows?You may be clutched by that blackguard resurrection-man, No. 7. Well,well, to think of that Jason's foolhardiness! But he's the worse devilof the two. Eh! what was I saying? And always give a look into my roomevery night before you go to roost. The place swarms with cracksmen, andone can't be too cautious. Lucky dog, you, to have nothing to be robbedof!"
Beck winced at that last remark. Grabman did not seem to notice hisconfusion, and proceeded, as he put on his stockings: "And, Beck, you area good fellow, and have served me faithfully; when I come back, I willbring you something handsome,—a backey-box or—who knows?—a beautifulsilver watch. Meanwhile, I think—let me see—yes, I can give you thiselegant pair of small-clothes. Put out my best,—the black ones. Andnow, Beck, I'll not keep you any longer."
The poor sweep, with many pulls at his forelock, acknowledged themunificent donation; and having finished all his preparations, hastenedfirst to his room, to examine at leisure, and with great admiration, thedrab small-clothes. "Room," indeed, we can scarcely style the wretchedenclosure which Beck called his own. It was at the top of the house,under the roof, and hot—oh, so hot—in the summer! It had one smallbegrimed window, through which the light of heaven never came, for theparapet, beneath which ran the choked gutter, prevented that; but therain and the wind came in. So sometimes, through four glassless frames,came a fugitive tom-cat. As for the rats, they held the place as theirown. Accustomed to Beck, they cared nothing for him.
They were the Mayors of that Palace; he only le roi faineant. They ranover his bed at night; he often felt them on his face, and was convincedthey would have eaten him, if there had been anything worth eating uponhis bones; still, perhaps out of precaution rather than charity, hegenerally left them a potato or two, or a crust of bread, to take off theedge of their appetites. But Beck was far better off than most whooccupied the various settlements in that Alsatia,—he had his room tohimself. That was necessary to his sole luxury,—the inspection of histreasury, the safety of his mattress; for it he paid, without grumbling,what he thought was a very high rent. To this hole in the roof there wasno lock,—for a very good reason, there was no door to it. You went up aladder, as you would go into a loft. Now, it had often been matter ofmuch intens