Although it was a wretched nuisance, right now at least it could make itself useful, and so he looked at Dirty Benjamin sternly and said, ‘Something like that, but not all that. Now, if you are my friend you will tell me why you were following me, because if you don’t I will make cold meat of you.’
It was a rotten thing to do to Benjamin, who he knew of old as a snow-dropper, who mostly stole ladies’ underthings off clothes lines – being a man of no ambition whatsoever apart from being alive tomorrow – and ran errands for anyone who had some money and was bigger than him. He was the kind of person who would make a body want to wash their hands after meeting him; the man was a worm. Yes, all he did was wriggle. He was one of the lost souls, one of the people who were behind the door when God went past; they just grazed on the world, hardly disturbing it a bit, and were always scared of something.
Right now, Dirty Benjamin looked very scared, and Dodger relented, saying, ‘Well, maybe it won’t be cold meat, because I know you, Ben, and I’m sure you’re going to tell me who sent you to follow me, am I right? If you do that, I won’t hurt you.’
Both Dodger and his captive turned as the shadows changed to reveal Mrs Sharples peering round the corner with Simplicity next to her. The housekeeper said, ‘I am sorry to interrupt your little concussion, gentlemen, but I think it is time for us to go home, if it’s all the same with you?’
Dodger turned back to the hapless villain in front of him. ‘Benjamin,’ he said sternly, ‘I have no beef with you. This is your last chance. Tell me who you are working for and why, and I will never let on it’s you.’
Dirty Benjamin was crying, and not just crying by the smell of it. He slid to the ground in a pitiful heap.
And Dodger leaned over and whispered, ‘I have in my hand the razor of Sweeney Todd the barber, and at the moment I haven’t opened the blade. But it calls to me; it calls to me to use it . . . So now, Benjamin, I strongly suggest you tell me who you are working for. Do you understand?’
The words came out so fast that they tumbled among themselves. But Dodger made out: ‘It was Harry the Slap from Hackney Marshes, but the word is there’s important coves wanting to know where you are, and if you’ve got some girl with you. That’s all I know, honest to God. There’s some kind of reward out.’
Dodger said, ‘Who set up the reward?’
‘Don’t know. Harry the Slap never told me nuffin’, just to tell ’im. Promised me a cut of the profit, so he did.’
Dodger stared at the face. No, he wasn’t lying. Benjamin was easy meat, and so he said, ‘Well, Benjamin, as a friend, I rely on you not to tell Harry the Slap that you have seen me.’ There was a frantic nodding of the head from the wretched little man on the ground. ‘And, of course, there is just one other thing I must do. I did say that I would not harm you but this’ – and he swung his boot – ‘is from Mrs Sharples. Sorry, but she asked me to.’
He was rewarded with a deep groan from Benjamin and, amazingly, a huge and horrible grin from Mrs Sharples, who said, ‘Well done, young man, do it again!’
Dodger thought, This is the time to be the man who saved the world from Mister Sweeney Todd. So he said quietly, ‘Simplicity, and you too, Mrs Sharples, listen. I have reason to fear that there are people who are searching for Simplicity to do her harm, and therefore I am going to remove her from the kind embrace of the Mayhew household. Although I don’t doubt that they are kind to her, it makes me shiver, it does, to think of you opening the door to them very nasty coves.’
‘But she is in their care, Mister Dodger,’ Mrs Sharples insisted.
Dodger opened his mouth, but the noise he heard was Simplicity speaking. Not loudly, but not a whisper either, and she said, ‘I am a married woman whose husband turns out to be a weak and stupid boy, Mrs Sharples, and I believe that Dodger is right in this instance. So I suggest we make our way back to the house as soon as possible.’
‘Yes, indeed,’ said Dodger. ‘I am sure you would be in agreement, Mrs Sharples?’
Mrs Sharples looked down at Dirty Benjamin and said, ‘What are you going to do about him?’
Dodger said to Benjamin lying on the ground, ‘Listen, my friend, I know who you are, and I know where you live, don’t I just! Still collecting corsets, are you? Trust me that what you are going to do as soon as you are fit to stand is start walking up the road there, and you will go on walking as fast as you can in that direction as long as possible and you will not, repeat not, turn round to look behind you until it’s absolutely dark, understand? Because you know me and I am Dodger. The new Dodger. I’m the Dodger what done up Mr Sweeney Todd. The Dodger what has his razor now! And if you do the wrong thing by me, I’ll come up through the floor one night with it and make certain you never wake up.’
There was a groan from Benjamin, who said, ‘I ain’t never clapped eyes on you, mister, and by God I wish I ha’n’t. You’ll have no trouble from me.’
They began to walk back to the house by a roundabout route, and it wasn’t until he saw the kid selling newspapers and screaming, ‘’Orrible murder! Read all about it! Valiant hero to the rescue!’ that Dodger fully realized how life would be getting even more complicated.
At last the little gate to the Mayhew household was back in front of them, and he quickly cased the area for spies and found none. Then he opened the gate for Simplicity, who said, ‘Thank you very, very much, my dear Dodger,’ and she blew him a kiss, which made no sound at all, except that in his head the belfries of London all clanged at once in one great peal.
The interview with the Mayhews, husband and wife, went rather more smoothly than Dodger had dared hope, especially since he carefully told them how someone was clearly looking for Simplicity – the kind of person, he said, that he would not like to come knocking at their door.
‘And so,’ he concluded, ‘if you would be so kind, help Miss Simplicity with such packing as she has, help us find a growler and I will take her forthwith to Charlie, where we will be safe enough to discuss the next move. And please, Mrs Mayhew, Mister Mayhew, we will not need a chaperone.’
‘I feel I must object,’ said Mrs Mayhew. ‘It is hardly seemly . . .’
Dodger opened his mouth to answer, but Simplicity stepped forward, gave Mrs Mayhew a kiss and said, ‘Jane, I’m a married woman and I can stand up and say that my husband wants me as a slave or otherwise dead. I will go with Dodger. The choice or blame is mine, and I would not like to think that any harm came to this household because of me.’
They stared at her as one might stare at a dog that has just sung a song, and then suddenly common sense blossomed and Mister Mayhew said, ‘Dear Mrs Sharples, can you please get a cab while you, dear, help our guest – her baggage is rather spartan – and be ready for the coach to come.’
Now it seemed to Dodger that the coach could not come too soon. And indeed when one did rattle up, without any bidding Mister Mayhew pressed a half crown into Dodger’s hand.
‘Well done, sir, very well done!’
When the cab was rattling its way to Fleet Street, Simplicity said, ‘My dear Dodger, why did you rescue me in the rain?’