“Welcome one and welcome all!” he said. “Brethren, ’ere is a dear brother and sister in the Lord as is come out of the ’aunts of the rich and the riotous living of the West End to join with us in singing the Songs of Zion. Let us sing and give praise. Alleluia! We know that many shall come from the East and from the West and sit down at the Lord’s feast, while many that thinks theirselves chosen shall be cast into outer darkness. Therefore let us not say, because this man wears a shiny eyeglass, that he is not a chosen vessel, or because this woman wears a di’mond necklace and rides in ’er Rolls-Royce, she will not therefore wear a white robe and a gold crown in the New Jerusalem, nor because these people travels in the Blue Train to the Rivereera, therefore they shall not be seen a-castin’ down their golden crowns by the River of the Water of Life. We ’ears that there talk sometimes in ’ Yde Park o’ Sundays, but it’s bad and foolish and leads to strife and envyings and not to charity. All we like sheep ’ave gone astray and well I may say so, ’avin’ been a black and wicked sinner myself till this ’ere gentleman, for such ’e truly is, laid ’is ’and upon me as I was a-bustin’ of ’is safe and was the instrument under God of turnin’ me from the broad way that leadeth to destruction. Oh, brethren, what a ’appy day that was for me, alleluia! What a shower of blessings come to me by the grace of the Lord! Let us unite now in thanksgiving for ’Eaven’s mercies in Number One ’Undred and Two. (Esmeralda, give our dear friends a ’ymn book).”
“I’m sorry,” said Wimsey to Miss Murchison. “Can you bear it? I fancy this is the final outbreak.”
The harmonium, harp, sackbut, psaltery, dulcimer and all kinds of music burst out with a blare which nearly burst the ear-drum, the assembly lifted its combined voices, and Miss Murchison, to her amazement, found herself joining – at first self-consciously and then with a fine fervour in that stirring chant -
“Sweeping through the gates,
Sweeping through the gates of the New Jerusalem,
Washed in the Blood of the Lamb.”
Wimsey, who appeared to find it all very good fun, carolled away happily, without the slightest embarrassment; whether because he was accustomed to the exercise, or merely because he was one of those imperturbably self-satisfied people who cannot conceive of themselves as being out of place in any surroundings, Miss Murchison was unable to determine.
To her relief, the religious exercise came to an end with the hymn, and the company took their leave, with many hand-shakings all round. The musicians emptied the condensed moisture from their wind-instruments politely into the fireplace and the lady who played the harmonium drew the cover over the keys and came forward to welcome the guests. She was introduced simply as Bella and Miss Murchison concluded, rightly, that she was the wife of Mr. Bill Rumm and the mother of Esmeralda.
“Well, now,” said Bill, “it’s dry work preachin’ and singin’ – you’ll take a cup of tea or coffee, now, won’t you?”
Wimsey explained that they had just had tea, but begged that the family might proceed with their own meal.
“It ain’t ’ardly supper-time yet,” said Mrs. Rumm. “P’raps if you was to do your business with the lady and gentleman, Bill, they might feel inclined to take a bite with us later. It’s trotters,” she added, hopefully.
“It’s very kind of you,” said Miss Murchison, hesitatingly.
“Trotters want a lot of beating,” said Wimsey, “and since our business may take a little time we’ll accept with pleasure – if you’re sure we’re not putting you out.”
“Not at all,” said Mrs. Rumm, heartily. “Eight beautiful trotters they is, and with a bit of cheese they’ll go round easy. Come along, ’Meraldy – your Dad’s got business.”
“Mr. Peter’s going to sing,” said the child, fixing reproachful eyes on Wimsey.
“Now don’t you worrit his lordship,” rebuked Mrs. Rumm, “I declare I’m ashamed of you.”
“I’ll sing after supper, Esmeralda,” said Wimsey. “Hop along now like a good girl or I’ll make faces at you. Bill, I’ve brought you a new pupil.”
“Always ’appy to serve you, sir, knowing as it’s the Lord’s work. Glory be.”
“Thank you,” said Wimsey, modestly. “It’s a simple matter, Bill, but as the young lady is inexperienced with locks and so on, I’ve brought her along to be coached. You see, Miss Murchison, before Bill here saw the light -”
“Praise God!” put in Bill.
“He was the most accomplished burglar and safe-breaker in the three kingdoms. He doesn’t mind my telling you this, because he’s taken his medicine and finished with it all and is now a very honest and excellent locksmith of the ordinary kind.”
“Thanks be to Him that giveth the victory!”
“But from time to time, when I need a little help in a righteous cause, Bill gives me the benefit of his great experience.”
“And oh! what ’appiness it is, miss, to turn them talents which I so wickedly abused to the service of the Lord. His ’oly Name be blessed that bringeth good out of evil.”
“That’s right,” said Wimsey, with a nod. “Now, Bill, I’ve got my eye on a solicitor’s deed-box, which may or may not contain something which will help me to get an innocent person out of trouble. This young lady can get access to the box, Bill, if you can show her the way inside it.”
“If?” grunted Bill, with sovereign contempt. “ ’Course I can! Deed-box, that’s nuffin’. That ain’t no field for a man’s skill. Robbin’ the kids’ money-box, that’s what it is with they trumpery little locks. There ain’t a deed-box in this ’ere city wot I couldn’t open blindfold in boxing-gloves with a stick of boiled macaroni.”
“I know, Bill; but it isn’t you that’s got to do it. Can you teach the lady how to work it?”
“Sure I can. What kinder lock is it, lady?”
“I don’t know,” said Miss Murchison. “An ordinary lock, I think. I mean, it has the usual sort of key – not a Bramah or anything of that kind. Mr. – that is, the solicitor has one set of keys and Mr. Pond has another – just plain keys with barrels and wards.”
“Ho!” said Bill, “then ’arf an hour will teach you all you want, miss.” He went to a cupboard and brought out half a dozen lock-plates and a bunch of curious, thin wire hooks, strung on a ring like keys.
“Are those pick-locks?” asked Miss Murchison, curiously.
“That’s what they are, miss. Ingines of Satan!” He shook his head as he lovingly fingered the bright steel. “Many’s the time sech keys as these ’ave let pore sinners in by the back gate into ’ell.”
“This time,” said Wimsey, “they’ll let a poor innocent out of prison into the sunshine – if any, in this beastly climate.”
“Praise Him for His manifold mercies! Well, miss, the fust thing is to understand the construction of a lock. Now jest you look ’ere.”
He picked up one of the locks and showed how, by holding up the spring, the catch could be thrust back.
“There ain’t no need of all them fancy wards, you see, miss. The barrel and the spring – that’s all there is to it. Jest you try.”
Miss Murchison accordingly tried, and forced several locks with an ease that astonished her.
“Well now, miss, the difficulty is, you see, that when the lock’s in place, you can’t use your eyes, but you ’as your ’earin’ and you ’as the feelin’ in your fingers, giv’ you by Providence (praise His Name!) for that purpose. Now what you ’as to do, miss, is to shet your eyes and see with your fingers, like, w’en you’ve got your spring ’ooked back sufficient ter let the catch go past.”
“I’m afraid I’m very clumsy,” said Miss Murchison, at the fifth or sixth attempt.
“Now don’t you fret, miss. Jest take it easy and you’ll find the right way of it come to you all of a sudden, like. Jest feel when it seems to go sweet and use your ’ands independent. Would you like to ’ave a little go at a Combination while you’re ’ere, sir? I’ve got a beauty ’ere. Giv’ to me it was by Sam, you know ’oo I mean. Many’s the time I’ve tried to show ’im the error of ’is ways. ‘No, Bill,’ ’e ses, ‘I ain’t got no use for religion,’ ’e ses, pore lost sheep, ‘but I ain’t got no quarrel with you, Bill,’ ses ’e, ‘and I’d like for ter give you this little sooveneer.’ ”