Blind Justice Read Online Free PDF Page B

yourself known or wait for morning!”
    ” ‘Tis I, Benjamin Bailey,” he shouted loudly, “and I have a young charge for you sent by Sir John.”
    A stout lock was thrown, and the door came open slowly no more than a foot. A grizzled female head appeared, regarding first Mr. Bailey and then myself in a most skeptical manner. Then to him: “Oh, it’s you, is it? The night watchman.” Truly she did screech. Her voice, even as I recall it today, was something between a corbie’s and a parrot’s. Good woman that she was in many ways, her style of speech and desire to command would have put off the best of men, of whom I would certainly number my companion there on the doorstep.
    ”Not the night watchman,” he corrected her, “but Bailey of the Bow Street Runners.” I could tell from the glint of anger in his eye that he wished to say more.
    “As you wish, as you wish,” she said in a manner of dismissal. And then, directing a finger at me, “Who is he?”
    “His name is Jeremy Proctor, and a fine lad he is,” said Bailey directly. “Sir John directs you to prepare a bed for him, for he will be your guest this night.”
    She opened the door a bit wider, though not in welcome. Her purpose was to get a better look at me. It was evident she liked not what she saw. Her lips pursed and her nose wrinkled as she regarded me. “He’s dirty,” she said at last.
    “Be it as it might, madam,” said Mr. Bailey with great finality, “he is your guest for the night.” With one last clasp to my shoulder, he smiled down at me, turned, and briskly descended the stairs.
    She watched him for a moment, then finally turned her eyes back to me. “Well …” she said at last, “come in.” Never, it seemed, was entry granted more reluctantly.
    Once inside, she slammed the door after me and marched me down the short hall to a point where a candelabrum burned brightly. There she made a closer inspection. She removed my hat and rubbed through my hair. Iwisting my head this way and that, she looked sharply at my ears and neck, then tugged at my collar to view what lay beneath. At last the ordeal of buffeting and pulling was ended. She stepped back, frowning, and said, “You’ve slept in those clothes.”
    It was true. I had. “Yes, Mrs… .”
    “The name is Mrs. Gredge. You may call me ma’am.” Then she added sharply, “And only that.”
    “Yes, ma’am.”
    “Take them off.”
    “Take them off, ma’am? My clothes?”
    “Yes, Jeremy. I’ll warm water for a bath. I’ll not have you crawling between clean sheets as filthy as you are. Now do as I say.”
    “But—”
    “No but’s. Get on with it. I’ll not see anything I’ve not seen before. I raised three boys of my own.” She looked at me crossly and then at last relented. “Oh, all right, I’ll hang a blanket out for you in the kitchen if it is of such moment. Though mark you, I’ll be in to see you get yourself clean. Your ears and neck are filthy. Indeed I shudder to think what the rest of you looks like.” Indeed I had no wish to show her.
    There was no choice but to do as she directed. After eating some cold mutton and a few crusts of bread, I undressed in the pantry while she filled the tub. I handed out my clothes, which she accepted, making no effort to hide her distaste. Then, waiting until she had vacated the kitchen, I plunged into the tub.
    My father had not been overly concerned with cleanliness. His shop he kept neat as a pin, and our living quarters were tolerably well swept, yet he did not bathe often and saw no need for me to. And so, though not as well practiced as I might have been, I gave myself to the job at hand with great zeal. I must have made good work of it, too, for when I presented myself to Mrs. Gredge, the blanket clutched about my middle, she passed me with reluctance.
    “Well,” she said, “you’ll do. Sir John does not often send home stray cats such as yourself, and when I set eyes upon you, I wondered at his wisdom