the ragged trousered philanthropists-第17章

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The　man's　body　was　found　in　the　kitchen；　lying　with　outstretched　arms　face　downwards　on　the　floor；　surrounded　by　the　blood　that　had　poured　from　the　wound　in　his　throat　which　had　evidently　been　inflicted　by　the　razor　that　was　grasped　in　his　right　hand。

No　particle　of　food　was　found　in　the　house；　and　on　a　nail　in　the　wall　in　the　kitchen　was　hung　a　piece　of　blood…smeared　paper　on　which　was　written　in　pencil：

‘This　is　not　my　crime；　but　society's。'

The　report　went　on　to　explain　that　the　deed　must　have　been　perpetrated　during　a　fit　of　temporary　insanity　brought　on　by　the　sufferings　the　man　had　endured。

‘Insanity！'　muttered　Owen；　as　he　read　this　glib　theory。　　‘Insanity！　It　seems　to　me　that　he　would　have　been　insane　if　he　had　NOT　killed　them。'

Surely　it　was　wiser　and　better　and　kinder　to　send　them　all　to　sleep；　than　to　let　them　continue　to　suffer。

At　the　same　time　he　thought　it　very　strange　that　the　man　should　have　chosen　to　do　it　that　way；　when　there　were　so　many　other　cleaner；　easier　and　more　painless　ways　of　accomplishing　the　same　object。　　He　wondered　why　it　was　that　most　of　these　killings　were　done　in　more　or　less　the　same　crude；　cruel　messy　way。　　No；　HE　would　set　about　it　in　a　different　fashion。　　He　would　get　some　charcoal；　then　he　would　paste　strips　of　paper　over　the　joinings　of　the　door　and　windows　of　the　room　and　close　the　register　of　the　grate。　　Then　he　would　kindle　the　charcoal　on　a　tray　or　something　in　the　middle　of　the　room；　and　then　they　would　all　three　just　lie　down　together　and　sleep；　and　that　would　be　the　end　of　everything。　　There　would　be　no　pain；　no　blood；　and　no　mess。

Or　one　could　take　poison。　　Of　course；　there　was　a　certain　amount　of　difficulty　in　procuring　it；　but　it　would　not　be　impossible　to　find　some　pretext　for　buying　some　laudanum：　one　could　buy　several　small　quantities　at　different　shops　until　one　had　sufficient。　　Then　he　remembered　that　he　had　read　somewhere　that　vermillion；　one　of　the　colours　he　frequently　had　to　use　in　his　work；　was　one　of　the　most　deadly　poisons：　and　there　was　some　other　stuff　that　photographers　used；　which　was　very　easy　to　procure。　　Of　course；　one　would　have　to　be　very　careful　about　poisons；　so　as　not　to　select　one　that　would　cause　a　lot　of　pain。　　It　would　be　necessary　to　find　out　exactly　how　the　stuff　acted　before　using　it。　　It　would　not　be　very　difficult　to　do　so。　　Then　he　remembered　that　among　his　books　was　one　that　probably　contained　some　information　about　this　subject。　　He　went　over　to　the　book…shelf　and　presently　found　the　volume；　it　was　called　The　Cyclopedia　of　Practical　Medicine；　rather　an　old　book；　a　little　out　of　date；　perhaps；　but　still　it　might　contain　the　information　he　wanted。　　Opening　it；　he　turned　to　the　table　of　contents。　　Many　different　subjects　were　mentioned　there　and　presently　he　found　the　one　he　sought：

Poisons：　chemically；　physiologically　and　pathologically　considered。　　　　　Corrosive　Poisons。　　　　　Narcotic　Poisons。　　　　　Slow　Poisons。　　　　　Consecutive　Poisons。　　　　　Accumulative　Poisons。

He　turned　to　the　chapter　indicated　and；　reading　it；　he　was　astonished　to　find　what　a　number　of　poisons　there　were　within　easy　reach　of　whoever　wished　to　make　use　of　them：　poisons　that　could　be　relied　upon　to　do　their　work　certainly；　quickly　and　without　pain。　　Why；　it　was　not　even　necessary　to　buy　them：　one　could　gather　them　from　the　hedges　by　the　road　side　and　in　the　fields。

The　more　he　thought　of　it　the　stranger　it　seemed　that　such　a　clumsy　method　as　a　razor　should　be　so　popular。　　Why　almost　any　other　way　would　be　better　and　easier　than　that。　　Strangulation　or　even　hanging；　though　the　latter　method　could　scarcely　be　adopted　in　that　house；　because　there　were　no　beams　or　rafters　or　anything　from　which　it　would　be　possible　to　suspend　a　cord。　　Still；　he　could　drive　some　large　nails　or　hooks　into　one　of　the　walls。　　For　that　matter；　there　were　already　some　clothes…hooks　on　some　of　the　doors。　　He　began　to　think　that　this　would　be　an　even　more　excellent　way　than　poison　or　charcoal；　he　could　easily　pretend　to　Frankie　that　he　was　going　to　show　him　some　new　kind　of　play。

He　could　arrange　the　cord　on　the　hook　on　one　of　the　doors　and　then　under　pretence　of　play；　it　would　be　done。　　The　boy　would　offer　no　resistance；　and　in　a　few　minutes　it　would　all　be　over。

He　threw　down　the　book　and　pressed　his　hands　over　his　ears：　he　fancied　he　could　hear　the　boy's　hands　and　feet　beating　against　the　panels　of　the　door　as　he　struggled　in　his　death　agony。

Then；　as　his　arms　fell　nervelessly　by　his　side　again；　he　thought　that　he　heard　Frankie's　voice　calling。

‘Dad！　　Dad！'

Owen　hastily　opened　the　door。

‘Are　you　calling；　Frankie？'

‘Yes。　　I've　been　calling　you　quite　a　long　time。'

‘What　do　you　want？'

‘I　want　you　to　come　here。　　I　want　to　tell　you　something。'

‘Well；　what　is　it　dear？　　I　thought　you　were　asleep　a　long　time　ago；'　said　Owen　as　he　came　into　the　room。

‘That's　just　what　I　want　to　speak　to　you　about：　the　kitten's　gone　to　sleep　all　right；　but　I　can't　go。　　I've　tried　all　different　ways；　counting　and　all；　but　it's　no　use；　so　I　thought　I'd　ask　you　if　you'd　mind　coming　and　staying　with　me；　and　letting　me　hold　you　hand　for　a　little　while　and　the　p'raps　I　could　go。'

The　boy　twined　his　arms　round　Owen's　neck　and　hugged　him　very　tightly。

‘Oh；　Dad；　I　love　you　so　much！'　he　said。　　‘I　love　you　so　much；　I　could　squeeze　you　to　death。'

‘I'm　afraid　you　will；　if　you　squeeze　me　so　tightly　as　that。'

The　boy　laughed　softly　as　he　relaxed　his　hold。　　‘That　WOULD　be　a　funny　way　of　showing　you　how　much　I　love　you；　wouldn't　it；　Dad？　　Squeezing　you　to　death！'

‘Yes；　I　suppose　it　would；'　replied　Owen　huskily；　as　he　tucked　the　bedclothes　round　the　child's　shoulders。　　‘But　don't　talk　any　more；　dear；　just　hold　my　hand　and　try　to　sleep。'

‘All　right；'　said　Frankie。

Lying　there　very　quietly；　holding　his　father's　hand　and　occasionally　kissing　it；　the　child　presently　fell　asleep。　　Then　Owen　got　up　very　gently　and；　having　taken　the　kitten　out　of　the　bed　again　and　arranged　the　bedclothes；　he　softly　kissed　the　boy's　forehead　and　returned　to　the　other　room。

Looking　about　for　a　suitable　place　for　the　kitten　to　sleep　in；　he　noticed　Frankie's　toy　box；　and　having　emptied　the　toys　on　to　the　floor　in　a　corner　of　the　room；　he　made　a　bed　in　the　box　with　some　rags　and　placed　it　on　its　side　on　the　hearthrug；　facing　the　fire；　and　with　some　difficulty　persuaded　the　kitten　to　lie　in　it。　　Then；　having　placed　the　chairs　on　which　his　clothes　were　drying　at　a　safe　distance　from　the　fire；　he　went　into　the　bedroom。　　Nora　was　still　awake。

‘Are　you　feeling　any　better；　dear？'　he　said。

‘Yes；　I'm　ever　so　much　better　since　I've　been　in　bed；　but　I　can't　help　worrying　about　your　clothes。　　I'm　afraid　they'll　never　be　dry　enough　for　you　to　put　on　the　first　thing　in　the　morning。　　Couldn't　you　stay　at　home　till　after　breakfast；　just　for　once？'

‘No；　I　mustn't　do　that。　　If　I　did　Hunter　would　probably　tell　me　to　stay　away　altogether。　　I　believe　he　would　be　glad　of　an　excuse　to　get　rid　of　another　full…price　man　just　now。'

‘But　if　it's　raining　like　this　in　the　morning；　you'll　be　wet　through　before　you　get　there。'

‘It's　no　good　worrying　about　that　dear：　besides；　I　can　wear　this　old　coat　that　I　have　no　now；　over　the　other。'

‘And　if　you　wrap　your　old　shoes　in　some　paper；　and　take　them　with　you；　you　can　take　off　your　wet　boots　as　soon　as　you　get　to　the　place。'

‘Yes；　all　right；'　responded　Owen。　　‘Besides；'　he　added；　reassuringly；　‘even　if　I　do　get　a　little　wet；　we　always　have　a　fire　there；　you　know。'

‘Well；　I　hope　the　weather　will　be　a　little　better　than　this　in　the　morning；'　said　Nora。　　‘Isn't　it　a　dreadful　night！　　I　keep　feeling　afraid　that　the　house　is　going　to　be　blown　down。'

Long　after　Nora　was　asleep；　Owen　lay　listening　to　the　howling　of　the　wind　and　the　noise　of　the　rain　as　it　poured　heavily　on　the　roof　。。。



Chapter　7

The　Exterminating　Machines


‘Come　on；　Saturday！'　shouted　Philpot；　just　after　seven　o'clock　one　Monday　morning　as　they　were　getting　ready　to　commence　work。

It　was　still　dark　outside；　but　the　scullery　was　dimly　illuminated　by　the　flickering　light　of　two　candles　which　Crass　had　lighted　and　stuck　on　the　shelf　over　the　fireplace　in　order　to　enable　him　to　see　to　serve　out　the　different　lots　of　paints　and　brushes　to　the　men。

‘Yes；　it　do　seem　a　'ell　of　a　long　week；　don't　it？'　remarked　Harlow　as　he　hung　his　overcoat　on　a　nail　and　proceeded　to　put　on　his　apron　and　blouse。　　‘I've　'ad　bloody　near　enough　of　it　already。'

‘Wish　to　Christ　it　was　breakfast…time；'　growled　the　more　easily　satisfied　Easton。

Extraordinary　as　it　may　appear；　none　of　them　took　any　pride　in　their　work：　they　did　not　‘love'　it。　　They　had　no　conception　of　that　lofty　ideal　of　‘work　for　work's　sake'；　which　is　so　popular　with　the　people　who　do　nothing。　　On　the　contrary；　when　the　workers　arrived　in　the　morning　they　wished　it　was　breakfast…time。　　When　they　resumed　work　after　breakfast　they　wished　it　was　dinner…time。　　After　dinner　they　wished　it　was　one　o'clock　on　Saturday。

So　they　went　on；　day　after　day；　year　after　year；　wishing　their　time　was　over　and；　without　realizing　it；　really　wishing　that　they　were　dead。

How　extraordinary　this　must　appear　to　those　idealists　who　believe　in　‘work　for　work's　sake'；　but　who　themselves　do　nothing　but　devour　or　use　and　enjoy　or　waste　the　things　that　are　produced　by　the　labour　of　those　others　who　are　not　themselves　permitted　to　enjoy　a　fair　share　of　the　good　things　they　help　to　create？

Crass　poured　several　lots　of　colour　into　several　pots。

‘Harlow；'　he　said；　‘you　and　Sawkins；　when　he　comes；　can　go　up　and　do　the　top　bedrooms　out　with　this　colour。　　You'll　find　a　couple　of　candles　up　there。　　It's　only　goin'　to　'ave　one　coat；　so　see　that　you　make　it　cover　all　right；　and　just　look　after　Sawkins　a　bit　so　as　'e　doesn't　make　a　bloody　mess　of　it。　　You　do　the　doors　and　windows；　and　let　'im　do　the　cupboards　and　skirtings。'

‘That's　a　bit　of　all　right；　I　must　say；'　Harlow　said；　addressing　the　company　generally。　　‘We've　got　to　teach　a　br　like　'im　so　as　'e　can　do　us　out　of　a　job　presently　by　working　under　price。'

‘Well；　I　can't　'elp　it；'　growled　Crass。　　‘You　know　'ow　it　is：　‘Unter　sends　'im　'ere　to　do　paintin'；　and　I've　got　to　put　'im　on　it。　　There　ain't　nothing　else　for　'im　to　do。'

Further　discussion　on　this　subject　was　prevented　by　Sawkins'　arrival；　nearly　a　quarter　of　an　hour　late。

‘Oh；　you　'ave　come；　then；'　sneered　Crass。　　‘Thought　p'raps　you'd　gorn　for　a　'oliday。'

Sawkins　muttered　something　about　oversleeping　himself；　and　having　hastily　put　on　his　apron；　he　went　upstairs　with　Harlow。

‘Now；　let's　see；'　Crass　said；　addressing　Philpot。　　‘You　and　Newman　'ad　better　go　and　make　a　start　on　the　second　floor：　this　is　the　colour；　and　'ere's　a　couple　of　candles。　　You'd　better　not　both　go　in　one　room　or　'Unter　will　growl　about　it。　　You　take　one　of　the　front　and　let　Newman　take　one　of　the　back　rooms。　　Take　a　bit　of　stoppin'　with　you：　they're　goin'　to　'ave　two　coats；　but　you'd　better　putty　up　the　'oles　as　well　as　you　can；　this　time。'

‘Only　two　coats！'　said　Philpot。　　‘Them　rooms　will　never　look　nothing　with　two　coats　…　a　light　colour　like　this。'

‘It's　only　goin'　to　get　two；　anyway；'　returned　Crass；　testily。　‘'Unter　said　so；　so　you'll　'ave　to　do　the　best　you　can　w