Black Hearts in Battersea Read Online Free Page A

flew.

    "Do you suppose I could get work here?" Simon asked impulsively. "Of an evening—when I've finished at the academy?"
    "No 'arm in asking, is there? Always plenty to do at Sam Cobb's, that I do know. Depends what you can do, dunnit?"
    Dan led his dust-cart through the gates and then lifted up his voice and bawled,
"Sam!"
    A large, cheerful man came toward them.
    "Why, bless me!" he exclaimed. "If it's not old Dan back again. I don't know what you do to your cart, Dan, I don't indeed.
I
believe it's fast driving.
I
believe you're out of an evening carriage-racing on the Brighton Road. You can't expect the parish dust-carts to stand up to it, Dan, no you can't, me boy."
    Dan took these pleasantries agreeably, and asked after his sister Flossie. Then he said, "Here's a young cove, Sam, as wants a bit of evening work. Any use to you?"
    "Any use to me?" said Mr. Cobb, summing up Simon with a shrewd but friendly eye. "Depends what he can do, eh? Looks a well-set-up young 'un. What can you do, young 'un? Can you carpenter?"
    "Yes," said Simon.
    "Done any blacksmith's work?"

    "Yes," said Simon.
    "Used to horses?"
    "Yes," said Simon.
    "Ever tried your hand at ornamental painting?" said Mr. Cobb, gesturing toward a little greengrocer's cart, newly and beautifully ornamented with roses and lettuces. "This sort o' thing? Or emblazoning?" He waved at a carriage with a coat-of-arms on the panel.
    "I can paint a bit," said Simon. "That's why I've come to London—to study painting."
    "Proper all-rounder, ennee?" said Mr. Cobb, rolling his eyes in admiration.
    "You'd best take him on, Sam, then you'll be able to retire," Dan remarked.
    "Well, I like a young 'un who has confidence in hisself, I like a bit o' spunk. And dear knows there's plenty of work. Tell you what, young 'un, you come round here this evening, fiveish, and I'll see what you can do. Agreeable?"
    "Very thank you sir," Simon answered cheerfully. "And thank you, for setting me on my way," he said to Dan, who winked at him in a friendly manner.
    "Good-by, young 'un. Now then, Dan," said Mr. Cobb, "it's early, to be sure, but there's such a nip in the air these misty mornings; what do you say to a little drop of Organ-Grinder's Oil?"
    ***
    Simon felt somewhat nervous, as he approached the academy, but was encouraged to find that on a nearer view it presented a less imposing aspect. Some ingenious spirit had hit on the notion of suspending clotheslines between the Grecian columns supporting the roof, and from these dangled a great many socks, shirts, and other garments, while all round the marble fountain in front of the academy knelt or squatted young persons of both sexes busily engaged in washing various articles of apparel.

    Simon approached a young man who was scrubbing a pair of red socks with a bar of yellow soap, and said, "Can you tell me, please, where I shall find Dr. Furnace?"
    The young man rinsed his socks, held them up, sniffed them, glanced at the sun, and said, "About ten o'clock, is it? He'll be having breakfast. In his room on the first floor."
    He sniffed his socks again, remarked that they still smelt of paint, and set to rubbing them once more.
    Simon walked on, wondering if the young man kept his paints in his socks. In the doorway a sudden recollection hit him. Paint! That was the smell that had seemed so familiar in the top front room at Mrs. Twite's. Of course it was paint! Then—Simon stopped, assailed by suspicion—was that why Mrs. Twite had been scrubbing with Bath brick? To remove the smell of paint? Why?
    Pondering this, Simon sat down on the first convenient object he found—a stone statue of a lion, half finished—to unravel the matter a little further.
    Dido said Dr. Field had not been at the Twites'. But the
rooms were as he had described them, the address was as he had given it, and the room smelt of paint, which suggested that he had occupied it.

    Perhaps, Simon thought, perhaps he had fallen out with the Twites—had had