“Do you shine shoes?” he asked abruptly.
Robin had no choice but to nod. After all, it was what Quill had found him doing for a number of days, and there was no reason to think it had not been reported to Hawker.
“Then are you not the boy who shined my shoes for me outside St. Katherine’s Church some days ago?” the man asked.
“No, sir. I … I don’t know where that is,” replied Robin, praying that the man’s eyes were not actually able to see into his brain, or could hear his heart pounding in his chest. For St. Katherine’s Church was, in truth, no other than St. Something!
The man continued studying Robin’s face. “I don’t often make such mistakes,” he said. Then he added as if it were an indifferent afterthought, “You’re not a boy given to lying, are you?”
“N-no, sir,” replied Robin, hoping his face did not betray him, which he felt was what the question was supposed to accomplish. It otherwise made no sense, for who in their right mind would have answered “yes” to it?
“All right, boy,” Hawker said roughly. “You wait for me on the steps until I finish talkin’ with Mr. Highcrofft.”
When Robin had left them, the men continued talking in low voices. Mr. Highcrofft appeared agitated and angry. And as he walked back to the apartment with Robin, Hawker was sunk in deep silence.
The following afternoon, Robin was not taken out with Hawker, but was left locked in the apartment. When the supper hour came, as announced by the chipped enamel clock sitting on the kitchen counter, there was nothing to prepare for a meal, because the kitchen cupboards were empty. The food brought in for Robin, who was naturally not allowed out to buy any for himself, was as little as Hawker felt obliged to provide just to keep him alive. So Robin stayed hungry most of the time. He would only have something to eat that evening when Hawker returned home.
But it was not too much longer before Hawker came stamping through the front door. And he was smiling! Or at least what passed for a smile with him.
“Well, now we got a treat for supper tonight,” he said. “It’s cake with real sugar frostin’ on it. And I’ll sit down and share it with you b-b … Robin.”
Cake? Sharing? Robin? Was Hawker ill? Was his mind gone? What was this all about? Robin could not even begin to guess, and he could not see himself asking Hawker to explain.
Hawker’s attempt at making conversation as he sat stuffing the larger portion of the cake into himself was purely laughable.
“How was your day?” he asked Robin.
“It … it was fine,” replied Robin, whose day had been as dull and dreary as always. But should he now ask Hawker how his own day was? Was it expected? “H-how was yours?” he finally blurted.
“Good,” replied Hawker, his mouth so full of cake the crumbs were spilling out. “Hey, you know somethin’? If you keep on bein’ a good boy like you been doin’, I’m givin’ some thought to sendin’ you back to school. How’d you like that, eh?”
“I … I … I would, thank you,” the stunned Robin managed to reply.
Hawker then stood up, putting a welcome end to the conversational attempt. “All right, I’ll be thinkin’ more about it,” he said, giving a swipe across his mouth with his shirt sleeve. “Now I’m goin’ out. See you go to bed and get your rest.”
Robin was too startled by this last expression of interest in him even to reply. But Hawker, undoubtedly up to his neck with being pleasant, stumped out and slammed the door in his usual manner. That did not bother Robin one bit. His stomach wonderfully full of cake, all he could think about was that there might not be a factory in his future after all. Only school! And freedom! If only that freedom would come soon enough for him to somehow make it to St. Something, his friends, and most especially—Danny.
The following day, however, although Hawker remained as pleasant as was possible for him to be, he still left Robin locked up in the apartment. And he left something else as well, the jewelry drawer wide open, and a pile of money sitting in full view on top of the chest of drawers. As Robin already knew where the jewelry and money were hidden, what was this all about? Was it to serve as a strong temptation for Robin to help himself to whatever he wanted? And why?
Then, that evening, after Hawker had come home with more food for Robin than usual and was leaving again, he turned to Robin and said, “Well, I told you, you been bein’ a good boy, never tryin’ to run off again or nothin’ like that. Now I see how honest you been. No money gone. No more lockets and pins missin’. So,” he paused to see how this was settling with Robin, “tomorrow maybe you can come out with me, and I’ll see to lettin’ you off the hook a little. What do you think of that?”
“I wouldn’t mind,” said Robin. Would not mind? His heart was racing so fast he thought it would burst right out of his chest.
But Hawker had no sooner left than he began thinking over what had just been said. And he decided that Hawker was either very stupid or very clever. “Never tryin’ to run off,” he had said. Well, how could Robin run off anywhere, being either locked up or, but for rent collecting, never out of Hawker’s sight? As for taking money or jewelry, did Hawker think Robin such an idiot as to take anything at all of his, and then sit there in the locked apartment waiting for him to return and find out about it? It must
