“I was alluding, Mr. Sapsea,” said Kimber, “to a stranger who entered into conversation with me in the street as I came to the Club. He had been speaking to you just before, it seemed, by the churchyard; and though you had told him who you were, I could hardly persuade him that you were not high in the Church.”
“Idiot?” said Peartree.
“Ass!” said Kimber.
“Idiot and Ass!” said the other five members.
“Idiot and Ass, gentlemen,” I remonstrated, looking around me, “are strong expressions to apply to a young man of good appearance and address.” My generosity was roused; I own it.
“You’ll admit that he must be a Fool,” said Peartree.
“You can’t deny that he must be a Blockhead,” said Kimber.
Their tone of disgust amounted to being offensive. Why should the young man be so calumniated? What had he done? He had only made an innocent and natural mistake. I controlled my generous indignation, and said so.
“Natural?” repeated Kimber. “He’s a Natural!”
The remaining six members of the Eight Club laughed unanimously. It stung me. It was a scornful laugh. My anger was roused in behalf of an absent, friendless stranger. I rose (for I had been sitting down).
“Gentlemen,” I said with dignity, “I will not remain one of this Club allowing opprobrium to be cast on an unoffending person in his absence. I will not so violate what I call the sacred rites of hospitality. Gentlemen, until you know how to behave yourselves better, I leave you. Gentlemen, until then I withdraw, from this place of meeting, whatever personal qualifications I may have brought into it. Gentlemen, until then you cease to be the Eight Club, and must make the best you can of becoming the Seven.”
I put on my hat and retired. As I went downstairs I distinctly heard them give a suppressed cheer. Such is the power of demeanour and knowledge of mankind. I had forced it out of them.
II
Whom should I meet in the street, within a few yards of the door of the inn where the Club was held, but the selfsame young man whose cause I had felt it my duty so warmly—and I will add so disinterestedly—to take up.
“Is it Mr. Sapsea,” he said doubtfully, “or is it—”
“It is Mr. Sapsea,” I replied.
“Pardon me, Mr. Sapsea; you appear warm, sir.”
“I have been warm,” I said, “and on your account.” Having stated the circumstances at some length (my generosity almost overpowered him), I asked him his name.
“Mr. Sapsea,” he answered, looking down, “your penetration is so acute, your glance into the souls of your fellow men is so penetrating, that if I was hardly enough to deny that my name is Poker, what would it avail me?”
I don’t know that I had quite exactly made out to a fraction that his name was Poker, but I daresay I had been pretty near doing it.
“Well, well,” said I, trying to put him at his ease by nodding my head in a soothing way. “Your name is Poker, and there is no harm in being named Poker.”
“Oh, Mr. Sapsea!” cried the young man, in a very well-behaved manner. “Bless you for those words!” He then, as if ashamed of having given way to his feelings, looked down again.
“Come Poker,” said I, “let me hear more about you. Tell me. Where are you going to, Poker? and where do you come from?”
“Ah Mr. Sapsea!” exclaimed the young man. “Disguise from you is impossible. You know already that I come from somewhere, and am going somewhere else. If I was to deny it, what would it avail me?”
“Then don’t deny it,” was my remark.
“Or,” pursued Poker, in a kind of despondent rapture, “or if I was to deny that I came to this town to see and hear you, sir, what would it avail me? Or if I was to deny—”
Colophon
The Mystery of Edwin Drood
was published in by
Charles Dickens.
This ebook was produced for
Standard Ebooks
by
Chris Spurgeon,
and is based on a transcription produced in by
Iona Vaughan, Pat McCoy, Mark Akrigg, and Distributed Proofreaders Canada
for
Project Gutenberg
and on digital scans from the
Internet Archive.
The cover page is adapted from
Kirchhofpforte,
a painting completed in by
Caspar David Friedrich.
The cover and title pages feature the
League Spartan and Sorts Mill Goudy
typefaces created in and by
The League of Moveable Type.
The first edition of this ebook was released on
You can check for updates to this ebook, view its revision history, or download it for different ereading systems at
standardebooks.org/ebooks/charles-dickens/the-mystery-of-edwin-drood.
The volunteer-driven Standard Ebooks project relies on readers like you to submit typos, corrections, and other improvements. Anyone can contribute at standardebooks.org.
Uncopyright
May you do good and not evil.
May you find forgiveness for yourself and forgive others.
May you share freely, never taking more than you give.
Copyright pages exist to tell you that you can’t do something. Unlike them, this Uncopyright page exists to tell you that the writing and artwork in this ebook are believed to be in the United States public domain; that is, they are believed to be free of copyright restrictions in the United States. The United States public domain represents our collective cultural heritage, and items in it are free for anyone in the United States to do almost anything at all with, without having to get permission.
Copyright laws are different all over the world, and the source text or artwork in this ebook may still be copyrighted in other countries. If you’re not located in the United States, you must check your local laws before using this ebook. Standard Ebooks makes no representations regarding the copyright status of the source text or artwork in this ebook in any country other than the United States.
Non-authorship activities performed on items that are in the public domain—so-called “sweat of the brow” work—don’t create a
