Two doors corner, on the left hand going east, the line was broken by the entry of a court; and just at that point, a certain sinister block of building thrust forward its gable on the street. It was two storeys high; showed no window, nothing but a door on the lower storeys and a blind forehead of discolored wall on the upper; and bore in every feature, the marks of prolonged and sordid negligence. The door, which was equipped with neither bell nor knocker, was blistered and distained. Tramps slouched into the recess and struck matches on the panels; children kept shop upon the steps; the schoolboy had tried his knife on the mouldings; and for close on a generation, on one had appeared to drive away these random visitors or to repair their ravages.
Mr.Enfield and the lawyer were on the other side of the by-street; but when they came abreast of the entry, the former lifted up his cane and pointed.
“Did you ever remark that door?” he asked; and when his companion had replied in the affirmative, “it is connected in my mind,” added he, “with a very odd story.”
“Indeed?” said Mr.Utterson, with a slight change of voice, “and what was that?”
“Well, it was this way,” returned Mr.Enfield: “I was coming home from some place at the end of the world, about three o’clock of a black winter morning, and my way lay through a part of town where there was literally nothing to be seen but lamps. Street after street, and all the folks asleep-street after street, all lighted up as if for a procession and all as empty as a church- till at last I got into that state of mine when a man listens and listens and begins to long for the slight of a policeman. All at once, I saw to figures: one a little man who was stumping along eastward at a good walk, and the other a girl of maybe eight or ten was running as hard as she was able drown a cross street. Well, sir, the two ran into one another naturally enough at the corner; and then came the horrible part of the thing; for the man trampled calmly over the child’s body and left her screaming on the ground. It sound nothing to hear, but it was a hellish to see. It wasn’t like a man; it was like some damned Juggernaut. I gave a view halloa, took to my heels, collared my gentleman, and brought him back to where there was already quite a group about the screaming child. He was perfectly cool and made no resistance, but gave me one look, so ugly that it brought out the sweat on me like running. The people who had turned out were the girl’s own family; and pretty soon, the doctor, for whom she had been sent, put in his appearance. Well, the child was not much the worse, more frightened, according to the Sawbones; and there you might have supposed would be an end to it. But there was one curious circumstance. I had taken a loathing to my gentleman at first sight. So had the child’s family, which was only natural. But the doctor’s case was what struck me. He was the usual cut and dry apothecary, of no particular age and colour, with a strong Edinburgh accent, and about as emotional as a bagpipe. Well, sir, he was like the rest of us; every time he looked at my prisoner, I saw that Sawbones turn sick and white with desire to kill him. I knew what was in his mind, just as he knew what was in mine; and killing being out of the question, we did the next best. We told the man we could and we would make such a scandal out of this, as should make his name stink from one end of London to the other. If he had any friend or any credit, we undertook that he should lose them. And all the time, as we were pitching it with red hot, we were keeping the women of him as best we could, for they were as wild as harpies. I never saw a circle of such hateful face; and there was the man in the middle, with a kind of black, sneering coolness- frightened too, I could see that – but carrying it off,sir,really like Satan. ‘If you choose to make capital out of this accident, ‘said he,’ I am naturally helpless. No gentleman but wishes to avoid a scene,’ say he. ‘Name your figure.’ Well, we screwed him up into a hundred pounds for the child’s family; he would have clearly liked to stick out; but there was something about the lot of us that meant mischief, and st last he struck. The next thing was to get the money; and where do you think he carried us to that place with the door? – whipped out a key, went in, and presently came back the matter of ten pounds in gold and a cheque for balance on Coutts’s drawn payable to bearer and signed with a name that I can’t mention, though it’s one of the point of my story, but it was a name at least very well-known and often printed. The figure was stiff; but the signature was good for more than that, if it was only genuine. I took the liberty of pointing out to my gentleman that the whole business looked apocryphal, and that man does not, in real life, walk into cellar door at four in the morning and come out with another man’s cheque for close upon a hundreds ponds. But he was quite easy and sneering. ‘Set your mine at rest.’ Say he, ‘I will stay with you till the bank open and cash the cheque myself.’ So we all set off, the doctor, and the child’s father, and our friend and myself, and passed the rest of the night in my chambers; and the next day, when we breakfasted, went in a body to the bank. I gave in the cheque myself, and said I had every reason to believe it was forgery. Not a bit of it. The chque was genuine.”
“Tut – tut,” said Mr.Utterson
“I see feel as I do,” said Mr. Enfield. “Yes, it’s a bad story. For my man were a fellow that nobody could have to do with, really damnable man; and the person that drew the cheque is the very pink of proprieties, celebrated too