But if York Road was mean and squalid in the day-time, it was infinitely worse at night. I have never in any other street in London seen such an endless procession of women of the unfortunate class. They were nearly all German, and their hard, cruel faces should have been a sufficient warning to anyone to give them a wide berth. I haven’t the slightest doubt that many of the young men who were foolish enough to be enticed by them were ruthlessly robbed, and not infrequently murdered.
One very nasty incident took place just under my window. It was in the depths of December, and the snow lay thick on the ground. Will anyone who experienced it ever forget that Christmas of 1894. I was laid up with influenza, and was lying awake coughing, when I heard a loud shriek, followed by an oath, and a series of groans and gurgles. Then someone whistled, and a cab came up, after which all was quiet for a few minutes, when a crowd collected and a babel of voices arose.
In the morning my landlady, with a very white face, told me she had seen it all through her window; she slept in the basement, and had been too horrified to move. It appears that, shortly before midnight, a man had hidden in the doorway of the house, as if waiting for someone, and about ten minutes later a woman had come along, whom he hurled to the ground, and stabbed. When the woman had ceased groaning, the man whistled, and a cab came up. The driver, getting down from his seat, helped lift the woman into the vehicle; he and the murderer then climbed into the box, there was the crack of a whip, and the cab was gone. A few minutes afterwards a couple of policemen appeared on the scene, talked for some time, and then walked away, after which the street remained silent till dawn.
I went out and looked at the scene of the incident. There was abundant evidence on the doorstep and window-sill as to what had taken place, and seeing the people next door looking at it, I asked them if they had heard anything in the night. They shrugged their shoulders. “It’s quite a common occurrence in this neighbourhood,” they said, “and it would never do for us to take any notice of it. If we did, we should certainly, sooner or later, share the same fate as that woman.” Thus, no attempt was made to bring the miscreant to justice, and the matter ended.
During the time I was with her, my landlady was robbed twice. On the first occasion two boys came into the front part of the shop and asked for some sandwiches. Whilst the landlady’s daughter, who was alone behind the counter, was serving them, one of the boys snatched up a ham, the other threw down a chair, and both flew out of the shop. The girl rushed after them, but of course fell over the chair. Her cries brought her brother Bert and me to the rescue, and we set off in pursuit of the thieves. Although they had got some distance, Bert, being an astonishingly fast sprinter, had nearly caught them up, when the foremost of the boys abruptly halted, and, whirling round, flung the ham right at him. He ducked, and the ham landed with a splash in a puddle of rain water. Picking it up, we bore it triumphantly home, and it was soon resting on the counter, I hope—since it was to be sold as usual—none the worse for its adventure.
Episode number two did not end quite so happily. A young man with a clean-shaven face, and innocent, big blue eyes came to look for rooms. He spoke with a strong American accent, and said he was travelling for a well-known firm of jewellers in Boston. Whether it was the eyes, or thoughts of gold bracelets and pearl pendants, I cannot say—perhaps it was both; anyhow, the landlady’s daughter beamed on him, and from that day forth I became a person of second importance, if, indeed, of any importance at all. Whatever he said was law, and whatever he chose to wear was “most elegant.” Then something happened, for which I was not altogether unprepared. He came down one morning carrying a somewhat bulky parcel, which he told the landlady’s daughter was his dress suit. “It’s too small for me,” he said. “This bracing climate of yours has given me such an appetite, I’ve grown fat. I’m going to take it to the tailor down the street to see if he can enlarge it for me. By the way, can you change me this sovereign?” He handed her a coin, and I saw him smile tenderly. Then he went out of the shop with a pile of silver in his hand—and never came back. The sovereign was of course a bad one, and, worse still, the dress clothes were a new suit of Bert’s, one for which he must have given at least three pounds.
I was not idle all the time I stayed in York Road. I was thrown on my own resources and had to find some means of making a livelihood. Expensive though my education had been, it was of little practical use to me now. The only subjects I knew anything about were those required for the Sandhurst and R.I.C. Examinations, and they in no way fitted me for business. A board-school youth with a knowledge of book-keeping and shorthand stood a much better chance of obtaining a clerkship than I did. It was a bitter revelation to me. I had always been brought up with the idea that breed and manners were a valuable asset.
I now discovered that without money and influence they were a handicap rather than otherwise. The majority of employers I interviewed were certainly not gentlemen, nor apparently did they care to have anything to do with such; all they wanted was smartness in figures and the capacity of standing prodigiously long hours and any amount of bullying. I worked for a week in an office in Lewisham. My employer was a kind of jobbing stockbroker with a florid face and yards of gold watch-chain. My hours, as far as I can remember, were from nine to six, with twenty minutes interval for luncheon. The second day I was there I was kept at work till after seven, and the following day, by way of retaliation, I took a good hour over my lunch. When I got back to the office, I thought my employer would have died of apoplexy. I have never seen a man in such a fury.
“What do you think I pay you for?” he shrieked; “to eat?”