chapter 56
The group ascended to the second floor, when Adam suddenly stopped, crouching down before a warped floorboard. He reached into the broken cavity in the floor, his hand disappearing into the darkness.
After a moment of searching, he pulled out a small wooden box, no bigger than a palm, and a crumpled, nearly unbendable, old book.
Adam forcefully straightened the book, wiping away the dust with his sleeve. Arthur needed only a glance at the cover to recognize it as a copy of “The Scourge” magazine.
It wasn’t that Arthur was particularly knowledgeable, but rather that he frequented antique bookshops in his spare time. “The Scourge,” a magazine primarily focused on satirical cartoons, enjoyed immense popularity among London’s citizens.
Among antique bookshops, the monthly issues of “The Scourge” from 1811 to 1814 were particularly sought after. The reason was simple: during those three years, the magazine’s principal cartoonist was the renowned George Cruikshank.
Tom, puzzled, inquired, “What is this book?”
Before Adam could answer, Arthur stepped in and explained, “This is a good book, the June 1812 issue of ‘The Scourge.’ I’ve been to countless antique bookshops, but couldn’t find it. To think Adam has one here!”
Tony leaned closer, “Did this issue publish any important information? Why are you so eager to get it?”
Arthur, expressionless, took a puff of his pipe, “I don’t know if there’s any important information, but a month before the June issue was released, the then Prime Minister, Spencer Perceval, was shot and killed in the doorway of the House of Parliament. So I guess the content of this issue must be very interesting. The fact that I couldn’t find this book in any antique bookshop is proof enough.”
Dickens inquired, “You mean the Prime Minister Perceval who enacted the ‘Embargo Act’ that messed up both American and British economies, and then ordered the suppression of the ‘Luddite Movement,’ hanging many rioting workers?”
Tom exclaimed, “My God! Does this book contain attacks on those politicians? It wasn’t banned at the time? That’s a miracle!”
Arthur replied, “It’s not entirely attacks on politicians. Attacks on politicians usually occur when there are specific events, like the ‘Luddite Movement’…”
Tom breathed a sigh of relief, “I see…”
“During normal times, the cartoonist George Cruikshank mainly targeted the royal family. For example, condemning George III for abandoning his first wife for the throne, and for his tyranny and insistence on violence, which led to the independence of the North American colonies. Oh, and Mr. Cruikshank was also very prescient in attacking the current King George IV, who later succeeded to the throne. From then on, he sharply commented on George IV, who was then still a prince, ‘He doesn’t look like a king.'”
As soon as Arthur finished speaking, Tom’s newly relaxed heart jumped back into his throat.
Tom felt goosebumps crawling all over his body, “This man wasn’t thrown in jail? How did he manage it? I’ve heard from the old folks that things were different back then, the king still had a lot of power. And George III was a terrible king, he was petty and had a terrible temper. Many who opposed him were thrown in jail, and even those who weren’t were basically exiled. How did this George Cruikshank survive that period unscathed?”
A subtle smile played on Arthur’s lips, “There are quite a few complex reasons. Firstly, George III had become mentally deranged due to his advanced age, and the King’s power had been transferred to the Prince Regent, George IV. Secondly, due to the old King’s wrong decisions in North America, Parliament had gradually reined in his authority. Of course, the most important thing is that Mr. Cruikshank was a clever fellow. Both the Whigs and the Tories saw the potential hidden in the hugely popular ‘Scourge’ magazine. Therefore, Mr. Cruikshank received money from the Whigs to attack the Tories, and money from the Tories to attack the Whigs. Finally, he received money from both parties to attack the mentally unsound old king who was bedridden. Therefore, he not only said everything he wanted to say, but also made a fortune in the process.”
Dickens was puzzled, “But even so, Mr. Cruikshank attacked the royal family and politicians every day, wouldn’t he be labeled an instigator and a traitor? They were at war then, and the ‘Treason Act’ and the ‘Seditious Meetings Act’ should not have been repealed yet, right?”
“No, no, no.” Arthur waved his hand, “Cruikshank didn’t always attack the royal family and politicians, he only spent half of each issue doing that.”
Dickens was puzzled, “What about the other half?”
“The other half?” Arthur calmly said, “Demeaning the French, and insulting Napoleon.”
Upon hearing this, the group burst into laughter, unable to contain themselves.
“No wonder ‘The Scourge’ could be published normally.”
“Just that one point alone, they couldn’t convict Mr. Cruikshank of treason.”
Dickens, unable to suppress his amusement, replied, “It seems I should visit antique bookshops more often. I didn’t know they hid such interesting things.”
As the group was laughing merrily, the door of the next room suddenly creaked open. Adam looked through the crack in the door and exclaimed in surprise, “Robin!”
The door was slowly pushed open, revealing a small girl leaning against the doorframe. She was shorter than Adam by a head. She wore a white dress with a hole in it, her thin lips were bluish-white, her black, yellowish hair was scattered loosely, and her sickly eyes seemed to have lost their sparkle. She coughed lightly twice, her chest heaving repeatedly, before she tremblingly extended her hand, which was thin and almost transparent in the sunlight, and asked in a faint, almost inaudible voice.
“Is that Adam?”
Adam, holding the book and the wooden box, went over and took her small hand. He rubbed Robin’s back hard, trying to warm up her icy palm. “It’s me, I was released from prison. I almost went to the gallows, but I met many kind gentlemen who saved me. I brought them to see you. Look, they are the gentlemen behind me. The kind-looking one is my new father, the police officer Tom who invited me to his house for dinner. The one with a mole on his face is Police Officer Tony, the one carrying a bag is Mr. Dickens who writes for the newspaper, and the tallest and biggest one is Mr. Hastings. Remember what I told you? The one who gave me a shilling two months ago, and we sat in the yard together eating candy?”
Robin listened quietly to Adam’s words, a faint smile on her face. Then, she ran her hand up Adam’s arm, searching until she touched his hair. Only then did she touch his head reassuringly.
“Adam, you are a good person. I heard that good people will have good fortune. You met so many good gentlemen, that’s your good fortune.”
Adam stared at Robin. Even though he was only a nine-year-old boy, he could sense something was wrong. He stretched out his hand and slowly waved it in front of Robin’s eyes.
Robin felt the sudden silence. She smiled and asked, “Adam, why aren’t you talking?”
“You… can’t you see?”
Adam’s hands holding the book and the wooden box loosened, and with a thud, the contents spilled onto the floor. The wooden box didn’t contain anything particularly precious, just a few poorly wrapped candies and a few pennies left over from buying the candy.
Adam hung his head. He didn’t want anyone to see his face, but his trembling shoulders and body betrayed him.
“Adam…” Police Officer Tom drew a heavy breath, wanting to go over and hug his son. But Arthur reached out and stopped him. He took a puff of his pipe and said softly, “Don’t go. When a man cries, he doesn’t want to see his father.”
Robin gently stroked Adam’s face, warm tears wetting her small hand. She just smiled lightly. “Adam, don’t cry. I’m not blind, God and I are just playing a joke. Maybe it’ll be fine after a good night’s sleep. But maybe he’s playing a little too big a joke, I haven’t been able to go to the factory to work for a long time, I can hear my parents sigh every night. When you get the chance to go to church to pray, be sure to tell God for me. I need to get better soon. There are so many bills at home, if we don’t have any more money coming in, we’ll be kicked out of here.”
Dickens couldn’t help but cover his eyes when he heard this. Robin’s words reminded him of his own past experiences. He pursed his lips, his eyes red, and reached into his pocket for a bill, ready to walk over. But suddenly three hands with bills in them reached out from behind him, stuffing the money into his palm. He turned his head and saw Arthur, Tom and Tony looking up at the ceiling at the same time. Even these three seasoned police officers, who had seen much suffering, could only use this way to stop their tears from falling.
Dickens’ heart warmed. He gave them a meaningful glare, then bent down and picked up the wooden box on the floor, stuffed the money in his hand into it, and secretly handed it to little Adam.
Adam looked back at him, about to speak, but saw Dickens holding a finger to his lips, motioning him not to make a sound. Adam bit his lip, choked back a sob, and tried his best to put on a cheerful voice, “Robin! Look what I found, a lot of money! With this money, your family won’t have to worry about being kicked out for a while!”
But when Robin heard this, she was startled at first, and the smile on her face gradually faded. She touched the bills in the wooden box and counted them carefully.
“Adam, did you steal this money? Didn’t you promise me you wouldn’t do those things anymore?”
Adam shook his head vigorously, denying, “This money really wasn’t stolen! Although I used to do those things, that was all in the past. Besides, even if I continue to do them, what difference does it make? Those gentlemen and ladies have taken all the good things in the world, why can’t they share a little with us? They can eat dozens of pounds for a meal, and all I took from them was maybe a cherry from their cake. With this cherry, your family won’t be kicked out of here, what’s wrong with that? Robin, look at you, you… you’ve been hurt by them… blinded…”
Adam said this, reaching out and hugging Robin. The nine-year-old boy knelt on the ground, his head buried in the other child’s shoulder, crying uncontrollably. Even when he was facing the death penalty in the police court, he hadn’t cried as sorrowfully as he did today.
Suddenly, a large hand rested on his head. Adam choked back a sob and looked back. It was Arthur, his hat pulled low. Adam choked out a question, “Mr. Hastings, do you… do you know God? Maybe only he can cure Robin now?”
Arthur slightly raised the brim of his hat, squatting down. Beneath the shadow, a pair of eyes glowed with a faint, dim red light. “I’m sorry, Adam, usually I’m far from God, but close to the Devil.”
Adam felt as if he had fallen into an ice cave. He turned his head, sniffing lightly, tears flowing silently. But then Arthur’s gentle voice rang out again. “However, if it’s for Robin, I can try very hard to get to know God.”
(End of Chapter)