by W. W. Jacobs
PRIZE MONEY
The old man stood by the window, gazing at the frozen fields beyond. Thesign of the Cauliflower was stiff with snow, and the breath of a pair ofwaiting horses in a wagon beneath ascended in clouds of steam.
‘The Sign of the Cauliflower Was Stiff With Snow.’
“Amusements” he said slowly, as he came back with a shiver and, resuminghis seat by the tap-room fire, looked at the wayfarer who had been idlyquestioning him. “Claybury men don’t have much time for amusements.The last one I can call to mind was Bill Chambers being nailed up in apig-sty he was cleaning out, but there was such a fuss made over that—by Bill—that it sort o’ disheartened people.”
He got up again restlessly, and, walking round the table, gazed long andhard into three or four mugs.
“Sometimes a little gets left in them,” he explained, meeting thestranger’s inquiring glance. The latter started, and, knocking on thetable with the handle of his knife, explained that he had been informedby a man outside that his companion was the bitterest teetotaller inClaybury.
“That’s one o’ Bob Pretty’s larks,” said the old man, flushing. “Isee you talking to ‘im, and I thought as ‘ow he warn’t up to no good.Biggest rascal in Claybury, he is. I’ve said so afore, and I’ll say soagin.”
He bowed to the donor and buried his old face in the mug.
“A poacher!” he said, taking breath. “A thief!” he continued, afteranother draught. “I wonder whether Smith spilt any of this a-carrying ofit in?”
He put down the empty mug and made a careful examination of the floor,until a musical rapping on the table brought the landlord into the roomagain.
“My best respects,” he said, gratefully, as he placed the mug on thesettle by his side and slowly filled a long clay pipe. Next time you seeBob Pretty ask ‘im wot happened to the prize hamper. He’s done a goodmany things has Bob, but it’ll be a long time afore Claybury men’ll lookover that.
It was Henery Walker’s idea. Henery ‘ad been away to see an uncle of‘is wife’s wot had money and nobody to leave it to—leastways, so Henerythought when he wasted his money going over to see ‘im—and he came backfull of the idea, which he ‘ad picked up from the old man.
“We each pay twopence a week till Christmas,” he ses, “and we buy ahamper with a goose or a turkey in it, and bottles o’ rum and whiskeyand gin, as far as the money’ll go, and then we all draw lots for it,and the one that wins has it.”
It took a lot of explaining to some of ‘em, but Smith, the landlord,helped Henery, and in less than four days twenty-three men had paidtheir tuppences to Henery, who ‘ad been made the seckitary, and told himto hand them over to Smith in case he lost his memory.
Bob Pretty joined one arternoon on the quiet, and more than one of ‘emtalked of ‘aving their money back, but, arter Smith ‘ad explained as ‘owhe would see fair play, they thought better of it.
“He’ll ‘ave the same chance as all of you,” he ses. “No more and noless.”
“I’d feel more easy in my mind, though, if’e wasn’t in it,” ses BillChambers, staring at Bob. “I never knew ‘im to lose anything yet.”
“You don’t know everything, Bill,” ses Bob, shaking his ‘ead. “You don’tknow me; else you wouldn’t talk like that. I’ve never been caught doingwrong yet, and I ‘ope I never shall.”
“It’s all right, Bill,” ses George Kettle. “Mr. Smith’ll see fair, andI’d sooner win Bob Pretty’s money than anybody’s.”
“I ‘ope you will, mate,” ses Bob; “that’s what I joined for.”
“Bob’s money is as good as anybody else’s,” ses George Kettle, lookinground at the others. “It don’t signify to me where he got it from.”
“Ah, I don’t like to hear you talk like that George,” ses Bob Pretty.“I’ve thought more than once that you ‘ad them ideas.”
He drank up his beer and went off ‘ome, shaking his ‘cad, and, arterthree or four of’em ‘ad explained to George Kettle wot he meant, Georgewent off ‘ome, too.
The week afore Christmas, Smith, the landlord, said as ‘ow he ‘ad gotenough money, and three days arter we all came up ‘ere to see the prizedrawn. It was one o’ the biggest hampers Smith could get; and therewas a fine, large turkey in it, a large goose, three pounds o’ porksausages, a bottle o’ whiskey, a bottle o’ rum, a bottle o’ brandy, abottle o’ gin, and two bottles o’ wine. The hamper was all decoratedwith holly, and a little flag was stuck in the top.
On’y men as belonged was allowed to feel the turkey and the goose, andarter a time Smith said as ‘ow p’r’aps they’d better leave off, and ‘eput all the things back in the hamper and fastened up the lid.
“How are we going to draw the lottery?” ses John Biggs, the blacksmith.
“There’ll be twenty-three bits o’ paper,” ses Smith, “and they’ll benumbered from one to twenty-three. Then they’ll be twisted up all thesame shape and put in this ‘ere paper bag, which I shall ‘old as eachman draws. The chap that draws the paper with the figger on it wins.”
He tore up twenty-three bits o’ paper all about the same size, and thenwith a black-lead pencil ‘e put the numbers on, while everybody leanedover ‘im to see fair play. Then he twisted every bit o’ paper up andheld them in his ‘and.
“Is that satisfactory?” he ses.
“Couldn’t be fairer,” ses Bill Chambers.
“Mind,” ses Smith, putting them into a tall paper bag that had ‘ad sugarin it and shaking them up, “Number I wins the prize. Who’s going to drawfust?”
All of ‘em hung back and looked at each other; they all seemed to thinkthey’d ‘ave a better chance when there wasn’t so many numbers left inthe bag.
“Come on,” ses Smith, the landlord. “Some-body must be fust.”
“Go on, George Kettle,” ses Bob Pretty. “You’re sure to win. I ‘ad adream you did.”
“Go on yourself,” ses George.
“I never ‘ave no luck,” ses Bob; “but if Henery Walker will draw fust,I’ll draw second. Somebody must begin.”
“O’ course they must,” ses Henery, “and if you’re so anxious why don’tyou ‘ave fust try?”
Bob Pretty tried to laugh it off, but they wouldn’t ‘ave it, and at lasthe takes out a pocket-’andkerchief and offers it to Smith, the landlord.
“All right, I’ll go fust if you’ll blindfold me,” he ses.
“There ain’t no need for that, Bob,” ses Mr. Smith. “You can’t see inthe bag, and even if you could it wouldn’t help you.”
“Never mind; you blindfold me,” ses Bob; “it’ll set a good example tothe others.”
Smith did it at last, and when Bob Pretty put his ‘and in the bag andpulled out a paper you might ha’ heard a pin drop.
“Open it and see what number it is, Mr. Smith,” ses Bob Pretty.“Twenty-three, I expect; I never ‘ave no luck.”
Smith rolled out the paper, and then ‘e turned pale and ‘is eyes seemedto stick right out of his ‘ead.
“He’s won it!” he ses, in a choky voice. “It’s Number I. Bob Pretty ‘aswon the prize.”
‘He’s Won It!’ he Ses, in a Choky Voice. ‘it’s Number I.’
You never ‘eard such a noise in this ‘ere public-’ouse afore or since;everybody shouting their ‘ardest, and Bill Chambers stamping up and downthe room as if he’d gone right out of his mind.
“Silence!” ses Mr. Smith, at last. “Silence! How dare you make thatnoise in my ‘ouse, giving it a bad name? Bob Pretty ‘as won it fairand square. Nothing could ha’ been fairer. You ought to be ashamed o’yourselves.”
Bob Pretty wouldn’t believe it at fust. He said that Smith was makinggame of ‘im, and, when Smith held the paper under ‘is nose, he kept thehandkerchief on his eyes and wouldn’t look at it.
“I’ve seen you afore to-day,” he says, nodding his ‘ead. “I like a jokeas well as anybody, but it ain’t fair to try and make fun of a pore,‘ard-working man like that.”
I never se
e a man so astonished in my life as Bob Pretty was, when ‘efound out it was really true. He seemed fair ‘mazed-like, and stoodthere scratching his ‘ead, as if he didn’t know where ‘e was. He comeround at last, arter a pint o’ beer that Smith ‘ad stood ‘im, and thenhe made a little speech, thanking Smith for the fair way he ‘ad acted,and took up the hamper.
“‘Strewth, it is heavy,” he ses, getting it up on his back. “Well, solong, mates.”
“Ain’t you—ain’t you going to stand us a drink out o’ one o’ thembottles?” ses Peter Gubbins, as Bob got to the door.
Bob Pretty went out as if he didn’t ‘ear; then he stopped, sudden-like,and turned round and put his ‘ead in at the door agin, and stood lookingat ‘em.
“No, mates,” he ses, at last, “and I wonder at you for asking, arterwhat you’ve all said about me. I’m a pore man, but I’ve got my feelings.I drawed fust becos nobody else would, and all the thanks I get for itis to be called a thief.”
He went off down the road, and by and by Bill Chambers, wot ‘ad beensitting staring straight in front of ‘im, got up and went to the door,and stood looking arter ‘im like a man in a dream. None of ‘em seemed tobe able to believe that the lottery could be all over so soon, and BobPretty going off with it, and when they did make up their minds to it,it was one o’ the most miserable sights you ever see. The idea that they‘ad been paying a pint a week for Bob Pretty for months nearly sent someof ‘em out of their minds.
“It can’t be ‘elped,” ses Mr. Smith. “He ‘ad the pluck to draw fust, andhe won; anybody else might ha’ done it. He gave you the offer, GeorgeKettle, and you, too, Henery Walker.”
Henery Walker was too low-spirited to answer ‘im; and arter Smith ‘adsaid “Hush!” to George Kettle three times, he up and put ‘im outside forthe sake of the ‘ouse.
When ‘e came back it was all quiet and everybody was staring their‘ardest at little Dicky Weed, the tailor, who was sitting with his headin his ‘ands, thinking, and every now and then taking them away andlooking up at the ceiling, or else leaning forward with a start andlooking as if ‘e saw something crawling on the wall.
“Wot’s the matter with you?” ses Mr. Smith.
Dicky Weed didn’t answer ‘im. He shut his eyes tight and then ‘e jumpsup all of a sudden. “I’ve got it!” he says. “Where’s that bag?”
“Wot bag?” ses Mr. Smith, staring at ‘im. “The bag with the papers in,”ses Dicky.
“Where Bob Pretty ought to be,” ses Bill Chambers. “On the fire.”
“Wot?” screams Dicky Weed. “Now you’ve been and spoilt everything!”
“Speak English,” ses Bill.
“I will!” ses Dicky, trembling all over with temper. “Who asked you toput it on the fire? Who asked you to put yourself forward? I see it allnow, and it’s too late.”
“Wot’s too late?” ses Sam Tones.
“When Bob Pretty put his ‘and in that bag,” ses Dicky Weed, holding up‘is finger and looking at them, “he’d got a bit o’ paper already in it—abit o’ paper with the figger I on it. That’s ‘ow he done it. While wewas all watching Mr. Smith, he was getting ‘is own bit o’ paper ready.”
He ‘ad to say it three times afore they understood ‘im, and then theywent down on their knees and burnt their fingers picking up bits o’paper that ‘ad fallen in the fireplace. They found six pieces in all,but not one with the number they was looking for on it, and then theyall got up and said wot ought to be done to Bob Pretty.
“You can’t do anything,” ses Smith, the landlord. “You can’t prove it.After all, it’s only Dicky’s idea.”
Arf-a-dozen of ‘em all began speaking at once, but Bill Chambers gave‘em the wink, and pretended to agree with ‘im.
“We’re going to have that hamper back,” he ses, as soon as Mr. Smith ‘adgone back to the bar, “but it won’t do to let ‘im know. He don’t like tothink that Bob Pretty was one too many for ‘im.”
“Let’s all go to Bob Pretty’s and take it,” ses Peter Gubbins, wot ‘adbeen in the Militia.
Dicky Weed shook his ‘ead. “He’d ‘ave the lor on us for robbery,” heses; “there’s nothing he’d like better.”
They talked it over till closing-time, but nobody seemed to know wot todo, and they stood outside in the bitter cold for over arf an hour stilltrying to make up their minds ‘ow to get that hamper back. Fust one wentoff ‘ome and then another, and at last, when there was on’y three orfour of ‘em left, Henery Walker, wot prided himself on ‘is artfulness,‘ad an idea.
“One of us must get Bob Pretty up ‘ere to-morrow night and stand ‘im apint, or p’r’aps two pints,” he ses. “While he’s here two other chapsmust ‘ave a row close by his ‘ouse and pretend to fight. Mrs. Pretty andthe young ‘uns are sure to run out to look at it, and while they are outanother chap can go in quiet-like and get the hamper.”
It seemed a wunnerful good idea, and Bill Chambers said so; and ‘eflattered Henery Walker up until Henery didn’t know where to look, asthe saying is.
“And wot’s to be done with the hamper when we’ve got it?” ses Sam Jones.
“Have it drawed for agin,” ses Henery. “It’ll ‘ave to be done on thequiet, o’ course.”
Sam Jones stood thinking for a bit. “Burn the hamper and draw lots foreverything separate,” ‘e ses, very slow. “If Bob Pretty ses it’s ‘isturkey and goose and spirits, tell ‘im to prove it. We sha’n’t knownothing about it.”
Henery Walker said it was a good plan; and arter talking it over theywalked ‘ome all very pleased with theirselves. They talked it over nextday with the other chaps; and Henery Walker said arterwards that p’r’apsit was talked over a bit too much.
It took ‘em some time to make up their minds about it, but at last itwas settled that Peter Gubbins was to stand Bob Pretty the beer; TedBrown, who was well known for his ‘ot temper, and Joe Smith was to ‘avethe quarrel; and Henery Walker was to slip in and steal the hamper, and‘ide the things up at his place.
Bob Pretty fell into the trap at once. He was standing at ‘is gatein the dark, next day, smoking a pipe, when Peter Gubbins passed, andPeter, arter stopping and asking ‘im for a light, spoke about ‘is luckin getting the hamper, and told ‘im he didn’t bear no malice for it.
“You ‘ad the pluck to draw fust,” he ses, “and you won.”
Bob Pretty said he was a Briton, and arter a little more talk Peterasked ‘im to go and ‘ave a pint with ‘im to show that there was noill-feeling. They came into this ‘ere Cauliflower public-’ouse likebrothers, and in less than ten minutes everybody was making as much fusso’ Bob Pretty as if ‘e’d been the best man in Claybury.
“Arter all, a man can’t ‘elp winning a prize,” ses Bill Chambers,looking round.
“I couldn’t,” ses Bob.
He sat down and ‘elped hisself out o’ Sam Jones’s baccy-box; and one ortwo got up on the quiet and went outside to listen to wot was going ondown the road. Everybody was wondering wot was happening, and when BobPretty got up and said ‘e must be going, Bill Chambers caught ‘old ofhim by the coat and asked ‘im to have arf a pint with ‘im.
Bob had the arf-pint, and arter that another one with Sam Jones, andthen ‘e said ‘e really must be going, as his wife was expecting ‘im. Hepushed Bill Chambers’s ‘at over his eyes—a thing Bill can’t abear—andarter filling ‘is pipe agin from Sam Jones’s box he got up and went.
“Mind you,” ses Bill Chambers, looking round, “if ‘e comes back and sessomebody ‘as taken his hamper, nobody knows nothing about it.”
“I ‘ope Henery Walker ‘as got it all right,” ses Dicky Weed. “When shallwe know?”
“He’ll come up ‘ere and tell us,” ses Bill Chambers. “It’s time ‘e washere, a’most.”
Five minutes arterwards the door opened and Henery Walker camestaggering in. He was as white as a sheet, his ‘at was knocked on oneside of his ‘ead, and there was two or three nasty-looking scratcheson ‘is cheek. He came st
raight to Bill Chambers’s mug—wot ‘ad justbeen filled—and emptied it, and then ‘e sat down on a seat gasping forbreath.
‘The Door Opened and Henery Walker Came Staggering In.’
“Wots the matter, Henery?” ses Bill, staring at ‘im with ‘is mouth open.
Henery Walker groaned and shook his ‘ead. “Didn’t you get the hamper?”ses Bill, turning pale. Henery Walker shook his ‘ead agin.
“Shut up!” he ses, as Bill Chambers started finding fault. “I done thebest I could. Nothing could ha’ ‘appened better—to start with. DirectlyTed Brown and Joe Smith started, Mrs. Pretty and her sister, and allthe kids excepting the baby, run out, and they’d ‘ardly gone afore I wasinside the back door and looking for that hamper, and I’d hardly startedafore I heard them coming back agin. I was at the foot o’ the stairs atthe time, and, not knowing wot to do, I went up ‘em into Bob’s bedroom.”
“Well?” ses Bill Chambers, as Henery Walker stopped and looked round.
“A’most direckly arterwards I ‘eard Mrs. Pretty and her sister comingupstairs,” ses Henery Walker, with a shudder. “I was under the bed atthe time, and afore I could say a word Mrs. Pretty gave a loud screechand scratched my face something cruel. I thought she’d gone mad.”
“You’ve made a nice mess of it!” ses Bill Chambers.
“Mess!” ses Henery, firing up. “Wot would you ha’ done?”
“I should ha’ managed diff’rent,” ses Bill Chambers. “Did she know whoyou was?”
“Know who I was?” ses Henery. “O’ course she did. It’s my belief thatBob knew all about it and told ‘er wot to do.”
“Well, you’ve done it now, Henery,” ses Bill Chambers. “Still, that’syour affair.”
“Ho, is it?” ses Henery Walker. “You ‘ad as much to do with it as I ‘ad,excepting that you was sitting up ‘ere in comfort while I was doing allthe work. It’s a wonder to me I got off as well as I did.”
Bill Chambers sat staring at ‘im and scratching his ‘ead, and just thenthey all ‘eard the voice of Bob Pretty, very distinct, outside, askingfor Henery Walker. Then the door opened, and Bob Pretty, carrying his‘ead very ‘igh, walked into the room.
“Where’s Henery Walker?” he ses, in a loud voice.
‘Where’s Henery Walker?’ he Ses, in a Loud Voice.’
Henery Walker put down the empty mug wot he’d been pretending to drinkout of and tried to smile at ‘im.
“Halloa, Bob!” he ses.
“What was you doing in my ‘ouse?” ses Bob Pretty, very severe.
“I—I just looked in to see whether you was in, Bob,” ses Henery.
“That’s why you was found under my bed, I s’pose?” ses Bob Pretty. “Iwant a straight answer, Henery Walker, and I mean to ‘ave it, else I’mgoing off to Cudford for Policeman White.”
“I went there to get that hamper,” ses Henery Walker, plucking upspirit. “You won it unfair last night, and we determined for to get itback. So now you know.”
“I call on all of you to witness that,” ses Bob, looking round. “HeneryWalker went into my ‘ouse to steal my hamper. He ses so, and it wasn’t‘is fault he couldn’t find it. I’m a pore man and I can’t afford suchthings; I sold it this morning, a bargain, for thirty bob.”
“Well, then there’s no call to make a fuss over it, Bob,” ses BillChambers.
“I sold it for thirty bob,” ses Bob Pretty, “and when I went out thisevening I left the money on my bedroom mantelpiece—one pound, twoarf-crowns, two two-shilling pieces, and two sixpences. My wife and hersister both saw it there. That they’ll swear to.”
“Well, wot about it?” ses Sam Jones, staring at ‘im.
“Arter my pore wife ‘ad begged and prayed Henery Walker on ‘er bendedknees to spare ‘er life and go,” ses Bob Pretty, “she looked at themantel-piece and found the money ‘ad disappeared.”
Henery Walker got up all white and shaking and flung ‘is arms about,trying to get ‘is breath.
“Do you mean to say I stole it?” he ses, at last.
“O’ course I do,” ses Bob Pretty. “Why, you said yourself afore thesewitnesses and Mr. Smith that you came to steal the hamper. Wot’s thedifference between stealing the hamper and the money I sold it for?”
Henery Walker tried for to answer ‘im, but he couldn’t speak a word.
“I left my pore wife with ‘er apron over her ‘ead sobbing as if her ‘artwould break,” ses Bob Pretty; “not because o’ the loss of the money somuch, but to think of Henery Walker doing such a thing—and ‘aving to goto jail for it.”
“I never touched your money, and you know it,” ses Henery Walker,finding his breath at last. “I don’t believe it was there. You and yourwife ‘ud swear anything.”
“As you please, Henery,” ses Bob Pretty. “Only I’m going straight off toCudford to see Policeman White; he’ll be glad of a job, I know. There’sthree of us to swear to it, and you was found under my bed.”
“Let bygones be bygones, Bob,” ses Bill Chambers, trying to smile at‘im.
“No, mate,” ses Bob Pretty. “I’m going to ‘ave my rights, but I don’twant to be ‘ard on a man I’ve known all my life; and if, afore I go tomy bed to-night, the thirty shillings is brought to me, I won’t say as Iwon’t look over it.”
He stood for a moment shaking his ‘ead at them, and then, still holdingit very ‘igh, he turned round and walked out.
“He never left no money on the mantelpiece,” ses Sam Jones, at last.
“Don’t you believe it. You go to jail, Henery.”
“Anything sooner than be done by Bob Pretty,” ses George Kettle.
“There’s not much doing now, Henery,” ses Bill Chambers, in a softvoice.
Henery Walker wouldn’t listen to ‘em, and he jumped up and carried onlike a madman. His idea was for ‘em all to club together to pay themoney, and to borrow it from Smith, the landlord, to go on with. Theywouldn’t ‘ear of it at fust, but arter Smith ‘ad pointed out that theymight ‘ave to go to jail with Henery, and said things about ‘is license,they gave way. Bob Pretty was just starting off to see Policeman Whitewhen they took the money, and instead o’ telling ‘im wot they thoughtof ‘im, as they ‘ad intended, Henery Walker ‘ad to walk alongside of ‘imand beg and pray of ‘im to take the money. He took it at last as afavor to Henery, and bought the hamper back with it next morning—cheap.Leastways, he said so.
