On the way to the East End, Wimsey insisted upon talking music – rather to Miss Murchison’s disquietude; she began think there was something a little sinister in this pointed refusal to discuss the object of their journey.
“By the way,” she ventured, interrupting something Wimsey was saying about fugal form, “this person we are going to see – has he a name?”
“Now you mention it, I believe he has, but he’s never called by it. It’s Rumm.”
“Not very, perhaps, if he – er – gives lessons in lock-picking.”
“I mean, his name’s Rumm.”
“Oh; what is it then?”
“Dash it! I mean, Rumm is his name.”
“Oh! I beg your pardon.”
“But he doesn’t care to use it, now that he is a total abstainer.”
“Then what does one call him?”
“I call him Bill,” said Wimsey, as the taxi drew up at the entrance to a narrow court, “but when he was at the head of his profession, they called him Blindfold Bill.‘ He was a very great man in his time.”
Paying off the taxi-man (who had obviously taken them for welfare-workers till he saw the size of his tip, and now did not know what to make of them), Wimsey steered his companion down the dirty alleyway. At the far end was a small house, from whose lighted windows poured forth the loud strains of a chorus of voices, supported by a harmonium and other instruments.
“Oh, dear!” said Wimsey, “we’ve struck a meeting. It can’t be helped. Here goes.”
Pausing until the strains of “Glory, glory, glory” had been succeeded by a sound as of fervent prayer, he hammered lustily at the door. Presently a small girl put her head out and, seeing Lord Peter, uttered a shrill cry of delight.
“Hullo, Esmeralda Hyacinth,” said Wimsey. “Is Dad in?”
“Yes, sir, please, sir, they’ll be so pleased, will you step in and oh, please?”
“Well?”
“Please, sir, will you sing ‘ Nazareth ’?”
“No, I will not sing ‘ Nazareth ’ on any account, Esmeralda; I’m surprised at you.”
“Daddy says ‘ Nazareth ’ isn’t worldly, and you do sing it so beautiful,” said Esmeralda, her mouth drooping.
Wimsey hid his face in his hands.
“This comes of having done a foolish thing once,” he said. “One never lives it down. I won’t promise, Esmeralda, but we’ll see. But I want to talk business with Dad when the meeting’s over.”
The child nodded; at the same moment, the praying voice within the room ceased, amid ejaculations of “Alleluia!” and Esmeralda, profiting by this momentary pause, pushed open the door and said loudly:
“Here’s Mr. Peter and a lady.”
The room was small, very hot and very full of people. In one corner was the harmonium, with the musicians grouped about it. In the middle, standing by a round table covered with a red cloth, was a stout, square man, with a face like a bull-dog. He had a book in his hand, and appeared to be about to announce a hymn, but, seeing Wimsey and Miss Murchison, he came forward, stretching out a large and hearty hand.
“Welcome one and welcome all!” he said. “Brethren, ’ere is a dear brother and sister in the Lord as is come out of the ’aunts of the rich and the riotous living of the West End to join with us in singing the Songs of Zion. Let us sing and give praise. Alleluia! We know that many shall come from the East and from the West and sit down at the Lord’s feast, while many that thinks theirselves chosen shall be cast into outer darkness. Therefore let us not say, because this man wears a shiny eyeglass, that he is not a chosen vessel, or because this woman wears a di’mond necklace and rides in ’er Rolls-Royce, she will not therefore wear a white robe and a gold crown in the New Jerusalem, nor because these people travels in the Blue Train to the Rivereera, therefore they shall not be seen a-castin’ down their golden crowns by the River of the Water of Life. We ’ears that there talk sometimes in ’ Yde Park o’ Sundays, but it’s bad and foolish and leads to strife and envyings and not to charity. All we like sheep ’ave gone astray and well I may say so, ’avin’ been a black and wicked sinner myself till this ’ere gentleman, for such ’e truly is, laid ’is ’and upon me as I was a-bustin’ of ’is safe and was the instrument under God of turnin’ me from the broad way that leadeth to destruction. Oh, brethren, what a ’appy day that was for me, alleluia! What a shower of blessings come to me by the grace of the Lord! Let us unite now in thanksgiving for ’Eaven’s mercies in Number One ’Undred and Two. (Esmeralda, give our dear friends a ’ymn book).”
“I’m sorry,” said Wimsey to Miss Murchison. “Can you bear it? I fancy this is the final outbreak.”
The harmonium, harp, sackbut, psaltery, dulcimer and all kinds of music burst out with a blare which nearly burst the ear-drum, the assembly lifted its combined voices, and Miss Murchison, to her amazement, found herself joining – at first self-consciously and then with a fine fervour in that stirring chant -
“Sweeping through the gates,
Sweeping through the gates of the New Jerusalem,
Washed in the Blood of the Lamb.”
Wimsey, who appeared to find it all very good fun, carolled away happily, without the slightest embarrassment; whether because he was accustomed to the exercise, or merely because he was one of those imperturbably self-satisfied people who cannot conceive of themselves as being out of place in any surroundings, Miss Murchison was unable to determine.
To her relief, the religious exercise came to an end with the hymn, and the company took their leave, with many hand-shakings all round. The musicians emptied the condensed moisture from their wind-instruments politely into the fireplace and the lady who played the harmonium drew the cover over the keys and came forward to welcome the guests. She was introduced simply as Bella and Miss Murchison concluded, rightly, that she was the wife of Mr. Bill Rumm and the mother of Esmeralda.
“Well, now,” said Bill, “it’s dry work preachin’ and singin’ – you’ll take a cup of tea or coffee, now, won’t you?”
Wimsey explained that they had just had tea, but begged that the family might proceed with their own meal.
“It ain’t ’ardly supper-time yet,” said Mrs. Rumm. “P’raps if you was to do your business with the lady and gentleman, Bill, they might feel inclined to take a bite with us later. It’s trotters,” she added, hopefully.
“It’s very kind of you,” said Miss Murchison, hesitatingly.
“Trotters want a lot of beating,” said Wimsey, “and since our business may take a little time we’ll accept with pleasure – if you’re sure we’re not putting you out.”
“Not at all,” said Mrs. Rumm, heartily. “Eight beautiful trotters they is, and with a bit of cheese they’ll go round easy. Come along, ’Meraldy – your Dad’s got business.”
“Mr. Peter’s going to sing,” said the child, fixing reproachful eyes on Wimsey.
“Now don’t you worrit his lordship,” rebuked Mrs. Rumm, “I declare I’m ashamed of you.”
“I’ll sing after supper, Esmeralda,” said Wimsey. “Hop along now like a good girl or I’ll make faces at you. Bill, I’ve brought you a new pupil.”
“Always ’appy to serve you, sir, knowing as it’s the Lord’s work. Glory be.”
“Thank you,” said Wimsey, modestly. “It’s a simple matter, Bill, but as the young lady is inexperienced with locks and so on, I’ve brought her along to be coached. You see, Miss Murchison, before Bill here saw the light -”
“Praise God!” put in Bill.
“He was the most accomplished burglar and safe-breaker in the three kingdoms. He doesn’t mind my telling you this, because he’s taken his medicine and finished with it all and is now a very honest and excellent locksmith of the ordinary kind.”
“Thanks be to Him that giveth the victory!”
“But from time to time, when I need a little help in a righteous cause, Bill gives me the benefit of his great experience.”
“And oh! what ’appiness it is, miss, to turn them talents which I so wickedly abused to the service of the Lord. His ’oly Name be blessed that bringeth good out of evil.”