General Well'ngone In Love Read Free Page A

from the cupboard, there was a knock at the door.
    The visitor, whose name was Mrs. Hutner and
who lived in the rooms below the Krinkles, did not wait to be
invited inside. Her eye had seen the money pouch, and she walked
straight over to it and dumped the contents onto the table.
    “ Just as I thought,” she
said, turning to Berel. “I saw you with that young
good-for-nothing, Berel Krinkle. If you think you can try their
thieving tricks on Duke’s Street, you’ll be sorry.” She then turned
her angry eye on Sarah and said, “This is a fine way for a Jewish
girl to behave, with your father not even a month dead!”
    The two young people watched in silence as
the elderly woman stormed out of the room, slamming the door behind
her.
    “ Shall we tell her the
truth, Sarah?”
    “ We cannot. We promised
Mr. Barnstock that no one would know that I am the one doing the
copy work.”
    “ Do you think she will
tell Mr. Melamed?”
    “ It is not Mr. Melamed
that worries me. I only hope she will not tell a constable
...”
    Sarah went back to the window and gazed
anxiously down at the street. To her relief, she did not see Mrs.
Hutner or a constable or anything that looked like more than the
usual activity. When she was satisfied that they were safe, at
least for that evening, she returned to her brother and said,
“Berel, please do not speak with General Well’ngone again, or any
of his associates. Do not be taken in by their words. They do not
mean you well.”
    Berel raised himself to his full height,
wishing that he could find a few more inches so he could look his
sister in the eye. “What do you take me for, Sarah? I know better
than to fall into one of General Well’ngone’s traps. Didn’t I bring
home the money safe and sound?”
    “ Yes, you did. Father
would have been proud of you for that, too.”
    “ Father would have been
proud of you, too, Sarah. The way you told off the General was a
glory. I don’t think he’ll dare come anywhere near Duke’s Street
again.”

    III.

    The Earl of Gravel Lane looked over at his
second in command with disdain. “If I am boring you, General, pray
do not let me keep you from your more important business.”
    General Well’ngone awoke from his reverie
with a start. “I was listening, Earl. The previous owner of this
gold fob must have been a scientific gentleman on account of the
seal’s having a half moon and three stars.”
    The Earl picked up one of the half dozen
gold fobs sitting upon the table. “This was the fob with the stars,
General Well’ngone. I set it aside a good ten minutes ago. The one
I have been discussing is of interest for quite a different
reason.”
    “ I don’t see that it
matters what sort of pictures the seals make. We’re going to unload
them all, anyway.”
    The Earl gave a sigh. In his mind, he did
not see himself as a common thief, an unwanted blight upon the
pretty landscape of the beau monde, whose richly filled pockets
provided both food and shelter for the Earl and his boys. Although
he may have lifted his noble title from one of the poorest,
sorriest streets in London—and though his threadbare coat and wig,
which harked back to the previous century, had been lifted from the
piles of cast-off clothing that even the old clothes men had no use
for—the Earl liked to think that he had a gentleman’s sensibility.
And so when it came to appreciating the watches and snuff boxes and
seals that his boys brought back to him at the end of their day’s
work in the streets of London, he considered himself on an equal
footing with the gentlemen whose pockets had yielded up to him
their treasures.
    “ True, General, but for
the moment these pretty things are ours and so we should enjoy
them.” The Earl picked up one of the less ornate fobs. “And if I am
not mistaken, this fob has caught your fancy, though I cannot see
why.”
    General Well’ngone blushed. It was true.
This one fob did hold him in its grip. To his eyes, the swirls