Free Dodger by Terry Pratchett Page B

Charlie nodded to the policeman and walked down the steps, an amazed Dodger following him. Onan padded behind, ever-optimistic that Dodger might be taking a route through the foggy streets that could involve a bone. Life for Onan often didn’t produce the rewards he wanted; and as Dodger tied him to a lamppost it became clear that this was going to be one of those times. Again. Dodger resolved to get him a decent bone at the earliest opportunity.
    He hadn’t tasted coffee before, but Solomon said it was nothing but mud, and in any case he couldn’t afford it. The coffee house was full of the stuff, full of people and full of chatter and, above all, full of noise.
    Charlie pushed Dodger onto a chair, sat down beside him and said, ‘Nobody is going to hear what you say here, because in here everybody is always talking at once, and the ones who aren’t actually talking are thinking about what they are going to say next and waiting for their turn. Is there any point in my asking you for the truth about that delicious little episode, or should we perhaps just let a veil of mystery fall over it? Have you ever heard of a cove called Napoleon, by any chance? Do take more sugar, and when you have finished the bowl they will bring another one; these new sugar lumps are all the go, aren’t they?’
    Dodger stopped feverishly pushing sugar into his pockets and said, ‘Napoleon, yeah, Froggy general, that’s why we’ve got old sweats begging on the streets, sometimes with a knife, yes?’
    ‘Well,’ said Charlie, ‘he was famous among other things for saying that what he looked for in his generals was luck; and you, Mister Dodger, are all lucky, very lucky, because something about that little escapade smells to me as bad as an extremely old cheese. I think I know you, Dodger, so I will indeed recommend to my editor that some little honour, possibly including a half sovereign or two, might be in order – although I will try and persuade him not to put your name in the newspapers, because I suspect that doing so could mean you having some little trouble finding friends in the future, since helping the police would not look good on your curriculum vitae in those shadows you frequent. You are lucky, Dodger, and the more you help me, the luckier you will become.’ His fingers strayed to his pocket and the unmistakable jingle of coins could be heard. ‘What have you found out?’
    Dodger told him about the coach and the girl, with Charlie listening carefully to everything he said.
    When he had finished, Charlie said, ‘So she saw no crest on the coach? What kind of foreign accent? French? German?’
    Much to Charlie’s surprise, Dodger said firmly, ‘Mister Charlie, I know about what’s on coaches and I know to recognize most lingos, but you see that in this I’m just like you – I’m dealing with an informant who isn’t bright enough to know everything or notice much.’
    Charlie looked at Dodger in the way that somebody would look at some sad accident and said, ‘You, Dodger, are what is known as a
tabula rasa
– Latin for a clean slate; you are smart, indeed, but you have so very little to be smart about! It grieves me, it really does, although I do see that you have had the sense to get some new clothes, the best a shonky shop could provide.’ He smiled when he saw Dodger’s expression and went on, ‘What? You don’t think the likes of me would know what a shonky shop is? Believe me, my friend, there are very few depths in this city that I haven’t plumbed as a matter of business. But on a lighter note, I expect you will like to hear that the young lady you rescued is recovering. I believe that no one has yet reported her missing – though there are indications that she is not some street waif, so her disappearance
should
have been reported. You understand? Although as yet she cannot speak very well – she seems incapable of explaining what may have happened to her – she does appear to understand English. As