Free Some Danger Involved by Will Thomas Page B

if Louis urged a girl to quit?”
    “Not in Whitechapel,” the rabbi said, smiling at the idea. “This is not the West End. Rachel’s sisters make little more than a few pints of ale and a roll per night. No one is willing to enter into any partnership with the women here. There is no money in it.”
    “And there is no chance that Louis…” He left the sentence dangling.
    “Nyet! Louis would not make use of a prostitute. Apart from it being forbidden to him, he feared, as all young Jewish men fear, the diseases. Any weakness or lapse on their part could be ultimately fatal.”
    Barker gave up on the coffee after a few sips and began patting his pockets. His pipe helped him think. He was back to smoking the one with his own image, which I had come to think of as his traveling pipe. Reb Shlomo stopped chewing his roll to stare at the miniature version of the original. He tipped me a wink, as if to say, “Your boss is some fellow!” Barker took no notice, being deep in thought. I liked the smell of the tobacco I had brought him on my first day. According to the tobacconist, it was a “mostly aromatic blend, with a hint of sweetness and a mere touch of latakia for balance.” That was the kind of nonsense one hears when pipesmen get together. They are as bad as vintners.
    “Would you say,” Barker asked the rabbi, as he twirled the vesta around the bowl, “that Louis Pokrzywa spoke to strangers every day, that he went out of his way to be helpful to people?”
    “Yes, of course.”
    “Did he speak to Jew and Gentile?”
    “He did.”
    “Married and single Jewesses?”
    “Yes.”
    “Ashkenazi and Sephardi?”
    “I sense you are hinting at something, Mr. Barker.”
    “Louis was a good-looking fellow, Rabbi. Women fall in love, it is their nature. Some women have boyfriends, or even husbands. Some are very needy and attractive. Rabbinical students are often naive and romantic. Do you see what I’m getting at?”
    “Of course I do, Mr. Barker, I’m not an idiot. But I think you are mistaken.”
    Barker pushed his sealskin pouch toward the rabbi, almost as a peace offering. “Shmek tabac?”
    The rabbi shrugged, pulled an old and disreputable briar from his pocket, and charged it from the pouch. He borrowed a match as well. Our coffees were replenished and we were ready for another round of questions.
    “Did Louis do any proselytizing?”
    “Not consciously. He was a zealot, and his enthusiasm was infectious, but I don’t think he was specifically out to convert Christians.”
    “What about the so-called Messianic Jews?”
    “Oh, they are fair game. There are Jews, and then there are Jews, you know. Some will welcome Messianics into their homes as brothers, and others will cut them dead in the street, figuratively speaking, of course. I think Louis believed that a Jew who turned Christian was still following most of the tenets of his faith, but he also enjoyed a good argument, and the splitting of hairs.”
    “Have you noticed evidence of anti-Semitism in London lately?” Barker spoke plainly.
    “I was knocked down this morning, if that is what you mean. They were a band of youths, perhaps in their early twenties, in cloth caps. By the time of day, I’d say they were out of work.”
    “English?”
    “English, Irish, Scottish. You all look the same.”
    Barker and I both smiled at the remark. I bet the rabbi could have listed twenty differences between a Latvian and an Estonian Jew.
    “Do you have an address at which you can be reached, should we need to speak to you again?”
    “I have what your police call ‘no fixed abode,’ but ask around. I can always be found. Now, gentlemen, I would like to pray over you and your search.”
    Reb Shlomo stood, raised his hands palms up, and began speaking a Hebrew prayer in a loud voice. People stared at us as they walked by not three feet from our table, and I was a little embarrassed. He finally finished his blessing and turned to Barker.
    “Good