Free Jack Maggs by Peter Carey Page A

the pain there?”
    “Yes, of course. I told you. It is always there. I have to stop. I have to stop this now.”
    “We can stop it by going inside the house and locking the pain outside.”
    “Must I?”
    “Yes, you must.”
    A pause.
    “Where are you now?”
    “God help me, I have done what you told me to. I have gone inside the house.”
    “Where is the Phantom?”
    “You know the answer.”
    “Is he inside or outside the house?”
    The Somnambulist placed his hands over his ears.
    “Inside or outside?”
    “How can I see when you are talking to me all the time? Let me alone if you please.” The footman paused, and frowned. “There are people everywhere. I can’t see him.”
    “There are people inside the house?”
    “Ever so many.”
    “Who are they?”
    “I don’t know them.”
    “What sort of people?”
    “Gentlemen . . . and ladies.”
    “What are they doing?”
    “Walking around, spying on things. They are opening the drawers and the cupboards.”
    “What of the Phantom?”
    “Looking in through the window, most agitated.”
    “Because locked out?”
    “Yes, locked out.”
    “And the pain is gone?”
    “No, the pain is bad. They should not be there. It is my place, not theirs.”
    “Yes, it is your place. Yours alone.”
    “They don’t want me owning it. They’ll take it from me.”
    “No, it is yours, Jack Maggs. You know it is yours. You must expel everything that agitates you.”
    “They won’t listen to me, Sir. I am not a gentleman.”
    “But have you tried?”
    “Yes, yes,” Jack Maggs cried passionately. “A hundred times over, I have told them, but they will not listen to me, and I must do what they say.”
    “What shall we do? What might persuade them do you think?”
    “Oh, Sir, that sort . . . that sort should pet the old double-cat.”
    “The double-cat?”
    “The double-cat. The thief’s cat. It has a double twist in the cord.”
    “You mean the cat-o’-nine-tails?”
    “The double-cat is heavier.”
    Tobias Oates had been sitting with his legs crossed, writing diligently in his court reporter’s shorthand, but when he heard this comment he looked up sharply. “Perhaps we could open the door and simply ask them to leave.”
    “Oh, that’s a joke.” The sleeping man twisted his mouth into an ugly shape. “A very good joke, that is.”
    “Well, if you would like to try a joke, my man, see what I am doing to them now.”
    “I can’t see.” Jack Maggs contorted in his chair. “I can’t see you doing anything.”
    “Oh yes you can. You can see exactly what I am doing. I am sending them to sleep. Can’t you see that?”
    “I’m not sure.”
    “Of course you can. Can’t you see their eyes closing? You know I have the power to do that, don’t you?”
    “I think they are dying.”
    “Some are falling down, but it is only sleep that causes it. They are falling asleep.”
    “Now what will I do with them?”
    “We are going to get your Phantom to carry them out.”
    “He won’t do that.”
    “He will do it if I tell him to. I am telling him to remove these people from your stronghold. Look at him. How is he today?”
    “He has a nasty look about him, Sir. He keeps staring at me.”
    “Yes, but he will do as I say, and he is strong enough to carry out the sleeping people. Some of them are quite large, aren’t they? Do you see a woman with double chins?”
    “No, I don’t think so.”
    “Surely there is a woman there in a black dress with a great deal of jewellery?”
    “I think I see her now.”
    “Is the Phantom dragging her?”
    “No, he has picked her up. He is picking her up and carrying her out of my house.”
    “You must be feeling a deal better.”
    “Yes, I am.”
    “Is there any pain?”
    “Everything is much better. Much better, thank you, Sir. He is going to stay outside the door now, Sir?”
    “When he has carried everyone out.”
    “He has, Sir. He’s a such a jolly old bullock, ain’t he?”
    “He has removed them