“Right, my droogies, now we should know. Yes, Pete?”

“I never said anything,” said Pete. “I never govoreeted one slovo. Look, old Dim’s bleeding to death.”

“Never,” I said. “One can die but once. Dim died before he was born. That red red krovvy will soon stop.” Because I had not cut into the like main cables. And I myself took a clean tashtook from my carman to wrap round poor old dying Dim’s rooker, howling and moaning as he was, and the krovvy stopped like I said it would, O my brothers. So they knew now who was master and leader, sheep, thought I.

It did not take long to quieten these two wounded soldiers down in the snug of the Duke of New York, what with large brandies (bought with their own cutter, me having given all to my dad, and a wipe with tashtooks dipped in the water-jug. The old ptitsas we’d been so horrorshow to last night were there again, going, “Thanks, lads” and “God bless you, boys” like they couldn’t stop, though we had not repeated the old sammy act with them. But Pete said: “What’s it to be, girls?” and bought black and suds for them, him seeming to have a fair amount of pretty polly in his carmans, so they were on louder than ever with their “God bless and keep you all, lads” and “We’d never split on you, boys” and “The best lads breathing, that’s what you are.” At last I said to Georgie:

“Now we’re back to where we were, yes? Just like before and all forgotten, right?”

“Right right right,” said Georgie. But old Dim still looked a bit dazed and he even said: “I could have got that big bastard, see, with my oozy, only some veck got in the way,” as though he’d been dratsing not with me but with some other malchick. I said:

“Well, Georgieboy, what did you have in mind?”

“Oh,” said Georgie, “not tonight. Not this nochy, please.”

“You’re a big strong chelloveck,” I said, “like us all. We’re not little children, are we, Georgieboy? What, then, didst thou in thy mind have?”

“I could have chained his glazzies real horrorshow,” said Dim, and the old baboochkas were stil on with their “Thanks, lads.”

“It was this house, see,” said Georgie. “The one with the two lamps outside. The one with the gloopy name like.”

“What gloopy name?”

“The Mansion or the Manse or some such piece of gloop. Where this very starry ptitsa lives with her cats and all these very starry valuable veshches.”

“Such as?”

“Gold and silver and like jewels. It was Will the English who like said.”

“I viddy,” I said. “I viddy horrorshow.” I knew where he meant—Oldtown, just beyond Victoria Flatblock. Well, the real horrorshow leader knows always when like to give and show generous to his like unders. “Very good, Georgie,” I said. “A good thought, and one to be followed. Let us at once itty.”

And as we were going out the old baboochkas said: “We’ll say nothing, lads. Been here all the time you have, boys.” So I said: “Good old girls. Back to buy more in ten minutes.” And so I led my three droogs out to my doom.

Just past the Duke of New York going east was offices and then there was the starry beat-up biblio and then was the bolshy flatblock called Victoria Flatblock after some victory or other, and then you came to the like starry type houses of the town in what was called Oldtown. You got some of the real horrorshow ancient domies here, my brothers, with starry lewdies living in them, thin old barking like colonels with sticks and old ptitsas who were widows and deaf starry damas with cats who, my brothers, had felt not the touch of any chelloveck in the whole of their pure like jeeznies. And here, true, there were starry veshches that would fetch their share of cutter on the tourist market—like pictures and jewels and other starry pre-plastic cal of that type. So we came nice and quiet to this domy called the Manse, and there were globe lights outside on iron stalks, like guarding the front door on each side, and there was a light like dim on in one of the rooms on the ground level, and we went to a nice patch of street dark to watch through the window what was ittying on. This window had iron bars in front of it, like the house was a prison, but we could viddy nice and clear what was ittying on.

What was ittying on was that this starry ptitsa, very grey in the voloss and with a very liny like litso, was pouring the old moloko from a milk-bottle into saucers and then setting these saucers down on the floor, so you could tell there were plenty of mewing kots and koshkas writhing about down there. And we could viddy one or two, great fat scoteenas, jumping up on to the table with their rots open going mare mare mare. And you could viddy this old baboochka talking back to them, govoreeting in like scoldy language to her pussies. In the room you could viddy a lot of old pictures on the walls and starry very elaborate clocks, also some like vases and ornaments that looked starry and dorogoy. Georgie whispered: “Real horrorshow deng to be gotten for them, brothers. Will the English is real anxious.” Pete said: “How in?”

Now it was up to me, and skorry, before Georgie started telling us how. “First veshch,” I whispered, “is to try the regular way, the front. I will go very polite and say that one of my droogs has had a like funny fainting turn on the street. Georgie can be ready to show, when she opens, thatwise. Then to ask for water or to phone the doc. Then in easy.” Georgie said:

“She may not open.” I said:

“We’ll try it, yes?” And he sort of shrugged his pletchoes, making with a frog’s rot. So I said to Pete and old Dim: “You two droogies get either side of the door. Right?” They nodded in the dark right right right. “So,” I said to Georgie, and I made bold straight for the front door. There was a bellpush and I pushed, and brrrrrrr brrrrr sounded down the hall inside. Alike sense of slooshying followed, as though the ptitsa and her koshkas all had their ears back at the brrrrrr brrrrrr, wondering. So I pushed the old zvonock a malenky bit more urgent. I then bent down to the letter-slit and called through in a refined like goloss: “Help, madam, please. My friend has just had a funny turn on the street. Let me phone a doctor, please.” Then I could viddy a light being put on in the hall, and then I could hear the old baboochka’s nogas going flip flap in flip-flap slippers to nearer the front door, and I got the idea, I don’t know why, that she had a big fat pussycat under each arm. Then she called out in a very surprising deep like goloss:

“Go away. Go away or I shoot.” Georgie heard that and wanted to giggle. I said, with like suffering and urgency in my gentleman’s goloss:

“Oh, please help, madam. My friend’s very ill.”

“Go away,” she called. “I know your dirty tricks, making me open the door and then buy things I don’t want. Go away. I tell you.” That was real lovely innocence, that was. “Go away,” she said again, “or I’ll set my cats on to you.” A malenky bit bezoomny she was, you could tell that, through spending her jeezny all on her oddy knocky. Then I looked up and I viddied that there was a sash-window above the front door and that it would be a lot more skorry to just do the old pletcho climb and get in that way. Else there’d be this argument all the long nochy. So I said:

“Very well, madam. If you won’t help I must take my suffering friend elsewhere.” And I winked my droogies all away quiet, only me crying out: “All right, old friend, you will surely meet some good samaritan some place other. This old lady perhaps cannot be blamed for being suspicious with so many scoundrels and rogues of the night about. No, indeed not.”

Then we waited again in the dark and I whispered: “Right. Return to the door. Me stand on Dim’s pletchoes. Open that window and me enter, droogies. Then to shut up that old ptitsa and open up for all. No trouble.” For I was like showing who was leader and the chelloveck with the ideas. “See,” I said. “Real horrorshow bit of stonework over that door, a nice hold for my nogas.” They viddied all that, admiring perhaps I thought, and said and nodded Right right right in the dark.