Pictures and Problems from London Police CourtsHolmes, Thomas
History
Pictures and Problems from London Police Courts
Holmes, Thomas
Crime -- England -- London; Poor -- England -- London
I gave him that friendship, and he came to live with us. His intellect
was in good order, his strength was magnificent, he seemed open and
honest; so I felt hopeful. He told me that the drink craving would not
come on him again for two months, or perhaps three. He lied to me, for
it was on him then, and at that moment he was lusting and planning for
drink. But I believed him. He took up his abode with us on a Thursday,
employment was found for him, and his duties were to commence on the
following Monday. On the Saturday at mid-day he went to his bedroom
drunk. I went up to him, and found he had more drink with him. For this
we had a struggle, but he was too strong for me. So I let him drink
it, hoping he would go to sleep. But he did not; he became violent,
and wanted to go out. This I was determined to prevent, so I locked
the room door. Then he raved and swore, and declared he would stay no
longer. ‘How dare you lock me in! What right have you to make me a
prisoner?’ he indignantly asked. I told him that he had come to me for
his own pleasure, but that he was going to stay for mine, and that I
was not going to lose sight of him till he went to his work on Monday.
So through Saturday night I stopped with him. All day on Sunday I was
out in the open air with him, when he walked as if a fury were upon
him. Every now and again I pulled him up, and gave him a soda-and-milk,
and by degrees got him fit for a decent dinner, after which he had a
dose of medicine and a cigar. When he had finished it, he came to me
and took my hand, and with tears in his eyes said: ‘By God, Mr. Holmes,
but you are a man!’ Yes, and next week-end (for he continued at work
during the week) I had it all to do over again.
For twelve months he stayed with us, and if ever mortal man tried to
help another, I was that man. Every bit of intelligence I possessed,
every bit of time I could spare--in fact, the whole of my being--was
pressed into his service. He liked chess, so in the evening I played
with him; he liked whist, so we formed whist parties for him; he loved
books, so we discussed literature together; he liked church, so he went
to church with us. If I went for a day in the country, he went with
me; when I went for my holidays, I took him with me; if he bordered on
d.-t.’s I doctored him. When he earned money he paid us honourably; if
he did not, we never asked him for payment.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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