Red Money - Fergus Hume (warren buffett book recommendations TXT) 📗

Laughed And Nodded,  Then Emptied The Ashes Out Of Her

Pipe And Spoke Out,  Irrelevantly As It Would Seem: "The Child Has Taken

The Hearts Of The Young From Me," Said She,  Shaking Her Grizzled Head;

"But The Old Cling To The Old. With Them As Trusts My Wisdom,  My Rye,  I

Goes Across The Black Water To America And Leaves The Silly Ones To The

Child. She'll Get Them Into Choky And Trouble,  For Sure. And That's A

True Dukkerin."

 

"Have You The Money To Go To America?"

 

"Money?" The Old Woman Chuckled And Hugged Herself. "And Why Not,  Sir,

When Ishmael Hearne Was My Child. Aye,  The Child Of My Child,  For I Am

The Bebee Of Hearne,  Bebee Being Grandmother In Our Romany Tongue,  Sir."

 

Lambert Started From His Seat,  Almost Too Astonished To Speak. "Do You

Mean To Say That You Are Pine's Grandmother?"

 

"Pine? Who Is Pine? A Gentile I Know Not. Hearne He Was Born And Hearne

He Shall Be To Me,  Though The Grass Is Now A Quilt For Him. Ohone! Hai

Mai! Ah,  Me! Woe! And Woe,  My Gentleman. He Was The Child Of My Child

And The Love Of My Heart," She Rocked Herself To And Fro Sorrowfully,

"Like A Leaf Has He Fallen From The Tree; Like The Dew Has He Vanished

Into The Blackness Of The Great Shadow. Hai Mai! Hai Mai! The Sadness Of

It."

 

"Hearne Your Grandson?" Murmured Lambert,  Staring At Her And Scarcely

Able To Believe Her.

 

"True. Yes; It Is True," Said Gentilla,  Still Rocking. "He Left The

Road,  And The Tent,  And The Merry Fire Under A Hedge For Your Gentile

Life. But A Born Romany He Was And No Gorgio. Ahr-R-R!" She Shook

Herself With Disgust. "Why Did He Labor For Gold In The Gentile Manner,

When He Could Have Chored And Cheated Like A True-Hearted Black One?"

 

Her Allusions To Money Suddenly Enlightened The Young Man. "Yours Is The

Name Mentioned In The Sealed Letter Held By Jarwin?" He Cried,  With

Genuine Amazement Written Largely On His Face. "You Inherit The

Millions?"

 

Mother Cockleshell Wiped Her Eyes With A Corner Of Her Shawl And

Chuckled Complacently. "It Is So,  Young Man,  Therefore Can I Take Those

Who Hold To My Wisdom To The Great Land Beyond The Water. Ah,  I Am Rich

Chapter 19 (Mother Cockleshell) Pg 185

Now,  Sir,  And As A Gorgious One Could I Live Beneath A Roof-Tree. But

For Why,  I Asks You,  My Golden Rye,  When I Was Bred To The Open And The

Sky? In A Tent I Was Born; In A Tent I Shall Die. Should I Go,  Gentile,

It's Longing For The Free Life I'd Be,  Since Romany I Am And Ever Shall

Be. As We Says In Our Tongue,  My Dear,  'It's Allers The Boro Matcho That

Pet-A-Lay 'Dree The Panni,' Though True Gypsy Lingo You Can't Call It

For Sure."

 

"What Does It Mean?" Demanded Lambert,  Staring At The Dingy Possessor Of

Two Millions Sterling.

 

"It's Allers The Largest Fish That Falls Back Into The Water,"

Translated Mrs. Stanley. "I Told That To Leland,  The Boro Rye,  And He

Goes And Puts The Same Into A Book For Your Readings,  My Dearie!" Then

She Uttered A Howl And Flung Up Her Arms. "But What Matter I Am Rich,

When My Child's Child's Blood Calls Out For Vengeance. I'd Give All The

Red Gold--And Red Money It Is,  My Loved One," She Added,  Fixing A Bright

Pair Of Eyes On Lambert,  "If I Could Find Him As Shot The Darling Of My

Heart."

 

Knowing That He Could Trust Her,  And Pitying Her Obvious Sorrow,  Lambert

Had No Hesitation In Revealing The Truth So Far As He Knew It. "It

Wasn't A Him Who Shot Your Grandson,  But A Her."

 

"Hai!" Gentilla Flung Up Her Arms Again,  "Then I Was Right. My Old Eyes

Did See Like A Cat In The Dark,  Though Brightly Shone The Moon When He

Fell."

 

"What? You Know?" Lambert Started Back Again At This Second Surprise.

 

"If It's A Gentile Lady,  I Know. A Red One Large As A Cow In The

Meadows,  And Fierce As An Unbroken Colt."

 

"Miss Greeby!"

 

"Greeby! Greeby! So Your Romi Told Me," Shrieked The Old Woman,  Throwing

Up Her Hands In Ecstasy. "Says I To Her,  'Who's The Foxy One?' And Says

She,  Smiling Like,  'Greeby's Her Name!'"

 

"Why Did You Ask My Wife That?" Demanded Lambert,  Much Astonished.

 

"Hai,  She Was No Wife Of Yours Then,  Sir. Why Did I Ask Her? Because I

Saw The Shooting--"

 

"Of Pine--Of Hearne--Of Your Son?"

 

"Of Who Else? Of Who Else?" Cried Mother Cockleshell,  Clapping Her

Skinny Hand And Paddling On The Floor With Her Feet. "Says Ishmael To

Me,  'Bebee,' Says He,  'My Romi Is False And Would Run Away With The

Golden Rye This Very Night As Ever Was.' And Says I To Him,  'It's Not

Chapter 19 (Mother Cockleshell) Pg 186

So,  Son Of My Son,  For Your Romi Is As True As The Stars And Purer Than

Gold.' But Says He,  'There's A Letter,' He Says,  And Shows It To Me.

'Lies,  Son Of My Son,' Says I,  And Calls On Him To Play The Trustful

Rom. But He Pitches Down The Letter,  And Says He,  'I Go This Night To

Stop Them From Paddling The Hoof,' And Says I To Him,  'No! No!' Says I.

'She's A True One.' But He Goes,  When All In The Camp Are Sleeping

Death-Like,  And I Watches,  And I Follers,  And I Hides."

 

"Where Did You Hide?"

 

"Never Mind,  Dearie. I Hides Securely,  And Sees Him Walking Up And Down

Biting The Lips Of Him And Swinging His Arms. Then I Sees--For Oliver

Was Bright,  And Oliver's The Moon,  Lovey--The Big Gentile Woman Come

Round And Hide In The Bushes. Says I To Myself,  Says I,  'And What's Your

Game?' I Says,  Not Knowing The Same Till She Shoots And My Child's Child

Falls Dead As A Hedgehog. Then She Runs And I Run,  And All Is Over."

 

"Why Didn't You Denounce Her,  Gentilla?"

 

"And For Why,  My Precious Heart? Who Would Believe The Old Gypsy? Rather

Would The Poknees Say As I'd Killed My Dear One. No! No! Artful Am I And

Patient In Abiding My Time. But The Hour Strikes,  As I Said When I Spoke

To Your Romi In Devonshire No Less,  And The Foxy Moll Shall Hang. You

See,  My Dear,  I Waited For Some Gentile To Speak What I Could Speak,  To

Say As What I Saw Was Truth For Sure. You Speak,  And Now I Can Tell My

Tale To The Big Policeman At Wanbury So That My Son's Son May Sleep

Quiet,  Knowing That The Evil Has Come Home To Her As Laid Him Low. But,

Lovey,  Oh,  Lovey,  And My Precious One!" Cried The Old Woman Darting

Forward To Caress Lambert's Hand In A Fondling Way,  "Tell Me How You

Know And What You Learned. At The Cottage You Were,  And Maybe Out In The

Open Watching The Winder Of Her You Loved."

 

"No," Said Lambert Sharply,  "I Was At The Cottage Certainly,  But In Bed

And Asleep. I Did Not Hear Of The Crime Until I Was In London. In This

Way I Found Out The Truth,  Mother!" And He Related Rapidly All That Had

Been Discovered,  Bringing The Narrative Right Up To The Confession Of

Silver,  Which He Detailed At Length.

 

The Old Woman Kept Her Sharp Eyes On His Expressive Face And Hugged His

Hand Every Now And Then,  As Various Points In The Narrative Struck Her.

At The End She Dropped His Hand And Returned Back To Her Chair

Chuckling. "It's A Sad Dukkerin For The Foxy Lady," Said Gentilla,

Grinning Like The Witch She Was. "Hanged She Will Be,  And Rightful

It Is To Be So!"

 

"I Agree With You," Replied Lambert Relentlessly. "Your Evidence And

That Of Silver Can Hang Her,  Certainly. Yet,  If She Is Arrested,  And The

Whole Tale Comes Out In The Newspapers,  Think Of The Disgrace To My

Family."

 

Mother Cockleshell Nodded. "That's As True As True,  My Golden Rye," She

Chapter 19 (Mother Cockleshell) Pg 187

Said Pondering. "And I Wish Not To Hurt You And The Rani,  Who Was Kind

To Me. I Go Away," She Rose To Her Feet Briskly,  "And I Think. What Will

You Do?"

 

"I Can't Say," Said Lambert,  Doubtfully And Irresolutely. "I Must

Consult My Wife. Miss Greeby Should Certainly Suffer For Her Crime,  And

Yet--"

 

"Aye! Aye! Aye! The Boro Rye," She Meant Garvington,  "Is A Bad One For

Sure,  As We Know. Shame To Him Is Shame To You,  And I Wouldn't Have The

Rani Miserable--The Good Kind One That She Is. Wait! Aye,  Wait,  My

Precious Gentleman,  And We Shall See."

 

"You Will Say Nothing In The Meantime," Said Lambert,  Stopping Her At

The Door,  And Anxious To Know Exactly What Were Her Intentions.

 

"I Have Waited Long For Vengeance And I Can Wait Longer,  Sir," Said

Mother Cockleshell,  Becoming Less The Gypsy And More The Respectable

Almshouse Widow. "Depend Upon My Keeping Quiet Until--"

 

"Until What? Until When?"

 

"Never You Mind," Said The Woman Mysteriously. "Them As Sins Must Suffer

For The Sin. But Not You And Her As Is Innocent."

 

"No Violence,  Gentilla," Said The Young Man,  Alarmed Less The Lawless

Gypsy Nature Should Punish Miss Greeby Privately.

 

"I Swear There Shall Be No Violence,  Rye. Wait,  For The Child Is Making

Mischief,  And Until We Knows Of Her Doings We Must Be Silent. Give Me

Your Gripper,  My Dearie," She Seized His Wrist And Bent Back The Palm Of

The Hand To Trace The Lines With A Dirty Finger. "Good Fortune Comes To

You And To Her,  My Golden Rye," She Droned In True Gypsy Fashion.

"Money,  And Peace,  And Honor,  And Many Children,  To Carry On A Stainless

Name. Your Son Shall You See,  And Your Son's Son,  My Noble Gentleman,

And With Your Romi Shall You Go With Happiness To The Grave," She

Dropped The Hand. "So Be It For A True Dukkerin,  And Remember Gentilla

Stanley When The Luck Comes True."

 

"But Mother,  Mother," Said Lambert,  Following Her To The Door,  As He Was

Still Doubtful As To Her Intentions Concerning Miss Greeby.

 

The Gypsy Waved Him Aside Solemnly. "Never Again Will You See Me,  My

Golden Rye,  If The Stars Speak Truly,  And If There Be Virtue In The

Lines Of The Hand. I Came Into Your Life: I Go Out Of Your Life: And

What Is Written Shall Be!" She Made A Mystic Sign Close To