Bill’s Lapse Page #3

"Bill’s Lapse" by W. W. Jacobs is a humorous short story that revolves around the character of Bill, whose carefree and often careless attitude leads to a series of comedic misadventures. Set in a quaint English seaside village, the narrative explores themes of personal responsibility and the unpredictable consequences of one's actions. Jacobs's distinctive wit and keen observations of human nature shine through, making this tale both entertaining and thought-provoking. Through a blend of light-hearted mischief and insightful character portrayal, the story captures the charm of everyday life, infused with a touch of absurdity.

• Humour
• Short story

								

’e got up and patted Bill on the back, very gentle, and sat down again.

“Anything wrong, Ginger?” asks Peter Russet, staring at ’im.

“It’s that landlord,” ses Ginger; “there’s straw down in the road
outside, and they say that he’s dying. Pore old Bill don’t know ’is own
strength. The best thing you can do, old pal, is to go as far away as
you can, at once.”

“I shouldn’t wait a minnit if it was me,” ses old Sam.

Bill groaned and hid ’is face in his ’ands, and then Peter Russet went
and spoilt things by saying that the safest place for a murderer to
’ide in was London. Bill gave a dreadful groan when ’e said murderer,
but ’e up and agreed with Peter, and all Sam and Ginger Dick could do
wouldn’t make ’im alter his mind. He said that he would shave off ’is
beard and moustache, and when night came ’e would creep out and take a
lodging somewhere right the other end of London.

“It’ll soon be dark,” ses Ginger, “and your own brother wouldn’t know
you now, Bill. Where d’you think of going?”

Bill shook his ’ead. “Nobody must know that, mate,” he ses. “I must go
into hiding for as long as I can—as long as my money lasts; I’ve only
got six pounds left.”

“That’ll last a long time if you’re careful,” ses Ginger.

“I want a lot more,” ses Bill. “I want you to take this silver ring as
a keepsake, Ginger. If I ’ad another six pounds or so I should feel
much safer. ’Ow much ’ave you got, Ginger?”

“Not much,” ses Ginger, shaking his ’ead.

“Lend it to me, mate,” ses Bill, stretching out his ’and. “You can easy
get another ship. Ah, I wish I was you; I’d be as ’appy as ’appy if I
hadn’t got a penny.”

“I’m very sorry, Bill,” ses Ginger, trying to smile, “but I’ve already
promised to lend it to a man wot we met this evening. A promise is a
promise, else I’d lend it to you with pleasure.”

“Would you let me be ’ung for the sake of a few pounds, Ginger?” ses
Bill, looking at ’im reproachfully. “I’m a desprit man, Ginger, and I
must ’ave that money.”

Afore pore Ginger could move he suddenly clapped ’is hand over ’is
mouth and flung ’im on the bed. Ginger was like a child in ’is hands,
although he struggled like a madman, and in five minutes ’e was laying
there with a towel tied round his mouth and ’is arms and legs tied up
with the cord off of Sam’s chest.

“I’m very sorry, Ginger,” ses Bill, as ’e took a little over eight
pounds out of Ginger’s pocket. “I’ll pay you back one o’ these days, if
I can. If you’d got a rope round your neck same as I ’ave you’d do the
same as I’ve done.”

He lifted up the bedclothes and put Ginger inside and tucked ’im up.
Ginger’s face was red with passion and ’is eyes starting out of his
’ead.

“Eight and six is fifteen,” ses Bill, and just then he ’eard somebody
coming up the stairs. Ginger ’eard it, too, and as Peter Russet came
into the room ’e tried all ’e could to attract ’is attention by rolling
’is ’ead from side to side.

“Why, ’as Ginger gone to bed?” ses Peter. “Wot’s up, Ginger?”

“He’s all right,” ses Bill; “just a bit of a ’eadache.”

Peter stood staring at the bed, and then ’e pulled the clothes off and
saw pore Ginger all tied up, and making awful eyes at ’im to undo him.

“I ’ad to do it, Peter,” ses Bill. “I wanted some more money to escape
with, and ’e wouldn’t lend it to me. I ’aven’t got as much as I want
now. You just came in in the nick of time. Another minute and you’d ha’
missed me. ’Ow much ’ave you got?”

“Ah, I wish I could lend you some, Bill,” ses Peter Russet, turning
pale, “but I’ve ’ad my pocket picked; that’s wot I came back for, to
get some from Ginger.”

Bill didn’t say a word.

“You see ’ow it is, Bill,” ses Peter, edging back toward the door;
“three men laid ’old of me and took every farthing I’d got.”

“Well, I can’t rob you, then,” ses Bill, catching ’old of ’im.
“Whoever’s money this is,” he ses, pulling a handful out o’ Peter’s
pocket, “it can’t be yours. Now, if you make another sound I’ll knock
your ’ead off afore I tie you up.”

“Don’t tie me up, Bill,” ses Peter, struggling.

“I can’t trust you,” ses Bill, dragging ’im over to the washstand and
taking up the other towel; “turn round.”

Peter was a much easier job than Ginger Dick, and arter Bill ’ad done
’im ’e put ’im in alongside o’ Ginger and covered ’em up, arter first
tying both the gags round with some string to prevent ’em slipping.

“Mind, I’ve only borrowed it,” he ses, standing by the side o’ the bed;
“but I must say, mates, I’m disappointed in both of you. If either of
you ’ad ’ad the misfortune wot I’ve ’ad, I’d have sold the clothes off
my back to ’elp you. And I wouldn’t ’ave waited to be asked neither.”

He stood there for a minute very sorrowful, and then ’e patted both
their ’eads and went downstairs. Ginger and Peter lay listening for a
bit, and then they turned their pore bound-up faces to each other and
tried to talk with their eyes.

Then Ginger began to wriggle and try and twist the cords off, but ’e
might as well ’ave tried to wriggle out of ’is skin. The worst of it
was they couldn’t make known their intentions to each other, and when
Peter Russet leaned over ’im and tried to work ’is gag off by rubbing
it up agin ’is nose, Ginger pretty near went crazy with temper. He
banged Peter with his ’ead, and Peter banged back, and they kept it up
till they’d both got splitting ’eadaches, and at last they gave up in
despair and lay in the darkness waiting for Sam.

And all this time Sam was sitting in the Red Lion, waiting for them. He
sat there quite patient till twelve o’clock and then walked slowly
’ome, wondering wot ’ad happened and whether Bill had gone.

Ginger was the fust to ’ear ’is foot on the stairs, and as he came into
the room, in the darkness, him an’ Peter Russet started shaking their
bed in a way that scared old Sam nearly to death. He thought it was
Bill carrying on agin, and ’e was out o’ that door and ’arf-way
downstairs afore he stopped to take breath. He stood there trembling
for about ten minutes, and then, as nothing ’appened, he walked slowly
upstairs agin on tiptoe, and as soon as they heard the door creak Peter
and Ginger made that bed do everything but speak.

“Is that you, Bill?” ses old Sam, in a shaky voice, and standing ready
to dash downstairs agin.

There was no answer except for the bed, and Sam didn’t know whether
Bill was dying or whether ’e ’ad got delirium trimmings. All ’e did
know was that ’e wasn’t going to sleep in that room. He shut the door
gently and went downstairs agin, feeling in ’is pocket for a match,
and, not finding one, ’e picked out the softest stair ’e could find
and, leaning his ’ead agin the banisters, went to sleep.

It was about six o’clock when ’e woke up, and broad daylight. He was
stiff and sore all over, and feeling braver in the light ’e stepped
softly upstairs and opened the door. Peter and Ginger was waiting for

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