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Updated: May 15, 2025
Meantime, Raff, lost in thought, was repeating, under his breath, "Thomas Higgs, Thomas Higgs, aye, that's the name. Alack! if I could but remember the place as well." The skate case was elegantly made of crimson morocco, ornamented with silver. If a fairy had designed its delicate tracery, they could not have been more daintily beautiful.
Chance or ingenuity, ingenuity or chance so I continued to ring the changes as I walked down the avenue, casting back occasional glances at the red brick facade and the twinkling windows of the house. How was I to command chance? where was I to find the ingenuity? These reflections brought me to the door of the inn. I sat down accordingly with Mr. Higgs the ex-butler, Mrs.
Mr. Higgs paid no heed. He sat marvelling over the fatuousness of Brother Clark and trying to think of ways and means out of the dilemma into which that gentleman's perverted enthusiasm had placed him. He wondered whether it would be possible to induce Brother Burge to sleep elsewhere by offering to bear his hotel expenses, and at last, after some hesitation, broached the subject.
"I suppose these London gentlemen keep such late hours they don't understand us country folk wanting to get to bed in decent time. You must be wanting your supper, sir." Mr. Higgs sighed. "I shall be glad of my supper," he said slowly, "but I dare say our friend is hungrier still. Travelling is hungry work."
"To show me a little gratitude at last, perhaps," suggested Mrs. Higgs, sharply. "To do your duty yes, it's no more than your duty, you know, to do what I tell you and to help yourself in helping me. That's true, isn't it?" Dudley stared at her in silence for a few moments before he answered: "Duty is an odd word to use a very odd word. But we won't waste time discussing that.
"My name," he answered, laughing, "is George, and I wish it were some other, for it is the first name of that arch-impostor Higgs. I hate it as I hate the man who owned it." My father said nothing, but he hid his face in his hands. "Sir," said the other, "I fear you are in some distress." "You remind me," replied my father, "of a son who was stolen from me when he was a child.
I forget when, but not very long after I had published "Erewhon" in 1872, it occurred to me to ask myself what course events in Erewhon would probably take after Mr. Higgs, as I suppose I may now call him, had made his escape in the balloon with Arowhena.
Moreover, you did, as alleged by my officer, commit the crime of bearing off my person into the cave and keeping me there by force to be a hostage for your safety." We heard and gasped, Higgs ejaculating, "Good gracious, what a lie!" But none of the rest of us said anything. "For these offences," went on Maqueda, "you are all of you justly worthy of a cruel death."
Higgs, the wife of the verger, came to the curate's rooms the day before and took away his best clothes, that she might see they were well brushed for the occasion. She did up his collar and wristbands herself, and gave them a fine gloss. Higgs brought them back just in time for the dinner.
Now why did Shadrach come into my room at night with a drawn knife in his hand?" "Doesn't seem a difficult question to answer," replied Higgs, in the high voice which was common to him when excited. "He came here to murder you, and Pharaoh was too quick for him, that's all. That dog was the cheapest purchase you ever made, friend Oliver."
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