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Updated: May 3, 2025
The inspector at once noticed my presence, and, calling to a corner-boy lounging at the public-house door, he spoke to him, pointing me out, and this "copper's nark" followed doggedly in my steps. Yoski lived in a turning off the Mile-End Road, but anxious to give no inkling as to my destination, I turned in the opposite direction, and after a lengthy detour stopped at my own door.
But when in compliance with the woman's curt: "You hear you can go in," the boy entered the little back-parlour, he turned on him suddenly and fiercely, saying: "You're the * young nark of some damned teck some * copper, by Goard!" If the boy had flinched before this accusation, which meant that he was a police-spy employed by a detective, he might have repented it.
"Shall you tell the police?" "Never!" cried Monkey, genuinely indignant. "Are I a copper's nark?" Whether because of childhood memories, or for some other reason, the copper was still for Monkey Brand the enemy of the human race; and the little jockey had his own code of honour, to which he scrupulously adhered. "What shall you do?" asked Jim. The jockey jerked his head mysteriously.
"Look 'ere, missis, I wasn't goin' ter let on, but since yer on fer a straight talk, I tell yer there's more in me than yer think, an' if it's up ter me ter git married, I can do it without gittin' roused on by yous." "Keep yer 'air on, Joe," said Mrs Yabsley, smiling. "I didn't mean ter nark yer, but yer know wot I say is true. An' don't say I ever put it inter yer 'ead ter git married.
At length my guide stopped at what seemed a stable yard, pushed open a wicket gate, and went in, keeping the gate open for me to follow. It was, indeed, a stable yard, littered with much straw, which the "nark" carefully picked to walk on as noiselessly as possible, motioning me to do the same.
"That little mistake o' yours about the copper's nark. I'm goin' to forget all about that now." "Thank you, Brand," answered Jim earnestly. "We all make mistakes, don't we?" "That's right, sir," said Monkey. "Only that's a mistake I never made and never would." Some of the lads were still hanging about the yard. They knew, too. Maudie knew.
The police, all-pervading, poisons the atmosphere and taints everything, even the hand-grasp of two criminals who have been intimate. A convict who meets his most familiar comrade does not know that he may not have repented and have made a confession to save his life. This absence of confidence, this dread of the nark, marks the liberty, already so illusory, of the prison-yard.
'Nark and crop! the waggoner doggedly ejaculated.
There was a thump at the sitting-room door, and Mr. Moon came puffing in and shouldered himself confidentially against Plummer. "Bloke downstairs wants to see you," he said, in a hoarse grunt that was meant for a low whisper. "Twigged you outside, I think, an' says he's got somethink partickler to tell yer. I believe 'e's a 'nark'; I see him with one o' your chaps the other day."
The champagne foamed, and amidst noise and laughter, as during the carnival joy, a new song refreshed the image of the nark which they had just left: "Here if green trees were not growing Fresh as on yon little hill, Heard we not the fountains flowing, We in sooth should see them still! Tents were filled below, above, Filled with everything but love!
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