The series of unfortunate events which conspired to deprive society of Mr Headstone's company began late on a Wednesday evening as the pedagogue was making his way home from a private engagement along a quiet shady street near Pentonville. As he was passing a neat house with a white facade, his progress was arrested by the unexpected sound of a gruff whisper emanating from an ornamental bush in the front garden. This circumstance in itself would have been enough to excite the interest of any pious gentleman schooled in stories from the Bible, but what made it even more remarkable was the fact that the shrub in question appeared to be familiar with the school master's name. Mr Headstone approached the bush with reverence (or caution) and was considering the form of address most appropriate for an article of vegetation when a bearded head with a brown hat on its crown and a dirty belcher handkerchief around its neck emerged from the foliage like a jack in the box.
The surprise engendered by this singular appearance was in no way mitigated by the fact that the head belonged to Mr William Sikes, a gentleman whose acquaintance Mr Headstone had had the good fortune to make on a visit to the north, and which he was now most gratified to renew. The pedagogue's curiosity regarding the circumstance that found his old friend taking up residence in an ornamental bush was quickly satisfied by the latter gentleman's explanation of his affairs. Returning late to his humble abode - by which he meant the house with the white facade - Mr Sikes had discovered to his dismay that he was not in possession of his front door keys, and, not wishing to disturb the servants who were now all abed, he had determined to attempt an entry with the aid of a ladder. Indeed, Mr Headstone now observed that this very article of ascension was leaning against the side of the house and terminated at a half-open window on the upper floor. The ground around the base of the ladder having been frozen into a hard thick crust and the ladder itself being of no very sturdy construction, Mr Sikes was desirous of some assistance and asked Mr Headstone if he would be willing to perform that duty; with which request the pedagogue was eager to comply.
The school master took up his post at the base of the ladder and held it with a firm grasp on both sides as Mr Sikes began his ascent. Having climbed a few rungs, the latter gentleman called down for the former to pass him up his carpet bag, which was lying in the snow and was being closely guarded by Bullseye, which the attentive reader will be pleased to remember was the name of Mr Sikes's dog. When Mr Headstone reached out to retrieve the article in question, the canine intimated his disinclination to relinquish it from his possession by drawing back his gums and revealing a set of sharp yellow teeth. Calling down a number of epithets upon its head, the master admonished the faithful hound for this display of ingratitude, and gave the animal notice that any further remonstrance would be met with a vigorous application of a large clasp knife, which the gentleman drew from his pocket. The dog no doubt heard; because Mr Sikes spoke in the very harshest key of a very harsh voice; and, appearing to entertain some unaccountable objection to having his throat cut, the beast gave a final reluctant growl and allowed Mr Headstone to take up the bag.
The considerable weight of this particular appurtenance, the contents of which rattled and clanked together like so many articles of ironmongery, required Mr Headstone to apply the full extent of his bodily strength (which was not great) in order to raise the bag above his head and transfer it to Mr Sikes's possession. The clasp lock not having been properly fastened and the bag being held at an inconvenient angle, it was not perhaps surprising that the occasion presented itself for one of the heavier items to fall out. It might have been considered an instance of good fortune that this particular item - which was in shape and appearance identical to that of a crowbar - missed striking the pedagogue on the shoulder by only a few inches had it not been for the fact that it struck him directly upon the crown of the head. Having received the full force of the blow, Mr Headstone was obliged by the laws of physics to stagger and fall back, a circumstance which, as the snow lay about thick and deep, should not have resulted in any further injury. Unfortunately, in an attempt to check his fall, the school master grasped at a rung for purchase, and, under the Archimedean principle that governs the operation of levers, brought the ladder crashing down with him. This precipitate action naturally occasioned some alteration in the position of Mr Sikes, who, being half way up the ladder at the time of its sudden and violent displacement, was projected through the air at a remarkable velocity that was significant enough to catapult him over the wall and into the waggon of a passing drayman's cart.
By the time Mr Headstone had extricated himself from the broken remains of timber that had fallen on top of him, there were lights in the windows of the house and from within could be heard the frantic cries of the occupants. Confident that aid and succour would be forthcoming, the pedagogue looked about for his companion, but there was neither sign of him nor his faithful hound. All that remained, scattered about in the snow, were the contents of the carpet bag: a chisel, a jemmy, a length of rope, some drills, a dark lantern, and a curious bunch of keys. Desirous of returning these tools to their rightful owner, Mr Headstone began to collect them, and it was while he was employed in this benevolent task that a police officer arrived and seized him by the collar.
Mr Charles Dickens
