en-es  Smith - Chapter 5
El hombre alto y el hombre bajo estaban esperando en las sombras junto a la taberna Red Lion. Smith los vio de inmediato. Y supo que comenzaron a seguirlo. Eran las seis y media.

Los hombres siguieron a Smith durante cinco minutos a lo largo de Saffron Hill. Luego lo perdieron. Un minuto después apareció en Cross Street. Lo vieron y lo persiguieron de nuevo. Lo siguieron entonces durante diez minutos. En Cony Court lo perdieron otra vez. Miraron atentamente entre las oscuras sombras del lugar. De repente, el hombre bajo señaló. "¡Ahi esta!" dijo. "¡En Cross Street!"

Smith corrió a lo largo de Cross Street, bajó por Portpool Way y atravesó Hatton Garden. Los dos hombres lo siguieron. Llegaron a Chart Street, luego de vuelta a Saffron Hill, Holborn Hill, Union Court, y otra vez Hatton Garden. Después estuvieron en Cross Street, Saffron Hill, Cox's Court...

Eran las nueve menos cuarto y los dos hombres se detuvieron en Hatton Garden. Estaban parados junto a un pequeño muro.

"¡Yo, yo tengo que descansar... un minuto!", dijo el hombre bajo. "Estoy demasiado... demasiado cansado para seguirlo".

"Sí", dijo el hombre alto. "Re... gre... saremos al Red Lion. Esperaremos allí...", Smith también estaba descansando allí, justamente detrás de la pared. Esperó mientras se alejaban. Esaba cansado pero feliz. "No me atraparán", se dijo. El documento estaba húmedo debajo de su abrigo.

Un señor pasó caminando. Smith lo siguió y cogió un pañuelo, y una libra, del bolsillo del señor. Envolvió el documento con el pañuelo. "Pronto se secará", pensó. La libra fue a parar al bolsillo de Smith.

La noche era fría y las calles estaban casi vacías. Smith se detuvo en una taberna y compró una bebida. Pensó en una cama caliente, pero las habitaciones de la taberna estaban repletas. Salió de nuevo a la calle.

Smith caminó rápidamente a lo largo de la calle. Estaba pensando en la vida maravillosa de un bandolero. "Finchley Common", pensó. "¡Ese es el lugar! Estaré allí cuando sea un hombre. ¡Señoras y caballeros en carruajes! '¡La bolsa o la vida!', les diré. 'Señora, ¡sus joyas, por favor! Señor, su dinero, o ¡dispararé!'".

La cabeza de Smith estaba llena de ideas maravillosas. Volvió una esquina y caminó derecho hacia un señor mayor.

"¡Oh! ¡Oh! ¿Qué? ¿Quién es ese?", exclamó el hombre mayor.

Se cayó y Smith cayó a su lado. "¡Ayúdeme, señor!", gritó el anciano. Cogió el pie de Smith. "¡Soy ciego! ¡Ayúdeme a levantarme!".

"¡Oh!, ¿qué he hecho ahora?", dijo Smith. "Le ayudaré si suelta mi pie".

El ciego pensó: "Es un muchacho, un niño, tal vez un carterista. Por supuesto, va a robarme. ¡Oh!, ¿cómo encuentro el camino?".

"¿Es usted realmente ciego?", preguntó Smith. "¿Puede verme? ¿Qué estoy haciendo ahora?", y abrió la boca por completo.

"¡No lo sé! "¡No lo sé! "¡Soy ciego!".

Smith todavía no estaba seguro. Nunca había ofrecido ayuda a la gente. Pero un hombre ciego... "Aquí tiene mi mano", dijo. "¡Ahora, arriba!, y aquí está su sombrero".

El caballero era alto y también gordo. A su lado, Smith era muy pequeño.

"¿Es usted un gran hombre, no?". dijo Smith. "Pero si es usted ciego, no lo sabrá!".

"Gracias, chico. Ahora, encuentra mi bastón, por favor. Si me muestras el camino, te daré una libra".

Smith necesitaba un amigo y, tal vez, ese anciano podría ayudarle. Le dio su bastón y cogió nuevamente su mano. "Me llamo Smith", dijo. "Doce años y pobre. Siempre metido en problemas. Muy pequeño; pero fuerte. Solía vivir en la taberna Red Lion, cerca de Saffron Hill. Smith", el anciano agarró la mano de Smith. "Y mi nombre es Mansfield", dijo. "Ciego por doce años y rico; pero ¿qué puedo hacer con el dinero? Vivo con mi hija. En el número siete de Vine Street. Mansfield. ¡Soy un magistrado!".

Un ruido extraño salió de la boca de Smith. "¡Estoy ayudando a un magistrado!, exclamó. "¡Oh!, ¿que será lo próximo que suceda?

"Hay una iglesia al final de esta calle, Smith. ¿La conoces?".

"Conozco cada iglesia de los alrededores, señor Mansfield", dijo Smith.

"Muéstrame el camino, por favor, y aquí tienes una libra".

Smith cogió la libra. "Iré con usted, señor Mansfield", dijo. "También voy por Vine Street". "Me alegro de escucharlo, Smith".

Entonces caminaron juntos y el magistrado sostenía la delgada mano de Smith. Unos pocos minutos más tarde, Smith dijo: "¿Cómo quedó ciego? ¿Tuvo alguna enfermedad?".

"No. Fue un incendio. Una casa se incendió. Perdí la vista. También perdí a mi esposa. Ella murió en el incendio".

"¿Cómo es no poder ver?". preguntó Smith.

"Es oscuro, Smith. Muy oscuro. Ya debemos estar cerca de la iglesia. Cruza la calle y gira a la derecha".

Pronto estuvieron en Vine Street, fuera de la casa de Mansfield.

El magistrado dijo: "¿Querrás cenar tarde conmigo, Smith?"

"Sí, gracias, señor Mansfield".

"¿Puedo ofrecerte una cama por la noche?"

"Sí, gracias, Sr. Mansfield".

"¿Tienes familia, Smith?".

"Dos Hermanas".

"¿Se asustarán si no vas a casa?"

"No" "Entonces puedes dormir aquí. Me alegra ayudarte, Smith".

"Gracias, Sr. magistrado Mansfield", Smith pensó que la vida era muy extraña. Un magistrado iba a ayudarle a él –Smith. Pero él necesitaba ayuda solo en una cosa: él quería leer. Un ciego no podía darle esa ayuda.
unit 1
The tall man and the short man were waiting in the shadows beside the Red Lion Tavern.
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unit 2
Smith saw them at once.
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And he knew that they began to follow him.
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It was half past six.
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The men followed Smith for five minutes along Saffron Hill.
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Then they lost him.
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A minute later he appeared in Cross Street.
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They saw him and went after him again.
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They followed him then for ten minutes.
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At Cony Court they lost him again.
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They looked closely among the dark shadows of the court, Suddenly the short man pointed.
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"There he is!"
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he said.
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"In Cross Street!"
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Smith ran along Cross Street, down Portpool Way and through Hatton Garden.
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The two men followed.
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unit 18
Then they were in Cross Street—Saffron Hill—Cox's Court...
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It was a quarter to nine, and the two men stopped in Hatton Garden.
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They stood beside a low wail.
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"I—I must rest—for a minute!"
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the short man said.
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"I'm too— too tired to follow him."
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unit 24
"Yes," the tall man said.
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unit 25
"We'll—go—go back—to the Red Lion.
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We'll wait there..." Smith was resting there, too, just behind the wall.
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He waited while they were walking away.
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He was tired but happy.
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unit 29
"They won't catch me," he said to himself.
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unit 30
The document was wet under his coat.
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unit 31
A gentleman walked past.
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Smith followed and took a handkerchief—and a pound—from the gentleman's pocket.
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He put the handkerchief round the document.
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"It will soon dry," he thought.
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The pound went into Smith's pocket.
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The night was cold, and the streets were almost empty.
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unit 37
Smith stopped at a tavern and bought a drink.
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unit 38
He thought of a warm bed, but the rooms of the tavern were full.
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unit 39
He went out to the street again.
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unit 40
Smith walked quickly along the street.
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unit 41
He was thinking of the wonderful life of a highwayman.
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"Finchley Common," he thought.
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"That's the place!
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I'll be there when I'm a man.
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Ladies and gentlemen in carriages!
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'Stand and deliver!'
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I'll say.
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'Madam, your jewels, please!
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Sir, your money—or I'll shoot!'"
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Smith's head was full of wonderful thoughts.
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He turned a corner—and walked straight into an old gentleman.
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"Oh!
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Oh!
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What—?
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Who is that?"
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the old man cried.
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He fell, and Smith fell beside him.
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unit 58
"Help me, sir!"
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the old man cried.
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He caught Smith's foot.
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unit 61
"I'm blind!
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Help to pull me up!"
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"Oh, what have I done now?"
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Smith said.
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"I'll help you if you free my foot."
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The blind man thought: "It's a boy—a child, a pickpocket perhaps.
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He'll rob me, of course.
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Oh, how shall I find the way?"
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"Are you really blind?"
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Smith asked.
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"Can you see me?
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What am I doing now?"
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And he opened his mouth wide.
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"I don't know!
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I don't know!
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I'm blind!"
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Smith was still uncertain.
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He never offered help to people.
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But a blind man... "Here's my hand," he said.
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"Now, stand up!
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And here's your hat."
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The gentleman was tall and also fat.
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Smith was very small beside him.
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"You're a big man, aren't you?"
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Smith said.
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"But if you're blind, you won't know!"
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"Thank you, boy.
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Now, find my stick, please.
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If you show me the way, I'll give you a pound."
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Smith needed a friend, and perhaps this old man could help him.
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He gave him his stick and took his hand again.
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"My name is Smith," he said.
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"Twelve years old and poor.
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Always in trouble.
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Very small but strong.
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I used to live in the Red Lion Tavern, near Saffron Hill.
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Smith," The old man held Smith's hand.
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"And my name is Mansfield," he said.
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"Blind for twelve years, Rich—but what can I do with money?
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I live with my daughter.
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Number Seven, Vine Street.
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Mansfield.
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I'm a magistrate!"
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A strange noise came out of Smith's mouth.
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"I'm helping a magistrate!"
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he cried.
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"Oh, what will happen next?
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"There's a church at the end of this street, Smith.
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Do you know it?"
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"I know every church round here, Mr Mansfield," Smith said.
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"Show me the way to it, please, and here's a pound."
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Smith took the pound.
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"I'll come with you, Mr Mansfield," he said.
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"I'm going along Vine Street, too," "I'm glad to hear it Smith."
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So they walked along, and the magistrate held Smith's thin hand.
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After a few minutes, Smith said: "Why are you blind?
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Were you ill?"
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"No.
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It was a fire.
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A house burned down.
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I lost my eyes.
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I lost my wife, too.
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She died in the fire."
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"What is it like, without eyes?"
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Smith asked.
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"It's dark, Smith.
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Very dark.
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We must be near the church now.
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Cross the street and turn to the right."
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Soon they were in Vine Street, outside Mr Mansfield's house.
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The magistrate said, "Will you have a late meal with me, Smith?"
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"Yes, please, Mr Mansfield."
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"May I offer you a bed for the night?"
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"Yes, please, Mr.
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Mansfield."
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"Have you any family, Smith?"
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"Two sisters."
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"Will they be afraid when you don't come home?"
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"No" "So you can sleep here.
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I'm glad to help you, Smith."
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"Thank you, Mr Magistrate Mansfield," Smith thought that life was very strange.
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A magistrate was going to help him—Smith.
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But he needed help only in one thing: he wanted to read.
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A blind man could not give that help.
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Adriana • 2380  translated  unit 127  6 months, 4 weeks ago
Adriana • 2380  translated  unit 118  6 months, 4 weeks ago
Adriana • 2380  commented on  unit 83  6 months, 4 weeks ago
Santxiki • 5774  translated  unit 106  6 months, 4 weeks ago
Santxiki • 5774  translated  unit 102  6 months, 4 weeks ago
Santxiki • 5774  translated  unit 85  6 months, 4 weeks ago
Santxiki • 5774  translated  unit 64  6 months, 4 weeks ago
Santxiki • 5774  translated  unit 54  6 months, 4 weeks ago
Santxiki • 5774  translated  unit 53  6 months, 4 weeks ago
Santxiki • 5774  translated  unit 52  6 months, 4 weeks ago
Santxiki • 5774  translated  unit 47  6 months, 4 weeks ago

The tall man and the short man were waiting in the shadows beside the Red Lion Tavern. Smith saw them at once. And he knew that they began to follow him. It was half past six.

The men followed Smith for five minutes along Saffron Hill. Then they lost him. A minute later he appeared in Cross Street. They saw him and went after him again. They followed him then for ten minutes. At Cony Court they lost him again. They looked closely among the dark shadows of the court,

Suddenly the short man pointed. "There he is!" he said. "In Cross Street!"

Smith ran along Cross Street, down Portpool Way and through Hatton Garden. The two men followed. They came to Chart Street; then back to Saffron Hill; Holborn Hill—Union Court—Hatton Garden again. Then they were in Cross Street—Saffron Hill—Cox's Court...

It was a quarter to nine, and the two men stopped in Hatton Garden. They stood beside a low wail.

"I—I must rest—for a minute!" the short man said. "I'm too— too tired to follow him."

"Yes," the tall man said. "We'll—go—go back—to the Red Lion. We'll wait there..."

Smith was resting there, too, just behind the wall. He waited while they were walking away. He was tired but happy. "They won't catch me," he said to himself. The document was wet under his coat.

A gentleman walked past. Smith followed and took a handkerchief—and a pound—from the gentleman's pocket. He put the handkerchief round the document. "It will soon dry," he thought. The pound went into Smith's pocket.

The night was cold, and the streets were almost empty. Smith stopped at a tavern and bought a drink. He thought of a warm bed, but the rooms of the tavern were full. He went out to the street again.

Smith walked quickly along the street. He was thinking of the wonderful life of a highwayman. "Finchley Common," he thought. "That's the place! I'll be there when I'm a man. Ladies and gentlemen in carriages! 'Stand and deliver!' I'll say. 'Madam, your jewels, please! Sir, your money—or I'll shoot!'"

Smith's head was full of wonderful thoughts. He turned a corner—and walked straight into an old gentleman.

"Oh! Oh! What—? Who is that?" the old man cried.

He fell, and Smith fell beside him. "Help me, sir!" the old man cried. He caught Smith's foot. "I'm blind! Help to pull me up!"

"Oh, what have I done now?" Smith said. "I'll help you if you free my foot."

The blind man thought: "It's a boy—a child, a pickpocket perhaps. He'll rob me, of course. Oh, how shall I find the way?"

"Are you really blind?" Smith asked. "Can you see me? What am I doing now?" And he opened his mouth wide.

"I don't know! I don't know! I'm blind!"

Smith was still uncertain. He never offered help to people. But a blind man... "Here's my hand," he said. "Now, stand up! And here's your hat."

The gentleman was tall and also fat. Smith was very small beside him.

"You're a big man, aren't you?" Smith said. "But if you're blind, you won't know!"

"Thank you, boy. Now, find my stick, please. If you show me the way, I'll give you a pound."

Smith needed a friend, and perhaps this old man could help him. He gave him his stick and took his hand again. "My name is Smith," he said. "Twelve years old and poor. Always in trouble. Very small but strong. I used to live in the Red Lion Tavern, near Saffron Hill. Smith,"

The old man held Smith's hand. "And my name is Mansfield," he said. "Blind for twelve years, Rich—but what can I do with money? I live with my daughter. Number Seven, Vine Street. Mansfield. I'm a magistrate!"

A strange noise came out of Smith's mouth. "I'm helping a magistrate!" he cried. "Oh, what will happen next?

"There's a church at the end of this street, Smith. Do you know it?"

"I know every church round here, Mr Mansfield," Smith said.

"Show me the way to it, please, and here's a pound."

Smith took the pound. "I'll come with you, Mr Mansfield," he said. "I'm going along Vine Street, too,"

"I'm glad to hear it Smith."

So they walked along, and the magistrate held Smith's thin hand. After a few minutes, Smith said: "Why are you blind? Were you ill?"

"No. It was a fire. A house burned down. I lost my eyes. I lost my wife, too. She died in the fire."

"What is it like, without eyes?" Smith asked.

"It's dark, Smith. Very dark. We must be near the church now. Cross the street and turn to the right."

Soon they were in Vine Street, outside Mr Mansfield's house.

The magistrate said, "Will you have a late meal with me, Smith?"

"Yes, please, Mr Mansfield."

"May I offer you a bed for the night?"

"Yes, please, Mr. Mansfield."

"Have you any family, Smith?"

"Two sisters."

"Will they be afraid when you don't come home?"

"No"

"So you can sleep here. I'm glad to help you, Smith."

"Thank you, Mr Magistrate Mansfield,"

Smith thought that life was very strange. A magistrate was going to help him—Smith. But he needed help only in one thing: he wanted to read. A blind man could not give that help.