Dodger of the Dials (3 page)

‘You wanted to stop, Humphrey, that’s what this is about,’ she said instead as if something was in her mouth. ‘And I hadn’t given you permission yet.’ Then I saw the faint light of the candle move through the drapes and realised that she was lighting a cigar for herself. ‘You’re a waste of blood and organs.’

With that the heavy footsteps of this Humphrey was heard thundering down the corridor and towards this boudoir. ‘You insolent bitch,’ he declared on entrance. ‘You poisonous jade!
Bentley is my oldest friend, God rot you, and he doesn’t know
I
’
m
here.’ The woman just laughed back at him.

‘He knows about all of you,’ she breathed out after what must have been her first drag. The man’s voice lowered when he spoke next.

‘If that is another of your famous jokes, madam,’ he said with a hateful seethe, ‘then know that I do not take it in good humour.’

While all this was under discussion I had been busy working out the details of my escape. The sash of the window could be opened with ease and I could see that it would be possible for me to scale down the building to the back garden using the water pipe. All that mattered was that I could get outside before drawing attention to myself. Once I had got hold of the pipe I was confident that I could move faster than they could and be down and off with the necklace before they had even left the room.

‘Oh, you think that I’ve been living as a nun until now, do you?’ the woman went on taunting, while I tried to lift the sash. The night was warm and windless so I was not concerned about letting in air and this fiery spat was covering whatever creaks I made. ‘While my brute husband sleeps with every whore in Christendom?’ There was now almost enough space for me to slip underneath the window and get onto the ledge outside. A couple more inches and I would have my liberty.

‘Why your husband should feel the need to sleep with a
single
whore, madam,’ boomed Humphrey loud enough for me to risk a greater shove of the window, ‘is a great mystery! For he has in his marital bed the biggest harlot of them all!’

Just then the sound of a struggle broke out and the woman began to scream. It seems he had got hold of her now and was manhandling her towards the bed. I could hear her hit him with something and she told him to leave as the light of the cigar was
snuffed out. He laughed as something fell over and said that he was done taking orders from her and that it was his turn to receive satisfaction. The sound of this violent outburst was such that I could lift the window to as far as it would go and there was now nothing to obstruct my departure. But something powerful held me there.

It was the thought of Nancy. Many a night, since I had returned from my incarceration in Australia and learnt of her terrible murder, I had suffered dark dreams thinking about what that bastard Sikes had done to her. I had often thought that – had I been there to prevent it – I would have saved her from his butchery in a most dashing fashion. But it’s easy to flatter yourself with thoughts like that if history never repeats itself.

‘You’re hurting me!’ the woman cried again in serious distress. The spite in her voice was gone now and I just heard the fear. There was a loud smack and she groaned as her attacker told her he would ruin her looks if she made one more noise. She carried on pleading for help, though, and I wondered who she thought might hear her. She herself had sent the servants away and the only person in this village what might have a chance of coming to her aid was the constable what Scratcher had just announced through his terrible crow was busy getting drunk in a pub. If this Humphrey wanted to overpower her, bash her face in and even kill her, he could do it and leave the house without anybody even knowing he had been there.

With one stroke I pulled back the drapes of the curtains so I could see what was occurring. I stepped back into the room and there was this Humphrey, lying on top of her on the bed and trying to keep one hand over her still screaming mouth while his other hand was unbuttoning his fly. The woman turned her tearful and bashed face to see me and screamed all the louder but he had not noticed
my entrance yet and thought her wailing was still on account of his own unwelcome advances. So he carried on removing his trousers while I pulled my persuader out of coat pocket and cleared my throat.

‘Put your drawers back on, Humphrey,’ I said and brandished the club at him. ‘And step away from the lady. She ain’t interested.’

Humphrey flicked his head toward me and cried out in shock. Then he jumped up from the bed and staggered back against the wall which was not a graceful move considering that his trousers was down by his ankles. His mouth was open but he was struggling to speak.

‘You just thank your lady friend there for her pleasant company,’ I continued staring him down, ‘and tell her it’s time you was getting off.’ I must have struck quite an aspect, I considered, as I stood by the open window with a full moon shining in from behind me. For the sake of the lady I tried to assume as heroic a stance as possible. I did not move from my position by the window though, as I was still planning on making my exit through it.

‘Another lover?’ Humphrey asked the woman at last as he pulled up his britches. ‘Do you have one hidden in every room?’ But despite this, he must have seen that she was just as shocked by my sudden appearance as he was. Humphrey then turned back to me and began his pleading. ‘You’re from Bentley,’ he said to me as he edged his way around the bed towards the foot of it. ‘One of his spies. I knew it, I saw you hiding in the trees. Listen,’ he held his hands out and came forward, ‘it was all her. Tell him that.
She
seduced
me
. I was helpless against her.’ Then he gave me a wink. ‘And there’s a pound note in it if you play the game and forget the whole thing.’

Just then the woman on the bed sprung up, jumped through the foot posts between us and made for the chest of drawers where I
had stolen the necklace from. This was unexpected and I worried that she had landed upon my business and was checking to see on her priceless treasure. In my moment of confusion, Humphrey gathered his courage. He charged at me and grabbed me by the chest, sending us both crashing backwards and into the curtains. ‘Got you now, spy,’ he cried as he tried to grapple me into submission. ‘You won’t be telling any tales on old Humphrey, on no, sir!’

However, I still had the use of my left arm what held the persuader and so gave him a good cosh around the head. That did the job and he released me, fell to his knees and got tangled up in the drapery. I tried to move from him then but he still grabbed my leg and I turned to see what the woman was doing. She had pulled something out of a different drawer to the one I had been at and was turning back towards us with it. It was a small silver pistol and her hands shook as she pointed the thing.

‘You’ve got one shot, my darling,’ Humphrey told her from his position on the floor with his hands still on me. ‘Aim steady.’ She fired the pistol and I flinched to the side. The shot missed me, flew over Humphrey’s head and went straight out of the window. ‘Christ Almighty, woman,’ he shouted enraged. ‘That almost hit me!’

‘I was
aiming
for you!’ she shrieked and then chucked the empty gun straight at his head. He cursed as it struck him causing him to release me and I made straight for the open door. But Humphrey, to give him due credit, was not letting me escape that easy.

‘Get back here, you little bastard!’ he roared as I ran out into the corridor. I could hear him forcing himself to his feet and wondered at his resilience. To have taken two strikes to the crown like that and still be prepared to chase me was without question the act of a true sportsman. ‘I’ll tear your bloody arms off!’ he swore as he pursued me across the landing and to the top of the staircase.

I moved fast down the stairs but the place was dark and my footing was not as familiar as his. Just as I reached the bottom steps he made a last ditch tackle and we both crashed down into the hallway together. As this happened there was more crowing sounds from outside. Trouble was coming, no doubt on account of the gunshot, and it looked like I was done for.

Then a sweet female voice called out from another room in the house. It was not the haughty tones of the lady we had left upstairs but that of a low-born angel whispering in agitation.

‘Please, sir, the mister is coming!’ said the voice from somewhere in the darkness. ‘The mister of the house is back early from London, Lord help us. I sees him coming up the lane now, you better scarper for all our sakes!’ Humphrey looked up and asked who was there. ‘Mary, sir,’ the voice replied. ‘Mary the maidservant begging your pardon, sir. You better not be found here, sir, you better go!’ The sound of Scratcher’s crowing was getting louder and more urgent from outside and I could see that this was unsettling Humphrey. ‘Let the burglar take the blame,’ Mary advised him in a lower voice. ‘You should look after yourself, sir, you just go!’ Humphrey, who still had me helpless with one knee pressed into my back, twitched his head towards the front windows, then turned back to the nearest open door where this Mary sounded to be.

‘Come out here,’ he commanded her. ‘Show yourself.’ But as he stared in that direction he did not hear the quiet footsteps coming from another room to the left of us and nor did he see who approached. It was Tom Skinner, holding a great silver plate above her head, and it came crashing down onto Humphrey’s already wounded head. This third strike was too much for him and he doubled over releasing me and I was back on my feet.

I was surprised to see the person behind that girlish voice
suddenly brandishing the crockery in this violent manner. I was so accustomed to seeing her stomping around in trousers and pretending to be one of the boys that even I forgot what she really was.

‘Out the front!’ I told Tom, once I’d recovered. I could see Georgie through the window, he had driven the cart to the front gate and was working upon the chain with his iron file.

‘Hang about,’ Tom said in her truer, harder voice. ‘I put a big sack of silver down a second ago and now I can’t find it.’ She laughed at her own stupidity and went off to look.

‘There ain’t time,’ I shouted after her. ‘I got what we came for!’ Then at the top of the staircase I saw the lady of the house in her torn nightdress and with her tousled hair hanging down over that fresh bruise.

‘There’s a constable on his way,’ she announced in triumph. ‘I’ve just seen him from the library window. He has someone from the pub with him too. You’re for it now!’

I opened the door and saw that Georgie had managed to smash open the chain of the gate but had driven the dairy cart away, as two others was indeed running down the lane from the village. The one up front was rattling one of those stupid wooden clackers that London peelers like so much.

‘There’s three of them,’ Humphrey cried up to his mistress while I shouted for Tom to hurry. I was waiting to see if she needed any help before making a dash while Humphrey was getting to his feet again. ‘Two men,’ he growled, ‘and a girl hiding somewhere.’ He was clutching his bleeding head and trying to stand and it was clear that he could not tell that Tom was the girl, a butch girl in boys’ clothing who could throw her voice better than any. ‘It’ll be the noose for the lot of them,’ he sneered.

Just then Tom reappeared with a sackful of jostling plate and
other silverware. ‘Thanks for your hospitality,’ she said as she passed by and kicked him in the face. He fell backwards and groaned.

We dashed out of the front door then and headed across the lawn towards the gate but was dismayed to see that two villagers was already there.

‘Halt!’ said the constable in a weak, shaky voice. ‘I’m putting you boys under arrest.’ It was clear that he did not have it in him to take on two desperate villains and I did not think the publican would be much trouble either. ‘Put down the sack, fellas,’ he ordered without much conviction. ‘You’re coming with me to the station.’

‘Let’s charge them,’ I said to Tom as we stopped and eyed them hard. ‘And you unload the sack.’

‘I just spent fifteen minutes collecting this lot,’ she complained.

‘The necklace in my pocket is worth five times all that,’ I returned. ‘Just throw it in the air and let them have it. They won’t fight if they can boast that they got the swag back.’ Before Tom could argue there was another roar from behind and we turned to see Humphrey stagger out of the front door, his face a red mess. He let out a war cry and ran towards us. We then began running towards the villagers and they in turn charged us. We all collided into each other in the centre of the lawn and Tom’s sack of booty went flying into the air.

As expected, the publican was no hero and was more interested in collecting the raining silverware than with taking a chance on fisticuffs. I managed to dodge them all and kept on running but the constable was a tougher cove than I had reckoned on and he pounced on Tom. Once I made it to the gate I turned to see was happening and saw that she was locked in battle with both Humphrey and the policeman and I was considering going back to help her. Then, from Whetstone Manor, the window of the library opened and the lady of the house called out.

‘The one with the bloody head!’ she yelled. ‘He’s the leader! The fiend attacked me in my boudoir and was ordering the others about. He’s the one to grab!’

‘Right you are, milady!’ the constable said and let go of Tom Skinner to wrestle with the stunned Humphrey.

‘Not me, fool,’ he protested, ‘she’s lying, can’t you tell?’ But the constable had pulled out his truncheon and gave Humphrey his final whack to the head of the night. He collapsed to the ground again and both the constable and the publican bundled on top of him to the cheering approval of the woman of the house.

Tom made it to the gates with one tureen dish still in her hands and we both looked about for the dairy cart. We turned to see Georgie racing it towards us down the lane with great urgency and he drew the horse up beside us and hollered out for Scratcher. We climbed into the back and I landed on something what crumpled beneath. It was my stovepipe hat what I had left in the cart and I had near ruined the shape of it. We saw Scratcher then, scrambling towards us from the trees, and Tom called for him to hurry up. As she helped him into the back of the cart I padded out the dent on the hat and then took one last look at Whetstone Manor before the horse pulled away. I’ll never know if Humphrey saw me in the dark waving my hat back at him as he was being beaten up and arrested. But I like to imagine that he did.