Scotland Hard (Book 2 in the Tom & Laura Series) (20 page)

“They was nobody, sir,” Jane replied, “Just three young people heading up the road.”

“Describe them to me,” Saunders demanded.

Jane was flustered by the question. She was not a fanciful girl able to invent details and the best she could do in the circumstances was to describe
Arnold
,
Cam
and Daisy as they were. After all, what harm could it do?

“Did they say where they were going?” Saunders asked her gently.

“I wouldn’t know, sir. There’s the town and the railway station if you go far enough.”

“McBride would take them back to his estate in
Scotland
?” Saunders snapped at Smee.

“I suppose so. He has a set of fancy rail carriages that the railway companies move around for him,” Smee conceded.

“Well then, I shall be on my way.” Saunders paused and then snapped at Jane. “Short was always sending messages to the Hart boy?”

“If you mean Tricky, sir, then yes she did. Took a wicked delight in it, she did. Kept us servants on our guard, sir, as it gave the boy eyes in the back of his head.”

Saunders gestured to Mick and Joe, who walked out of the room with him. Jane curtseyed and made to leave the room.

“Report to Mr. Smith at once and tell him that I said to whip you till you bleed,” Smee snapped at her.

“Bbbut I haven’t done anything, sir!” Jane protested.

“I’m sure you have, my dear, even if I can’t work out what it is. Now be off with you or I shall thrash you myself.”

22.
      
Tom, Laura, and Alice

Tom didn’t hear the girls come back from their ablutions. Once he put his head down on the pillow he was fast asleep, though nightmares plagued him. He woke sweating from one in which he was about to be burnt as a witch by an angry Scottish mob.

The room was in darkness and it took him a few seconds to remember where he was. There was an arm resting across his chest, which he recognized as Laura’s as he touched it. Somewhere beyond the bed, someone was snoring loudly and he assumed that must be
Alice
.

Sweat from his nightmare made his face feel cold and his pillow was damp. He lifted up enough to turn the pillow over.

“If you mean to smother me, could you do it quickly? I am trying to sleep,” Laura said sleepily.

“Sorry to wake you,” Tom whispered, “I was having a nightmare and woke from it.”

“The whole hotel must know that by now. You were shouting ‘
Don’t burn me’
loud enough to wake the dead.”

“I dreamt that the Scots were going to burn me at the stake,” Tom admitted ruefully.

“They stopped doing that a hundred years ago. The modern Scottish way is a knife in the ribs when you least expect it. They call their knives
‘dicks’
which must indicate something about their mentality.”

Tom laughed. “They call their knives dirks not dicks, Laura.”

“How can you be sure, with accents as thick as theirs?” Laura said sitting up and putting an arm around him. “Now that we are awake, can I trust that you are not going to attempt some of that adult behavior that
Alice
was going on about?”

“Your honor is safe with me. I’m still fully dressed, after all.”

“Now that is somewhat of a shame, because I find that I am completely naked,” Laura said wickedly.

An annoyed voice spoke from the couch. “If you are going to tup, will you just get on with it? All this talking is keeping me awake.”

“We are certainly not going to tup,” Tom said loudly. There followed a very long moment of silence in which Tom hoped the bed would swallow him up.

“Goodnight, Tom,” Laura said primly and turned her back on him.

“Goodnight Laura,
Alice
,” Tom muttered and rolled to face away from Laura. He could feel Laura’s body heat against the back of his trousers and inched further away until he hung precariously against the edge of the bed. Laura sniffed loudly and kicked him in the leg. Tom didn’t sleep again that night.

As soon as it started to get light, Tom got up and washed in the bathroom. He contrived to stay in it for as long as possible. When enough time had passed for the girls to have dressed he opened the door a crack and averting his eyes he spoke out.

“Are you girls decent?”

“Was ‘e brought up in one of them monasteries?”
Alice
asked. “’E ain’t like any of the fella’s down our street, I can tells you that. I ‘ear there’s men that prefer the company of other men, if you know what I mean.”

Tom spluttered in outrage at her suggestion, but no words came out. He stepped into the room to find the girls decently covered and in the process of getting dressed.

“Tom was brought up to be a proper Victorian Gentleman,” Laura explained to
Alice
. “Nobody ever bothered to tell him what real Victorian men are like.”

Alice
’s mouth formed a big O. “Can ‘is condition be cured like?”

“I find his demeanor nice, pleasant even. However, I’m sure he can be broken to behave appropriately in a ladies boudoir. Well, I must confess that I hope so.”

“Don’t seem natural to me,”
Alice
pointed out as she fastened her skirt. “Me brother Ern would ‘ave seen you alright last night, ‘e would. Three or four times at the least, an’ ‘ave you walking bow-legged in the morning.”

Laura blushed and changed the subject.

“Do you have many siblings?”
Alice
looked confused and Laura had to rephrase the question. “How many brothers and sisters do you have?”

“Four older brothers and three sisters, them younger than me. Me mam was about to drop another before I left, so I might ‘ave another brother or sister by now. Don’t ‘ave no siblings in the house that I knows of, though we do ‘ave a cat and five chickens.”

“When do you think they will bring us our breakfast?” Tom asked. The question was more to remind them that he was still there, rather than because he was hungry. It was also to reassure himself that he was still capable of coherent speech.

“It may be that they have forgotten about us, Thomas,” Laura suggested.

“Should I go and bang on the door?”
Alice
asked. “I could eat an ‘orse.”

“How about a gentle wake up call,” Laura said and grinned. “Say in Bruce’s head?”

Alice
grinned back and transmitted a telepathic message in her usual delicate manner.

“Should I do it again?”
Alice
asked when there was no immediate response.

“Give him a few more minutes,
Alice
. We don’t want to make the man too angry,” Laura cautioned.

Less than a minute later, their door was unlocked and flung violently open. A disheveled Bruce stormed into the room, wearing only a pair of unbuttoned trousers and a vest.

“I’ll kill ye, ye little witch,” he shouted at
Alice
.
Alice
fled to the corner of the room and Laura moved to block Bruce’s path.

“She was following my instruction,” Laura told him calmly. “I’m sure that Lord McBride does not want us arriving at his estate in poor condition. We are hungry and wondered when you would be organizing our breakfast?”

“Breakfast’s at nine,” Bruce said as he tried to hang on to his temper. He stood in front of Laura clenching and unclenching his fists. “I’ll come and fetch you.” He turned on his heals and stormed out of the room, much in the same manner that he had stormed in.

“Is antagonizing McBride’s man really going to help us?” Tom asked.

“It will keep them from guessing our real plan, Thomas. They will have been expecting us to try something and this will reassure them and therefore put them off their guard.”

“We have a plan?” Tom asked in some surprise.

“We will have when you think of one,” Laura replied loftily. “Don’t take too long about it either, Tom. I have no wish to remain a prisoner for a minute longer than is absolutely necessary.”

23.
      
Still Behind

Arnold
led the way up to the rooms they had been allocated.
Cam
followed behind him, muttering to herself.
She has been born into the wrong age
,
Arnold
thought ruefully, though he was not sure there would ever be an age where women had full equality with men. Male dominance was, after all, the natural order of things.

As they progressed up the stairs, the carpets became polished boards and the fixtures and fittings less opulent. Their rooms not quite in the attic, which was where the staff lived, but they were in the upper reaches of the hotel reserved for the poorest guests.

When
Arnold
opened the first bedroom door rooms, they found two double beds and not much else. The beds, a dresser, and a wardrobe were the only furnishings. It was just possible to open the wardrobe door without hitting a bed and there was not the room to swing a cat.

“Boys in the room on the left, the girls will sleep in here,”
Cam
instructed.

Arnold
smiled. “But we are supposed to be married, Camilla. We wouldn’t want the hotel staff to suspect that anything funny was going on would we?”

“They are Scottish and will put it down to English eccentricity,”
Cam
snapped back. “But if one of them should ask, I shall be happy to inform them that you prefer to sleep with little boys.”

Arnold
snarled under his breath as he tried to think of a suitably cutting reply.

Daisy had been busy reading a noticed pinned to the inside of the door while her friends indulged in their usual verbal sparring.

“If you two can stop acting like a married couple for a minute?” she enquired of them, which brought the banter to an instant halt. “It states here that breakfast is served between seven and eight in the morning and that the dining room must be vacated by half past eight. If we are going to manage that, I think we should go to bed. I must confess to being more than slightly tired myself.”

Cam
shooed Arnold and the boys out of the room and shut the door on them. She smiled at Daisy in an uncomfortable sort of way.

“You didn’t really think Arnold and I were acting like a couple did you? I’ve never thought of him like that.”

“You would be surprised at what I can see in the future,” Daisy replied enigmatically.

Despite Cam’s badgering, she refused to say anything further on the matter, much to
Cam
’s annoyance.

Cam
woke at six the next morning. She had the ability to wake up at any time she wanted. Unfortunately, she did not have the ability to go for long periods without adequate sleep and yawned for five minutes before gathering enough energy to get out of bed.

She shook Daisy awake and the two girls trekked down the corridor to the communal ablutions. On returning to their room, there was no sign that
Arnold
or his two young charges were awake.
Cam
banged loudly on their door

“What?”
Arnold
said sleepily.

“Time to get up,
Arnold
, if you can bear to part yourself from the boys, that is.”

Incoherent spluttering was the only reply.
Cam
and Daisy exchanged grins before making their way back to their room.

It was seven thirty by the time they made their way to the dining room. A waitress took their orders after confirming that they had already paid for breakfast.

“Why do you close the breakfast room so early?”
Arnold
asked the waitress when she returned with their plates.

“We have to serve the special guests from nine.”

“Special guests?”
Cam
enquired.

“Aye, those that have permanent suites in the hotel. We have the Laird McBride and his party with us today.”

Ebb and Tricky ate all the food put in front of them and would have asked for a third helping of toast and marmalade had not
Cam
intervened.

“We need to go back to the railway station and see if we can find any clues about the train that
Alice
was on last night,” she told her friends.

Tricky looked out of the dining room windows at the foot of snow on the ground and shivered at the thought of going outside.

“Can’t Ebb and me wait upstairs?” Tricky asked as Ebb nodded his approval at the suggestion. Ebb had begun to nod before Tricky started speaking.

“We have to be out of the rooms by ten thirty, unless we are going to pay for another night,” Daisy pointed out.

“Someone needs to stay with the boys if they are not coming with us,”
Cam
told her.

“I’ll stay,” Daisy said, much to
Cam
’s surprise. “I doubt you’ll have much luck over at the station.”

“Are you saying it’s a waste of time?”
Arnold
asked.

“No, I’m saying that things happen when they happen.”

“I’m beginning to hate Precogs,”
Arnold
muttered irritably.

“So, I shall stay with the boys while you two go over to the station?” Daisy said, ignoring
Arnold
.

“I suppose so,”
Cam
agreed reluctantly.

Daisy and the boys seemed to be pleased with the arrangement and left for the room without another word.

James Saunders woke early in the morning and immediately started scratching at his itching skin. He pulled off the bedclothes and saw the ominous black dots that indicated bedbugs. As he cursed the landlord of the
Inn
and his filthy habits he took comfort in the fact that he going to enjoy killing Trelawney’s young spies, if only for all the trouble they were causing him.

He cleansed his body as well as the pitcher of water and bowl allowed, before dressing quickly. When finished, he checked his face in the mirror to ensure his beard was clear of any mites. Then he strode out of his room and banged on the door opposite.

A few moments later, Mick opened the door. Mick’s black hair looked greasier than usual and it was clear he was still half-asleep.

“What’s up?”

“We need to depart for the railway station. I want you and Joe downstairs and ready to go in the next five minutes.”

“’M starving, Guv. We ‘avin’ breakfast ‘ere?” Mick asked.

Saunders frowned and consulted his fob watch. He was hungry, but his experience with the bed had put him off eating in the
Inn
.

“I’m not sure that would be a good idea. I’ve been eaten alive by bedbugs during the night.”

A puzzled look passed over Mick’s face. “Nuthin’ bit me, guv.”

“And who would have thought that even the lowly bedbug has standards?” Saunders said under his breath. Mick leaned forward, trying to catch his words and failing.

“If the landlord or his cook can prepare food in five minutes, then we shall eat here. That is, assuming there is someone awake in this foul place.”

Mick turned and kicked his door closed, narrowly missing Saunders’ face. Saunders sighed at the thought of the kind of men he was forced to employ. The nearest thing he had ever had to a gentleman killer was Snood, and Snood had turned hero in the end and got himself killed. He walked down the stairs and located the kitchens. As he entered them, a fat woman turned towards him, wearing an apron that looked as if it had not been washed since the day it was bought.

“You’ll be wanting your breakfast then, your lordship?” she asked jovially, wiping her hand on the apron and possibly making them dirtier as a consequence.

“For me and my men; if you can prepare it in a reasonable time.”

The woman smiled. “It’ll have it ready in a jiffy. Just you sit yourself down in the bar and I’ll get it ready for you myself. Did you have a good night?”

“I was eaten alive by bedbugs,” Saunders complained.

The woman looked outraged at the suggestion. “Why we wash those sheets regular once a fortnight, whether they need it or not. You must be mistaken, your lordship. And don’t you be thinking of asking for your money back. We don’t give refunds.”

“No refund is being sought, so you can calm yourself, madam,” Saunders said in a placatory manner. The words seemed to do the trick, for she smiled at him again and began to crack eggs into a pan filled with dark brown bubbling fat.

The bar looked darker and dirtier to Saunders than it had when they arrived at it the previous night. They located the inn after they reached Colney Hatch Railway Station and discovered it locked for the night and the ticket office closed. Saunders needed to speak to the ticket collector to find out if Trelawney’s spies had caught a train the day before and what destination they had requested.

Mick and Joe arrived in the bar at the same time as the meal. The food swam in a sea of thick grease on the plate. The sausages, bacon, and eggs were, without exception, overcooked or burnt. Mick and Joe looked down at their plates with evident delight.

The three of them presented an incongruous sight. Saunders was obviously a gentleman, with his spotless clothes and well-groomed beard while Mick and Joe wore dirty laborers clothes. Joe, in particular, looked like a villain with a livid red knife scar prominent on his chin. He removed his cap and put it on the table, revealing a balding head with a few strands of hair combed over from one side over to the other. Neither Mick nor Joe had shaved for several days and their stubble served to give them a thoroughly disreputable look.

“Where are we going today, Guv’nor?” Joe asked as he wiped grease off his chin onto the back of his sleeve.

“I would hope not far, but the people we chase have proved surprisingly resourceful. It is entirely possible we could be in for a very long journey indeed.”

“I thought you said they was only kids?” Mick asked.

“They are apparently well trained children and one of them is a Precog whose parents were legendary in my profession. I had assumed that she missed out on inheriting their skills, but I am beginning to wonder if she has been deliberately misleading us.”

“That aint goin’ to cause us trouble, is it, Guv’nor?” Mick asked. He sounded worried. Like most ordinary folk he had an irrational fear of the magically gifted.

“Even the best Precog can be easily killed with a knife or a gun,” Saunders reassured him. “They merely suffer from the misfortune of knowing it is about to happen to them.”

They had left their coach and horses at a livery stable across from the station the previous night. Saunders paid for them to be looked after for a month; though he arranged a refund should he return earlier.

The men walked to the railway station and went to find the ticket collector.

“Were you on duty yesterday morning?” Saunders asked the small wizened man he found waiting in the ticket collector’s booth.

“Are you buying a ticket or information,” the man replied, showing off his brown teeth in a sly smile.

“Both. I am on Her Majesty’s business and I will make it worth your while if you tell me what I want to know.”

“So tell me what you want to hear. I’m sure I can repeat it back to you,” the little man replied. It took Saunders a moment to realize he had just been insulted.

Saunders took out a gold sovereign and put it in front of the hatch. The ticket collector looked at it avariciously, but made no attempt to reach for it.

“A gentleman working for her Majesty should be able to do better than that,” he remarked. A gleam had appeared in his eye.

Saunders put another sovereign down beside the first.

“If that isn’t enough, I can telegraph your employers to have you fired,” Saunders said softly and smiled, showing his immaculate white teeth to the man.

“What do you want to know?” the ticket collector asked as he took the money and slipped it into his waistcoat pocket. If he was daunted by the threat he gave no sign of it.

“I am looking for a party of three young people, two women, and one man. Did you sell them a railway ticket yesterday?”