The Society of Thirteen (7 page)

Chapter 15

As the hansom cab transported Lord Ringmore and Mr Clay across London, they kept the conversation light and avoided further mention of the book for fear of being overheard. Instead the two men discussed Clay's forthcoming appearance at the Theatre Royal in Victoria, where he was to take to the stage for a solid month of nightly performances. Lord Ringmore expressed doubts that such a long run was wise but Clay explained that they had already sold out the first two weeks and had added the second fortnight due to public demand.

‘My stunt on the Thames created some very positive publicity,' said Clay. ‘Who needs to pay for expensive advertisements when the columnists of London are so keen to fill their rags with glowing reviews?'

When the cab drew up outside Lord Ringmore's house, he paid the driver and turned to find Clay already standing in front of his door.

‘I take it you're in the habit of locking your front door when you leave,' said Clay.

‘Of course,' replied Lord Ringmore. ‘Why?'

The cab driver whipped his horse and drove away.

‘It's open.' Clay pushed the door.

Lord Ringmore smiled. ‘It's rather late for your tricks, Harry.'

‘Unfortunately this is not a trick. Not one of mine, at least.' Clay stepped over the threshold.

Lord Ringmore rushed up the steps and pushed past him. The whole place had been turned over. Drawers had been pulled out and rifled through. Items collected on his travels that had adorned his shelves and mantelpieces had been removed, but there was only one object that Lord Ringmore cared about. He took the stairs two at a time, not caring when his cloak caught and ripped on an empty hook where an oil painting had hung.

At the top of the stairs he found the door to his upstairs study. From his pocket he drew a key but as his eyes settled on the oak bureau, the key fell to the floor. The bureau's lid had been prized off. It was empty.

Clay stood behind him. ‘The book was in there?' he asked, already knowing the answer. ‘Any idea who could be behind this? Someone knew you were out.'

‘The orphans,' snarled Lord Ringmore.

‘You think they came for the book?' asked Clay.

‘No. My guess is that these thieves were after the valuables,' said Lord Ringmore. ‘But I have no doubt the orphans were involved. The boy asked about my lack of servants. He saw the opportunity of an empty house. It was my own fault.'

‘I can retrieve it for you,' said Clay.

‘How can you?' replied Lord Ringmore, feeling all hope drain from him. ‘We have lost it. I should never have left it here. I thought it safer than carrying it around. What was I thinking?'

‘You can spend your time asking yourself such questions or you can place your faith in me,' replied Clay. ‘Mark my words, I will find that book. I know more of these thieves' world than you might expect.'

‘You, Harry?'

‘I was not born the Remarkable Harry Clay. My beginnings were humble enough. Now, I noticed downstairs a bottle of brandy overlooked by the thieves in their hurry. I think this would be as good a time as any to open it, wouldn't you say?'

Chapter 16

Tom and Esther walked in silence to the address off Coldharbour Lane where they were to meet Hardy. Esther was too angry to talk. Working for Lord Ringmore, even for such a short amount of time, had given her a glimpse of another world. Sister Eucharia used to say that God had a plan for everyone. Esther liked that idea. What if Lord Ringmore was that plan for Esther? Hardy hadn't just stolen Lord Ringmore's possessions. He had robbed Tom and Esther of any hopes of a better life.

The house was hidden away under the shadow of a grimy railway bridge that rattled each time a train went over. The orphans stopped under the bridge and looked for signs of life. They had been here once before. The house belonged to a filthy old miser named Max Bloodstone, who exchanged stolen goods for hard cash. Bloodstone wasn't his real name, but he was so called because the chance of getting a fair price from him was often compared to extracting blood from a stone.

‘You don't need to come in if you don't want to,' said Tom.

‘We may as well get something out of all this,' said Esther.

‘I mean, you don't need to come in the house with me. I can go and collect our cut if you like.'

A train rattled past overhead, its clattering carriages shattering the quiet of the night. Tom was Esther's best friend. If she couldn't trust him, who could she trust? She refused to believe that he would take more than his fair share, and yet, Tom had changed in these months since they left the orphanage. He had hardened. The old Tom would never have betrayed her, but she didn't know about this new one.

‘Come on, let's get this over with,' she said.

Brewer opened the door to them and smiled. ‘Ah, two lost little orphans,' he said.

‘We're no less orphans than you,' said Esther.

‘And no littler neither,' added Tom.

‘You two are still fresh on the street. I've been out here for over a year now.'

‘Yeah, well, we still remember those beatings old Mother Agnes used to give you,' said Tom.

‘I'd like to see her try that now.' Brewer held his knife up. ‘I'd cut her up good and proper. Anyway, you'd better come in. Max don't like people hanging around outside.'

The house was dark and grubby. In a small downstairs room with the curtains drawn, Worms and Stump sat playing cards. Seeing Tom, Stump went to go for him but Hardy appeared at the top of the stairs and said, ‘Why, if it ain't Hansel and Gretel?'

‘We want our money, Hardy,' said Esther.

‘So very blunt,' he replied. ‘No nice to see yous. No thanks for what I done for you.'

‘What've you done for us?' demanded Tom. ‘It was me that told you the house to rob.'

‘And it was me what robbed it,' replied Hardy. ‘Now come on up and we'll talk cuts.'

Brewer joined the card game and the orphans followed Hardy upstairs into a room where Max Bloodstone sat behind a desk piled high with candlesticks, snuff boxes, ornaments, jewellery, hats, umbrellas and all manner of other items from Lord Ringmore's house. Bloodstone, an old man with more wiry white hair on his chin than on his head, looked up at the orphans with a mistrustful glance.

‘I know you,' he snarled.

‘These are them orphans I told you about. They're the ones who told me about the place.'

‘Good tip-off,' said Bloodstone, begrudgingly. ‘All sorts of intriguing objects our lads come back with from that place. Rare, a lot of 'em. Of course, rare often don't make them any easier to sell. ‘

‘So how much, Max?' asked Hardy. ‘I said I'd split it fair and square with these two.'

‘Five pounds for the lot,' said Bloodstone.

‘Five pounds?' exclaimed Esther. ‘We cleared out this man's house and you say five pounds?'

‘That's two pounds, ten shillings for you two,' said Hardy.

‘Come on, Est. That's more money than we've ever had,' said Tom.

‘Don't be such an idiot, Tom,' said Esther. ‘You see what he's doing? These two have already agreed a price and then he's told him to say something lower for us.'

‘You want to be careful what you're saying,' said Bloodstone. ‘I always treat my clients fair.'

‘That's right,' said Hardy. ‘This is business, not one of your street games.'

‘It's a good price,' said Tom. ‘It'll keep us fed for a while.'

‘We sold a man's life for two quid ten?' said Esther.

‘You didn't tell me they'd be trouble,' said Bloodstone. ‘Hollerin' away like this. You know these walls ain't exactly thick. I can't have no hollerin' in here. You know that, Hardy.'

‘There'll be no more trouble, Max.' Hardy turned on the orphans. ‘I tell you what, we'll make it three quid and be done.'

‘Three quid, Est,' said Tom, pleadingly.

Esther didn't reply. She had noticed a book on the desk amongst the other things. A black scarf prevented her from seeing the whole thing but she could make out the curve of a number three on the cover.

‘Three quid is still robbery and no question,' she said. ‘But I'll take it if we can have something from the pile too.'

Hardy sniggered. ‘It don't work like that. Thieves get their cut then sellers sell the wares.'

‘That's right. I've gotta have something to sell, ain't I?' said Bloodstone.

‘Only something small,' said Esther. ‘Something not worth much.'

‘Everything's worth something,' said Bloodstone, gathering the objects on the desk in his arms, protectively.

‘What is it you want, out of interest?' asked Hardy, his cold eyes trained on Esther.

Esther shrugged as casually as she could manage then stepped forward. She glanced at the objects on the table, trying to ignore Bloodstone's discouraging grunts every time her eyes settled on something. Her hand moved across the items, picking up a couple of things and examining them with mock interest, until she lifted the scarf off the book and saw the number thirteen on the cover. She could feel Hardy's twitching eyes upon her. She steadied her hand and picked up the book.

‘How about this?' she said.

‘A book?' sneered Hardy. ‘Didn't have you down as a reader, Esther.'

‘I just want something to remember this by. It is our biggest robbery, after all,' she replied. ‘I don't suppose this old thing is worth much.'

Bloodstone breathed a sigh of relief. ‘Oh, she can have the book. I was going to chuck that anyway.'

Hardy leant forward and snatched the book out of Esther's hand.

‘Thieves keep mementoes at their peril,' he said.

‘Give her the book and let me get back to my work,' snapped Bloodstone.

‘I think if she gets what she wants then I should get what
I
want.' Hardy turned to face her, holding the book behind his back.

‘What would that be?' asked Esther.

‘A kiss.' He smiled. ‘You give me a little kiss and I'll give you the book.'

‘No,' said Tom. ‘Leave her alone.'

‘I ain't talking to you,' said Hardy, his eyes fixed on Esther. ‘Now, what do you say? How badly do you want this memento of yours? Because I know how badly I want that kiss.'

‘I'd rather kiss a cockroach,' said Esther.

‘None of them around.' Hardy shrugged.

‘She isn't going to kiss you,' said Tom. ‘Now give us our money and let us go.'

‘Give them their cut, Max,' said Hardy. ‘But I think I'll keep this book. Maybe next time we meet you'll have changed your mind about that kiss.'

Esther watched helplessly as he slid the book into the inside pocket of his coat.

Chapter 17

It was a long way from Bloodstone's dark corner of South London to the orphans' Rotherhithe home but Tom and Esther were used to long walks. In the day they would hitch rides by jumping on the backs of hansom cabs or omnibuses until they were caught and shooed off, but the streets were quiet so late at night and they didn't want to draw any attention to themselves at such a murderous hour. Sometimes they would put their arms around each other to keep warm, but tonight they walked apart in spite of the cold wind.

‘You going to stay angry with me?' asked Tom. They had reached the long road that took them through Walworth and would eventually bring them to Elephant and Castle.

‘I'm not angry,' said Esther.

‘Upset then.'

‘When did you decide to go to Hardy?'

‘Just seemed like a good idea.'

‘It was the reason you suggested we split this evening, wasn't it?'

‘So what if it was?'

‘You should have asked me.'

‘I knew you'd say no,' admitted Tom. ‘But it had to be done, Est. We got Hardy off our backs now.'

‘Or more like, he thinks we work for him.'

‘Maybe that's not such a bad idea. We got money now, and more than the dribs and drabs old Ringmore was throwing us.'

‘You didn't like being bossed around by a toff like that but you don't mind if it's a toerag like Hardy. Is that it?' asked Esther.

‘It's different,' replied Tom. ‘Hardy comes from the same place as us. Ringmore is never gonna see us as anything but street rats.'

‘Not now, he won't,' said Esther, angrily. ‘That's for sure.'

‘I just thought –'

‘You shouldn't,' interrupted Esther. ‘You should leave the thinking to me.'

‘Why? Because you're cleverer than me? That's what you think, isn't it?'

Esther didn't reply. They fell silent as they passed a pub, lively with the sounds of voices raised in drunken singing.

‘You and me, Tom,' said Esther. ‘We're the only family we got.'

‘I'm not like you. I got a family,' said Tom. ‘My aunt –'

‘Your aunt left you, Tom,' snapped Esther.

‘Only 'cos she had to. She had no choice. She never wanted to leave me at that place. You'll see. One day I'll be able to find her again and then you'll see. I know she's out there, Est. I know she is.'

‘How you going to find her?'

‘When I've got money. Money can get you anything you want.'

‘If it's money you want you'll help me get that book off Hardy.'

‘Can't we just forget about that stupid book now? You don't believe it's actually magic, do you?'

‘It's not important what I believe. What's important is that Ringmore believes it.'

‘What you on about?'

‘You want money and Ringmore will do anything to get the book back. He'll pay anything to get it back.'

Tom looked at her and, for the first time since they had set off, smiled. ‘You think he will?'

‘Real, make-a-difference money, Tom. No matter what I believe, it's worth it for that, ain't it?'

‘But Hardy's got it in his coat pocket and I've never even seen him take that coat off. Maybe we should buy the book back off him.'

‘No. He mustn't know how much we want it. He already thinks there's something up with it because of what happened back at Bloodstone's. We need to get it from him without him knowing it was us what took it.'

‘I don't fancy pickpocketing Hardy.'

‘Don't worry. I've got an idea. We'll swipe it right from under his nose.'

‘He'll kill us if he catches us.'

‘This idea I got, he won't even know it was us.'

‘I'm listening.'

‘Friday's collection day,' said Esther. ‘Except this Friday it won't just be Hardy who's collecting.'