Date: Tue, 25 Mar 2014 17:38:42 +0000
From: Jo Vincent <joad130@gmail.com>
Subject: Tom Browning's Schooldays Ch 75

			 Tom Browning's Schooldays

				    By

				   Joel

			    Chapter SeventyFive



We must have been weary after all the excitement, plus the two glasses of
claret and the glass of port we each had been given with no stinting.  I
think my father had instructed Jackson to make sure our glasses were filled
as he knew that amount would help us to sleep.  It must have been a little
after five when Benjy came to waken us.  He did this quietly and quite
respectfully as he must have seen George's fair head on the pillow between
us.  He left the sconce of candles and went to fetch Eamonn and one of the
kitchen-boys who would supply us with pitchers of hot water.  Our faithful
servants had risen early to speed us on our way.

     We had slept well and George said he was ready for the journey as soon
as he had breakfasted.  Trust George to mention his belly!  We made sure we
used the new water closet before we washed and dressed.  Each of us were
clad in our school clothes, Robin and I in black cloth britches and jackets
and George in his trousers and good tweed coat.  All was quiet in the house
as we made our way down to the breakfast-room.  Mrs Gray had prepared the
usual good things and I slipped down to the kitchen after to thank her.
"Bring that dear boy back safely," was her heartfelt plea as the good woman
hugged me as he had on many occasions over the years.

     We collected our capes and hats and went to the side entrance.  My
father and Mr Jarvis were there inspecting the curricle with two grooms
holding onto the two fine geldings already bridled and between the shafts.
We were instructed only to take geldings on offer and to make sure they
matched in size.  This pair would take us fifteen miles if we did not try
to race them.  Mr Jarvis gave Robin a map with clear instructions of the
route and named post-houses.  He had marked the mileage between them as
well.  Other than this pair we should not attempt more than eight or so
miles with any others.  An hour's drive was the maximum and then change.
George showed his new watch and said we would obey!  We started off to good
wishes and a safe journey.

     I was in charge of the reins for this first stage.  I let the pair
start at a steady trot down the drive and through the village.  We saw a
few men going to their workplaces and got cheery waves as news of our
proposed journey must have travelled.  Once out of the village I set the
pair to a canter and made sure the curricle kept to the centre of the road
which had the best surface.  It was still half-light but we were soon
blessed with the sun shining.  The road was dry and for a good distance was
well-made.  I drove for about three-quarters of an hour and the horses did
not seem to tire.  At a stream we allowed them to drink and George took
over the reins.  He showed he was a good master and we only had to slow
when lumbering carts were being driven towards us.  On the hour we
approached an inn which had been indicated on our map.  Thirteen miles was
the annotation.  George said we should change horses here as our pair were
now sweating hard.  The inn-keeper had two geldings supplied from our own
stables so these were hired and we set off again with me driving again.

     Our good fortune continued and at ten o'clock we had progressed some
thirty-five miles.  What we had not realised was there was a hamper of cold
sausages, sliced meats and bread under Robin's seat.  There were also two
small flagons of small beer and as we waited for our next pair to be placed
between the shafts we had a small repast.  George delayed us for a minute
or so as he needed to lower his trousers as the jolting of the vehicle had
loosened his bowels so he told us.  A thoughtful Robin had placed some soft
paper in his travelling bag which George gratefully accepted.  By midday we
were within sight of Bedford so Robin announced.  It was here we nearly had
a catastrophe.  We were bowling along most happily when a curricle like
ours came towards us round a bend in the road and both stopped within
inches of colliding.  The horses were stamping and neighing and the driver
of the other curricle set to swearing and shouting.  George was expert in
quietening our pair and with aplomb set us off again.  It wasn't only the
horses who were sweating after that incident!

     We took advantage of the next coaching inn to change the pair.  We
heard our irascible possible nemesis was the son of the local squire who
was renowned for his bad temper and his bad driving!  We decided, come what
may, to rest ourselves at two o'clock.  Although the curricle was quite
tightly sprung the ruts and poor condition of the road in many places made
us judder and sway to quite an extent.  It was not too bad when driving as
one could see and gauge what was coming but for the others they had to try
to counteract any violent saying to prevent us overturning.  Robin was most
adept at this but was tiring and I hoped would not be sick as Branscombe
had been on his momentous journey by the racing chariot to Ashbourne.

     We made good time through St Albans and the beginning of the road to
Barnet but there was a press of carts and carriages and we did not dare to
deviate from the main road and seek poorer roads through the villages and
hamlets.  It seemed almost a miracle that many coachmen realised we were
not yahoos out to race and cause mayhem but drew aside to let us pass.
Dusk began to fall as we reached Barnet but we had to carry on.  We found
two lanterns had been thoughtfully attached to the front stay of the
curricle and once these were lit at least others were aware of our oncoming
presence.  Passing from somewhere near Finchley village onwards was most
hazardous.  At times we were slowed to a crawl with large coaches trying to
overtake us as we were small fry.  At last I could see the better gaslamps
which lined the main thoroughfare.  Our horses were tiring as we traversed
the first part of the Finchley Road.  I knew we did not have a great
distance still to travel but a tired horse could easily fall so we stopped
at the Swiss Cottage posthouse and were grateful to find one last pair of
rested steeds.  The horsekeeper was chary at first to allow three youths to
carry off two spirited three-year-olds but my father's name was recognised
even here!  "Thass a foine stable he keeps," was the opinion to be conveyed
back.

     Our journey ended just shy of eight that evening.  We caused some
consternation in the mews as we clattered over the cobbles.  Jacobson was
supervising two grooms who were cleaning my Aunt Fanny's closed chaise.  As
I jumped off the seat I threw him the reins.  "We must see my Uncle Digby,"
I shouted.  He looked startled but set to quietening the mettlesome pair as
I led George and Robin to the side door.  Mr Pembridge, who was sitting in
the alcove behind the door, was even more startled as I opened the door and
burst through.

     "Master Tom!  What has happened?" he gasped as two others followed me.

     Luckily there was plenty of light from the gas jets so he knew I
wasn't a robber though I noted he had been cleaning a pistol.  "Oh, Mr
Pembridge, I must see my uncle.  It is most important!"

     No more questions were asked.  Quickly he said my uncle was dining
with my aunt in her parlour and he would take me there.  Three dusty, grimy
youths were led along the passageway to be joined by Mr Topping.  Mr
Pembridge held up a finger and Mr Topping fell in line behind us.  My Aunt
Fanny must have heard some of the commotion for the door of the parlour
opened just before we arrived there.  I saw my Uncle Digby was seated in a
chair at the table and Jabez and Mehmet were in attendance.  Mr Purrett had
opened the door and he was startled, too.

     My aunt stood as I reached the door as she was seated facing it.
"Tom! Why are you here?"

     I could not help it, I burst into tears and almost shouted "Timmy's
gone, he's been kidnapped!"

     I saw Jabez and Mehmet step back looking aghast.  They had spent such
happy times with Timmy during their stay at Careby Hall.

     My Uncle Digby called out quietly.  "Tom, come in and tell me."  He
seemed the only one not to be startled.  It was almost as if he had
expected me.

     I led George and Robin in and the five liveried men stood back.  My
uncle looked at them and quietly said "Stay".  My aunt sat back in her
chair and shook her head slowly.

     My uncle regarded the three of us keenly and then gestured that we
should take off our cloaks.  There was no need of formal introductions.
George had been at his brother's wedding to Rosamund; Robin and I were
well-known.  Things moved rapidly.  Our hats and cloaks were taken from us
and seats drawn up.  A glass of sweet wine was set before us and I launched
into the tale of the missing Timmy.  I had rehearsed this several times on
the journey so was quite word perfect.  All present listened intently.  Out
of the corner of my eye I saw Mr Topping had taken up a notepad and a
pencil and was copying down what I was saying.

     George wanted to say something when I finished and that was short and
to the point.  He was sure his cousin Jack Lascelles was the perpetrator.
Where was he? Where was the boy?

     George was then stunned by what my Uncle Digby said then.  "Are you
aware your Uncle Philip died some two months or more ago?"

     George gaped and shook his head.  He murmured "Good riddance!"

     Uncle Digby looked over to Mr Topping and Jabez who were standing side
by side.  "Have there been any visitors to the house?"  I knew he meant 15
St James's Street.  They said no one unusual and certainly no carriages,
also the two other retainers had disappeared.  I realised there must be a
close watch being kept on the place.  "We must find where they are and that
will lead us to the boy," my uncle declared.  "Mr Purrett, a little
disguise and fetch that lout to the mews."  Mr Purrett and Mr Pembridge
left the room.  He then looked at my Aunt.  "My dear, I think duty calls.
I have finished my repast and I will go to my study.  These boys need
sustenance and we can do no more until certain answers are obtained."  He
looked at me.  "Tom, you may answer any questions Master Lascelles may
ask."  As he said this so Mr Topping and Mehmet helped him from his dining
chair to a new more compact wheeled chair and he was taken out.  I felt
some relief.  My lips were unsealed.

     My aunt whispered something to Jabez who went out by the servant's
door.  Orders must have been given for food to be brought in.  As we waited
my aunt merely enquired of our journey and seemed quite amused that three
boys, though one was eighteen, had driven at such haste and quite safely.
I was sure she did not mention Timmy to keep us from getting too agitated.
I felt her quiet manner and questions calmed us.  I did remark that I
though my uncle's movements were much steadier now even from the time I had
seen him in the summer.  My aunt smiled and said it was thanks both to
Mehmet and to Lancelot.  I noted then that one of Lancelot's devices had
been set up here in the parlour as well as the one I had seen before in the
study.  Of course all three of us felt even better as a succession of
dishes were brought in from a soup, fillets of fish, boiled mutton, slices
of beef to a tasty syllabub to finish.  Two more glasses of wine also
helped us relax and though it had been a hard, taxing day I was not feeling
tired.

     Aunt Fanny left us then saying we should go upstairs and clean
ourselves.  Jabez took us to the room I had stayed in and Paolo and Antonio
brought up pitchers of hot water.  We were also grateful for the water
closet and George said he must take plans back to Garthorpe.  I said he
might meet a good architect here in London to advise him.  Robin was
laughing as he knew I meant his brother Philip.  We were soon cleaner and
somewhat tidier so went back down to the parlour where the table had been
cleared and there was a jug of that delicious cordial I had savoured
before.  With beakers in hand we settled to discuss things with Jabez
seated with us though still in livery. George listened carefully as I
questioned Jabez about the surveillance of the house in St James's Street.
He realised that George would have to be privy to whatever was happening
and said there had been no sightings of Jack Lascelles though they knew he
was back in England for he had landed at Dover near a month ago.  He smiled
and said they did not have enough informants to keep track of all
miscreants and perhaps we might be employed.  George was amused enough at
this to not take such a statement amiss from someone who was dressed as a
servant.  He had also realised that this household was not as it seemed!

     George asked how news had reached my uncle about Philip Lascelles as
he was sure his father did not know or George would have been informed by
letter from Garthorpe.  Jabez said his funeral had been overseen by the
owner of the hospital and he was buried in a cemetery nearby.  Jack had
then dosed himself with even more laudanum and was in a stupor for almost a
week.  He then rallied and somehow raised sufficient money to reach England
though they thought he had broken his journey in France.  It was assumed he
had stolen any valuables his father had and sold them to pay for his travel
as he had been living very meanly in a common lodging-house.  Jabez said he
drank heavily while on the steam ferry and boasted he had a full purse and
had plans for a good future which seemed not to follow from what was known
about his previous finances. Though Jabez did not say I surmised Jack's
journey was broken by a visit to the man Fortescue who was the source of
this new wealth and proposals.

     I was inquisitive enough to ask Jabez if he had had any other
adventures.  He said he was not at liberty to say more than he was kept
busy.  Robin then said his mother was most upset at Timmy being taken.  "My
mother loves that boy like another son," Jabez said with feeling.  "When I
was with him at Careby he was like another brother and my father even said
his way with plants was quite remarkable."  He smiled.  "My father does not
often give praise."

     Mehmet tapped on the door and entered.  "Pardon me, sirs, but Sir
Digby wishes Mr Bottom's presence."  That was most formal.  Jabez stood and
bowed and followed Mehmet out of the room.

     "My, he's a big fellow!" George said as the door closed behind them.
"And that fellow Jabez, he's no proper servant, eh?"

     I explained carefully that none of the retainers were servants as
such.  I said I was sure my uncle held some important secret position as
George must have realised and all, except perhaps Mehmet, were assistants.
I was tempted to mention Mr Tuckwell but did not dare nor could I say more
than one business they were investigating was a trade in young girls known
as the White Slave trade.  George nodded and said he had heard of that
having read about it in a newssheet when home at Garthorpe.  I related how
an observant Jabez had noted a woman who was with girls on our journey out
to France and she had been alone on our return.  His suspicions had been
confirmed and it was known now she was involved in the trade and was under
surveillance.

     "You have said many things about that journey but you never mentioned
that," George remarked.  I said both Robin and I had been instructed not to
discuss the matter but he had heard what my uncle had said earlier.  He
nodded and confessed he was only now beginning to understand and still had
many questions to ask.  I said I would try to answer but there was much I
did not know.

      First he was curious to know why my Uncle Digby was crippled?  Was it
from birth or was it an accident?  He had seen him at his brother
Geoffrey's wedding to Rosamund but had not asked then as he thought it
would be impolite.  He looked at me in amazement when I said he was shot
while on duty in Florence soon after he had married my aunt.  I said one of
his assistants who was not in the house at present shot dead the two
assailants or my uncle would not only have been wounded but would certainly
have been killed.  I was just saying how Mehmet was employed mainly to help
my uncle regain movement when Jabez returned.

     "Mr Lascelles," he said with a slight head bow, "Sir Digby requests
your company with Master Tom and Master Robin."

     As we followed him out and along the corridor I glanced at the
grandfather clock near the stairs.  It was now past eleven.  Time had
passed quickly.  My uncle's study door was open and he beckoned us in.
Jabez was standing behind my uncle's chair and there were two strangely
dressed men standing either side of him.  My uncle pointed at chairs in
front of his desk.  I saw George glancing quickly round the room and stop
once his eyes had reached Curly.  His gaze turned to my uncle as soon as he
spoke.

     "Please be seated.  There are matters to report but still further
questions to be asked," he said quietly.

     George gasped and Robin clutched at my sleeve as one of the men and
then the other removed his battered hat and well-worn coat.  Both tugged at
their bearded faces and false whiskers were removed revealing the unshaven
faces of Mr Purrett and Mr Pembridge.  My uncle saw our startled faces and
smiled.

     "I have to confess to a slight kidnap of our own," he began.  He
tapped a piece of paper on the desk.  "A certain person has been asked to
take lodgings in our mews for a time..."  He looked at me.  I knew he meant
the lodgeboy from St James's Street.  "...He has volunteered what he knows
but there are still details to be established.  He has confirmed that only
two men had remained in residence.  They were most concerned about the fate
of Scratchit as the youth called him."  He looked at George who nodded as I
had told him of the identity of the man at the Hat and Feathers and his
sojourn now in Derby gaol.  "The pair have not been at the house for at
least a fortnight and all he knows is they mentioned sugar several times
and a wharf.  The dolt is being questioned further but declares he
remembers no more."

     When my uncle mentioned 'sugar' and 'wharf' George sat upright.  A
thought struck me, too.  George spoke and what he said confirmed my thought
but added to it.

     "Sir, 'sugar' and a 'wharf'!  My father had interests in the Jamaica
trade."  He sat back and clenched his hands together and grimaced.  "Old
Jamaica Wharf," he uttered, "and there are stairs."

     Mr Topping held up a finger.  "Sir, would Old Bull remind you?"

     George looked at him and nodded.  "Old Bull Stairs!  Old Bull
Stairs!," he repeated.  "That is it I am sure."

     My uncle pointed at a cabinet near the window alcove.  "A map, please,
Jabez.  London river, I think."

     Jabez went over and took several sheets of paper out and laid them on
the table.  Although there was good light from the gas jets he lit two
candles in a sconce and placed them near.  While he was doing this I saw
that Mr Pembridge was looking upwards as if in thought.  He muttered
something to my uncle and left the room hurriedly.  Uncle Digby and Mr
Purrett perused the map with Mr Purrett pointing at a particular area.

     "Sir, this is Jamaica Wharf and the stairs," Mr Purrett said.  "They
are across the river by London Bridge in Southwark." He shook his head.
"It is not a place for the unwary as I well know."

     Just then Mr Pembridge came hurrying in.  He had a newssheet in his
hand.  Without ado he placed it on top of the map and pointed to it.  Both
my uncle and Mr Purrett bent forward and read it silently.  My uncle looked
up at Mr Pembridge.

     "Jasper, thank you.  I think we must confer."  My uncle looked at us
three.  "My boys, please forgive me.  There is more to this I am sure.  I
suggest you go up to bed and try to sleep."  He smiled.  "We have much to
discuss here and I fear it may take some hours.  We should have a plan in
the morning and I assure you nothing can be done until then."  Both Mr
Pembridge and Mr Purrett were nodding.  "Jabez, see they are settled and
return, please."

     These were orders quietly given.  We stood and followed Jabez out of
the room.  Mehmet was waiting at the foot of the stairs and led the way up
to the bedroom.  There was no discussion, George was to share with us.
There was a jug of cordial and an opened bottle of wine on the side table
with a plate of savoury pastries.

     "Sirs, it would be best for you to sleep," Mehmet said, "I would
suggest something to help you rest."

     Jabez had by now laid out our nightgowns.  "A glass of wine and a good
sleep," he said.  "I expect you will be called at seven."

     With this the pair left three tired and somewhat perplexed youngsters.
George was first to speak.  "There is more to this matter than poor Timmy,"
he said.

     Robin was nodding his head.  "I would agree.  I tried to see the
newssheet and though it was upside down I think it said 'Body found in
River',"

     It was too much.  I burst into tears.  "No, it cannot be Timmy!" I
wailed.

     Both George and Robin thrust their arms round me.  "It would be too
soon," Robin murmured in my ear.  George hugged me.

     "It was folded and it was four days old," he said.  "It cannot be
Timmy."

     I turned and held onto my two good friends.  "We must be patient
then," I said in a whisper.

     We undressed slowly and each used the water closet and each had a
glass of wine though only George had a pastry.  The bed was wide so three
quite exhausted creatures were arranged with George between Robin and me.
Though still agitated I slept and slept soundly.

     We were awoken quietly in the morning with the lighting of the gas
jets.  Jabez and Mehmet were together and both looked tired.  "There is no
need to hurry," Jabez said with no ceremony or deference as George was
ready to clamber out of bed.  "Sir Digby says he has plans to set in train
and can do nothing until Mr Topping returns."  He indicated Mehmet who had
set down pitchers of hot water. "Mehmet will stay as I must return to Sir
Digby."  Mehmet bowed his head and went to our travel bags.  There was
little in them other than a change of linen which he laid out on the padded
settle.  Robin was yawning and rubbing his eyes.

     "As I am on this edge I'll get up first," he said and slid off the bed
and went straight to the water closet.

     "I'll be next," George said, "I have a great need for that pot!"  He
reached for his watch which was on the side table by the bed.  "It is near
half past seven.  I did not think I could have slept so well."

     Robin was soon finished and as he emerged George made a beeline for
the closet.  I wondered if one of Lancelot's devices might be needed after
the volley of farts and groans which issued forth.  Robin was smiling as
Mehmet poured water into a basin for him and he began to wash.  He had
divested himself of his nightgown and stood naked.  I sat up and admired
the view of his shapely back, broad shoulders and trim waist.  Another time
I would have wished to have leapt out and tussled him and... ...I had
better not think of such things on a day like this.

     George had completed his calls of nature and I ventured out and took
his place on a warmed seat and was pleased there was little stink.  I then
joined two others who had almost finished their ablutions.  I think if
Mehmet had not been present there might have been some comments from George
concerning our triple nakedness.  As it was my backside was flicked with
George's towel as I bent forward to rinse my face.

     I noted that our clothes had been brushed clean of any mud and other
spatterings so with our clean linen we did not look too travel worn.
Mehmet had brushed and combed Robin's hair and George was smiling as he sat
on the settle and Mehmet did the same for his flaxen curls.  "This is
something I have to do for myself when at School," he said.  "Perhaps I
should have my fag trained but then I might feel the back of the brush if I
did not sit steady."

     Mehmet was laughing at this and I nodded my head at him.  He turned
the brush he was using and tapped the top of George's head.  George was not
perturbed at such apparent discourtesy.  "That fag of mine will feel my
cane on his arse for inciting you, my good fellow."  Mehmet had finished
and George turned and smiled at him.  "May I call you Mehmet for I have
heard you addressed as such?"

     "Sir, I would be pleased for you to use my name.  Sir Digby always
addresses me as such."

     "That is settled then."  He turned and looked at me. "I think you had
better deal with those greasy locks or he'll complain that the master's
nephew is not receiving due attention!  Here, you have the comb and give me
the brush and we'll make short work of the task."  Robin held me so I could
not get away.  I was placed on the settle and was treated quite gently as
the pair acted the fool but I finished with my hair neat and with a flick
to my ear with the comb plus a tap to my head with the brush.

     I did not dare make any sharp remark but merely thanked them kindly.
George talked then with Mehmet saying I had demonstrated any skill I had
learned from him in removing his aches and pains.  I did say that my skill
was nothing in comparison with Mehmet's expertise.  I said if there was
time perhaps Mehmet might be allowed to give George a proper and complete
massage.  That pleased George greatly.  I just wondered what he would make
of the mighty-muscled lad in those tight drawers.

     We decided we should go downstairs both to get more information but
also to explore what might be for breakfast.  As we reached the bottom of
the stairs Jabez was waiting for us.  "We are still waiting for Mr Topping
to return," he said quietly.  "Breakfast is prepared and Paolo is there to
serve you."

     I led the way to the breakfast room where Paolo had already served a
seated Mr Purrett and Mr Pembridge.  They rose slightly as we entered.
They were not in livery but had changed into ordinary black jackets and
trousers from the shapeless clothes they had used for their disguise.  I
knew there must be no discussion so led George to the serving dishes.
George chose a heaped platter of bacon, poached eggs, kidneys and sliced
sausage with fried bread so I knew he would not have cause to complain
about lack of food!  I saw my favourite of scrambled egg and smoked fish
and had that with fresh warm white bread.  Robin more or less copied George
and I was pleased there was a strong tea to accompany all these victuals.

     All were content to concentrate on their eating but as the older pair
finished they stood and excused themselves. Paolo took George's plate and
almost filled it again.  George was looking from me to Robin and back
again.  "Not servants," he murmured, "I have a deal to learn."  He looked
at his plate and began eating again.  Robin and I said nothing but smiled
at each other.  We had discussed the household in detail after Robin's
first acquaintance with it.

     George finished his second plate and sat contentedly while Robin and I
finished another cup of the tea.  Jabez came into the room and seeing we
had completed our repast said that when we were ready Sir Digby would tell
us more.

     I wondered if my uncle and any of the assistants had slept as they all
looked tired.  As well as Mr Tuckwell not being present I realised there
was no Mr Tolliver. Was he also employed on other duties?  My uncle had a
sheaf of pages in front of him with Mr Purrett and Mr Pembridge sitting
either side of him.  After a nod from my uncle Jabez took a seat at the
side

     "My boys, I have to say this is not a simple case," my uncle started
in that clear and distinctive voice of his.  "There are many things which
may or may not be connected.  If, as I fear, they are then we shall not be
the only ones affected nor involved."  He took up the first sheet looked at
it for a moment then replaced it.  "I must have your promise that whatever
you hear or may find there should be no discussion with others."  He looked
at George.  "This will mean family as well until we reach some resolution."
I noted that George nodded slightly.  "I think we are at the edge of
another vile trade."  He looked at George again.  "Has Tom told you about
the trade in young girls?"  George nodded again.  "I have to tell you there
is a parallel trade in boys and young men though it would seem their
destinations are not just across the English Channel."  He paused.  "I will
not refrain from giving you what are most definitely unpleasant details."

     He reached out and held up the newssheet Mr Pembridge had brought in
the night before.  The headline had been as Robin had said 'Body found in
River'. "The short account here is that the mutilated body an unknown boy
of eleven or so years was found in the Thames near...," He paused and
pointed to the map on the desk. "...Old Bull Stairs."  I think all three of
us gasped at that. "Overnight we have made inquiries and our informants
tell us that the boy was mutilated in a particular way.  He was gelded
completely."

     George was shaking his head.  "Sir, gelded completely?  All was
removed?"  He was shaking.

     My uncle nodded.  "That is so."

     Robin began to sniff violently.  I realised he might faint and without
ado I held onto his hand tightly.  His sniffs and sobs abated.

     Uncle Digby was looking at us intently.  "I do not apologise for
saying that.  I fear we are dealing with a vile and vicious trade and we
have discussed other knowledge which now fits."  He indicated his two
assistants.  George had now composed himself as well and sat back in his
chair.

     "Sir, you must consider it important for us to know.  Is it because we
can help?"

     My uncle nodded.  "Master Lascelles, I think you three will be of
great assistance.  Let me tell you more."

     My dear Robin was calmer so I let him go and we both settled to hear
what my uncle had to convey to us.

     "Let me tell you first how we knew of your uncle, Mr Lascelles."
Uncle Digby looked at me first.  "You have met the Baron?"  There was a
ghost of a smile.  I nodded.  "My friend and confidant Baron Meinertzhagen
has been engaged on particular duties in some of the German states."  He
was now regarding George who was paying close attention.  "He was the
source of our knowledge of the whereabouts of your uncle and cousin and how
he knew that will become clearer with what I have to relate."  He took up a
second sheet of paper.  "This is his report of incidents two years ago in
the state of Wirtemburg where he has relations.  It had been reported that
several young men had disappeared from their villages without apparent
reason.  Also three young boys vanished from one village and though
searches were made they were not found.  There were rumours of witchcraft
and sorcery and two women were almost burnt to death when their cottage was
set on fire.  They had been accused of magical arts as they were skilled
with herbs and cures."  He looked at me and raised his eyebrows.  He
pointed at the paper. "Strange things then occurred.  One young man
reappeared with the story he had been plied with ale at an inn in the
market town where he had been sent with cattle and had woken bound and
gagged in a carriage with two others.  After many days journey being kept
confined they found themselves bundled into a barn where they were told
they were going on a voyage across the sea.  Somehow he found a sickle and
cut the ropes holding him.  He escaped when it was dark and found he was no
longer in that German state but in a port in France."

     George murmured, "In France?"

     My uncle nodded.  "He was in Marseille a most notorious, evil place.
Is that not so, Jasper?"

     "That is so, sir, I have had experience of it," Mr Pembridge said
slowly.

     Uncle Digby stroked his chin.  "The man, I say that but he was not
much more than your age, Master Lascelles, wandered around.  He stole some
food but returned to the barn and hid and watched as two more were brought
in another carriage.  It seemed he was not missed as his own captors were
gone and these were new.  What he heard next made him determined to find
his way home.  The two captors were talking in a German dialect he
understood.  They were boasting of the good money they were receiving.
They were laughing as they said the poor fellows would be gelded, though
they used less than polite language, and sent to Africa and it was a great
pity a boy had died for they received no payment for him. The young man had
enough wit to follow the road back and some two months later reached his
home village in a most parlous condition.  When his story was told and he
was believed his master took him to the Margrave, that is, the ruler of
that province, as he had confirmed the reports of young men missing over
several years.  Baron Meinhertzhagen is kin to the Margrave and was with
him on other business.  What he heard made clear other disappearances which
he knew of and which have occurred in the Kingdom of Bavaria."  My uncle
paused and Mr Pembridge poured him a glass of cordial from a jug on the
desk.  He nodded his thanks then wiped his lips with a white handkerchief.

     "Jasper, it would be best to give some history, eh?"

     "Sir, what I found in Marseille near eight years ago makes sense of
this."

     "That is so."  My uncle pursed his lips as if not knowing where to
start.  "We must go back many years." He looked across at us who had been
transfixed by what we had just been told.  "Have you heard of the Barbary
pirates?"

     George jerked upright.  "Our friend Branscombe told us of them when my
steed was named Barbary.  Were they not from the coast of Africa and preyed
on merchant ships?"

     My uncle nodded.  "Not only did they take ships and the sailors aboard
but also captured men, women and children from towns and villages on the
coasts of France, Spain and the Italian states.  These were taken to ports
on the coast of Africa where they were sold into slavery.  This was a
scourge for several hundred years and many thousands of these people must
have been taken.  It was only some fifteen years ago that the French
bombarded and captured the port of Algiers which was the principal centre
for the trade and it was thought to have been stopped.  We know it has not
as Mr Pembridge here found that men from an English ship had been taken in
Marseille and had been sold to slave traders from elsewhere on the African
coast."  He looked at Mr Pembridge who sat with his hands clenched.
"Jasper was fortunate he and his compatriot were not taken themselves and
was very brave..."  Mr Pembridge murmured '...Sir, enough!'.

     Uncle Digby held up a hand.  "I must continue for that dead boy I
spoke of was found in the river at Marseille and was also mutilated."

     Robin was fidgeting.  I knew he did not like gruesome things and I had
held my legs tight together when talk of losing cods and pegs had been
made.  He put a finger against his lips before he spoke.  "Uncle, I have
heard that young boys were cut so their voices would remain pure.  Is that
not so?"

     Of course!  Lancelot had told us this when he explained the changes we
would find in our bodies as we got older.  He had made us squirm when he
said that many boys in Papist towns in Italy were deprived of their
ballocks so their voices would not deepen and were prized for their
singing.  He had jested that Robin, whose singing was always commended,
might like to preserve that ability.  Robin was somewhat disconcerted for
Lancelot pointed to his instrument box which we knew contained sharp
scalpels.  As country boys we knew that male lambs were castrated as well
as colts.  It quietened them and made them more amenable.  Was this the
same with boys?

     My Uncle Digby did not know whether to smile or look stern.  "Robin,
that is so.  I may tell you that when in Florence I heard several musici or
eunuchs as they were known.  Sweet voices from seemingly grown men."  He
did smile then.  "It is not a fate I would wish on any young fellow I am
sure."  The smile went.  "I must not say more now but with these two
instances of dead youngsters and what the Baron has discovered makes me
think we are on the edge of a renaissance of that trade.  We know that
certain of the purchasers of the slaves demanded that the youths and boys
be gelded.  Not to preserve their voices but to make them more obedient and
also for the boys for other reasons which I prefer not to dwell upon."

     Obedient like the frisky colts became when gelded!  These other
reasons?  I thought I knew what he meant.  I knew that the boy Ganymede had
been taken from his father Tros by Zeus disguised as an eagle.  In the
Aeneid near the beginning of Book One it was said '...et rapti
Ganymedis...' and although Uncle Dodd had accepted 'abducted' for my
construe then it was when we had read the passage again in Mr Martin's
class there was a whisper of 'ravished'.  As we left the room later I heard
two of the older fellows laughing and saying it meant young Ganymede was
taken 'in tergo', 'up the backside' for I had learned from Benjy it was the
way of the grooms at times.  It struck me then that Black Jack had
confessed not only his own ravishing by older pupils at that other school
but his own assault on the headmaster's son.  'His tightness' meant only
one thing!  It was with a sense of horror I then recalled George's account
of his own torment by Black Jack in that way.

     George leaned forward.  "Sir, I know full well what is meant by 'other
reasons'.  My cousin used me for his pleasure when I was but ten and there
were threats he would repeat it.  I must assume you have evidence of his
and my uncle's connection with this trade."

     My Uncle Digby did not comment on what George had said about his
ordeal.  Robin had turned and stared at George and looked ready to weep.  I
wanted to comfort him but could do no more than put a hand out again to
grasp his.

     "The evidence is there," my uncle said.  "The Baron had found that two
Englishmen, one most unwell, the other his companion, had travelled to a
town called Baden to take a cure at the spa.  It was known the companion
had certain interests in two houses in Paris where young men were employed
to entertain the guests."  He paused and seeing we had no questions
continued. "There had been an enquiry for at least two of the young men had
seemingly been abducted from one of the houses and taken to Marseille where
they disappeared.  We are not sure if they had fulfilled their usefulness
or had proved to be unwilling to continue their particular trade.  However,
what the Baron noted was that the description of all the youths involved,
in France or in the German states, included that they were fair-haired.  It
is well-known that the African buyers of slaves valued those with golden
locks."  He looked at George whose flaxen hair was his pride and joy. Again
there was that hint of a smile.  "Dear George...," He used his Christian
name for the first time. "...There is no fear you may be sacrificed."

     George was not disconcerted by that slight sally and I saw his lips
twitch.  Then he almost snarled. "Sir, those two men were my Uncle Philip
and that blackguard Fortescue?"  He sat back and made fists of his hands,
clenching and unclenching his fingers.

     "That is so," my uncle replied calmly.  "The cure did not have any
effect and the pair appeared in Berlin where your uncle's health
deteriorated quickly.  His son must have been called to his side and there
was want of revenge and money which has set these new events in train."

     We were disturbed then by a tap at the door and a most shabby stooped
person entered.  We three boys stood as the fellow had a stout stick in his
hand.  My uncle raised both his hands and indicated we should be seated as
the creature doffed his battered hat and his long, lank black hair came
away, too.  He handed his stick to Jabez who had stood and was now helping
to remove the man's tattered and stained overcoat.  I breathed a real sigh
of relief.  It was Mr Topping.

     "What news have you, Edward?" my uncle asked and poured a glass of
cordial which he passed to him.  Mr Topping drank it before speaking.

     "Sir, I am sure that is the place.  An old crone was most helpful for
she said the old sugar warehouse was certainly haunted and had been empty
for an age.  No one had been seen there since some man had hanged
himself..."

     George sprang up.  "...That is the place.  My father said there had
been a loss of cargo and the overseer was blamed and killed himself.  I had
forgot for it was some seven or eight years ago and I overheard him telling
my brother Augustus."  He sat back and breathed out heavily.

     "That would confirm it," Mr Topping said.  "The old woman said she had
heard the ghosts of poor souls calling out just two days ago and there were
groans, too.  I think the groans were from the two drunken louts I saw
staggering near the quayside whose descriptions matched those of Makepeace
and the one-eyed Taverner we heard from our..."

     My uncle held up a finger to silence him.  Mr Topping nodded and
continued.

     "I was aware there may be two others inside as I heard several curses
about the poor victuals they were supplied with."

     "I think further investigation should take place," my uncle said
turning to Mr Pembridge.  "The Captain and three troopers are required,
undressed."  I knew this could only mean my brother, Terence.  I could have
laughed at that requirement of him and his men naked!  I realised my uncle
meant they should not be in their military attire.  Mr Pembridge stood and
with a half wave and a smile left us.  My uncle's gaze was now directed at
us.  "I trust you would not wish to be ignored in this enterprise.  If the
boy Timmy is there I am sure he will need comforting from those who know
him."  He took out his fob watch.  "We will prepare our attack for two
o'clock."  He looked at Mr Topping.  "Two of our oldest carriages, eh?
Suitable clothing, too."  He smiled at us. "That will be for you for anyone
well-dressed will cause too much interest and we must do things by
stealth."  He addressed Mr Topping again.  "We have that Magistrate's
Warrant still for any date?"  Mr Topping confirmed it was quite valid.  He
placed his tattered overcoat on again, took up his hat and wig and also
departed.

     This left Jabez who had been sitting silently and was now shaking his
head slowly.  It was his turn to be addressed.  "Jabez, do not imagine you
have been forgotten.  Your task will be to follow and see that your cart is
overturned and spills its baskets of vegetables.  That diversion will take
attention from what might be happening.  Signor Bartoli will curse for the
loss of his purchases but it has been his misfortune before.  He will know
what to supply."  Jabez stood, grimaced at us and left as well.

     "Are there questions?" my uncle asked.

     "If a boy is dead then my cousin may be guilty?" inquired George.

     "We must not assume anything until there is evidence.  I can say no
more," my uncle replied.

     "That Warrant will be used for arrests?" Robin asked.  "I have seen
Uncle Dodd sign such documents."

     My uncle nodded.  "I have Her Majesty's authority as a servant of the
Crown to employ my assistants in such duties.  I will say no more now but
you will also be enrolled as agents of Her Majesty if you so agree.  You do
agree?"

     'Agents'!  We all agreed quite fervently.

     "You must realise there may be danger?"

     "Sir, if I can bring that evil being to justice I will willingly take
my chance," said George most confidently.  Both Robin and I echoed this
with our own avowals.

     My uncle raised a fist. "You are enlisted and to every success!"

     As one we said 'Amen to that!'

     We sat back and I wondered what might come next.  My uncle studied his
watch again.  "It is somewhat after ten and we have to wait for our
reinforcements.  I would suggest you rest if you can and take luncheon at
midday.  Clothing will be ready for you after that and Mr Purrett will
supervise your disguises.  I guarantee your mothers will not recognise
you."  He gave a welcome laugh for I for one was lost in wonderment at all
we had been told and what might befall.  He was serious again.  "You will
be protected but..."  That 'but' hung in the air and he did not take it
further.

     We stood and bowed and took our leave.  Mehmet was seated outside but
rose immediately.  "Sirs, there is hot tea in the parlour."  We followed
him to the room and sat and drank our cups in silence.

     "I wonder what we may find?" George said echoing my thoughts and from
Robin's serious look his too.

     "We must take it as it comes," Robin said.  "I am sure the rest have
much experience and if we follow instructions no harm should come to us."

     We mulled over this again in silence.  I thought if we were not to
become too anxious we should find something to occupy our minds.  I asked
Mehmet if he could find us a pack of cards.  No sooner said than done.
George was delighted and suggested we played whist.  My mother had taught
Robin and me the rules when we were much younger and we had taught Jabez
and Benjy. I had not played since going to Ashbourne. We needed four and
there were three of us.

     "Mehmet, do you play whist?" George asked.

     "Sir, that I do," Mehmet replied.

     We four settled down and George partnered Mehmet and the pair of them
trounced poor Robin and me, both laughing at our feeble attempts.  We did
win some hands but they had the edge in skill.  Robin was not beaten
though.  After the pair were satisfied with their triumphs Robin challenged
George to Noughts and Crosses.  He knew George often played at that after
our dinner when we settled to gentler pastimes rather than construing
another passage of Ovid or racking our brains over a fiendish mathematical
calculation.  George took the challenge and shook his head in disbelief as
no matter where he placed his Cross or his Nought as the case might be dear
Robin won each game.  Mehmet was as amused as I was.  I had fathomed the
secrets of placement but had never played to win as Robin was now doing.

     George sat back quite astounded when he lost the tenth game.  Mehmet
took up a pencil and looked at George.  "Sir, may I be your adversary?"

     I smiled at Mehmet's choice of words.  I realised once more not to
imagine those who may be of lower station do not have good wit.  George
drew the lines and Mehmet said quietly "You first, Sir".  Poor George was
astounded once more.  Whatever ploy he used Mehmet won the game.  After his
seventh attempt George looked at a passive-faced Mehmet and a grinning
Robin.

     "Let us see you two play," he said and passed his pencil to Robin.

     George and I watched as games were no longer won but each time came to
a draw.  We were all laughing heartily as the pair vied with each other but
a Cross or a Nought was always placed to thwart the other.

     George stood as the pair put their pencils done.  He leaned over them
and put one arm on Mehmet's shoulder and his other on Robin's.  "I vow I
have never seen such play," he said as he tried to draw them together.  "I
wish I could take you back to Ashbourne, Mehmet, and set you to play
against Farquar.  He bests me almost every time."  He did manage to move
Robin.  "I will pit you against the Scotchman and if I wagered I would make
a pretty penny, eh?"

     Robin looked up at George and had a mischievous look on his face.  "I
may take a quiet wager myself for Farquar to win.  I have heard that has
been done even in the best circles with the sporting gentry."

     "You scoundrel," George said and lightly cuffed him.  "You heard that
story from Lawson whose father's pockets are lightened by rogues he thinks
are friends."

     Lawson said he would never gamble after witnessing his father losing a
deal of money from believing some so-called connoisseur of the turf who he
was sure was in league with the 'friend' who had accepted his wager.
George related that story and Mehmet told us of more than one occasion when
he had heard equal tales of woe from those under his fingers on the table
at the Baths.  "There are gentlemen who cannot see that pickpockets to be
wary of are not only those on the street but those in their clubs as well,"
he said with quiet assurance.

     "Mehmet, you speak so truly.  My father has cautioned me about
gambling for he has seen fellows stripped of all they have through foolish
wagers."

     "Sir, one does not get something for nothing but only through honest
toil whether by hand or by mind," Mehmet said.

     "Mehmet, you could not have said a truer word.  There are those who do
seem to prosper such as my uncle but are brought down through over-reaching
themselves."

     I listened carefully to what was being said.  Again, I knew I must not
make judgements.  George may be slow in learning the declension of Greek
adjectives but was expressing here solid opinions and truths which even at
my young age and experience knew would serve him well.

     Our discussions were disturbed by a rap on the door which proved to be
welcome.  It was Paolo to announce that luncheon was ready.  George would
not take no for an answer for Mehmet was also brought to the table with us
in the breakfast room.  Jabez also joined us and said he had withstood
Signor Bartoli's wrath when picking out three baskets of his best
vegetables but the Signor had mellowed when he found the reason why.  As we
ate our slices of roast lamb Robin remarked he was now less agitated and
said the games had calmed him.  George waved his fork at him and said he
was fortunate for his temper at losing might have heated him and he would
be obliged to be taught those strategies which the pair had employed. Robin
grinned at Mehmet and the pair shrugged their shoulders.

     Our repast was soon ended and Jabez led the three of us out to the
Mews and to a room to the side.  Mr Purrett was there and supervised the
change from three clean schoolboys to three unscrubbed ragamuffins whose
mothers would not recognise them as Mr Purrett said laughingly.  "I would
say we would look well as those three witches in that play of Mr
Shakespeare," Robin said and pretended to stir a cauldron.  "Double,
double, toil and trouble," he warbled until George poked him with the stout
stick we each had been given to protect ourselves.  Robin began to dance
around and Mr Purrett made us laugh more when he said "Witches don't wear
britches!"

     Our antics were interrupted by the entry of four others.  It was my
brother Terence and three troopers, one I recognised as Caleb Bottom.  They
were in plain dark blue uniforms and hats.  I grinned up at my brother as
the four stared at us.  I knew he had not recognised me under the dirt and
grime on my face.  "Penny for a poor orphan, kind sir," I squeaked out
hunching myself into an obsequious bow.  Not to be outdone George attempted
a curtsey holding his well-worn overcoat out like a gown.  "Tuppence to
'old yer 'orse, yer 'onour," he cackled in a rasping voice then stumbled as
he trod on a loose bootlace.  "See that foine green turnip up there, sir,"
Robin said in a most countrified accent and pointed up to the far
rafters. As Terence stretched up to find what this strange object might be
so Robin displayed the handkerchief he had deftly removed from my brother's
trouser pocket.  There was a rumble of laughter.

     "'Tis Master Tom and Master Robin no doubt!"  Caleb had penetrated our
disguises.

     Terence turned swiftly and grabbed at me.  "You little wretch!!"  He
then also burst into laughter as he realised that Robin was holding his
handkerchief.  "A pickpocket, eh?"  He turned to George who had righted
himself.  "And you?"

     "'Tis your 'umble servant, sir, a-begging for a place as a soldier
boy."  George bowed low and his battered hat fell off.  His acting
surpassed even that of Baring who had played Frederick the Usurper in 'As
You Like It' to much approbation.

     "George Lascelles, I'll be bound," my brother said and shook him by
the hand.  I knew they had met at George's brother's wedding.  "'Tis a pity
Geoffrey isn't with us.  He has my cousin safe and sound in Canterbury as
he is learning to ride a little better."  He winked at me. Geoffrey must
have related his fall from Grace, which was true for my father had named
the pony thus which was strange for the draughthorse had that name, too.
By using the Christian name for Geoffrey Lascelles I knew that a close
kinship had been established.  Terence turned to Mr Purrett who was clearly
amused.  "We are to be arresting officers so my uncle says.  Some sort of
uniform and a stout truncheon and whistle."

     "All is ready, sir," Mr Purrett said and pointed to a rack with
uniforms like those I had seen worn by Peelers.  "We do have a Warrant but
you must not say you are constables.  There are most probably five men to
be taken and there is a boy to be found."

     I had gone up to Caleb who was smiling at me.  "Caleb, 'tis young
Timmy," There was nothing else to be said.  His expression changed.  "If
that boy is harmed!"  He raised a fist.

     Mr Purrett looked over at him.  "They must be brought to trial," he
said quietly.  Caleb nodded.  My brother Terence had explained military
discipline to us when he was recovering from his broken leg.  Orders were
to be obeyed always.

     The four changed swiftly and became four possible guardians of the
law.  Mr Purrett explained to us that while in action they would look
sufficiently official but a close inspection would reveal them as spurious.
We had watched spellbound as the transformations took place for Jabez had
come into the room and became a ragged costermonger complete with blackened
teeth and a clay pipe much to the amusement of his own elder brother.  Mr
Purrett looked as any other 'roaring cove' would be driving their Hackney
carriage.  We had yet to see Mr Topping who was still with my uncle.

     Mr Purrett then took us to a board where a rough map had been drawn on
a large sheet of paper.  He then went through the plan of campaign as he
called it with smiles from us at those words until we realised we were
likely to be in danger if Makepeace and Taverner and the others were armed.
He said he knew both the first two were marksmen though Taverner had only
one eye.  He and Mr Topping would be driving the two carriages, his would
cross the river at Southwark Bridge, the other by London Bridge.  The
soldiers and Jabez with his cart would be in the first carriage and we
three in the second.  We would converge along Bankside and both carriages
would be used to block the roadway where the wharf narrowed.  Jabez would
create a diversion at his position and we three were to do the same at the
other end.  "I leave it to you to devise your own theatricals," Mr Purrett
said and pointed to the map.  "I warn you again that the wharf is narrow
near the warehouses so do not fall into the river!"  He then said that Mr
Pembridge would be driving a carriage as well across London Bridge and
those 'arrested' would be taken to the nearest police post to be charged.

     I felt some trepidation as we took our places in the carriages.  Mr
Topping looked the part and touched his tall hat with his whip as we
climbed aboard.  We set off first for our journey was a little longer.  We
drove up first to Oxford Street as it had been explained it was a better
roadway and a straighter route.  This was so and we fairly rattled along
and reached High Holborn in good time.  We were slowed on Holborn Hill and
through to Newgate Street but picked up speed on Cheapside and on our turn
to King William Street found a press of traffic through to London Bridge.
Once over that our turn onto the streets to the quayside was hampered by
two carriages having collided but skilful driving soon brought us to our
destination.

     We listened carefully as Mr Topping addressed us through the hatch.
"Please to sit back until I give the signal that the others are
approaching.  I will then turn the carriage across the road as if one of
the horses is lame.  That is the warehouse.  The one with the broken
gantry.  Draw attention away from any entrances though there seems to be
few persons about."

     As I peered out I saw a row of warehouses, all looking dilapidated and
unused.  The second had what once must have been a large and strong hoist
jutting out from the top storey.  I was familiar with the sight of these as
each of the mills I had seen had such for hauling up the sacks of corn.
There was evidence that this wharf had seen better days.  The narrow
cobbled way in front of the warehouses needed repair as stones had been
loosened and some were scattered.

     Mr Topping tapped the window.  It was our signal.  We tumbled out of
the carriage and ran and starting kicking at stones in front of the second
warehouse and watched with lowered eyes as Jabez and a cart appeared
somehow from the underside of the other carriage some fifty or so yards
away.  I did not see my brother and his troopers for Robin stopped and held
a finger up.

     "There is someone calling for help," he said.

     George darted to the side of the warehouse.  "There is a door!"  He
must have pushed at it.  "And stairs!"  We followed him as he rushed up the
stairs which creaked and shook as we pounded up them.  George stopped at
the top and we stood by his side.  There was the sound of crying and a
voice I recognised which said 'Do not fear'.

     George turned the handle and we were met with a strange sight.
Whatever light was in the room came from the dirty window at the other end
of this long attic as we were now at the back of the warehouse.  We stood
and gaped.  Three cages were set up.  In the one nearest us were two young
naked boys holding each other tightly.  The second cage was empty but in
the third was Timmy, also naked but holding onto the bars and speaking
softly to the boys.  I was aware the room was stiflingly hot.  There was a
stove set on a flagstone dais and behind it a table with several strange
objects which looked like pokers and curved knives. I could see pitchers
and basins and several chamber pots on the floor.  A second table on the
other side of the cages near the window had plates and a wooden box near
it.  I saw there was a door beyond it which must connect to another of the
warehouses.

     We all entered the room and the boys set up a screech as Robin and I
rushed to the cage containing Timmy.  He burst into tears as we tried to
hold him but there was a scant three inches between the bars.  George had
spied a padlock on what must be the door of the cage.  "Where is the key?"
he asked as he rattled it.

     "He hangs the keys by that door," Timmy said even before we could ask
him anything more.

     As the three of us turned and went back there were shouts and a deal
of swearing from the street below.  At that moment the door nearer the
window burst open and a dishevelled figure appeared.  "What the fuck is all
that noise?" he shouted.  "Are you that damned surgeon?"  There was no
doubt this was Jack.  The ravages of the past year were plain to see on his
face.  It was like a grotesque mask, white with livid patches and an open
sore on his cheek.  "You're fucking late!"  He was grimacing and squinting
at us as we were at the dark end of the attic.  "Why do I see three of you?
Must be that fucking potion."  His eyes must have focussed. "You ain't that
bastard!  Who are you?"  He reached out and took up a pistol from the box
on the table.  "Stand fucking still or I fire!"

     He was almost dancing as he pointed the weapon at us.  His aim seemed
surprisingly steady.  We obeyed and stood still.

     "Who the fuck..." he started again but George interrupted him.

     "You have killed a boy and kidnapped these," he said quietly.

     "That little bastard has lost me a hundred guineas," Jack said and
cackled.  "Bled as the old fool cut him too deep.  What could we do..."  He
paused and the gun pointed at the cages.  "..These pretty ones will be a
hundred each once they're cut and that fine beast will bring me a good two
hundred."  There was the horrible laugh again.  "He'll screech no doubt
when he loses his balls but a dose of laudanum will quieten him."  He
squinted at us again.  His mind was truly disordered.  "If you ain't that
bastard surgeon, who are you?"

     "Jack, you know me as well I know you..." George began but Jack was
dancing and shrieking like the madman he was.

     "...My fucking cousin George, eh?"  The pistol was waved at the three
of us with the demented creature hopping from foot to foot. "Brought your
molly-fucking-boys with you, eh? If I had a pair I'll shoot one in the cods
but this is for you!"  The gun was levelled straight at George.  Without
thinking I leapt at George at the same time as Robin barged into him.
There was a flash, a bang and blood sprayed like a fountain. There was an
eldritch scream and a crash of rotten timbers and broken glass.  I closed
my eyes, sank to the floor and prayed.

To be continued:

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