Part 19 (1/2)

Finn s.n.a.t.c.hed the flying key, left Clara with Miss Bracken again, and opened the lock as quickly as he could, then yanked the bar out of its place, snapped open the Chubb lock, and flung back the door onto blessed daylight. He stepped aside so that Miss Bracken could haul Clara out past him. From the corner of his eye Finn saw Beaumont coming back toward him. Behind the dwarf a man pushed himself to his feet, a b.l.o.o.d.y gash on his chin.

Now there were three more men four coming on hard behind, pouring into the hallway in a rout. ”Out! Out!” Beaumont shouted, pus.h.i.+ng Finn from behind, and out they went, Beaumont pulling the door shut. Finn heard the Chubb lock engage with a metallic clank. He also heard Mrs. Bracken wheezing to catch her breath, Clara holding tightly to her; neither was moving. Then Finn saw a man, very heavy and powerful, step half out of the bushes several yards along the alley. He stood waiting in the shadows, holding a cudgel the end of things, Finn thought.

Except that it wasn't the end of things. It was Tubby Frobisher, like an angel come from the sky. ”Tubby!” Finn shouted, following Miss Bracken down the three stairs, Beaumont at his heels.

Tubby stepped aside and waved them past, the surprise on his face equal, surely, to Finn's own. ”Go on, then!” Tubby cried.

Finn looked back to see Tubby wading toward the men just then coming through the door, a two-handed grip on his stick.

It was an escape, and no doubt about it, Tubby thought as he stepped aside to let the four pa.s.s, immensely surprised that it was Cecilia Bracken who leapt past him, her hatless hair flying about her head, and she holding the hand of an apparently blind girl wearing smoked gla.s.ses certainly the girl Clara, Mother Laswell's charge. Finn Conrad plunged past, followed by the strangest dwarf Tubby had ever seen. He was carrying a flour sack in one hand and holding tight to an enormous beaver hat with the other, a hat big enough to contain a severed head as well as the dwarf's own.

Four men bowled out from within the house now, two of them turning away up toward Lazarus Walk and the other two running straight at Tubby, obviously pursuing those who had fled. The men slowed at the sight of him, but then came on again, running hard.

THIRTY-THREE.

FLIGHT.

Finn and his three companions rounded the corner, Clara running flat-footed but gamely in her lead-soled shoes, her gown hiked up to her knees. Finn held onto her hand now, and she showed no hesitation, but trusted him utterly. Beaumont had run on ahead, but Finn, determined to leave no one behind, had no intention of outpacing Miss Bracken. They dodged the traffic and pedestrians on the Embankment, hurried beneath the leafless trees, and descended a set of stone stairs to the river, where a man in a rowing boat was just s.h.i.+pping his oars as another man stepped out onto a small pier and tied a line to a bollard. Finn tipped his cap, and the two men nodded back at him, giving him a curious look. The four of them were well worth staring at, Finn thought, which was problematic.

Beaumont led the way beneath Blackfriars Rail Bridge, turning uphill in the shadow of the bridge toward the Embankment again. He drew to a halt between two heavy stanchions, further hidden by the darkness. For a time no one spoke, but merely breathed. Miss Bracken bent forward and placed her hands on her knees, her wind whoos.h.i.+ng in and out of her lungs. The mud bank smell of the Thames was strong, and in the gloomy half-light Finn could see the rubbish cast up by the river. Despite the dimness, Finn felt exposed. They were a curious group, to be sure, with no possibility of disguising themselves.

The problem of Ned Ludd sprang into Finn's mind a further complication. He wished that he had included Ned's whereabouts in the note that he had heaved at Mother Laswell. If worse came to worst, she could fetch Ned herself. But it hadn't come to that yet. The George Inn wasn't far away, although how they were going to get there without imperiling themselves, Finn couldn't say. The afternoon was already darkening, however, with clouds in the west hiding the sun. With luck, night would come early.

”Dear me,” Miss Bracken said after her bout of hard breathing, ”I believe I'll live after all. If we intend to hide beneath this bridge for any length of time, we might as well make ourselves better known to each other.”

”This is Miss Clara,” Finn said, thinking that it was unlikely that Clara would speak for herself, although he was equally worried about being too forward. Clara curtsied but said nothing, and he went on: ”I'm Finn Conrad, and we both of us come from Aylesford.”

”And you knew Tubby Frobisher, the fat man in the lane?” she said.

”Yes,” said Finn. ”Do you, too, then?”

”Indeed I do. I'm betrothed to that man's uncle.”

”To Gilbert Frobisher?” Finn asked, astonished to hear this.

”Indeed. The poor man is lost below ground.”

”He might still be alive,” Beaumont said. ”We found the newspaper what wrapped his sandwich, if it was his and not the other's Professor St. Ives.”

A train clattered along overhead now, making speaking impossible for a time. Boats spun past beneath the bridge, the river running fast and high through the narrows.

”I know nothing of a sandwich,” said Miss Bracken when the train moved on. ”Gilbert and the Professor descended together. Neither returned. But I won't say that either of them is lost until there's proof. Show me the body. I shall say just those words until my dying day. And what is your name, my small friend?”

”Beaumont the Dwarf, ma'am, although some call me Zounds.”

”How did you come to be in the house?” Finn asked Miss Bracken.

”I was taken off the street by the villain Smythe, who tricked me with a falsehood. I should have seen through him, for I've met his type often enough. But I very much wanted to believe he was doing me a kindness. My heart got in the way of my sense, I'm afraid.”

”Aye, that's the way with hearts,” Beaumont said. ”Smythe won't bother you again. The worms already have him by the toe. Now that we're all mates I'll say that we must lie low until after dark and then go back the way we've come. It's dangerous above ground with Klingheimer's men looking out for us. They've got urchin boys, you see, who they'll put to the search for a s.h.i.+lling or two. The sooner we're down below, the better.”

”We mean to go underground to Aylesford,” Finn said, by way of explanation, although he scarcely understood it himself.

”Where my own Gilbert disappeared?” Miss Bracken asked.

”Just so,” Beaumont told her.

”That's good. That's very good. We'll search for him. We'll find my Gilbert and bring him out with us. That's just what we'll do.”

”When it's dark we can go below,” Beaumont said. ”I know a way. But for now we've got to lay up somewhere out of the way like.”

”Before we go under we've got to fetch Ned Ludd, Clara's mule,” Finn said. ”I rode into London on his back, and I won't leave him behind. I made him a promise. We'll take him along below with us.”

”A mule?” Beaumont asked.

”Yes,” said Finn. ”He's in Southwark, at the George Inn. Close by.” Clara squeezed his hand, for which Finn was thankful.

Beaumont stood contemplating and then said, ”The mule might be the death of us.”

”Or the life of us,” Finn said. ”He can carry two of us if the way below is hard. And the mule speaks to Clara. Ned Ludd is more alive than the heads on the plates, and he's a Christian mule. It was Balaam's donkey that spoke out loud when the Angel of the Lord was blocking the way, and he was let into heaven for it.”

Beaumont considered this. ”My uncle had a mule as could ring the Pancake Bell upon Shrove Tuesday,” he said. ”We give him a pan of grease for it.”

”There you have it then,” Miss Bracken said. ”You can't argue with the pancake bell.”

”Then we'll cross the river in the boat these two men just left a-lying there,” Beaumont said. ”But coming back to this side, even after night fall?” He shook his head. ”And leading a mule? It won't hardly answer.”

”Shush,” Clara said suddenly, and Beaumont fell quiet. There were footsteps approaching, and the four of them moved farther up the s.h.i.+ngle, deeper into the shadows. A man appeared, stepping out of the sunlight and into the darkness beneath the bridge, and then standing still while his eyes found their way. Finn let go of Clara's hand, ready to fight if he had to. If he was quick, he could rush the man and knock him into the river where it ran swiftly beneath the arch. The current would sweep him downriver long enough for them to run. The man looked roundabout himself carefully, seeing them now.

”Zounds!” he said, bending over to look harder at them. ”Here you are then, with the boy and the women, a-standing about like statuary. It's your infernal hat that caught my eye, Zounds. A man can't hide in such a rig as that. They're a-looking for you up and down. They found Penny and Smythe beaten and choked out, and they think it's you what done it. Klingheimer will murder the lot of us for letting it happen when he comes back from Peavy's.”

”This here is Arthur Bates,” Beaumont said, gesturing in the man's direction. ”I'm glad it's you, Bates. You'll not give us up. Klingheimer can go to the devil, and Peavy with him.”

”That's right. But the word's gone out for a reward if you're taken, Zounds, so every boy in the street is looking out. London Bridge ain't safe, nor Queen Street nor Blackfriars neither. Shadwell knows the girl's from Aylesford, and they're watching the roads east.”