or I’ll kick yer!’
‘You would be sorry if you did,’ Richard replied. He hesitated, his hold slackening a little as he considered. A lad like this might be after his purse, but he was far from the sinister enemy he had imagined. A smile was beginning to tug at the corners of his mouth when the youth lunged at him, kicked him in the shins and wrenched free, setting off at a run back the way he had come. ‘Damn you!’
Richard realised instantly that he had been robbed. The boy’s hand had gone inside his jacket, removing the package he was carrying seconds before the toe of his boot connected with Richard’s leg and caused him to loosen his hold enough for the lad to break free. He felt a surge of annoyance—how could he have fallen for a trick like that?
Richard yelled and set off after the boy at once. He was angry that he had been so careless, but there had been something almost angelic in the boy’s face and he had been lulled into a sense of false security. Damned fool! It was the oldest trick in the book, using a boy to take your enemy off guard. He could see the lad ahead of him, running for all he was worth. He moved fast, but Richard was a match for him, his longer legs and superior strength making it inevitable that he would catch the boy. And then fortune stepped in. In his haste, the lad had not seen the rubbish on the pavement. As his foot touched the rotting filth left there by some careless trader, his heel slid and his legs suddenly went from under him, sending him tumbling into the gutter. He was getting to his feet when Richard arrived, clearly none the worse for his tumble.
‘Watcha want ter make me do that fer?’ he complained bitterly. ‘I ain’t done nuthin’, sir. Honest I ain’t.’
‘You stole something from me,’ Richard said, holding out his hand. ‘Give it back and don’t try another stunt like that or you will get a good hiding. Do you hear me?’ His strong hands hauled the youth to his feet. He gave him a little shake. ‘Did you hear what I said, boy?’
‘Me name’s Georgie,’ the lad said and sniffled. ‘I ain’t ’ad nuthin’ ter eat fer days. I only wanted a few coins. If yer hadn’t grabbed me, I wouldn’t ’ave done it.’
‘Indeed?’ Richard’s eyebrows rose as he looked at the lad. ‘Georgie, is it? Well, Georgie, had you asked I might have given you a shilling, but you deserve that I should hand you over to the law…’
The lad produced the package, holding it out to Richard, who took it and replaced it in his coat pocket. The seal was still intact. It would have meant little to anyone who did not have the code and was able to decipher it, but he could not be sure the lad was not working for someone.
‘Let me go, sir,’ Georgie said, putting on the wheedling tone again. ‘I swear I’ve never done nuthin’ like that afore and I’m hungry…’ He sniffed and wiped his nose on his sleeve. ‘I didn’t mean no ’arm…’
‘What you meant was to steal from me,’ Richard replied with a stern look. ‘But I have the packet back and, if you are truly hungry, I shall feed you.’
‘Give me a shilling, sir, and I’ll trouble you no more.’ Georgie’s hand shot out.
Richard was on the point of putting his hand into his pocket when something made him hesitate. There was something about the urchin that did not ring true, though for the moment he could not place it.
‘I’ll not give you money,’ he said. ‘But I shall feed you. We’ll go to an inn I know. Not here. I don’t trust the service in these drinking dens. I’ll take you somewhere we can both enjoy a meal.’
The lad hesitated and for a moment Richard thought he would try to run away, but then he shrugged his shoulders. ‘All right, if that’s what yer want, sir.’
‘Come with me then,’ Richard said, taking hold of his arm. ‘And don’t try to run away, Georgie—no funny tricks, do you hear? This package is important to me, but it would be of no use to you. Try stealing from me again and I shall not be as forgiving next time.’
‘Don’t go on about it,’ the lad said, glaring at him. ‘And you’re hurting my arm. I shan’t run orf. I give yer my word.’
There was a touch of unconscious pride about the lad then that alerted Richard’s suspicions. Somehow he was certain that Georgie—if that was his name—was not an ordinary street urchin. There was more here than met the eye. He slackened his hold of the lad’s arm a little, but made sure it was sufficient to bind him to him as they left the last of the mean streets behind. The lighting here was better, and, glancing at the boy’s profile, Richard knew that his suspicions were right. Just what had he discovered here? If he knew anything at all, this lad had not been born to these poor streets of the London slum. Was he a runaway from school or a tyrant father? He was almost certain that the accent was a sham, for it had slipped once or twice. Just what was Georgie up to?
‘Where do you go to school?’ he asked.
‘Don’t go,’ the lad replied. ‘Ain’t never bin, sir.’
He was not telling the truth; Richard’s instinct never lied. His curiosity deepened. The boy was clearly very young, and, despite what he had done, Richard felt it his duty to try to help him if it were possible. He knew only too well to what depths of degradation some unfortunates were forced to sink in these stinking alleys. A grim expression dwelled briefly in his eyes as he remembered. He would not think of that now! It was behind him. He had buried himself deep in his work to forget and he would not allow that past tragedy to haunt him.
The lights of a respectable inn were just ahead of them, a lantern shedding a bright yellow glow over the pavement. More lanterns lit the archway that led behind to the inn yard, but Richard headed for the main door. He felt Georgie’s hesitation, the slight resistance, and looked down.
‘There’s nothing to fear here, Georgie. You may not be used to such places, but we shall be served, never fear.’
‘I ain’t frightened,’ the lad replied. ‘You don’t need ter hang on to me any longer. I shan’t run away. I ain’t frightened of yer no more. Besides, I’m starving!’
‘Well, they serve decent food here,’ Richard replied. He glanced at the lad’s face as they went inside. Now he could see the delicate profile and the pale complexion. Georgie was very slight and he found it difficult to assess his age. At first he had thought him a child of perhaps twelve or thirteen. His height was below Richard’s shoulder and he had felt the thinness of the lad’s body as he held him after he slipped on the rubbish. Looking at his face in the light, he thought now that the lad must be older—fifteen, perhaps.
‘Yes, sir?’ The host came bustling up to them, a smile on his face that dimmed somewhat as he saw the boy. ‘Captain Hernshaw, isn’t it? I believe I’ve had the honour of serving you before, sir?’
‘On a couple of occasions,’ Richard replied easily, ignoring the host’s expression. ‘You serve excellent chops, landlord, and a good pie. My young friend here is hungry and so am I. We shall have the best of whatever you have on offer this evening.’
‘Yes, sir. Would you be wanting the parlour, sir?’
Richard hesitated. He sensed tension in his companion and wondered what the lad could be thinking. ‘Yes, Goodridge. We shall have the parlour, if you will spare it to us.’
‘Just as you wish, sir. Will you want wine or ale?’
‘You may bring me some wine,’ Richard said.
