Dido and Pa (22 page)

"What about your leg? I thought it was busted for sure?"

He shook his head. "Just a bit of a—bruise," he explained, getting his breath. "Better—now."

"Old Podge is made of gum arabic." Wally gave his brother an affectionate poke in the ribs. "Takes a deal to break
him.
Mends quicker than my coffee stall, he do."

"What's the bad news?" Dido asked quickly. "Not summat to do with Simon or Sophie?"

"Aye, it is. Podge went over to Chelsea tonight—he goes most nights," Wally explained matter-of-factly. "Even if he don't go in, he likes to walk around outside o' Sophie's house and think of her inside there."

Podge became bright pink—this was visible even in the moonlight—and interrupted gruffly, "Never mind that! I knew she wasn't in tonight—she was going to a party at the margrave's—"

"What—not here, in Wapping?" cried Dido with the liveliest curiosity and astonishment. "
Sophie
was at that party? I never seed her! I was
there
—handing round the sherry cobbler and the larks on toast. I never laid eyes on Sophie!"

"Well, she went," Podge said heavily, "for old Mogg the coachman said he took her to the door. But when he went back to fetch her, he was told she'd ridden off with the duke and duchess of Shropshire. Mogg weren't satisfied with this—off he goes to Shrewsbury House—and
they
tell him, there, that the duke and duchess weren't planning to come home after the party but meant to drive straight down to their place in Wenlock Forest. So then Mogg comes back and he tells me—"

"It don't seem like Sophie, what I remembers of her," said Dido, "not to tell the folk at home before she'd go jaun-tering off like that?"

"That's what I thought too." Podge's kind, plain face looked desperately worried. "It's not like Sophie a bit. She'd have written a note for Mogg."

"Where's Simon? Ain't he hunting for her?"

Podge and Wally looked at one another. Then Podge said, "That's some more bad news. Simon went out after wolves, and he hasn't come back. There were stories in the evening papers that he'd been killed by a wolf."

"Oh, no!" Dido cried out in horror. Sophie was a distant, though kind and gracious memory; but Simon she had
seen,
very recently; he had given her a sheepskin coat, they had made happy plans together—

"Oh, no!" cried Dido frantically. "That
can't
be true!"

"Well he hadn't come home," said Podge with gloom. "Not when I was there. They sent off a rider to Wenlock Castle, but it'll be upward of six hours before the man gets back—"

"And suppose all the time Sophie's shut up in Cinnamon Court by that murky margrave?" said Wally. "How'd we ever know?"

"Cinnamon Court's a plaguy great place," Dido said. "There's probably hundreds of rooms she might be in. Yes, and I remember—that old monster of a margrave told his bully boys to shut up the old 'uns—the ones as let on to be sick—in the cellars under the river...."

"I've heard tell o' those," shivered Wally. "They say the rats will eat you alive—But why
should
he shut up Sophie?"

"What can we do?" demanded Podge, who looked almost distracted with worry.

At this moment a smallish black shadow shot up the front steps, past the three who stood talking, and vanished into Bart's Building.

"What was that?" said Podge.

"Oh, that's only Figgin. Little Is's cat," explained Dido. "She'll be rare and pleased to see him back. She was feared he'd been frizzled in the fire—"

"Oh, murder, you had a fire here, didn't you," said Wally, paying heed for the first time to the blackened gaping windows and trampled sooty snow.

"That cat was carrying something white," said Podge sharply. "What was it?"

"Blest if I know—"

"I'd like to see what it was—"

"The cat brings her home all kinds of food, so
she
says," Dido told him. "Most like it was a Dover sole, or a jellied eel."

"Can I look at it?"

"Sartin sure. Why not? Let's find the mog."

Dido led the way into the house. Figgin, having distastefully inspected the sodden basement and decided that his mistress could not possibly be there, had turned upstairs, and was wauling loudly outside van Doon's door.

"
Figgin?
Is that my Figgin?" came the joyful cry of Is within the room, and the door quickly opened. "
Save us,
what have you got?"

"Is?" called Dido. "There's a chap here as'd like to take a gander at what Figgin's brought you—"

"Come in, and welcome," offered van Doon, weary but hospitable. "Indeed we were not asleep. The little one was too anxious; it is very good that her cat returned—"

The end of his sentence was drowned by the Slut's cry of utter wonder.

"Look ahere! A collar! Figgin's got a silver collar on!"

Icy-white moonlight was blazing in at the large window of van Doon's room and throwing a great lozenge of light across the floor. Little Is and her black cat, squatting in this bright light, were visible as characters on a stage. She pulled off the silver collar from the neck of Figgin—who at once rolled on the floor in great relief, then seized on his dove again, growling possessively.

"Sophie's dove!" whispered Podge, who stood behind Dido. "Surely that is Sophie's dove? The one I gave her?"

"There's writing on this here collar!" announced Is. "What do it say?"

She passed the silver band to Dido, who read in a startled voice: "'Henry Bayswater,' it says. And 'Simone Riviere.' Who in nature are they?"

Podge said hoarsely, "Those are the names of Sophie's parents. It is her bracelet. I have seen it on her wrist a hundred times."

"Oh my Lord," said Dido. Gently she passed the bracelet to Podge, who stood turning it over and over in his hands. They all stared at Figgin, who, now that he had brought his dove home to Bart's Building, did not seem at all sure what to do with it.

"We still don't know where she is," said Wally after some thought.

"Figgin does get into Cinnamon Court sometimes," said Dido after another pause. "You told me that, didn't you?" to Is, who nodded.

"Once he brung me a cutlet wrapped up in a silk napkin—it had a hammer on it, in gold thread."

"Well, then," said Podge strongly, "we have got to go round there—rouse the porter—ask where she is."

"At four in the morning? Suppose they say she ain't there?" Wally looked dubious. "They'd throw us in the clink—say we was drunk or raving."

"
You
could go," Dido suggested to van Doon, who turned pale at the thought. "You know the margrave, you came from there."

"Oh, no, no, no, I must not!" the Dutchman said anxiously. "His excellency expressly forbids me to go there, unless he summons me. I must not be seen—I must not disobey his excellency." He broke into a sweat at the notion.

"Oh; well, that ain't no use, then." Dido glanced at van Doon with slight contempt. She reflected, and said, "I reckon we'll have to break in."

"But—how can you?" Van Doon looked even more alarmed. "There are watchmen walking up and down all night long in the street outside. I have seen them."

"Aye, he don't stint on watchmen, the margrave," agreed Wally.

Dido said, "But maybe if he got so many outside, he don't trouble to have guards around ¿‹side—"

"But how can we get inside?" said Podge.

"Over the roof? Down the chimbley, like Figgin?"

"No go. Even if you sent
her
down." Wally nodded toward tiny Is, whose eyes grew round as saucers. "I were a
sweep's boy, when I were eight. Cinnamon chimbleys have to be swept with rods—they ain't wide enough for a person."

"Then we gotta get in a window."

"The downstairs windows are all barred."

"You know a deal about it, Wally?"

Wally grinned. "I were a cracksman's boy when I were ten. Till Dad put his foot down. But Cinnamon's one crib we never cracked. Only the windows opening on the garden ain't barred—but you can't get into that garden, there's a twenty-foot wall with spikes on top; and it's guarded in the street outside too."

"I know one lot of windows as ain't barred," said Dido suddenly. "I was looking at 'em only this evening when Pa's music was playing."

What a long time ago, she thought.

"In the big saloon? What use is that? Those look straight out on the river. You'd need a boat..." Wally's voice died away as he considered the possibility of this; then Dido suddenly jumped up, exclaiming, "No! We'd not need a boat! We'd need a ladder—I lay you a noble to ninepence! You got a ladder, haven't you?" she said to Podge, who, puzzled, replied:

"Sure; for sign painting. I can bring it in ten minutes."

"But where are you going to
put
the sorbent ladder?" said Wally crossly. "I'm telling you, the garden wall is guarded—"

"Come on!" Dido was at the door already. "Let's go and look. That's one place they won't be expecting anybody."

"I—I think I must stay here. This is no concern of mine. And I do not wish to anger his excellency," van Doon said. "The small one should stay with me also."

Is looked a little rebellious, but Dido said kindly, "No, mister, it ain't your jug o' gravy; you stay safe indoors and nurse your nose. And
you
stay to mind the house," she told Is. "You're in charge now." Is nodded gravely.

"I still don't get the lay," said Wally as Dido and the two boys ran down the front steps.

"Why—this—" Dido led them down the sloping cobbled slipway to the river, running past the end of the alley. "See? Frozen solid, ten feet, fifteen feet out! There's a crust you can walk on, I reckon, all along the edge."

She proved this by doing so.

"Jimbo! You're right!" exclaimed Wally, doing likewise. "But will it take all three of us,
and
a ladder?"

"Can't tell till we try."

Podge was a little harder to convince. He tested the ice; rapped on it; jumped on it; then he said to Wally:

"You'd better not come. Who'd look after Dad if we both drowned?"

"Hey, who are you talking to?" cried Wally, affronted. "
I'm
the best swimmer!"

"Oh, for Habbakuk's sake, fetch the ladder and stop arguing," said Dido. "It'll be daylight afore we're done if you don't bustle."

"Not for another four hours," said Wally as Podge hurried off. "Come on; let's see how far we can go."

By river the distance to Cinnamon Court proved nothing
like so far as it was by road, along the mazelike streets of Wapping zigzagging among docks and creeks and inlets.

Edging their way gingerly along the frozen crust, as close to the shore as possible, sometimes having to turn aside, skirting round gullies—but most of these were frozen solid—Dido and Wally took only seven minutes to reach the massive brick bulk of Cinnamon Court. There, above them, they saw the great row of arched windows, shining silver in the brilliant moonlight; there, beyond, lay the snow-covered garden, protected from the river by a ferocious crisscross of spikes.

"The window's our lay, no question," whispered Wally, staring up. "No one would be looking for a prig to come thataway. Do they open, those windows?"

"I didn't notice," whispered Dido. "Come along back; we best not stand here gabbing."

"Lucky there's no river traffic," she added as they retraced their steps. "Anyone on a barge'd spot us; you can see clear across the Pool, bright as day."

"I reckon the skippers are afeared of getting iced in. If this cold lasts—and Dad says it will—the river's likely to freeze right over. Dad says it did that when his great-granddad was alive; you could skate from Greenwich to Hampton, and they roasted an ox on the ice."

"If it freezes, that'll be handy for the wolves in Kent; they can come over on the ice," murmured Dido, and fell silent, thinking about Simon. When'll we know? How can they find out? she wondered. But at least we're doing our best for Sophie.

"Does Podge want to marry her?" she asked, out of this thought; and Wally, perfectly understanding her, replied:

"How can he? She's a dook's sister, he's a sign painter. All he can do is give her presents."

"That's rabbity!" cried Dido with scorn. "You keep giving somebody presents—it makes you their
slave.
Or t'other way round."

Wally glanced at her in surprise but said no more, for now they had reached the causeway by Bart's Building, and there was Podge coming with the ladder.

"Brought along a couple of your old tools as well," he said to Wally. "Never know what you're going to need." He had a small black velvet bag slung over his shoulder.

They each took a leg of the ladder; it was a fruit picker's ladder, freestanding, with a third leg at the rear. Being wooden, it was quite heavy; Dido, secretly, was a little anxious lest it prove too much for the ice. Cinnamon Court, she had noticed, lay by an outer bend of the riverbank where the current cut in and ran swiftly; along the bank there, the ice was not so wide, nor, presumably, so thick. But she kept this thought to herself.

Reaching the wall of the Court, they silently set up the ladder. Podge handed the black bag to Wally, who scurried up the rungs as quietly as a squirrel, inspected the end window, and set to work at its bottom right-hand corner.

Podge cupped a hand round Dido's ear and whispered, "Diamond wheel. Cuts a hole in the glass."

Whatever Wally was doing took a couple of minutes; meanwhile Podge was rubbing and kneading a lump of gum
arabic in his hands, warming it and damping it with a pinch of snow. Wally reached down, took the lump, and delicately laid it against the circle of glass on which he had been working; then he pulled; a neat glass disk came away stuck to the gum, which he passed down to his brother.

Now a similar piece had to be taken from the middle of the window, to reach the hasp. Wally could not reach high enough, so Podge went up and did it. After which, he carefully slipped his hand through the hole in the glass, twisted, pulled, undid the catch, undid the bottom bar, and the casement came open. Podge then put a knee over the sill and vanished inside. Wally went next, and Dido followed; they had to be pulled up by Podge, as the window was well above the top of the ladder. As soon as Dido was inside, Podge carefully pulled-to the window again.