Dodger of the Dials (41 page)

‘It’s very well yer hiding these two, Twist,’ he moaned after Oliver had unlocked the doors to his lodgings so that Lily and myself could rest there. ‘But where’m I to be hid, eh? My life’s in forfeit now I’m helping yer in this. Yer’ll be the death of me!’

The four of us entered into Oliver’s home again and I noticed more the smell of the rooms now – what earlier had been covered by the bacon and the terrible stench what I had dragged in with me from the Fleet. There was a warm aroma of paper, ink, leather and house-plants. I saw into the study what was almost the same as the one his friend Anthony had been killed in, but Oliver’s abode was much more cluttered with stationery and expensive pieces of furniture and other items. I had to remind myself that we was now almost-friends before I slipped any shiny objects into my pocket.

‘There are people I trust at the
Morning Chronicle
, Mr Bolter,’ said Oliver as he gathered some things he needed from his desk in that study and came out again. ‘Who I want to be present when I hear your story.’

I plonked myself down in the same well-cushioned chair from earlier and told Lily she should make herself comfortable too. She stood rooted to her spot though and her eyes was fixed upon a small sprig of mistletoe what was stuck up over Oliver’s door to the kitchen and had not yet been removed. I wondered who he had been kissing under it.

‘I thought yer said yer wouldn’t name me, Twist!’ Bolter spat in alarm as he shifted his way around the room, keeping tight against the corners as if he thought the walls would keep him safe. ‘Anonymous! That’s what yer promised! If I go to prison over this I shall end up suffering a nasty accident in the cells, Lor’ help me!’

‘As soon as you have told us all we need then you can be on
your way. But not before. Then you can travel to another city and change your name again, if you want to. And we can both hope our paths never again cross.’

‘D’you think Mills suspects you’re investigating him, Oliver?’ I asked as I helped myself to two of the red apples from his fruit bowl since he wasn’t going to offer me them himself. I tossed the first over to Lily’s catching hands and I crunched into the second. ‘He could have sniffed you by now like he did Anthony,’ I said once I had wiped the juice away from my lips.

‘Impossible to know,’ said Oliver as he buttoned his coat again. Then he pulled out the small silver pistol from his pocket and went through to the bedroom with it. ‘But he’ll certainly be on the alert as soon as he hears about this morning’s adventures so there’s no use hesitating further. Our best chance to stop him is to move fast which is why the two of us,’ he pointed at Bolter, ‘must go to the
Chronicle
directly. You two can remain in my home until things are safe.’ He appeared to be making his bed for us and I was most grateful for it. I was keen to fall asleep with Lily in my arms once more and as he came out of the room carrying a blanket I stood up in readiness to be invited through. ‘Miss Lennox,’ Oliver said, not looking at me, ‘you must be exhausted after your traumatic experiences. Please feel free to sleep in my bedroom for as long as you wish.’ Then he turned to me. ‘Jack, this blanket is for you. You may sleep on the settee.’ I did not hide my disappointment from him and wondered if he even understood the nature of the relationship between Lily and myself.

‘Why, that’s very decent of you, Oliver,’ I began in a small voice. ‘But – the thing is – I’ve been in a prison for the past fortnight if you follow my meaning.’ I glanced at Lily and then back at him and then gave a broad wink just so he did not miss the subtlety of what I was suggesting.

‘You are not married,’ Oliver observed in a firm voice. ‘And my landlady would be quick to evict me if she detected the slightest whiff of impropriety. So respect my hospitality and confine yourselves to separate rooms, if you please.’ He gave a curt nod to convey that this was his final word upon the matter and I was about to protest further when Lily spoke first.

‘A big bed of my own would be lovely, Oliver,’ she said and I noticed how drained she now looked. ‘I could sleep until next year.’ It was clear that she would not have been in the mood for love-making even if it were permissible and so I took the blanket from him while trying to avoiding the dirty grin Morris Bolter was giving us all from his corner.

‘The settee will do well enough then,’ I said as I laid it out. ‘Thanks again.’

Oliver then showed Lily into his bedroom and as she passed him she looked most unsteady on her feet. Her recent ordeal at the hands of Billy Slade seemed to be catching up with her and she did not say a word to any of us as she closed the door behind her.

‘Now then, Mr Bolter,’ said Brownlow as he crossed over to where our former friend was, ‘let me take you to Wellington Street. Our work is just beginning.’ He turned back to me before leading Bolter out of the building by the arm. ‘There is still some food in the cupboards for whenever Miss Lennox rises, Jack. I don’t know how long I shall be but, needless to say, I won’t tell any policemen that I have seen you until things are a good deal less hot.’ He cast a threatening glance towards Bolter. ‘And neither will my old Sowerberry associate if he expects me to keep my end of the bargain.’ Before he led Morris out through the door he said one last thing. ‘I’ll need your evidence at a later date though, Jack. So be here when I get back, eh?’

It occurred to me then that Oliver was about to leave myself and
Lily, two people who he knew full well was of the criminal kind, alone in his lodgings. It was a large amount of trust to put in us and I thought it very sweet of him. It was as if he was under the impression that I, at heart, was a good person like himself. It was a misconception I found most flattering.

‘I’ll look after the place, Oliver,’ I said with a playful little salute. ‘You can trust me.’

Oliver smiled back, thanked me and closed the door after himself. Then, as soon as it had shut, I crossed straight over to the window of this top-floor residence – careful to tread light so as not to disturb the delicate landlady in the apartment below – and I peered down onto the street. I was waiting for Oliver and Morris to emerge from the front door as I needed to be sure that they had disappeared altogether before I gathered some things, woke Lily and made our dash for the continent.

‘Lily!’ I called out as I saw the two Mudfog boys at last step out onto the pavement and Oliver raised his cane to try and attract the attention of a hackney cab. ‘We’re off in a second!’

No sound came from the bedroom what she had just one minute ago entered and I kept my hands pressed on the thin panes and continued watching. It seemed to be taking Oliver an age to attract the attention of a cabman and both he and Bolter shivered and buttoned up their coats in the January cold. My own breath was misting up the glass as I wondered how long I could dare to stay here after they had gone. Every bone within me was jumping to get out of London before I was recaptured. I did not doubt any more that Oliver meant me well but there was still a chance that my whereabouts would be detected if he trusted the wrong person and spoke about seeing me. I had no way of knowing who worked for Mills and I could not risk being recaptured before my
innocence was proved. I could feel the rope tighten around my neck as I thought on it.

I watched Oliver lose patience with the passing traffic and whistle for a cab and at last one came trotting over to collect them. ‘Lily?’ I said again as they climbed inside. ‘Are you ready to go? We can’t stay here, my love.’ Again no answer from behind the shut door and once I had watched the carriage containing Oliver disappear around the street corner, I went over to the bedroom and looked inside. She was asleep in that bed and I could see that it would be cruel to wake her from what must be much-needed slumber. So I shut the door again and went back to the settee where my blanket was. I should have been falling off just as quick considering how little sleep I had enjoyed in the past week, let alone the past day. But my mind was too restless for that and I continued fretting over whether or not I should just bolt while I still had the chance. I did not want to let Oliver down and I still wanted my revenge on Billy Slade. But I had not forgotten that even the legendary Jack Sheppard had been caught one too many times. Remaining in this city was a folly, of that I was certain.

My thoughts was not peaceful in such lonely moments. They kept leading me back to Newgate, to Mouse, to the Rum Mort – in short, to all manner of upsetting scenes and incidents from my recent history. Unable to settle, I got up again and paced the room, trying to change my mind’s direction. Instead I began thinking about my obligations to Oliver and whether I even had any. Would his case really be damaged if I were not around to give evidence against Slade? I decided then that the best way to use this dead hour while Lily was resting was to go through to Oliver’s small study and get my evidence down in writing too. That way, even if I were not in London when a trial took place, my account could still be read out to a judge – for whatever that was worth. I went straight
through to that little study and as I entered I jumped with a sharp shock. Out of the corner of my eye I saw another man dressed just like Oliver Brownlow there in the room with me. It was a second before I realised that the person what had startled me so was my own reflection from the glass of one of his many bookcases. Oliver had mentioned that we resembled brothers when I had put on his suit earlier and I could now see what he meant. We had the same build and bore ourselves in a similar manner. Also, although I was darker-skinned and -haired, we shared some features in our faces what could have marked us out as blood. I peered closer at myself though and, in the dim light of that glass, saw that for all that we could never be mistaken for twins. I would always make for a rougher image.

Oliver’s study was far less tidy than any other room in his crib and I guessed that he must spend most of his time in here when home. The desk was too big for the room and there was all manner of papers scattered all over it. A small picture frame was among the clutter with a sketch of a young woman in and I picked it up to admire how pretty she was. There was also some Christmas cards on the windowsill and I looked at one with a robin redbreast pictured on the front. Once I had finished rifling through his more personal possessions I started flicking through his professional papers. There was a small mahogany letter rack and in that was a stack of leaves all of which had the same words printed along the top. F
ROM THE PEN OF
O
LIVER
B
ROWNLOW
. There was also a rubber stamp in a rack compartment and I pressed it into some ink and tested it against an envelope. T
HE
M
ORNING
C
HRONICLE
it printed. I supposed these items was impressive if you cared for that sort of thing but they would be worthless to any self-respecting pawnbroker and so I soon lost interest in them.

I took one of the sheets of paper and decided that I would
write my true account of what had happened on the night when Anthony Rylance had died and leave it for Oliver to find upon his return. I had already written my version of events once before in prison but that had been for Billy Slade to read and was composed before I had become aware of his full villainy. This new document would be for the benefit of the courts of England – for whatever that was worth – and Slade was now the subject of my story and no longer the recipient. As I pulled out the leather chair – what I was impressed to find was on little wheels – I decided not to write one word of a lie. So I picked up a quill, dipped it into an inkwell and began to confess to the burglary just as I had done before Judge Aylesbury, only this time with the added information that Billy Slade had hired me to enter the building and that I had seen Aylesbury himself in a brothel in Hammersmith what Slade owned. I also intended to add what I had since been told by another convict in Newgate – that the man what had been hanged for killing Constable Wingham prior to that had also worked for Slade and that his case had been presided over by Aylsebury too. It was a spidery web of connections and not one what was easy to believe, but if it were any use to Oliver in obtaining justice for his friend, then it was worth jotting down. But the quill produced inky scratches what made the writing hard and I did not find it easy to know where to begin. I managed to compose less than three sentences before I rested the quill down again and my head dropped at last. The curtains of this room was drawn with just a small chink of light falling through but, despite it being morning now, it felt late. Sleep was overcoming me and I found myself resting my crossed arms onto the desk to use as a pillow. I could hear some dogs barking in a courtyard nearby and it took me some moments to recall that these must be the same bull terriers what I had almost been savaged by on the evening of my arrest. The only
other sound in that room was the quiet ticking of a small clock on a mantel behind me and, once I grew used to the monotony of it and the outside barks, I soon drifted off without any more resistance.

I did not know for how long I had been asleep on that desk – it could have been three minutes or three hours for all I could tell – but the moment my eyes snapped open I just knew that something was wrong. Although I had not shifted from my slumped position and all I could hear was that continuous ticking from that unseen clock, I felt as wild animals must do when they sense the approach of a predatory creature. It was hard to identify the exact thing what had alerted me to it but I could sense that Lily and myself was no longer alone in that apartment and that an intruder had entered through the front door of these lodgings. It was not Oliver returned, of that I was certain, as whoever was out there in that main room was being far too furtive. I wondered if it was Oliver’s nosey landlady who had become suspicious about the unusual goings-on up here, but I doubted such a flat could be so quiet. I then imagined, with a slight panic, that perhaps it was Lily herself and that she was fixing to abandon me while I slept. I was almost ready to get up and go after her when I lifted just my eyes to the half-drawn window in front of me. There, between the crack in the curtains, I saw the faint reflection of the light what came in through the door behind me. A tall man’s silhouette was moving into this room and I could see that the ghostly vision was trying hard not to wake me. I was in as vulnerable a position as Anthony Rylance had been when he was killed at a similar desk and it seemed as though history was set to repeat itself. As I watched that reflection in the window I saw the man grow closer and his arm raise. He was holding something long, sharp and metal.