Julius and the Watchmaker (31 page)

‘You go in, then, Master 'iggins. 'E'll be that pleased to see you.'

Julius turned the handle.

‘But don't cause 'im no h'excitement, mind—doctor's h'orders.'

‘I'll do my best, Mrs Mottel,' said Julius, stepping into Mr Flynn's rooms and closing the door behind him. The fire was burning low and warm. In its glow, slumped in a chair, was the sleeping figure of Danny Flynn. He had a bandage around his head.

Julius placed his hand on top of Mr Flynn's. ‘Mr Flynn, Mr Flynn.'

Mr Flynn woke with a start and took a couple of seconds to realise who it was blocking the firelight.

‘Julius,' he said quietly.

‘Yes, Mr Flynn, it's me.'

Mr Flynn tried to sit up straight.

‘You should be in bed, Mr Flynn.'

‘Er…I was. Sitting by the fire helps me to think and…I…er—'

‘If Mrs Mottel knew you were up…'

‘Ah well, we won't tell her then, will we?' said Mr Flynn, looking towards his side table. He took a sip of water from a cut-crystal glass then looked Julius up and down.

‘Thank God you're all right. I thought…I'm sorry, Julius. I'm more sorry than I can say.'

‘There's no need to—'

‘No, let me speak. I let you down, showing off, acting the big man and all. I wasn't watching my back, was I? It was Springheel, wasn't it? I promised the professor I'd not let anything happen to you if you joined us and then—'

‘Really, Mr Flynn. It doesn't matter. I know everything.'

The haze in Mr Flynn's eyes cleared. He looked up at Julius's smiling face.

‘Everything?'

‘About you wanting me to come on the adventure. About you falling out with grandfather. You know… Everything?'

‘Oh, I see…I'm sorry, Julius,' said Mr Flynn. He looked away and ran his finger slowly around the edge of the glass.

‘Oh, cripes. I nearly forgot. The professor needs our help and Springheel is going to contact the Grackacks in a matter of hours outside the British Museum. We have to stop him. Could you get some of the Fancy to help?'

‘Hang on, hang on. What are you talking about?'

‘There's not enough time to explain. I've been to the future. The Grackacks will control London—it was all Springheel's doing. The professor will be a prisoner in a prison hulk. You and Emily's gang will help me to rescue him; although that won't go exactly to plan and—'

‘Who's Emily?'

‘No time to explain that. But, Mr Flynn, I have to say it. You were maaaaag-nif-i-cent. Like a general, like a…a hero from a cheap novel. You were…blast it, there's no time. Emily's gang is guarding the professor right now. He's very ill. We have to get him here. Can you contact the Watchmakers to come and help him? We have to stop Springheel. There's no time.'

‘Well, I'll be a butcher's blind dog. You've changed, Julius, and no mistake.'

Julius stood back and his face glowed in the firelight. He felt like an actor on a stage after a truly brilliant soliloquy, just before the audience bursts into applause. He fought the urge to say anything—words would only spoil the moment. That was something the old Julius would have done.

‘Yes, I have,' he said, despite himself.

Mr Flynn looked up at Julius and nodded his head slowly. ‘So you have,' he said.

Then he tried to get to his feet. ‘Well, I'm not feeling much like a bloody hero at the moment,' he said, before collapsing back into the chair.

‘Are you all right, Mr Flynn?'

‘Just a spot of dizziness. I'll be fine in a moment and then we'll get the professor and sort Springheel out once and for all.'

‘But Mrs Mottel said you weren't to have any excitement.'

‘Excitement is the very bloody thing I need,' said Mr Flynn, falling down as he tried to stand up.

‘I think you might have to rest for a bit longer, Mr Flynn.'

‘But the professor needs me.'

‘I know, look, I'll bring him here. We'll muster the Fancy and take a convoy of cabs to the British Museum and…oh, I'll need a few shillings for a cab though. I'll need a four-wheeler to collect the professor and fit Emily's gang in as well.'

When Julius pulled up at the back of St Paul's in the four-wheeled cabriolet he was very pleased to see Emily's gang still guarding the sleeping professor. Julius leapt down from the cab.

‘Well done, Emily,' he whispered so as not to wake the professor and the smaller children.

‘Cough up,' she replied from behind an outstretched hand.

‘There's been a change of plans. Mr Flynn is indisposed. We're going to him instead.'

Emily's brow furrowed. Her cohorts, the ones who were awake, looked at her, awaiting instructions.

‘Look, it's all right. Mrs Mottel will make crumpets for everyone, there's a warm fire and there'll be
two
shillings for everyone, Mr Flynn said so. He's ever so grateful that you're all helping us.'

‘Did 'e say “crumpets”?' said one of the urchins.

‘Shaddup, I'm finking,' said Emily.

Julius and Emily stared at one another.

‘Two shillings each?'

‘That's right, and a warm fire and—'

‘Yeah, yeah, I 'eard you the first time.'

Emily's eyes narrowed. She surveyed the sleeping urchins while she thought it over for what to Julius seemed like an eternity.

‘All right, we'll go wiv you,' she said. A cheer erupted among the urchins who were awake and this woke the sleeping urchins and the professor. ‘But, if you're lying to me, you'll regret it for as long as you live. Got it?'

‘Got it,' said Julius with a smile. ‘Let's get in then.'

The urchins helped the professor into the cab and they all squeezed in after him. Julius gave Mr Flynn's address to the cabbie then climbed in and wedged himself in the corner. The cabbie flicked the reins and the horses began to trot. Arms and legs stuck out in all directions like crabs in a fisherman's net.

‘Pull down the blinds, just in case,' said Julius, before taking out Shelley's pocketwatch and tapping its side. It bobbed in the air, lighting and warming the faces of the urchins as the cab moved through the night.

‘Going on a jaunt? Very nice,' said the professor, in a semiconscious daze beneath the pile of children.

One of them started to sing and soon they were all joining in while the professor sank into a deep sleep. Suddenly the cab lurched to the side. The horses whinnied loudly and the cabbie let out a stream of curses.

‘What's 'appening?' said one of the urchins.

The carriage stopped. Sounds of an altercation at the cabbie's seat could be heard outside. There was a groan and then the sound of something heavy falling on the cobbles. Before Julius could think of what to do the cab pitched to the side as someone heavy climbed up to the cabbie's seat. A whip cracked and the carriage lurched forward. The clatter of horses' hooves on the cobbles quickened as the whip cracks continued. Julius squeezed through the bodies to pull up the blind and pull down the window.

‘Careful,' said Emily as he leaned out.

There, in the light of the driver's lamp, was Jack Springheel smiling down at him. Julius nearly fell out of the window with fright. Springheel lifted his top hat and bowed his head.

‘Welcome back, Julius,' he said.

Julius bolted back into the cab and pulled up the window.

‘What is it?' said Emily.

‘Um, there's been a change of plan. Er…Oh, cripes.'

Julius looked at the sleeping professor then down at the cobblestones rushing past below.

Emily grabbed Julius's collar and pulled him close. ‘Wot's 'appening?'

Julius snatched the pocketwatch from the air and put it in Emily's hand.

‘Emily, hide this. Whatever happens, you mustn't let Springheel know you have it. It's very important, he'll do anything to get it.'

Emily looked at the watch in her hand. Harry moved closer.

‘It's magic or something, is it?' he said.

‘Let's just say it's dangerous, dangerous in the wrong hands, that is.'

‘And that toff, Springheel, is the wrong hands?'

‘Most definitely.'

The carriage pitched to the side again, throwing them all to the left and then to the right as the cab righted itself.

‘We've turned a corner. Where we going?' said Harry.

‘I wish I knew,' said Julius.

The carriage careered through the dark streets of London with Julius and the urchins being thrown about like lottery tickets in a tombola. Eventually they came to a halt. Julius and the urchins waited, listening.

‘When 'e opens the door, everyone out nice and slow and then when I give the word we bolt,' whispered Emily. The urchins nodded and waited for the door to open. They were used to escaping from policemen, beadles, factory agents and the like.

The carriage leaned to the side as Springheel climbed down from the driver's seat. He lifted the coach lamp from its bracket and held it to the window. It lit the urchins' faces. Jack Springheel studied them as if they were an exhibit in a glass case. Everyone stopped breathing. After a few seconds Springheel tapped the window with the tip of his cane.

‘Pull the blind down, Julius, there's a good chap,' he said in such a quiet but menacing tone that it froze the blood in Julius's veins.

For the couple of seconds it took for Julius to take hold of the cord and pull the blind down, his eyes were locked on Springheel's. The coach lamp gave the villain's skin a deathly pallor, and his eyes glistened with rage. When the blind came down the carriage was in darkness again. Julius felt a wave of nausea coming up from his toes.

One of the urchins started to cry, but he stopped when Emily harshly shushed him.

‘What's going on?' she hissed into Julius's face.

‘I…I'm not sure. Just do as I say, all right? I'll get us out of this, I promise.'

Before Emily could argue the point, the carriage lurched forward and they were all thrown back again. They seemed to be climbing a series of wide steps. The horses were whinnying and snorting with the effort and the cracking whip. Then there was a resounding creak like massive doors being opened, and the carriage proceeded on level ground with the horses' hooves echoing all around them like thunder. In a matter of seconds the carriage stopped and the cab pitched to the side as a second man climbed down from the driver's seat, grunting with the exertion. Julius and the urchins strained their ears to hear muffled whispers and what sounded like a table or chairs being dragged along a tiled floor.

Then there were no sounds for a while, except for the breathing of the urchins and the occasional contented snore of the professor.

A tap on the window made them all jump. Julius swallowed hard and lifted the blind. The tip of Springheel's sword blade was resting against the window pane. Warm orange candlelight suffused the air around the figure of Jack Springheel. He studied the carriage full of urchins through half-closed eyes. In panic, one of the urchins pulled up the blind on the opposite window. They all turned to see Clements standing there with a flint-lock pistol in his outstretched hand.

‘You try to double cross Jack Springheel,' said Jack Springheel, ‘and you learn the true meaning of the word
regret
, Julius Higgins.'

‘I didn't—'

‘There is nothing to be said, Julius. You have let me down and you are no longer a partner in our little venture.'

As quick as a hawk after a baby rabbit, Springheel opened the door and grabbed Emily by the hair. He pulled her out of the carriage, his sword at her throat.

‘You all work for Jack Springheel now. Any disobedience, any attempt to scarper, and I cut her head clean off and stick it on a spike. Got it?'

Julius and the urchins could see, without a doubt, that Springheel meant what he said.

‘Look, I can explain everything. I waited on the 325 rooftop for you to—'

‘Yes, explain it to me, Julius. What are you doing back here if
I
didn't bring you back?'

Julius hesitated, trying to decide what he could and could not reveal.

‘We were watching Mr Flynn's lodgings to see what he's getting up to when who should we see going in there but our old friend, Julius Higgins. The very Julius Higgins who is supposed to be stranded like Robinson Crusoe on a rooftop in a strange new world which I discovered and over which I, and I alone, have complete rights and privileges. Isn't that right, Mr Clements?'

‘That's right, Mr Springheel,' said Clements, the pistol trembling in his grip.

‘You're up to something, Julius. You and that Irish ruffian.'

‘Er…' said Julius. Whatever he said could only make things worse. He stared at Springheel like a mesmerised idiot.

‘Everybody out and sit over there,' said Springheel, indicating the ground at the back of the carriage.