Lady Rogue (8 page)

"Suffering this one's unwanted company
, among other things, at's wot," Dawn responded, taking hold of Robbie's arm.  She couldn't repress a shudder.

"E's been bothering you?" Folding his arms across his shoulders Robbie glared a warning.  "Stay awaiy from me sis!  Besides, ain't it 'bout time yer was about yer
work
?"  Raising his foot, Robbie sent the man about his business with a well aimed kick, then burst into  inebriated laughter.  "Oh 'e's a ghastly soight, 'e is.  Ole Johnnie sure knows 'ow to pick 'em."

"Yer 'ad as much ter do wi' it as John," Dawn scolded, "and somedaiy ye'll rue it!  Som
edaiy we'll all 'ave to paiy for wot we've done.  Oh, Robbie, isn't there a way we can get free of John.  Go to the country and change......"

"Afeared we'll 'ave to paiy the piper?  We'll let's 'ope that day is a long, long waiy off.  No 'angman's going ter get me no matter wot I 'ave ter do."  He hicupped loudly as he tugged on he
r arm.  "Come on. John's fit to be tied.  When yer wasn't up in the serving maid's room 'e was certain ye'd gone off to free that lordly bloke wot 'e bonked on the head."

So they had noticed her absense, Dawn thought.  She had come back just in the nick of time.  "Free 'im?  Naw...." she answered, averting her
eyes.  "I felt cooped up in that tiny little room, so I came back down 'ere. I caught sight of a fine 'ankie, I did, and was trying ter get me 'ands on it when that evil man cornered me."

"I tole Johnnie he'd pegged yer wrong."  Robbie guided Dawn back to the tiny partioned cubicle where John was pacing up and down.  "I stuck up for yer,  didn't I John?  An
d I was right.  'Ere she is."

"Argh!"  Guiding his grith back to his c
hair, Black John took a swill from his tankard, eyeing Dawn up and down. "Aye, so she is, and it's 'ere she'll staiy until I say!"   A basket of scones decorated the middle of the table. John pulled forth first one of the triangular-shaped fried bread slices and then another, stuffing his mouth full.  "Keep 'er in sight, Rob me boy, until our little...er...uh..errand is accomplished." Taking an intricately decorated stickpin from his pocket he examined it carefully, then used it to pick his teeth.  "And for God's saike sit down."

Dawn
sat next to Robbie, intertwining her fingers tightly together as she waited expectantly for the inevitable. It was only a matter of time before she was found out. From time to time she craned her neck, watching the door for the ghoul's return.  He'd come back when he couldn't fulfill his deed to reveal that the rich toff had broken free.  When he did, Black John would be suspicious.  Would she be able to talk herself out of John's questioning? 

Leaning back in her chair
, she mulled over all the things she might say.  Batting her eyelashes she'd affect the very picture of innocence, melting even John's hard heart. Prepared for the worst, Dawn braced herself when, at last the tall, skinny red-haired man pushed through the door.  Though the others in the tavern paid scant attention, her eyes were riveted as he walked towards Black John.

"Awroight, I done me duty.  Pay up," he said, holding his hand out, palm up.  Dawn's eyebrows shot up in surprise. What was this?  A numbing fear spread over her
. Had her gentleman  not gotten away quickly enough?  Had he been captured again, only to meet death?

"Yer.....?"  Sliding his index finger across his throat
, Black John  made his meaning all too clear.

"Aye.  I found him roight where yer said he would be.  Tied up as snug as a Christmas goose."  The raspy voice lowered to a whisper.   "I done him in, I did.  And threw his body in the
Thames.  He won't be squawking. Now I wants the rest o' me money."

Tied up?  Right where he said he would be?  The weight of the world seemed to be lifted off of Dawn's shoulders
. He was lying.  He was pretending to a deed he had
not
done just for the money.  Thank God for the man's greedy, lying, evil nature; it had saved her this time.  The haunting depth of the passion she had felt for the handsome gentleman had nearly been her undoing, but now as she left the Devil's Horn with Robbie and Black John, she crossed her fingers, hoping against hope that all would be well.             

Chapter Nine

Bow Street Office
   the sign read.  It was the home of the Bow Street magistrate and his staff of sixty Bow Street Runners, so-called because of their fleetness of foot.  Garrick had wasted no time in seeking them out.  Crime was reaching epidemic proportions.  His own encounter with thieves and brush with death was evidence of it. Accordingly, he meant to be instrumental in putting a stop to it.  That black bearded, amply girthed rogue would be the first to be targeted, and if everything went as it should, he'd see that the younger man and the young doxy got their punishment as well.

I
t is a matter of principal to put such wrong-doers where they can do no more harm,
Garrick thought self-righteously, reaching for his watch out of habit. 
Stolen, Bigod!
How could he have forgotten even for a second? Like his money pouch, stickpin and other valuables, it had been forcibly taken last night.

T
he thought angered him still, but not  half as much as the memory of that painted little strumpet. She had actually tried to make him believe her intent was to help him.  Ha!  He'd be a damned simpleton if he imagined for one minute that she cared about his fate.  Women like that had no hearts!  Ah, no, it had been naught but a ploy.  There had been something up her tattered sleeve, all right. And yet for just a moment he
had
read a softness in those kohl-darkened eyes of hers.  Well, no matter.  The Bow Street Runners would soon put end to her game.

Garrick had not come upon his decision lightly. After returning 
to the safety of his home, he had tossed and turned in bed all night long,  furiously pondering the matter.  At first he'd wanted to  arm himself and chase after his assailants  but had talked himself. That was the kind of foolhardy thing Ollie might do.  But he was far more practical. Taking the law into his own hands could have dire consequences. What then? 

The very thought of those rogues going free set  his jaw ticking in anger. But it was the way of things in
London. Methods of law enforcement were slow, cumbersome, and appallingly outdated.  Why, there hadn't been much of a change since the times of the Great London Fire, Garrick thought with scorn.  Justice was all too often thwarted because of ineptitude.  Obviously there was a need for something more formidable than old men running about the town carrying their lanterns. Night watchmen indeed!  Charleys, so named because they’d been instituted in the reign of Charles II, by God! They were frightfully unsuited to thwart crime and no match for those whose profession was thievary and murder.  London had grown too big for that. 

Something
had to be done, however.  If necessary, he would have every street in London searched until he found the man responsible for his unsavory experience last night.  If he had to walk, nay even run down every street in Lon.......run....runners......

It was then he had happened to remember an article he had read in the newspaper about the Bow Street Runners.  He recalled that they  were employed to catch the most daring and successful criminals, were held in awe by the general public. Sitting bolt upright in bed
, he had known at that moment he'd found the answer. The best known Bow Street Runners were often hired by private citizens as well as by banks to protect or restore their valuable property.  Now at the first crack of dawn, he had decided to seek them out.

Now p
ushing open the door, Garrick let his eyes scan the interior of the Bow Street  office. It was much like any other place of business.  There were chairs and desks and people milling about.  An iron bannister outlined the perimeter of the large room, acting as an indoor fence to keep any unwelcome stragglers out.  A chandelier hung from the elongated ceiling, and Garrick could not help thinking how the architecture was all wrong.  He would have done it much differently, the space a bit more oblong, with more windows, another flight of stairs perhaps, one on each side to keep the flow of people coming and going at an even keel.

Over the fireplace hung a portrait of someone whom he supposed to be either Henry Fielding or his brother John who had in essence started the so-called
Bow Street constables.  Garrick would have placed that painting on another wall and positioned it higher.  Ah well!

Garrick elbowed his way through the throng and stood in front of a large oak desk. Two men were preoccupied with a poor ragged creature whom they were pushing and shoving through the doorway.  It was obvious
that the woman was inebriated, for she kept ranting and raving about the "runners" tracking down her errant husband in exchange for the apples she was selling.  The Bow Street Runners were far more expensive than  the poor woman could afford,thus she was soon forcefully evicted from the premises.

Garrick was ignored
at first, but after clearing his throat a number of times, he attracted the attention of one of the three men sitting behind the desk, a short rotund, balding man with a gray moustache.  Between puffs upon his pipe he questioned Garrick as to the reason for his presence in the office. His attitude made Garrick feel more accused than accuser.

"I was robbed last night and I wish to have my assailants apprehended,"  Garrick answered, running his fingers through his slightly touseled hair.  He winced as he touched the bump
on his head.

"Robbed?  Explain,
" the man said without a flicker of expression on his face.

Garrick did, in very vivid detail, even to the color of the woman's gown.  "I was set upon from behind.  A most cowardly
act, for I dare say I could have protected myself had I been allowed to fight man-to-man."

"Mmmmmm."  The man's piercing brown eyes scrutinized Garrick
, taking in his height, wide shoulders, the strength of his hands as they gripped the rail. "It would seem so." 

"But I didn't get the chance.  I was hit on the head, and when I opened my eyes I was in a warehouse.
” Garick’s voice was a growl as he related his experience.  “My watch, stick pin, money purse and satchel had been stolen."

"I see.  And just what did you do
after this so-called robbery?" The tone of voice was impersonal, as if the man didn’t really care.

"So called?" 
The man’s manner infuriated Garrick. He had been set upon and his possessions taken from him. He might even hae been murdered had he not gotten the upper hand. “Not a so-called robbery but one of fact.  If you want proof, just take a close look at the bump on my head."  Garrick pointed to the offending lump, trying to maintain his calm. No wonder London was crawling with vice if this was the attitude the so-called law keepers affected.

"Mmmmm."  Taking out a pair of spectacles, the man put them on.  "It appears to be a nasy blow."  He eyed Garrick suspiciously. "What did you do after your..
.uh...unfortunate experience?"

"
After?
I went home to bed." 

"And then?"

"Went to sleep, woke up this morning and had breakfast."  Garrick's jaw tightened.  He didn't like the man's manner.  One would have thought
he
was some sort of culprit.   "I suppose you'd like to know what I ate," he injected sarcastically.  "Buttered toast, tea, pork chops and eggs!  Then I made straight for here."

"Do you frequent the docks often?"  There was insinuation in the man's tone of voice, as if to chide Garri
ck for his lack of discretion.

"No!  I'm usually wise enough to avoid the type of people who mull about there, however, i
n this instance my busines..."

"Which is..?"

"I'm an architect!  Garrick Seton by name."  It seemed the man had heard of him for his eyebrows shot up as Garrick spoke. "My business dealings drew me there to talk with a merchant. Needless to say, I never saw him. For all I bloody well known he might have been set upon by thieves too."

"It's entirely possible." The man's
brusque manner immediately became more deferential.  "Gads, the thieves seem to be everywhere.  But little by little they're coming under control"

"I hadn't noticed
," Garrick said sarcastically.

"These things take time.  The West India Dock in the Isle of Dogs with its high walls and armed guards is giving the blighters a devil of a time. Now there are
other enclosed docks planned."

"I know about the do
cks.  I've studied the plans.

"Mmmmm.  Architect you said.  I seem to recall hearing about you.  But what did you say you were at the docks for?"  He seemed
preoccupied by other musings.

Garrick's patience was waning.  He was in a hurry to get this matter se
ttled so he could move on to his office.  Ollie had to be told what had happened.  "I had an appointment with a merchant to show him some plans....but now see here, my good fellow.....  I haven't the time to stand here jabbering all day.  A crime was committed and if you will not aid me in finding the culprit and seeing that he is punished, I will go elsewhere!"  To emphasize his determination, Garrick turned his back and started for the door, but before he could take hold of the knob the man called him back.

"Don't leave, Sir.  You have come to the right place if its thieves you are after." The
hint of a smile softened his visage. "Sorry for the delay but I had to make certain that you were...well.... sincere in your reasons for coming here.  Sometimes those of the underworld send spies to flush out our doings."  He got down to serious matters.  "I assume you have money."

"I can pay your price and I assure you I am no spy."  Taking out his money pouch he hefted it tempti
ngly before the man's greedy gaze. Bow Street officers were known to be a closely knit caste of speculators, self-seeking and unscrupulous, but also daring and efficient when daring and efficiency coincided with their private interest.  Money, it seemed, talked everywhere. This time when Garrick told his story, he had the man's undivided attention. 

"They sound like a devious and dangerous trio all right. The
London robber is like a venomous snake with his hide-away in the dark holes under ground, in hidden back rooms of dirty houses or on the gloomy banks of the Thames.  The females that follow them are in most cases even more devious than the male.  Ferocious."  He punctuated his sentences by puffing on his pipe and blowing the smoke out in a series of small bursts. "And if he is father to a child, he molds it at an early age ito the muddy whirlpool of the town, there to beg, steal and then to perish.  I  loathe them all, but there is little we can do if they have, as many of them do, acquaintances in "high places".  Bribery can be very profitable, dear Sir."

"Yes, I suppose it can," Garrick said drily.  Certainly he had little doubt this
man had his price.

"Well, you did come to the right place.  We bloody well can catch them, and we will.  We don't call ourselves "thief takers" for nothing.  I have just the man for you.  Townsend is his name."  Picking up a bell he rang it over and over until he had
summoned one of the "runners"             

"Yes, Sir!" The man
wore a dun-colored coat and trousars and a yellow vest with a row of nearly thirty small buttons which threatened to pop each time he took a deep breath. He was corpulent and heavy of jowl and was tight-lipped when he tried to smile. He had a prominent nose and bushy brows. Charles Townsend was his name.

"Charles has the nose of a bloodhound.  Quite! He'll  bloody well soon find your attackers.  Just leave the matter to him."  Holding out his hand, palm up, the man at the desk demanded half the fee of twenty shillings paid in advance.  Granting Charles Townsend one of these coins, he nodded his he
ad, taking leave of Garrick. 

"Leave the matter up to me!"  As if to reassure Garrick, Charles Townsend patted him on the back.  "Before the week is out we'll have them locked up.  It will be my pleasure."  As if savoring his victory he licked his lips. "Whole of
London is ringed by the thieves kitchen, but I've got those who'd peach on their own mothers for....."

"A thieves what?"

"Thieves' kitchen.  An unpatroled criminal area into which those who steal have been drilled from childhood to make their safe escapes.  Seven Dials is one!  A place where several streets intersect each other.  Blimey, what a mess it is to try chase a brash young fool down in that area.  There's a large clock there, or at least there used  to be, with large dials.  That's how the area got got its name, you see, but as I was saying, I have ways of making even the most loyal of those blokes sing.  I'll find your black-bearded robber king, all right.  Upon my oath, you'll see him decorate a cell at Newgate  or my name isn't Charles Thompson Townsend, which it
is
.  Your thieves, all of them, will soon find themselves caged birds."

Throwing back his head, the Bow Street Runner laughed
, but Garrick didn't share in his mirth. As he left the Bow Street Office he felt strangely unnerved, a feeling he quickly shrugged off as his own office came into view.  He'd done what was necessary.  He'd be a damned fool to feel any pity. A crime had been committed, and for that the culprits would pay.  It was the way of the world; a man, or woman, had to pay for their sins.  He would not allow himself any regrets.