SV - 05 - Sergeant Verity and the Swell Mob. (4 page)

Two
more boys ran out into Trafalgar Street from the same turning. Those who were
bundling up the dummies' clothes now lobbed the bundles back along the line of
what appeared to be a human chain. Coats, trousers, capes and fancy waistcoats
passed down the road with incredible dexterity, then turned the corner and
were lost to sight.

Inside the shop,
the two boys who were searching for their rubber ball dived here and there,
overturning the piles of folded silk, knocking the rolls of worsted to the
floor. Suitor and his man struggled to hold them as a female dummy in the shop
itself fell across the counter and broke into several pieces. But the lads were
far too nimble for the outstretched arms of the men. Ducking and dodging, the
ragged boys seemed less intent on finding their ball or even robbing the shop
than on creating havoc with its contents.

Little
Billy, the leader of the chain of boys outside had denuded four of the dummies
when Mr Suitor looked up and gave a cry of anguish. But it was better to suffer
the pavement robbery than to leave the other pair of boys to smash everything
in the shop itself. However, he went so far as to stand in the doorway and
utter a shrill cry for help to the world at large. At this, one of the boys in
the shop leapt upon his back, clamping Suitor's arms to his sides. Little
Billy, turning from the dummy upon which he was engaged, then kicked the
proprietor deftly between the legs.

'Stash yer gab!'
he yapped in his harsh treble voice.

With Suitor groaning in
despair as he supported himself over the counter, and his assistant wringing
his hands in token of abject surrender, Little Billy and his ragged boys worked
with great thoroughness along the pavement. Billy had finished the section of
dummies which represented smiling young gentlemen and was now beginning on
their stouter country cousins. The first of these was a plump effigy of a
well-covered man in frock-coat and tall hat. Its round red face was ornamented
by black moustaches, waxed at the tips, the black hair beneath the hat itself
flattened for neatness.

Little
Billy looked down to the button which held the frock-coat across the broad
midriff. His nimble fingers began to free it. Then, to his dismay, the dummy's
hand clamped itself like the collar of the pillory round the back of his neck.
The effigy spoke.

'Right, my lad!'
it said. 'You done your thieving for today!'

Billy
attempted to struggle but he felt himself lifted bodily in a pair of brawny
arms. Sergeant Verity, as though holding a mere baby, handed him to the
uniformed figure of Constable Meiklejohn who now stepped out of the corner
beyond the Emporium. Wrenching himself round in Meiklejohn's arms, Little Billy
bawled a desperate warning to the other ragged boy who had been stripping the
dummies with him.

'Run Todger! It's the bloody law!'

Todger looked up from his
preoccupation with wrenching a pair of Sydenham trousers off the legs of an
upturned wax figure. What he saw was the stalwart figure of Sergeant Verity,
fixing him with a scowl of disapproval. And then Verity took a strange little
stick from the capacious pocket of his private-clothes frock-coat. Attached to
the stick was a flat square of wood. Still scowling, he raised the stick above
his head, twirled the wood rapidly and set up a raucous grinding sound with it.
Todger knew the sound only too well. Verity had sprung his rattle.

Dropping
the bundle of Sydenham trousers, Todger sprinted away down Trafalgar Street
like a champion, driving the rest of the human chain before him. Verity positioned
himself, glowering, in the doorway of Mr Suitor's Emporium. His bulk effectively
blocked the escape of the two ragged boys who had gone in there after their
ball. One behind the other, they now charged at his belly with heads lowered.

What
might have seemed like blubber proved to be solid muscle. The first boy
appeared to bounce straight back, losing his footing and tripping over a bale
of silk. The second one ran his nose and mouth against the hard base of
Verity's palm as the sergeant handed him off. Both got to their feet, swaying
dizzily from the impacts.

Without a word, Verity strode
forward. He jerked the two youths upward by the scruffs of their necks, holding
them off the floor. Next, as though they weighed nothing at all, he held each
of them to one side of him at arm's length. Only then did his face grow a
deeper red with exertion, as he brought the two dangling boys together. Their
two heads, each bowed by the way he held them, met with a crack that was
audible in the street outside. When he dropped them, they remained cowering on
the floor. Verity took a step backward.

'Right, Constable Meiklejohn!'
he called. 'In 'ere! Two sets o' handcuffs and a truncheon just for safety's
sake.'

Leaving
Meiklejohn to deal with the disorder in the shop itself, he went out into the
street again. The last of Little Billy's human chain was disappearing round the
corner of the side street, Todger bringing up the rear. It was precisely as he
had expected, and he knew that he had sprung his rattle at the required moment.
Just as Todger and the last of the young thieves reached the corner, they
paused, jigged uncertainly on one leg for an instant, and then turned about.
Todger and his followers were pelting back in a rout towards the Emporium.
Their forearms worked like pistons in an effort to gain more speed.

The cause of this change in
direction was not yet in sight, but Verity could hear the heavy boots of the
uniformed men, whom he had positioned behind a door in Tidy Street. Six of them
rounded the corner, stalwart figures in belted tunics with truncheons drawn. At
Verity's call, he and Meiklejohn stepped into the roadway, cutting off the
retreat of Todger and his companions.

After
that it was almost routine. Several of the ragged boys stopped running and gave
themselves up. Most of the rest had hesitated for too long on seeing Verity and
Meiklejohn in their path. Before they could recover their wits, the uniformed
men had overtaken them. With wrists handcuffed behind their backs, they stared
dumbly at the scene of their defeat.

Only Todger fought on. He came
towards Verity at a run, ducking and weaving, though avoiding the error of
trying to knock his adversary down. Verity lunged at him, but Todger was under
his arm and sprinting away up Trafalgar Street towards the dark iron bridge and
the station. Within minutes he would be lost in the crowds, perhaps even on his
way back to the Lambeth slums from which the gang had set out at dawn.

Verity and two uniformed men
plodded after him up the hill. But Todger was far nimbler and had a good start.

'Stop,
thief!' Verity bellowed after him. Todger was running along the pavement past
the Emporium. As though to impede his pursuers still further, he was knocking
down the wax dummies as he passed. Under the feet of Verity and his men, the
slope of the street began to fill with rolling limbs and trunks.

All the dummies stripped by
the thieves were down. Just ahead of Todger were those still displaying female
fashions. The first of these was a striking example of portraiture. Its profile
had the golden enigmatic beauty of Pharonic funeral sculpture, a fine arch of
brows above expressionless eyes. The gloss of scented hair was drawn back in an
elegant coiffure from the line of the forehead and nose. In casting the figure
the artist had given it a straight back and narrow waist, of the best fashion,
underemphasising the breasts and making the thighs firm and trim. His only
erotic licence appeared to be in a certain tight cheekiness of the rump. The
result was displayed in a linen blouse and a pair of close-fitting American
riding trousers made of pale blue cotton.

Todger
had no time to appreciate such details. He raced up the pavement, making no
further effort to delay his pursuers by throwing down the models displayed. As
he approached the female effigy, the beautiful eyes under their fine brows
looked quickly in his direction and were still again almost at once. It was
only when he sprinted past the warm-skinned figure that Miss Jolly thrust a
neat foot between his own, and Todger went sprawling into the gutter.

Even then the hunt
was not over. Picking himself up,

Todger
pounded onward. If anything, his lead over Verity and the other officers was
increasing. But Jolly was close behind him. Though the American riding trousers
were tighter, they were better suited to running than skirts would have been.
More to the point, Todger and his pursuers were far more winded than she. So
long as she ran, as if walking, with a tight little swagger of her hips, the
young thief would gain on her. Abandoning decorum, she began to stride out.
After a few steps the shoddy stitching burst and the seam of the breeches
opened with the rhythm of her steps in a smooth golden smile across the seat of
the garments. The sun caught this warm silken texture of skin. By now even the
uniformed men who had retired winded were taking heart once more. Open-mouthed
and eager-eyed, they set off once again, racing after their youthful quarry.

It was
not to be expected that the girl could match Todger's strength. Instead she
kept pace just behind him, waiting keen-eyed as a cat for his first error of
judgement. It came when his foot slipped backward on a cobble through sheer
fatigue. He might have regained his balance, but Jolly was too quick for him. A
deft two-handed push to one side sent Little Billy's lieutenant sprawling for
the last time.

Ten minutes later the dark
shape of the police van turned into Trafalgar Street from York Place. Verity
had assembled Meiklejohn, the six other uniformed constables and Miss Jolly.
Handcuffed and dejected, Little Billy, Todger and eight juvenile accomplices
were put aboard the Black Maria. The six Brighton constables and Miss Jolly
went with them, Verity and Meiklejohn walking behind.

Only
then did the man who had watched the entire incident from the dark tunnel of
the iron bridge move from the shadows, walking in the opposite direction. A
thoughtful scowl marked the set of his features. Contrary to this appearance,
Old Mole was unusually pleased by the events which he had just witnessed.

•      *      *

Meiklejohn,
like Verity, was an officer of the Private-Clothes Detail from Whitehall Police
Office, Scotland Yard. He, too, had once been a sergeant. But then there had
been an unfortunate matter of grievous bodily harm inflicted on a member of the
public during a raid on a brothel in Langham Place. Thanks to the complaints of
a tall blonde whore, Helen Jacoby, he was now a mere constable again. But in
his private conversation with Verity, as they walked back through the warm
Brighton streets, he showed an easy sense of equality.

'
You
sure it's right?' he asked for
the twentieth time. 'Using a young bitch like Jolly? She's thieved, she's
whored, she's perjured herself. If I was to pick myself a copper's nark, she'd
be last in the list.'

Verity
set his tall hat more firmly on his head, patted his moist cheeks with a
spotted handkerchief and blew the ends of his moustaches with the effect of
summer heat.

Trustworthy, Mr Meiklejohn,'
he said smugly. 'I'd vouch for her — word and deed.'

He
gave the dreamy smile of a high-flyer on seeing a sinner brought to redemption.

'P'raps you would,' said
Meiklejohn sceptically,' 'cept she could have my neck in a rope as well as
yours, if you happen to be wrong. What's she ever done but sing Queen's
evidence a couple of times to save her own pretty skin?'

'Saw
the error of her ways, Mr Meiklejohn,' said Verity firmly. 'Twice she gave
information regarding Lieutenant Verney Dacre and his deeds of darkness.
Railway gold robbery here and the matter o' the American mint in Philadelphia.
That's repentance, Mr Meiklejohn!'

'Only when Mr Dacre tanned
Miss Jolly's bare backside with his pony-switch!' said Meiklejohn sourly.
'Repentance be buggered!'

'All different now, Mr
Meiklejohn. 's all different now.' 'Blessed if I see how.'

They passed under the cast-iron colonnade of the Theatre
Royal in New Road, the oriental onion domes of the Royal Pavilion rising like a
fairy palace beyond the lawns. Verity paused to read a theatre bill,
advertising
The Colleen Bawn
.
Then he turned magisterially to his companion.

'Law of 1838, Mr
Meiklejohn. That's what's different.'

'Law of
what?'

'Conditional pardon. That's
what Jolly got for all her crimes. Means she don't serve time in gaol but
commits herself to an institution for the reformation of offenders. But she
got to stay there the rest of her sentence, keep its rules and take its
punishments. Any running off or contrariness to her keepers and it's back to
gaol again. The whole sentence begins again from the first day, as if she'd
never started it. I think you'll find her trustworthy.'