Archie's Battleflat Adventures: The Harriman Mystery (25 page)

“
Ow!”

Grinning
in delight, Archie gripped the bag more firmly. For a moment, the
dark figure disappeared from sight. He could do little but follow
the weight of the bag right around as it spun him in a tight
circle. Using the momentum, he swung the bag more forcefully at the
dazed figure behind him. He fought the urge to yell with delight at
the heavy thump that met his ears. The man swore and staggered
backward, clutching his head.

The mask
slipped to one side, revealing enough of Lord Brentwood’s face to
confirm Archie’s suspicions.

The
weight of the bag had begun to make his arm ache, but he refused to
stop and swap hands. He could hear the volley of muffled curses
behind him, and wondered if Brentwood would take precious moments
to right the mask, or ditch it altogether now he had been
seen.

Bursting
through the graveyard gate, he kept hold of the metalwork for long
enough to slam it firmly behind him, the metallic bang echoing
hollowly through the night air.

Having
no sooner cleared the graveyard, and all it contained, he almost
screamed at the sight of a man approaching swiftly from the
right.

“
Run! Archie, go home and don’t stop for anything!” the man
shouted. He held what looked like a pistol in his hand, and was
motioning wildly down the track toward Archie’s house. “Go!” he
shouted again when Archie hesitated.

Glancing
down the track, Archie saw two other men heading toward them at a
fast run. “Go!” the man shouted again, vaulting over the fence and
disappearing into the graveyard.

Archie
ran several steps forward, his gaze locked on the two approaching
men. Were they going to try to snatch the bag? Archie gripped it
firmly and braced himself. He watched in amazement as the men
practically ignored him and sprinted straight past, heading toward
the graveyard.

It was
all Archie needed to lunge into action. Without hesitation he began
to run as fast as his legs would carry him. Although his eyes were
locked on the familiar reassurance of home, his ears were tuned to
any sound of movement behind him, but there were no loud bangs, no
shouting and no sound of anyone giving chase.

It
seemed to take an age before he reached the kitchen door.
Frightening his family was the last thing on his mind but a killer
was on the loose. Whoever the men were who had gone to the
graveyard, Archie was now convinced they were after the
murderer.

Bursting
through the door, he slammed it firmly behind him and swept through
the kitchen, ignoring his mother’s startled gasp as he tore into
the sitting room. His father was seated in his habitual chair
beside the fire, and lurched to his feet as he spied his
son.

“
Archie? What the devil?”

Archie
stood for a moment, gasping for air, the bag still clutched tightly
in his hand. Edward came to stand beside him, one hand on each of
Sammy and Ben’s shoulders as they waited.

“
Killer,” Archie gasped, nodding toward the door. Now that the
moment had come, how did he explain what had just happened? After
all, he had no real evidence that the man who had ordered him home
wasn’t working
with
the murderer.

“
What? What are you going on about?” Jack demanded, his voice
thundering with menace.

Suddenly, the kitchen door burst open. Splintered pieces of
wood showered across the kitchen. The loud blast of wood hitting
the wall was accompanied by Marjorie’s scream as a cloaked figure
with the macabre face invaded the kitchen.

Marjorie
screamed again.

Jack
took two steps toward the kitchen when the figure appeared in the
doorway. Although Archie had seen the face twice more than he
really wanted to, he had never seen it properly in full light
before. The sight was something he would never forget. He winced as
Betsy’s scream accompanied Marjorie’s.

“
Get here you,” the unwelcome guest growled. “Give me that
bag.”

Determined not to let the fear show, Archie wondered what had
happened to the men who had gone into the graveyard. Surely they
hadn’t all been murdered, but where were they? Were they on their
way? Or had something happened to them?

Archie
had no way of knowing, and couldn’t risk depending on
reinforcements that wouldn’t be arriving. Instead, it was down to
him and Edward.

“
Brace yourself,” he whispered to Edward. Turning back toward
the man in the mask, he shook his head slowly.

“
You know something,
Brentwood?
Even if you took the bag,
I still have enough evidence to send you to the
gallows.”

The mask
was white, with small round holes cut where the eyes lay. At first
glance, the mask was twisted and gnarled, but now, on careful
inspection, it appeared to be pigskin, stretched awkwardly into the
shape of a face. It was almost luminescent, and Archie wondered if
it had been painted. The thin lips Archie had seen on the afternoon
of Mr Harriman’s murder, was in fact pigskin stretched over Lord
Brentwood’s lips. The shadows of the mask made the teeth beneath
look brown, although now he had come to think about it, he couldn’t
remember seeing Lord Brentwood’s teeth – or had never really paid
all that much attention to them to think about it. He suspected
that Lord Brentwood’s teeth weren’t in all that good
condition.

“
It’s
Lord Brentwood
to you,” the man snarled. The room was filled
with shocked gasps, as Lord Brentwood snatched the mask off and
slapped it unceremoniously on the table. Tugging the hood down, he
seemed oblivious to his dishevelled state as he stared in almost
hatred at Archie.

“
You have been enough trouble to me, boy. Give me that
bag.”

“
Archie?
What
is this all about?” Jack demanded cautiously, edging closer
to his gun resting above the fireplace behind him.

“
Touch that gun and you die.” The low snarl drew everyone’s
attention to the wicked looking pistol nestled in Lord Brentwood’s
hands.

Although
the words were aimed at Jack, the gun was pointed at
Archie.

Knowing
that Brentwood was looking for a reason to shoot him, Archie had to
think on his feet. “Do you think I am the only one who knows where
the evidence is? Do you think that killing me will mean you are off
the hook?” Archie taunted, his voice almost sing-songed.

“
Archie.”

He could
hear the tone of warning in his dad’s voice but refused to be cowed
by it.

“
You aren’t going to get away with murdering either Mr
Harriman, or Mrs Humble,” Archie continued. “Justice or not, you
are still going to face justice yourself. There are men after you.
Do you seriously think they will let you get away with
it?”

“
You are forgetting, little boy,” Brentwood taunted. “I
am
the law, and I can do
as I please.”

“
Not quite,” the new arrival drawled from behind
Brentwood.

Lord
Brentwood spun around, swinging his gun around to point it at the
stranger who now stood panting in the doorway.

Edward
sidled closer to Jack, dragging Ben and Sammy with him. All three
boys looked amazed and intrigued at the drama being played out
before them. For once both twins remained silently watchful. Archie
had never seen them so still, and would have teased them about it,
at any other time – but not right now.

“
We know who you are, Brentwood, and we know about
all
of your
crimes.”

“
He killed Mr Harriman and Mrs Humble,” Archie added, his eyes
turning to the man beside the door.

“
Oswalde? What the hell are you doing here? Go home,”
Brentwood snapped, clearly unimpressed by the man’s
status.

“
I am afraid that isn’t possible, you see the powers that be
have sent me here to bring you to justice. They are fed up with
your greed. You have gone too far. The game is up, Brentwood. It’s
time to face justice.”

Brentwood began to shake his head. “I’ve done nothing you can
prove.”

The man
paused, knowing this was true.

“
We have lots of evidence,” Archie argued, glaring at
Brentwood. “I saw you kill Mr Harriman with my own
eyes.”

CHAPTER TWELVE

“
You are a mere ignorant little mill boy who knows nothing,”
Brentwood scoffed, casting Archie a look of pure hatred. “Do you
really think people will listen to your word against
mine?”

“
I think that his word, on top of the evidence we have back in
London, is enough to bring you to justice,” Oswalde
argued.

“
What crimes? What? What do you have that you think will bring
me to justice?” Brentwood challenged.

“
We know all about your forgery operation.” Gasps fell across
the room. Archie saw that another man had arrived in the kitchen
and now stood in front of Marjorie, listening to the conversation
from the shadows. Archie wondered where the third man was, and
wondered if he had remained outside in case Brentwood
ran.

“
Forgery? I don’t know what you mean,” Brentwood
scoffed.

“
We know you are up to your ears in debt. There is a list of
debtors in London who want to speak to you and have already given
us evidence of extensive debts, billets and such that are still
outstanding. Your bank has already confirmed that your coffers are
empty. Although you did have a large amount of money deposited into
your account a couple of years ago, it wasn’t enough to cover your
luxurious lifestyle and there wasn’t enough to pay all of your
debts. The robbery of the gold bars from the docks gave us a trail
to the warehouse you used to store the gold until you could go down
to London to fetch it in your luxurious carriage. After all, nobody
would think of searching a Justice for evidence, now would they? Mr
Harriman had a past history of crime, and you used that to your
advantage, didn’t you? Although we cannot be sure, we think you
crossed swords while Harriman was working as a blacksmith, and you
enlisted his help. Paid him handsomely too, didn’t you? Or so he
thought you were going to pay him for his services. What you
actually gave him in payment for minting your stolen gold was that
run-down hovel on the outskirts of a small village in the middle of
nowhere.”

Oswalde
slowly inched forward, aware that Brentwood was watching him
closely. He wished he could motion to Archie to stand behind his
dad and away from danger, but daren’t draw Brentwood’s attention
back to the brave young lad.

“
You have no proof,” Brentwood spat in anger. His lips curled
arrogantly.

“
I do,” Archie piped up, grinning at Oswalde.

Brentwood didn’t get the time to object to Archie
disappearing into the front room. With a flurry of movement, he
reappeared moments later, carrying his precious bundle. He
hesitated, reluctant to lay it out on the table where Brentwood
could grab it, and instead held it tightly.

Oswalde
made to move toward Archie to relieve him of the bundle, only for
Brentwood to lift his gun slightly in warning. The last thing
Oswalde wanted was for either Archie or any of his family to get
hurt, so he reluctantly stood still, his eyes darting from
Brentwood to the parcel Archie held.

Archie
dug into his pocket and glanced regretfully down at his hand. He
had gotten used to the familiar weight of the coin in his pocket,
and suddenly didn’t want to give it up, but it wasn’t his and if it
helped to lock Brentwood up, then it was worth the
sacrifice.

Shooting
Oswalde a grin, he flicked it toward the man, who snatched it from
thin air and stared consideringly down at it for several moments.
The grin he shot Archie showed he was impressed and pleased with
Archie’s foresight.

Archie’s
shoulders straightened in pride and he dug into his pocket once
more, this time removing the second, perfectly cast coin. Although
this one had more value, it didn’t mean as much to Archie, who this
time threw it across the room toward Oswalde. Brentwood tried to
step in its path to snatch it first, but the coin sailed straight
past his ear and landed with a plop in Oswalde’s fist.

Oswalde
whistled. “It’s a good fake,” he declared casually. “I can see why
so many people have been fooled for so long.”

“
Fake? Forgery? What’s going on?” Jack demanded. “What has
this got to do with Archie?”

Oswalde
sighed, knowing that he needed Brentwood to confess to a bit more -
with witnesses. Jack and Marjorie Balfour, and Archie, would be
more than enough if Brentwood confirmed to Oswalde that his
suspicions were indeed correct.

“
Brentwood here spent all of the family money on luxury goods,
gambling and parties, and spent practically everything. Eventually
though, his greed caught up with him and the people he owed money
to began to wonder if they would get their money back.”

Oswalde
glanced at Jack, who stood in rapt silence. “They couldn’t of
course, because Brentwood here didn’t have the money to pay them.
At the time there was a shipment of gold coming in from Africa. It
should have been a secret, but, of course, word got out. Brentwood
here used some of his erm, less refined contacts to arrange for the
gold to be stolen and kept in a warehouse until Brentwood could
collect it. We know that he took it to his hunting lodge in
Shropshire where the blacksmith – Harriman - smelted it down and
used the moulds he created to make guineas. Lots of
them.”