Gideon the Cutpurse (12 page)

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By late afternoon they had left the hills and valleys of Derbyshire and passed into Needwood Forest in Staffordshire. For two hours they rode through humid, dappled shade, where the air was thick with clouds of midges. Banks of tall bracken lined the dirt track and large blue butterflies of a kind that were unknown to Peter and Kate flapped their iridescent wings and sunned themselves in the rare pools of sunshine. In the silence of the forest the wheels of the carriage seemed to thunder over the rough ground, announcing their presence for miles around.
More troubled than he cared to admit at the news of highwaymen and footpads in the district, Parson Ledbury was quieter than he had been in the morning. When the carriage arrived at a crossroads, he asked the driver to stop. A peddler was selling spoons and tin pans and the parson shouted down to ask him if he knew where the narrower road led. The peddler said that the main road led straight to Lichfield through Kings Bromley, if that was where they were headed--though he had heard tell that a gentleman had had his throat slit from ear to ear on that very road not two days past--whereas the lesser road led to Lichfield but meandered through several villages on the way. He then tried to interest the parson in a set of tin pans, but the parson brushed the man to one side like a buzzing fly and paid no more heed to him. The peddler gave the parson a sly, disgruntled look, wished the company good day, and disappeared into the forest.
"He's not going to sell much there," commented Kate. "Why doesn't he set up his stall in a village instead of in the middle of nowhere?"
Parson Ledbury plucked off his wig and wiped his perspiring head with a handkerchief. He reached into his inside pocket and fingered Mrs. Byng's precious necklace. Then he stroked little Jack's golden curls, warmed by the sun, and sighed deeply. He sat, frowning, on top of the carriage for some time. Jack took hold of the parson's hot fleshy hand in his.
"I promised your mother," the parson said to Jack, "that I should get her family to London without anyone harming a single hair on their heads, and I am a man of my word. I have therefore decided to be prudent. We shall avoid the main road to Lichfield and by way of precaution we shall take the lesser road. It will make our journey longer, but a highwayman is certain to lurk by the main road in his search for easy victims. So we shall outwit him by taking the less direct route. We should, in any case, still reach the George Inn by nightfall."
Hannah was concerned that Jack had sat in the sunshine for too long, and so the parson lifted him from the top of the carriage and posted him, upside down, through the window. Jack giggled. The driver was not so happy. He gave one look at the state of the small track through the woods, and his heart sank. However, he knew better than to express an opinion to his superiors, so he cracked his whip and directed the horses into the overgrown road leading into the woods. The road must have been scarcely passable in winter. As it was, the carriage bumped up and down over the uneven surface, and the passengers bounced up into the air and slapped back down again onto the black leather seats as the wheels sank into deep ruts and potholes. It was exhausting for everyone, especially the horses, but they could not stop if they were to reach the George Inn before dark. A couple of times fallen branches blocked their path and the driver had to climb down to heave them off the road. After an hour the parson left Sidney and the driver to it and joined Hannah and the children in the carriage. The sky grew pink, and the balmy air grew gradually cooler and damper. The party inside the carriage had grown tired of singing songs and talking and had slumped, finally, into silence. Even Jack had given up asking how long it would be before they could stop, and was now leaning against Hannah, half-asleep. Peter and Kate were both desperate to keep awake in the crowded, stuffy carriage, and both kept looking up to check that the other had not succumbed to blurring.
Then, without warning, the carriage juddered to a halt, throwing all the passengers forward. For a moment the labored breathing of the horses and the jingling of brass on the leather tackle were the only sounds to break an uneasy silence.
"What is it now?" bawled the parson. "I shall not be sorry to leave this confounded road. I think I should rather face a highwayman than have my bones rattled by one more pothole!"
The driver's head suddenly appeared at the window. It took everyone a fraction of a second to notice the blood pouring from a wound of the top of his head and to realize that he had been propped up against the side of the carriage like a sack of potatoes.
"Oh, Parson Ledbury," exclaimed Hannah in a terrified whisper, "I think you should be careful what you wish for!"
Someone pulled the door open abruptly, and the unconscious driver collapsed at their feet. All eyes looked down at the injured man and then back up again to the door. No one, not even Hannah, who had a strong urge to scream, made a sound. A pair of impertinent green eyes stared back at them from the doorway. He was a rosy-cheeked man, dressed like a gentleman who had been unable to change his clothes in a fortnight, and he was wearing the sort of smile the Big, Bad Wolf might have given Red Riding Hood from her grandmother's bed. He removed his three-cornered hat and stood before them, head slightly bowed, in a pose that would have been respectful were it not for the gleaming pistol that was aimed directly at the parson's heart.
"I am sorry to impose myself on your charity, ladies and gentlemen," he said, chucking Jack under his chin.
Hannah jerked the child away and sat him on her knee. The highwayman looked at her, taking in her every detail, and Hannah returned his gaze defiantly until he blew her a kiss, at which point she looked down at the floor.
"Be calm, mistress. I take no pleasure in unnecessary violence, I assure you. I merely find myself out of pocket this evening. I do hope that it is not too great an imposition to ask if any of you gentlefolk could grant me the honor of a small loan?"
"Loan, my eye!" shouted Parson Ledbury, although there was a noticeable tremor in his voice. "Go to damnation, sir! I take it you are the infamous Ned Porter--your reputation precedes you, yet you don't fool me! You're naught but a common thief!" And he plucked the wooden cudgel from his belt and took a powerful swipe at the highwayman. The highwayman reacted like lightning, cracking the parson over the knuckles with the butt of his pistol and easily relieving him of his weapon. The parson howled with the excruciating pain of it and bit his lip to stop himself crying out any more. He cradled his bloodied knuckles in the palm of his good hand. Shock and the desire to help the parson caused Peter to leap to his feet. He had not thought what to do but tried to look as defiant as he could. Ned Porter pretended to be scared, and then laughed heartily, pointing the gun in Peter's direction all the while. He kept the cudgel hovering close to the parson's skull.
"Don't be foolish, lad," the highwayman said to Peter in a quiet, silky voice. "'Twould be a shame to leave the world without tasting manhood first. You've a handsome face--think of all the pretty maids you might have stepped out with."
Peter glared back at the highwayman, his cheeks burning. He felt small and helpless and stupid but was unwilling to back down. The parson motioned to Peter to sit, which he reluctantly did after as long a pause as he dared.
"John!" called out the highwayman. "Would you come and help these good folk remember where they've put their valuables?"
"I can't, Ned, not unless you do something with this 'un," replied a gravelly voice. As Ned stepped backward, they saw Sidney being manhandled by a scrawny man whom Kate instantly recognized. "Look," she whispered, "it's the peddler we saw at the crossroads!" John, Ned's accomplice, had his black-nailed fingers clasped over Sidney's mouth and was jerking Sidney's head backward to try to control him. At the same time he held him in a tight armlock, and, if the smothered yelps were anything to go by, Sidney was in considerable pain.
"Let the boy go, you filthy scoundrel!" thundered Parson Ledbury. "You'll hang for this!"
John must have loosened his grip involuntarily for a second, because Sidney managed to bite his hand, drawing blood as he did so. The next moment, uttering a stream of oaths, John released Sidney, who struggled to regain his balance and then staggered toward the carriage. Ned Porter waited for him to come within spitting distance and calmly delivered a brutal blow to the side of his head with his pistol. Hannah and Kate screamed whilst the parson, gray with horror, stood up and made as if to get out of the carriage. Sidney crumpled, unconscious, onto the stony ground, face first.
"Stay where you are!" shouted Ned Porter. "The next person to try my patience gets a bullet through their heart. Empty your pockets!"
Peter and Kate looked to the parson for guidance.
"Oh cousin, oh cousin, what have I done?" muttered the distraught parson. Then he called out, "For pity's sake let me see to the boy!"
Ned pointed the gun at the parson's head and squeezed the trigger. The parson reached into his jacket and pulled out a purse bulging with gold coin. The highwayman snatched it from him and weighed it appreciatively in one hand before passing it over to John, who was sucking at the row of scarlet tooth marks inflicted on him by Sidney. Ned now turned his attention to Hannah. The poor driver was still slumped at her feet, groaning gently. There was now a small pool of blood on the floor of the carriage that was soaking into the hems of Kate's and Hannah's skirts.
"And you, madam, what little treasures do you have to tempt me with?"
Hannah hurriedly dug into her drawstring purse, holding Jack protectively against her. Peter looked up at the parson, whose uncharacteristically pale face was shiny with sweat. His attention was suddenly taken by something that sparkled on the parson's forehead. It was slithering very slowly down from beneath his wig like some glittering snake.
Oh, no!
thought Peter as he realized what it was.
It's Mrs. Byng's diamond necklace. He's been hiding it under his wig!
Hannah held out a plain cotton handkerchief, a comb, and a few pennies for the highwayman's inspection. Peter tried to gain the parson's attention by nudging his foot beneath the dead weight of the driver.
"Keep your pennies, my dear," Ned said to Hannah, "and your handkerchief. I'd rather have a kiss. And one from your flame-haired young charge too."
Ned looked over at Kate, who tried to disappear into the corner of the carriage. At last Peter managed to catch the parson's eye and frantically tried to alert him to the danger by staring fixedly at the escaping strand of diamonds on his forehead. The way the panic-stricken Parson clapped his hand to his forehead was too sudden for the highwayman's suspicions not to be aroused. Ned Porter tore back the parson's hand, and the whole carriage saw Mrs. Byng's diamonds glittering like a small constellation of stars over the parson's wrinkled brow.
With a sharp tug the magnificent necklace dropped heavily into the highwayman's palm.
"John!" he shouted out in delight, dangling the necklace from the barrel of his pistol. "Lady Fortune smiles on us this day!"
Abruptly the highwayman's features were contorted in pain. Confused and bewildered, the five terrified passengers saw a white-shirted arm slide around the highwayman's neck and squeeze.
"Don't be so sure about that," said a familiar voice. "I fancy Lady Fortune has changed her mind."
They watched as a man with blond hair grabbed hold of Ned's pistol and forced him, out of sight, to the ground. Peter leaned out of the window to see none other than Gideon Seymour struggling to pin the highwayman to the ground.
"Gideon!" Peter shouted, overjoyed.
"Help me!" Gideon cried. "Sit on him!"
Peter leaped out of the carriage and did as he was told. Gideon aimed his pistol at John and fired. It missed its target, and a second shot rang out in reply. With a whiff of gunpowder a lead shot lodged itself in the carriage door a couple of inches from Kate's head. A moment later the sound of a horse at a gallop indicated that John, together with the parson's gold, was escaping as fast as he could. Kate, Hannah, Jack, and the parson all tumbled out of the carriage and threw themselves, very willingly, over the struggling highwayman.
"You are a very bad man," scolded Jack as he sat roughly on Ned's head.
"Gideon!" exclaimed Peter, his face wreathed in smiles. "You came back!"
"Oh, Mr. Seymour," breathed Hannah, "you have saved us!"
"Scarcely that," replied Gideon, "or I should have got here
before
you were attacked."
Gideon ran over to Sidney and carefully turned him over. His mouth was bloodied, but he was beginning to stir. Picking something up from the ground between finger and thumb, Gideon said, "He'll live, but I fear he has lost a couple of teeth."
"I'll live too," said the coach driver barely holding on to the carriage door. "And I've a mind to relieve this rogue of some of
his
teeth." He lurched over to where Ned Porter lay pressed into the earth under the combined weight of the party. Ned watched the driver's vacillating foot with terror in his eyes as he took his uncertain aim.
"Come, friend," said Gideon, taking hold of the coach driver's arm. "He'll be hanging by the neck before the month's end. Leave him his teeth so he might make a pretty speech to the ones he leaves behind."
Ned Porter closed his eyes with relief but grimaced as Jack bounced on his head as hard as he could.
Gideon settled Sidney and the driver inside the carriage and asked Hannah to tend to them. Then he untangled the diamond necklace from the long grass where it had fallen and handed it to the parson without a word. Parson Ledbury took it from him and placed it in his pocket.
"Thank you, Mr. Seymour. I am in your debt," said Parson Ledbury.

ELEVEN
Lord Luxon's Tragedy
In which Detective Inspector Wheeler's suspicions are aroused and Gideon recounts how he met Lord Luxon

"It's nice to see a spot of sunshine at last," commented Detective Inspector Wheeler.
"Yes," replied Kate's father distractedly.
Detective Inspector Wheeler and Dr. Dyer were walking alongside the narrow stream that rippled and burbled into the heart of the valley.
"You live in a nice part of the world, Dr. Dyer."
"Yes."
"Look," said the inspector awkwardly. "I don't quite know how to say this and I apologize if it causes you distress, but there's a girl from Kate's school who insists that she saw a ghost yesterday, the figure of a girl in a long white dress of some kind. She also said that the--apparition--was a dead ringer for--sorry. Slip of the tongue. I meant that she looked very much like...Kate."
"I know," said Dr. Dyer. "I've already heard about it through the grapevine. I don't believe in ghosts, Inspector. I can't explain it, but I'm not going to give up on finding my daughter alive on the evidence of one hysterical girl."
"No. Quite. It is strange, though, because a total of five girls reckon they saw Kate. The teacher who was present saw nothing, however. Perhaps, as you say, it's simply a case of mass hysteria. The headmistress says that the whole school has been traumatized by Kate's disappearance. One of the girls said that Kate--I should say the ghost--stuck out her tongue at her."
Dr. Dyer raised an eyebrow.
"What would you say," continued the inspector, "if I told you that after the press conference on Monday, I, along with two constables, saw a girl answering Kate's description lying between the goalposts on the school's soccer pitch? Whoever it was gave us quite a scare--there and somehow not there, if you know what I mean. I don't wish to use the word ghost, but the term could fit. I'm afraid she disappeared before we could get to her."
Now the inspector had Dr. Dyer's undivided attention. "What happened? Where did she go?" asked Kate's father without pausing for breath. "Did she say anything? Was she in white?"
The inspector looked quizzically at Dr. Dyer.
"We saw her from a distance. She had red hair and looked like she was wearing a long, green dress. An unusual garment--not that I know much about fashion, but it looked more like something out of a costume drama than an evening dress. It was certainly not the sort of dress I'd expect to see a twelve-year-old wearing. Anyway, if the constables hadn't seen her, I might have thought I'd imagined her. We searched the grounds but there was no trace of her. Dr. Dyer, is there anything you would like to tell me about this case that you hadn't thought to tell me already?"
"No. Why?"
"I thought you said you didn't believe in ghosts."
"No, I don't--which doesn't stop me looking at the same evidence through a different filter and coming to my own conclusions."
"Well," said the inspector, "if you do come to any conclusions, I hope you'll feel able to share them with me. Obviously you and Mr. and Mrs. Schock will be the first to know of any new developments in our investigation."
"Thank you, Inspector."
An hour later the inspector received a phone call from one of his team assigned to surveying the NCRDM laboratory. He told him that Dr. Dyer had indeed turned up and had been seen entering Dr. Williamson's office where the NASA scientists were currently based.
Detective Inspector Wheeler chewed his pencil thoughtfully.
Brilliant scientists they might be,
he said to himself,
but they're sadly mistaken if they think they can keep a secret from Dan Wheeler.
Then the policeman got into his car to drive to the nearest supermarket to stock up on ready-made meals-for-one for his freezer.