Gideon the Cutpurse Read online

  ‘I can’t, Ned, not unless you do something with this ’un,’ replied a gravelly voice. As Ned stepped backwards they saw Sidney being manhandled by a scrawny man whom Kate instantly recognised. ‘Look,’ she whispered, ‘it’s the pedlar we saw at the crossroads!’ John, Ned’s accomplice, had his black-nailed fingers clasped over Sidney’s mouth and was jerking his head backwards 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 towards 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, grey 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 out 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 which 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 realised 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 flamehaired 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 his 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 whiteshirted arm slide around the highwayman’s windpipe 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 floor. 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 disappearing 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.

  CHAPTER 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 apologise 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 on 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 traumatised 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 woul
d 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.

  With infinite patience Gideon coaxed the horses down the tortuous dark path back to the main road. If Mrs Byng could have seen the sorry state of her loved ones after only one day’s travelling, she would have insisted they all return to Baslow Hall at once. As it was, Hannah did what she could for Sidney, Parson Ledbury and the driver and wrapped Jack up in her cape and sat him on her lap. After all the excitement, the little boy’s teeth were chattering with cold and tiredness. He was such an uncomplaining child that it was easy to forget that Jack was not in good health. Sidney and the driver fell asleep almost as soon as the carriage started moving but Parson Ledbury sat in silence in the darkness, crestfallen at what he had allowed to happen to his charges. After half an hour he reached up for one of his bottles of port and soon began to feel more cheerful. He resisted the temptation to offer some to Gideon. He may have arrived in the nick of time, said the Parson to himself, but Mr Seymour was only Mrs Byng’s servant and not to be trusted. No, by Heaven, a leopard doesn’t change its spots that easily.

  As Peter and Kate had come through the ordeal relatively unscathed, they sat up on top with Gideon. It was their job to peer into the darkness and look out for branches which could slash at their faces or topple them off their high seats. Each time the carriage dipped into one of the deep ruts in the road, Ned Porter, who had been bound tight down like another piece of luggage, let out an involuntary groan. The motion of the coach had nearly lulled Kate to sleep and she was now leaning heavily on Peter. He didn’t mind, she was keeping him warm. He breathed in the night air, cool and sweet after the heat of the day, and looked up at the sky. Through fluttering layers of birch leaves he glimpsed the canopy of stars twinkling down at him from the other side of the universe and remembered what Dr Dyer had told him about dark matter. Then Peter glanced up at Gideon’s face, calm and intent as he balanced the reins between thumb and forefinger and talked to the horses. This is not my time, Peter thought. I shouldn’t be here. But I don’t want to go back – not just yet.

  ‘I’m glad you’re travelling with us again, Gideon,’ he said.

  Gideon’s arm suddenly shot out and broke off a branch that would have smashed into Peter’s face.

  ‘I promised I would help you,’ he said.

  Once they were back on the main Lichfield road, travelling became much easier. Peter started to feel drowsy. He decided that this beat driving in a boring car down a boring motorway glowing with orange street lights any day.

  He must have fallen asleep because the next thing he knew a terrible, metallic crashing sound made Peter jump. Next to him, Kate, too, woke up with a start. When he opened his eyes it seemed that he was looking at the world through smoked glass.

  ‘Peter!’ cried Kate. ‘We’re blurring at the same time. Oh, this could be it! We’re back!’

  At first all Peter saw was a grid of yellow lines painted on tarmac. Then, as he looked up, it became clear where he was. He met the horrified gaze of a mother who had just allowed her overflowing supermarket trolley to crash into the side of a shiny red sports car. Her two toddlers were pointing at Peter and Kate and were trilling with delight. Delight, however, was not the first emotion the grown-ups were feeling. The irate driver leaped out of the sports car and started shouting at their mother.

  ‘They should bring in driving licences for those things! Why can’t you look where you’re …?’ When a boy and a girl in eighteenthcentury costume floating a metre above Sainsbury’s car-park caught his attention, his voice trailed off in mid-sentence and his jaw dropped open in a peculiarly unattractive way. Kate could not resist giving him a little wave.

  Peter cast his eyes around him, taking in the dull, overcast sky heavy with snow, the row of artificial Christmas trees on the roof of the supermarket, the growing group of shoppers who stood, rooted to the spot, staring at this bizarre apparition. Someone started to scream. One man took a camera out of his pocket and aimed it at Peter and Kate. Kate jerked her head around as the camera flashed. And then, as though someone had used a remote control to change channels, Peter now focussed on that other scene which had always been skirting around the edges of his awareness. This was the scene that consisted of a starry sky and swaying trees and horses snorting and stamping their feet. For a moment he could flick between the summer’s night and the wintry car-park at will. Then an anxious voice rose to the surface of his consciousness.

  ‘Master Peter! Mistress Kate! You are fading. If it is your intention to leave this world, fare thee well … I wish you God speed …’

  But at the sound of Gideon’s voice, Kate and Peter were sucked back to 1763 with a sickening, lurching thump. Gideon had stopped the carriage and was staring at them, waiting for their forms to settle.

  ‘No!’ cried Kate accusingly. ‘Why did you call us back?’

  ‘I am truly sorry, Mistress Kate, I meant only to wish you farewell,’ Gideon replied.

  ‘What did you have to say that for?’ hissed Peter. ‘It wasn’t his fault.’

  Kate did not seem convinced and said nothing. Gideon clicked his tongue and pulled on the reins and the four horses strained against the weight of the carriage once more. They sat without speaking for a long time and then all three turned round abruptly when they heard Ned Porter speak. They had all but forgotten he was there. His voice was muffled for he could only manage to lift his head an inch or so.

  ‘I had a feeling in my bones that it was those two. I’ve been told to keep a weather eye open for them. You’ve got a mighty valuable cargo there … Mr Seymour …’

  ‘Who told—?’ Gideon stopped himself.

  Ned laughed. ‘So it is you. You’re in great demand it seems, Mr Seymour – at least in some circles. Though I should not care to be in your shoes, not for a casket of dia
mond necklaces.’

  ‘Open your mouth one more time and you’ll find a gag in it,’ warned Gideon.

  Ned, however, would not be put off.

  ‘I hope you had good reason to cross the Thief-taker and his henchman for I do not rate your chances of getting away. The Tar Man has promised to wring the necks of every rogue between Lichfield and Covent Garden if they do not peach on you. Although a certain diamond necklace might be enough to persuade me to keep my mouth shut …’

  ‘Enough!’ cried Gideon.

  Ned did not utter another word but Peter did not care for the amused expression that he could make out flickering across the highwayman’s face by the light of the moon.

  Kate leaned over and spoke softly into Peter’s ear: ‘What did he mean? Who is Gideon? Parson Ledbury is very suspicious of him. Do you think we can trust him?’

  Peter turned round to look at her, an expression of fury on his face.

  ‘How can you say that after everything he’s done for us?’ he practically spat at her in a violent whisper.

  ‘Okay, okay,’ mouthed Kate, holding up her hands in appeasement. ‘Sorry I spoke. And what’s a thief-taker when he’s at home?’

  ‘I don’t know! And I’m not going to ask Gideon now.’

  When they reached Lichfield, Gideon asked the nightwatch – a bent and decrepit old man who would have been lucky to hold his own against a child, let alone a hardened criminal – for directions to the magistrate’s house.

  It was past midnight when they arrived at a substantial fourstorey house built of thin red bricks. Parson Ledbury rapped firmly on the door with his good fist. When there was no response the Parson’s thunderous bellowing echoed around the small front yard and this did not fail to arouse the irritable magistrate from his slumbers. A pair of wooden shutters on the second floor opened.

  ‘Who the devil makes such a noise at this hour?’ shouted a voice from inside the dark house. Then the shutters creaked closed again and they could hear movement in the house and see candlelight through the wooden slats. The company waited in subdued, exhausted silence. Above them a million stars shone down from a sky swept clean by a warm south-westerly wind. The three spires of Lichfield Cathedral, inky black against the night sky, were sharply silhouetted against the twinkling universe beyond. Presently the magistrate appeared at the door. He peered out into the darkness, bleary-eyed and dressed in a long nightgown and turban. His tiny wife and a burly-looking servant carrying a lantern appeared at his side and all three cowered in the hall.