A Very Unusual Pursuit Read Free Page B

heaved a sigh. ‘I’ll sit down if I may. Me knees ain’t what they used to be.’ Shuffling over to Birdie’s vacant stool, she lowered herself onto it and said, ‘Fact o’ the matter is, I’ve had three boys vanish. And afore you say they’ve legged it, let me tell you it ain’t so. For they took nothing with ’em that they had no right to, and was happy in their work.’
    Sarah went on to explain that one of the boys had been seen in the custody of a policeman before his disappearance. The other two had gone missing in the same part of town, near the Whitecross Street market. But though inquiries had been made at all the local station houses and police courts, no trace of the boys had been found.
    ‘Mebbe you should look farther afield,’ Alfred suggested. ‘In Clerkenwell or Shoreditch—’
    ‘We tried every lock-up.’ Sarah spoke flatly. ‘Hatton Garden. Old Street. Lambeth. No one’s seen ’em.’
    ‘I bin trawling for days,’ her son volunteered, sounding as if he wasn’t pleased about it. Birdie noted his resentful air and wondered how Sarah had persuaded him to take part in the search at all.
    Then she glanced back at Sarah and stopped wondering. The woman’s eyes were like chips of slate.
    ‘It’s my belief they was snatched, not collared,’ Sarah went on. ‘Some cove in a trap’s uniform marched ’em off afore they knew it was a lurk. But my question to you is: who done it and why?’ Before Alfred could answer, she peered up at him with a smile of almost sinister goodwill and continued, ‘There’s many a lay requires children. We all know that. And I bin a-making inquiries among those as may need a young ’un for their business, now and then – for which no one condemns ’em—’
    Alfred cut her off brusquely. ‘I ain’t got yer boys, Sal.’ His tone was grim, his gaze even grimmer. ‘I don’t feed children to bogles.’
    ‘I know that, Fred,’ Sarah assured him. ‘You’re straight as they come, and sharp besides. You’d never stoop so low. Me and Charlie was wondering, however, if you might know some other feller in the same line o’ work as ain’t got yer morals.’
    Another bogler? Birdie stared at Sarah in amazement. Though bogling was an ancient trade – and an honourable one – it was also very rare. Boglers weren’t like knife-grinders or dog catchers.
    ‘I’m the only bogler hereabouts,’ Alfred insisted.
    ‘You’re sure o’ that?’ Sarah didn’t seem convinced. ‘He might be new in town.’
    But Alfred shook his head. ‘You’re looking in the wrong place,’ he assured her, then went on to make a suggestion. ‘There’s many a cadger likes to have a crippled child hanging off ’em, when they want to wring hearts,’ he pointed out. ‘And many a cracksman would like a little ’un to squirm through iron bars into locked houses. You’ll find no shortage o’ rascals as would snatch a boy – or a girl – when they can’t find no child willing to work for ’em.’
    ‘I know that,’ Sarah acknowledged. ‘I also know most o’ the rascals you’re thinking of – and put the word out among ’em. But nothing’s come back, Fred.’
    Birdie was about to ask for the names of the missing boys when she heard a carriage rattling to a halt in the street outside. This was such an unusual noise that everyone immediately fell silent. Even Sarah Pickles looked startled.
    Birdie turned to Alfred. ‘Shall I go and see who’s come?’ she asked.
    Alfred hesitated for a moment. ‘Aye, do that,’ he said at last, reluctantly. As Birdie rushed out the door, he called after her, ‘Mind you don’t linger!’
    Birdie didn’t bother replying, since she was already halfway down the passage that led to the street. Emerging into broad daylight, she discovered that many of her neighbours were doing the same, spilling like cockroaches from their own dingy courts and basement lairs. A large audience had already gathered to stare at the woman who was alighting