He'd had the presence of mind to stuff the map into one of his inside coat pockets, and knew he would have to plan an escape route once he was in a better, and much safer place.
He ran in quick spurts, crossing streets and roads and then freezing against walls, listening all the time for any sound which might betray a manhunt. There was nothing. This carried on for some time, perhaps an hour.
Later he would realise that he had gone in a circular arc, but at the time he was running blindly. Finding himself against a railing, he quickly climbed over and lost himself among the tall old trees. It was a park and a large one.
Back at the house in Denmark road the lights were blazing downstairs. The landlady was sitting back in her chair admiring her new shiny Bakelite vacuum flask. Pete stood beside the woman and beamed at her.
"There you are mum, practically brand spanking new and only one careful owner."
The woman grinned back up at him.
"Son, you played a real blinder. Poor lad looked fit to drop when I told him about that newspaper article. I thought he was going to ask about it for a minute and that would have caused me problems. I would have had to pretend to look for it and then told him the cat had squatted on it."
With this, they both roared with laughter. When the laughter died down, the woman covered her son's grimy hand with her own weather-beaten specimen and continued to speak.
"Tell you what Alan, or should that be Pete? This was my best idea so far. Mr Green, where did that daft brother of yours get that name from? Honestly. You sure that them that owns the pub won't say anything?"
He shook his head.
"No Mum, like I said before, they know nothing. I paid the bar staff and they were working alone those nights, the owners don't know nothing about it. Harry doesn't know any of our names. The cafe owner will swear blind he's never seen him or us. And you know I followed him the other day so I can tip off the coppers not only about him but about that girl who drove his car too. He didn't bring her here and I bet he was too ashamed to give her the address, so we're all in the clear. Mum, it bloody well worked."
She slapped him across the left ear lightly.
"Language my lad."
"Sorry mum."
"That's all right, but just remember your manners, I brought you boys up to be decent young men."
With that, she leaned over and kissed his cheek. Then she looked at the dark brown flask and caressed its smooth surface.
"Tea?"
"Don't mind if I do."
With this, they both laughed heartily again.
Harry Royle remained in the park until the sun came up. The sky was all of a sudden shot through with bright crimson strokes, like those applied from an artist's palette. Harry had not dared risk lighting a cigarette in the darkness, in case it had given the game away. Now with the light coming in, he lit one and pulled hard at it, causing the tip to glow brightly. Pulling out the map, he found that he was in Alexander Park and not as far away from Denmark Road as he had hoped.
Taking a chance, Harry turned up his collar and walked briskly through the main park gates and across to the bus station. The streets were fairly quiet containing just enough working men to blend in with. He realised as he joined a bus queue bound for the city, that he was hatless, something he didn't like. He hadn't slept, so at least his hair was in place and his clothes in good order. The conductor was too bleary-eyed to take any notice of him, he paid the fare and took a seat. He looked out of the window at the passing streets as the bus made its way into the city centre.
He left the bus at St Peter's square, and finding a gentleman's outfitters, bought two hats, a new brown trilby as well as a dark brown checked tweed flat cap. He told the assistant that his own hat had been blown under a passing tram. The man had smiled sympathetically and was only too happy to take the money and ring up the first sale of the morning.
Wearing the new trilby and with
He ran in quick spurts, crossing streets and roads and then freezing against walls, listening all the time for any sound which might betray a manhunt. There was nothing. This carried on for some time, perhaps an hour.
Later he would realise that he had gone in a circular arc, but at the time he was running blindly. Finding himself against a railing, he quickly climbed over and lost himself among the tall old trees. It was a park and a large one.
Back at the house in Denmark road the lights were blazing downstairs. The landlady was sitting back in her chair admiring her new shiny Bakelite vacuum flask. Pete stood beside the woman and beamed at her.
"There you are mum, practically brand spanking new and only one careful owner."
The woman grinned back up at him.
"Son, you played a real blinder. Poor lad looked fit to drop when I told him about that newspaper article. I thought he was going to ask about it for a minute and that would have caused me problems. I would have had to pretend to look for it and then told him the cat had squatted on it."
With this, they both roared with laughter. When the laughter died down, the woman covered her son's grimy hand with her own weather-beaten specimen and continued to speak.
"Tell you what Alan, or should that be Pete? This was my best idea so far. Mr Green, where did that daft brother of yours get that name from? Honestly. You sure that them that owns the pub won't say anything?"
He shook his head.
"No Mum, like I said before, they know nothing. I paid the bar staff and they were working alone those nights, the owners don't know nothing about it. Harry doesn't know any of our names. The cafe owner will swear blind he's never seen him or us. And you know I followed him the other day so I can tip off the coppers not only about him but about that girl who drove his car too. He didn't bring her here and I bet he was too ashamed to give her the address, so we're all in the clear. Mum, it bloody well worked."
She slapped him across the left ear lightly.
"Language my lad."
"Sorry mum."
"That's all right, but just remember your manners, I brought you boys up to be decent young men."
With that, she leaned over and kissed his cheek. Then she looked at the dark brown flask and caressed its smooth surface.
"Tea?"
"Don't mind if I do."
With this, they both laughed heartily again.
Harry Royle remained in the park until the sun came up. The sky was all of a sudden shot through with bright crimson strokes, like those applied from an artist's palette. Harry had not dared risk lighting a cigarette in the darkness, in case it had given the game away. Now with the light coming in, he lit one and pulled hard at it, causing the tip to glow brightly. Pulling out the map, he found that he was in Alexander Park and not as far away from Denmark Road as he had hoped.
Taking a chance, Harry turned up his collar and walked briskly through the main park gates and across to the bus station. The streets were fairly quiet containing just enough working men to blend in with. He realised as he joined a bus queue bound for the city, that he was hatless, something he didn't like. He hadn't slept, so at least his hair was in place and his clothes in good order. The conductor was too bleary-eyed to take any notice of him, he paid the fare and took a seat. He looked out of the window at the passing streets as the bus made its way into the city centre.
He left the bus at St Peter's square, and finding a gentleman's outfitters, bought two hats, a new brown trilby as well as a dark brown checked tweed flat cap. He told the assistant that his own hat had been blown under a passing tram. The man had smiled sympathetically and was only too happy to take the money and ring up the first sale of the morning.
Wearing the new trilby and with
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