Read Online A Very Peculiar Plague by Catherine Jinks - Free Book Online

Purdy trailed off, shaking his head again. But Alfred said nothing.
    He was busy packing his pipe with tobacco.
    ‘I ain’t never heard of a roof-bogle,’ Jem observed at last, to break the lengthening silence. Still, however, Alfred didn’t speak.
    It was the plumber who finally said, ‘I once heard tell of a chimney-bogle taking kids from a mill near Sheffield. So when Mabel mentioned your visit, Mr Bunce, it crossed my mind that—’
    ‘—Billy might have bin took by a chimney-bogle,’ Alfred interrupted. He had pulled a box of matches from his pocket.
    ‘Exactly!’ The plumber sounded relieved that Alfred hadn’t scoffed at the notion. ‘For there’s any number o’ chimneys up there, and precious little else.’
    Alfred heaved a sigh. He struck his match, lit his pipe, and greedily filled his lungs with smoke. Then he sat on his bed and asked the plumber, in a voice tranquillised by tobacco, ‘Have the folk in the house bin troubled at all?’
    ‘No, sir, for it’s empty. All but brand new. Once the flashing is done, everything inside is to be painted.’
    ‘Where is this house?’ said Jem, as Alfred pensively puffed away.
    ‘On Holborn Viaduct,’ Purdy replied. ‘Near the railway bridge.’
    Alfred frowned. ‘Is that—?’
    ‘Near the tavern? It is.’
    Jem was pleased to see Alfred frown. It meant that the bogler was interested enough to be disturbed – or perhaps confused. It meant that he was hooked, Jem thought.
    Like a fish.
    ‘That’s very strange,’ rasped Alfred. ‘You’ll not see bogles so close together, as a rule. They tend to be solitary creatures . . .’
    Purdy shrugged. ‘You’d know best,’ he said. ‘I ain’t had no experience with bogles.’
    ‘What about the chimneys in the house?’ was Alfred’s next question. ‘Do they draw well?’
    ‘That I can’t tell you. Far as I know, they never was lit. Some of ’em don’t yet have mantels.’
    Alfred gave a grunt. Purdy watched and waited. Then Jem, who was very hungry, decided to poke at the fire. Though it had been reduced to a heap of glowing embers, he felt sure that if he rearranged the coals and blew on them hard enough, he might be able to boil a kettle.
    ‘I ain’t a young man, Mr Purdy,’ Alfred said at last. ‘How tall is this house o’ yours?’
    ‘Five storeys. Including the basement.’ When Alfred grimaced, Purdy assured him, ‘I’ve a sturdy ladder and ropes aplenty, and the slates up there is clean as a whistle. No moss or birds’ mess on ’em.’
    Alfred still looked unconvinced. So Jem, who was now squatting in front of the fire, poker in hand, said, ‘ I’m spry enough. I can go up there.’
    ‘Not without me, you can’t,’ Alfred retorted.
    ‘I’ll pay extra.’ Though Purdy wasn’t begging, exactly, there was an urgent edge to his voice. ‘Mabel parted with eight shillings – I’ll pay ten.’
    ‘Ten!’ It was a princely sum. Jem stared at Alfred, wide-eyed.
    The bogler smoothed his moustache thoughtfully.
    ‘Billy is the son of an old friend,’ Purdy went on. ‘He’s the best boy I ever had, and has lodged with my family these six months past. It makes me heartsore to think . . .’ He stopped suddenly, then swallowed a few times before proceeding. ‘If a bogle took him, I’ll not rest till it’s dead. Billy deserves nothing less, poor lad.’
    Jem knew that Alfred wouldn’t have the heart to resist this plea, but decided to grease the wheels a little, regardless. ‘Even if there ain’t no bogle,’ he told Purdy, ‘you’ll still have to pay costs. A shilling down, and a penny for salt.’
    ‘Sixpence,’ Alfred interrupted. He shot Jem a reproving look. ‘ Sixpence for a visit. And a penny for salt.’
    ‘I’d be happy to pay the shilling,’ Purdy began, before the bogler cut him off.
    ‘I ain’t in the habit o’ speeling me customers. It’s sevenpence all up, if the bogle don’t show.’
    ‘And the ’bus fare on top o’ that,’ said