Read Online Let Loose the Dogs by Maureen Jennings - Free Book Online
Authors: Maureen Jennings
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convenience.
Your servant, J. M. Massie, Warden
“Not bad news I hope,” said Mrs. Kitchen.
“No, probably good news. I believe I mentioned young Adam Blake to you a couple of months ago, the lad convicted of pickpocketing? I was the one nabbed him, and I thought he might be set straight with a good talking to. He wasn’t that receptive I have to admit, but I told him I’d come and visit when he saw the error of his ways. I assume a spell in jail has brought clarity to his mind.”
“So it should.” She reached in the pocket of her apron. “By the way, Mr. Murdoch, I took the liberty of cutting this for you.”
She took out a wide strip of black silk.
“Thank you, Mrs. K.”
He raised his arm and she fastened the band to his jacket sleeve where he would wear it for the next few months as a sign of mourning. He sighed. Poor little Cissie.
Chapter Eleven
C HARLES C RAIG OPENED HIS EYES and lay still for a moment, trying to determine what had awakened him. His wife, Margaret, was snoring softly beside him as she did when she had been forced to take laudanum for her pain. The room was hot and smelled of the ammonia liniment she applied nightly to her swollen joints. He listened but the only other sound was the scratch and rustle of the evergreens that grew beside the house. He slipped out of bed and, barefoot, padded over to the window. The blind was pulled down tight to the sill, and he lifted the side a crack so he could look out. Their bedchamber was at the rear of the house and below him was a large garden, smooth and white with the recent snow. Directly in front, the ground rose gently to a high fence, which demarcated the edge of their neighbour’s property. Their house was hidden by a thick stand of evergreens that extended to the right and down to the road, offering perfect privacy. To the left was an open field. He thought he could detect a slight movement, a deeper shadow among the shadows of the evergreens in the upper corner, but he wasn’t certain. The sky was overcast, and the moon was obscured.
He stayed motionless at the window for several minutes then, with a little groan, straightened up. Margaret muttered in her sleep, and he went back to the bed and pulled the quilt up around her shoulders. He waited a moment to make sure she had not awoken, then he went to the wardrobe and took out his trousers and a jacket. He favoured the newer style of nightwear, and he was wearing striped flannelette pyjamas. He pulled the trousers and coat on over these and crept from the room. There were no candles lit on the landing or stairwell, but his eyes were accustomed to the darkness and he made his way downstairs to the study. There was a dull slit of light showing beneath the door. He knocked, one hard tap followed by two softer ones. In a moment his son opened the door. Craig had moved out of view a few paces down the hallway and, without pause, James joined him.
“Is he out there again?” he asked.
“I’m not completely certain. Did the dogs bark just now?”
“They did a little while ago.” James looked discomfited. “It didn’t seem too serious,” he added. “I thought it must be a squirrel or a racoon.”
“There are occasions when you are worse than the most ignorant loafer,” said Charles. He did not raise his voice or insert much inflection, but James flushed as if he had been roundly scolded.
“I’m sorry, Papa.”
“Never mind.” Charlie nodded in the direction of the study. “Are the curtains closed tight?”
“They are.”
“Let’s go in.”
Craig led the way back into the room. James had been enjoying a pipe, and the air was thick and aromatic with the smoke. There was a glass of whiskey on the table beside his chair. His father walked straight over to the desk and rolled back the top.
The pug who had been keeping James company trotted over to him, waving her little curl of a tail. Craig gave her a cursory pat on the head.
“Is Tiny in the kennel?”
“Yes, of
Your servant, J. M. Massie, Warden
“Not bad news I hope,” said Mrs. Kitchen.
“No, probably good news. I believe I mentioned young Adam Blake to you a couple of months ago, the lad convicted of pickpocketing? I was the one nabbed him, and I thought he might be set straight with a good talking to. He wasn’t that receptive I have to admit, but I told him I’d come and visit when he saw the error of his ways. I assume a spell in jail has brought clarity to his mind.”
“So it should.” She reached in the pocket of her apron. “By the way, Mr. Murdoch, I took the liberty of cutting this for you.”
She took out a wide strip of black silk.
“Thank you, Mrs. K.”
He raised his arm and she fastened the band to his jacket sleeve where he would wear it for the next few months as a sign of mourning. He sighed. Poor little Cissie.
Chapter Eleven
C HARLES C RAIG OPENED HIS EYES and lay still for a moment, trying to determine what had awakened him. His wife, Margaret, was snoring softly beside him as she did when she had been forced to take laudanum for her pain. The room was hot and smelled of the ammonia liniment she applied nightly to her swollen joints. He listened but the only other sound was the scratch and rustle of the evergreens that grew beside the house. He slipped out of bed and, barefoot, padded over to the window. The blind was pulled down tight to the sill, and he lifted the side a crack so he could look out. Their bedchamber was at the rear of the house and below him was a large garden, smooth and white with the recent snow. Directly in front, the ground rose gently to a high fence, which demarcated the edge of their neighbour’s property. Their house was hidden by a thick stand of evergreens that extended to the right and down to the road, offering perfect privacy. To the left was an open field. He thought he could detect a slight movement, a deeper shadow among the shadows of the evergreens in the upper corner, but he wasn’t certain. The sky was overcast, and the moon was obscured.
He stayed motionless at the window for several minutes then, with a little groan, straightened up. Margaret muttered in her sleep, and he went back to the bed and pulled the quilt up around her shoulders. He waited a moment to make sure she had not awoken, then he went to the wardrobe and took out his trousers and a jacket. He favoured the newer style of nightwear, and he was wearing striped flannelette pyjamas. He pulled the trousers and coat on over these and crept from the room. There were no candles lit on the landing or stairwell, but his eyes were accustomed to the darkness and he made his way downstairs to the study. There was a dull slit of light showing beneath the door. He knocked, one hard tap followed by two softer ones. In a moment his son opened the door. Craig had moved out of view a few paces down the hallway and, without pause, James joined him.
“Is he out there again?” he asked.
“I’m not completely certain. Did the dogs bark just now?”
“They did a little while ago.” James looked discomfited. “It didn’t seem too serious,” he added. “I thought it must be a squirrel or a racoon.”
“There are occasions when you are worse than the most ignorant loafer,” said Charles. He did not raise his voice or insert much inflection, but James flushed as if he had been roundly scolded.
“I’m sorry, Papa.”
“Never mind.” Charlie nodded in the direction of the study. “Are the curtains closed tight?”
“They are.”
“Let’s go in.”
Craig led the way back into the room. James had been enjoying a pipe, and the air was thick and aromatic with the smoke. There was a glass of whiskey on the table beside his chair. His father walked straight over to the desk and rolled back the top.
The pug who had been keeping James company trotted over to him, waving her little curl of a tail. Craig gave her a cursory pat on the head.
“Is Tiny in the kennel?”
“Yes, of
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