Read Online Moriarty by John Gardner - Free Book Online Page B

match, while Carbonardo was only five foot four and slightly built; of swarthy complexion, he had dark tousled hair and dark eyes showing some blue in them. “Real littleheartbreaker,” Sal Hodges had said the first time she set eyes on him, and Sal knew about broken hearts.
    Spear found the back door on the latch, and upon opening it he bumped straight into Ember and Lee Chow.
    Spear told them, “He’s buckled, ready to whistle for the Prof.”
    â€œGood thing an’ all,” Ember said.
    â€œWatch him care-for-ee,” Lee Chow cautioned. “Daniel is cunning fellow. Danger-ess man.”
    They followed Spear through to the hall, where Terremant had come inside and closed the door. Daniel stood at the foot of the stairs with both hands on the wooden ball that topped the newel post.
    â€œI’ve run me hands over him,” Terremant said. “Clean as a button-stick.”
    â€œHe’s a good boy, Daniel.” Spear put a hand on the assassin’s shoulder. “Not going to cause us any bother, are you, son?”
    â€œJust want to talk to the Professor. Want to find out who peached on me. Then I can go and take care of whoever it was. I’m sometimes stupid. I was told to make myself scarce and I was going to, but I wasn’t thinking right. Should’ve gone to the Prof straight off.”
    â€œWho told you to go for a walk, then?”
    â€œWould you believe it? Idle bloody Jack.”
    â€œYou’d better secure your house then, Daniel,” Spear suggested.
    â€œJack Idell come a shade heavy with you then, Danny?” Terremant probed.
    â€œYes, but I’ll talk about it to the Professor.”
    â€œGood.” Terremant nodded, no feeling in his voice.
    â€œNone of our business.” Spear shook his head.
    â€œOh, I think you’ll find it is,” Daniel Carbonardo said with the ghost of a smile.
    P ROFESSOR J AMES M ORIARTY sat back in his favourite chair, facing the fire and looking up at the Duchess of Devonshire, who always calmed his mind when things became difficult and his thoughts were frayed. He often wondered how a painting had the power to calm him, but there was no denying it. The Duchess did have that effect.
    The whole business with Carbonardo naturally worried him. One of his young shadows had followed the assassin to the Glenmoragh Private Hotel with instructions to report back once Carbonardo had taken his leave.
    The lad had, of course, returned with the startling news that his mark had been hustled out and into a hansom—an unexpected turn of events.
    Moriarty had chosen these boys, some fifteen lads aged between thirteen and sixteen years, mainly for their fitness. They had to have stamina, he told them, and Terremant had brought him unusually good specimens—unusual because most street boys of that age were poor cases, what with the hard life and unappetizing and sometimes meagre victuals. Terremant’s lads were in the main fit, strong, and intelligent.
    The particular boy on the Carbonardo watch, a fourteen-year-old called William Walker, was a runner, able to keep up with the cab in which Carbonardo was spirited away, or at least keep it in sight so eventually he was there, watching the doors of the notorious house to which the assassin was taken. He also had the presence of mind to stay hidden nearby, even during the cloudburst that came an hour or so later. So he was quite near to the door when the bedraggled and shaken Carbonardo was brought out of the house, and he clearly heard one of the brutish rampsmen tell a cabbie to take him back to Hoxton. “To his own gaff. He’ll show you the way,” the tough had added.
    Billy Walker quite clearly heard the cabbie reply, “All Sir Garnet, Sidney,” * and he noted that the rampsman was a burly oaf with a shaved head and a nasty scar running from the corner of his mouth, “as if someone had tried to enlarge his norf and