Read Online SV - 05 - Sergeant Verity and the Swell Mob. by Francis Selwyn - Free Book Online
Authors: Francis Selwyn
Tags: Crime, Historical Novel
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high-pitched voice.
'A young person known as Miss
Elaine. Made trouble for me and Mr Samson once. Don't take your eyes off her.'
Jolly
at once joined the little band of admirers, upon whom the young suspect had
turned her back. A tight broad belt at the waist drew in the smooth trousers,
so that the robust seat and the swell of Elaine's young hips seemed to form an
almost perfect circle. The little knot of men, now realising that a girl had
joined them, looked quizzically at Miss Jolly. They were answered by a sharp
glare from dark brows and then her profile turned away in sphinx-like
imperturbability.
Verity walked in a slow circle
round the tent without seeing any of Newsome's other girls. It was absurd, of
course. How could the Great Lavengro himself, let alone an imposter, know that
a girl would pick a man's pocket at the fairground on this particular
afternoon? Trusting Jolly to keep watch on Elaine, he walked slowly among the
other tents and booths. But as the moment came for the circus to begin, the
customers drifted away. Outside the Punch and Judy box, the proprietor vainly
blew his little trumpet to summon public attention. A man with a pair of
dancing dogs stood in the shade of his canvas awning, staring malevolently
towards the marquee in which Newsome's horse-girls performed.
Alone in his grassy space the
Salamander Fire-King was practising his art, dressed in green tights, his green
silk tunic embroidered with a gold lion. With head thrown back, he held the
lighted link in his hand. Verity watched him, fascinated. The flame on the
long wick seemed to dance always an inch or so beyond the man's lips. Yet he
fed it slowly into his mouth, the fire sometimes glowing within his cheeks. He
tucked the black, extinguished cotton into the side of his mouth, like a monkey
storing nuts in his pouch. Suddenly the wick touched the man's moustache and
there was a momentary fizzing sound. He gasped, drew the link away, and turned
with his hand clapped over his face.
'You
got no call to injure yourself for idlers to gape at,' said Verity sternly.
'They only come hoping to see you burnt.'
But he
dropped a penny in the man's hand as he walked away.
There was no one who looked
remotely like a pickpocket as he walked back to the circus tent. Jolly and the
little group of men were still observing Elaine. Presently Elaine tossed back
her hair, looked sullenly round at them and shouted belligerently, 'Seen all
you want? P'raps you'd like to leave your entrance money in the box now!' And
she strode away into the tent, with a final toss of her fair tresses.
Verity glanced about him. The
downland outside the marquee was almost deserted. There was not another young
woman, let alone a pickpocket, in sight. He took Jolly by the arm as Newsome's
trumpeters began a discordant fanfare to announce the commencement of the
riding.
'It's
that young Elaine I fancy for number one,' he said softly. 'S'posing there is a number one and I ain't
simply been made a fool of!'
Her
eyes flickered in a silent predatory understanding. Verity led her to the
entrance and deposited two coins in the money-box. They passed into the tent.
A rope
on iron staves marked out the arena, the grass yellow under the canvas shade
and sparse from the hooves of Newsome's ponies. Round the barrier was a crowd
of ribboned bonnets, the pot hats and tall hats of the men, while Newsome in
his red coat and white collar presided in the ring. A wag shouted, 'Evens the
favourite!' above the murmur of the crowd as half a dozen ponies ridden by
Elaine and the other girls cantered in from the far entrance. A man in front of
Verity roared out 'Elaine on the grey! Let him laugh who wins! Hoo-ray, there!
Hoo-ray!' He beat his top-boots with a little whip and clanked his brass spurs.
Verity's
eye passed over the assorted bonnets, searching for the face of a probable
thief under each brim. There were bonnets in crepe, bonnets in straw, or silk
and satin. Some were garnished with
'A young person known as Miss
Elaine. Made trouble for me and Mr Samson once. Don't take your eyes off her.'
Jolly
at once joined the little band of admirers, upon whom the young suspect had
turned her back. A tight broad belt at the waist drew in the smooth trousers,
so that the robust seat and the swell of Elaine's young hips seemed to form an
almost perfect circle. The little knot of men, now realising that a girl had
joined them, looked quizzically at Miss Jolly. They were answered by a sharp
glare from dark brows and then her profile turned away in sphinx-like
imperturbability.
Verity walked in a slow circle
round the tent without seeing any of Newsome's other girls. It was absurd, of
course. How could the Great Lavengro himself, let alone an imposter, know that
a girl would pick a man's pocket at the fairground on this particular
afternoon? Trusting Jolly to keep watch on Elaine, he walked slowly among the
other tents and booths. But as the moment came for the circus to begin, the
customers drifted away. Outside the Punch and Judy box, the proprietor vainly
blew his little trumpet to summon public attention. A man with a pair of
dancing dogs stood in the shade of his canvas awning, staring malevolently
towards the marquee in which Newsome's horse-girls performed.
Alone in his grassy space the
Salamander Fire-King was practising his art, dressed in green tights, his green
silk tunic embroidered with a gold lion. With head thrown back, he held the
lighted link in his hand. Verity watched him, fascinated. The flame on the
long wick seemed to dance always an inch or so beyond the man's lips. Yet he
fed it slowly into his mouth, the fire sometimes glowing within his cheeks. He
tucked the black, extinguished cotton into the side of his mouth, like a monkey
storing nuts in his pouch. Suddenly the wick touched the man's moustache and
there was a momentary fizzing sound. He gasped, drew the link away, and turned
with his hand clapped over his face.
'You
got no call to injure yourself for idlers to gape at,' said Verity sternly.
'They only come hoping to see you burnt.'
But he
dropped a penny in the man's hand as he walked away.
There was no one who looked
remotely like a pickpocket as he walked back to the circus tent. Jolly and the
little group of men were still observing Elaine. Presently Elaine tossed back
her hair, looked sullenly round at them and shouted belligerently, 'Seen all
you want? P'raps you'd like to leave your entrance money in the box now!' And
she strode away into the tent, with a final toss of her fair tresses.
Verity glanced about him. The
downland outside the marquee was almost deserted. There was not another young
woman, let alone a pickpocket, in sight. He took Jolly by the arm as Newsome's
trumpeters began a discordant fanfare to announce the commencement of the
riding.
'It's
that young Elaine I fancy for number one,' he said softly. 'S'posing there is a number one and I ain't
simply been made a fool of!'
Her
eyes flickered in a silent predatory understanding. Verity led her to the
entrance and deposited two coins in the money-box. They passed into the tent.
A rope
on iron staves marked out the arena, the grass yellow under the canvas shade
and sparse from the hooves of Newsome's ponies. Round the barrier was a crowd
of ribboned bonnets, the pot hats and tall hats of the men, while Newsome in
his red coat and white collar presided in the ring. A wag shouted, 'Evens the
favourite!' above the murmur of the crowd as half a dozen ponies ridden by
Elaine and the other girls cantered in from the far entrance. A man in front of
Verity roared out 'Elaine on the grey! Let him laugh who wins! Hoo-ray, there!
Hoo-ray!' He beat his top-boots with a little whip and clanked his brass spurs.
Verity's
eye passed over the assorted bonnets, searching for the face of a probable
thief under each brim. There were bonnets in crepe, bonnets in straw, or silk
and satin. Some were garnished with
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