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Authors: Alex Grecian
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don’t think he meant to kill us.”
“It wouldn’t make a lot of sense, would it?”
“London would only send more men if we both died or disappeared.”
“Perhaps the poison is only in
your
food. They don’t seem to like you here.”
Hammersmith reached and picked up Day’s bowl. He sniffed it and dipped a spoon into its murky brown depths.
“Don’t,” Day said. “If it’s got the drug in it—”
“A bite won’t hurt me. I have the constitution of an ox.”
Hammersmith tasted Day’s pudding. He spit the bite back into the bowl and smacked his lips. “That’s thoroughly unpleasant,” he said. “He’s overdone it. I don’t suppose he’s ever poisoned anyone before.”
“And, as you pointed out,” Day said, “the beer might have masked the flavor of the drug.”
“So we were both meant to succumb.”
“It would appear so.”
Hammersmith stood and gripped his truncheon. “This does seem to be a clear indication of Mr Rose’s guilt, sir.”
“Sit down, Sergeant. I’ve changed my mind. I don’t want to arrest him just yet.”
“But I do want to arrest him.”
“For slipping something in our food?”
“Well, yes. That seems sufficient grounds.”
“But without a reason.”
“Well, sir, we can ask him his reasons once he’s in custody.”
“Or we can wait and see why he wanted us out of the way,” Day said.
“What if he’s got the Price family hidden away somewhere?”
“It doesn’t seem likely. There’s something else going on here. Let’s see what happens.”
“Of course, he could be trying to kill us, after all,” Hammersmith said. “And he could decide to try again when he sees it didn’t work this time.”
“Then we’ll arrest him,” Day said. “Eat your bread to soak up the drug in your stomach. Eat mine, too.”
“Thank you, but if you wouldn’t mind turning your back for a moment?”
“Of course.”
Day turned and pretended to examine the chest of drawers against the window. Hammersmith took a deep breath and stuck a finger down his throat, immediately choking up a small amount of liquid back into the soup bowl. He wiped his lips on his shirtsleeve again and took a long swallow of beer to wash the taste of vomit out of his mouth.
“You are a hardy sort, aren’t you?” Day said.
“I do wish people would stop drugging me,” Hammersmith said. “I’m going to have to start preparing my own food and I’m a terrible cook, so that’s hardly better than submitting to all the poisoning going on around me.”
“It’s your second time. I can’t imagine it’ll happen again. You’re already bucking the odds.”
“Let’s hope you’re right.”
Hammersmith dropped to his hands and knees and pulled the chamber pot from under Day’s bed.
“There are still chamber pots in the rooms here?” Day said.
“I assume indoor water closets haven’t yet come to Blackhampton. At least, not all of it. Still, this ought to do,” Hammersmith said. He poured both bowls into the big pot and looked around for a place to dump it out.
“Huh,” he said. “They’ve blocked the window.”
“The chest of drawers. I thought putting it in front of the window was merely an unfortunate use of the space.”
“It was done to keep us in here.”
“Further evidence that the drug wasn’t meant to kill us. If we were dead, we wouldn’t try to climb out the window tonight.”
“Probably not. At any rate, I can’t dump the contents out the window, so I’m afraid you’ll have to put up with the scent of groaty dick in your room.”
“It’s not altogether unpleasant,” Day said. “If I have to put up with a scent, I mean.”
Hammersmith shoved the chamber pot back under the bed. He and Day sat and ate the bread, washing it down with the strong ale. Hammersmith yawned. “We were supposed to fall asleep quickly,” he said.
“The question is why?”
“Our host is hiding something from us,” Hammersmith said.
“Then I think it behooves us
“It wouldn’t make a lot of sense, would it?”
“London would only send more men if we both died or disappeared.”
“Perhaps the poison is only in
your
food. They don’t seem to like you here.”
Hammersmith reached and picked up Day’s bowl. He sniffed it and dipped a spoon into its murky brown depths.
“Don’t,” Day said. “If it’s got the drug in it—”
“A bite won’t hurt me. I have the constitution of an ox.”
Hammersmith tasted Day’s pudding. He spit the bite back into the bowl and smacked his lips. “That’s thoroughly unpleasant,” he said. “He’s overdone it. I don’t suppose he’s ever poisoned anyone before.”
“And, as you pointed out,” Day said, “the beer might have masked the flavor of the drug.”
“So we were both meant to succumb.”
“It would appear so.”
Hammersmith stood and gripped his truncheon. “This does seem to be a clear indication of Mr Rose’s guilt, sir.”
“Sit down, Sergeant. I’ve changed my mind. I don’t want to arrest him just yet.”
“But I do want to arrest him.”
“For slipping something in our food?”
“Well, yes. That seems sufficient grounds.”
“But without a reason.”
“Well, sir, we can ask him his reasons once he’s in custody.”
“Or we can wait and see why he wanted us out of the way,” Day said.
“What if he’s got the Price family hidden away somewhere?”
“It doesn’t seem likely. There’s something else going on here. Let’s see what happens.”
“Of course, he could be trying to kill us, after all,” Hammersmith said. “And he could decide to try again when he sees it didn’t work this time.”
“Then we’ll arrest him,” Day said. “Eat your bread to soak up the drug in your stomach. Eat mine, too.”
“Thank you, but if you wouldn’t mind turning your back for a moment?”
“Of course.”
Day turned and pretended to examine the chest of drawers against the window. Hammersmith took a deep breath and stuck a finger down his throat, immediately choking up a small amount of liquid back into the soup bowl. He wiped his lips on his shirtsleeve again and took a long swallow of beer to wash the taste of vomit out of his mouth.
“You are a hardy sort, aren’t you?” Day said.
“I do wish people would stop drugging me,” Hammersmith said. “I’m going to have to start preparing my own food and I’m a terrible cook, so that’s hardly better than submitting to all the poisoning going on around me.”
“It’s your second time. I can’t imagine it’ll happen again. You’re already bucking the odds.”
“Let’s hope you’re right.”
Hammersmith dropped to his hands and knees and pulled the chamber pot from under Day’s bed.
“There are still chamber pots in the rooms here?” Day said.
“I assume indoor water closets haven’t yet come to Blackhampton. At least, not all of it. Still, this ought to do,” Hammersmith said. He poured both bowls into the big pot and looked around for a place to dump it out.
“Huh,” he said. “They’ve blocked the window.”
“The chest of drawers. I thought putting it in front of the window was merely an unfortunate use of the space.”
“It was done to keep us in here.”
“Further evidence that the drug wasn’t meant to kill us. If we were dead, we wouldn’t try to climb out the window tonight.”
“Probably not. At any rate, I can’t dump the contents out the window, so I’m afraid you’ll have to put up with the scent of groaty dick in your room.”
“It’s not altogether unpleasant,” Day said. “If I have to put up with a scent, I mean.”
Hammersmith shoved the chamber pot back under the bed. He and Day sat and ate the bread, washing it down with the strong ale. Hammersmith yawned. “We were supposed to fall asleep quickly,” he said.
“The question is why?”
“Our host is hiding something from us,” Hammersmith said.
“Then I think it behooves us
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