Chapter 18 #3
Hetty struggled to keep up with Gideon’s long strides, giving into the temptation to hike her skirts and run pell mell. Grandmama would scold her if she heard of it, but she did not care.
It was worth any amount of telling off, however, as they ran from the building into the glare of sunlight to discover a scene of the like Hetty would never forget.
A young man stood at the centre of it with workmen gathering around him. He was covered in brightly coloured paint: his hands, his clothes, even his face where he had wiped it. Two men held him roughly as he fought to get away.
“Gerroff, you miserable bastards, I ain’t done nothing,” he protested, tugging at the hold they had on him.
Hetty glanced at Gideon, at once delighted her scheme had worked, and wretched as she saw the disappointment in his eyes.
“Mark,” he said, gazing at the young man who Hetty finally remembered as the handsome fellow who had gawked at her ankles when Mr Barlow had hit her in the face.
The fellow stiffened, his face blanching, which only made the smear of blue and yellow powder across his cheek brighter in contrast.
Mark put up his chin and then jerked it towards someone behind Hetty. “It weren’t me. He put me up to it, he’s the one what’s been stealing from you.”
Everyone turned to look.
Mr Ridley stared back at them. “He’s a liar,” he said coolly. “I don’t know what he’s—”
“Aye, you do,” Mr Ludlow said grimly. “I saw the two of you last night, round the back of the Dog and Duck. I’d just nipped outside for a piss—beggin’ your pardon, my lady. But I saw them, Mr Bramwell, thick as thieves they were.”
Before anyone could say another word, Ridley darted forward, his intention to make a run for it perfectly obvious.
Hetty hesitated, she had learned her lesson about grabbing hold of angry men, but no one had said anything about tripping them up.
She stuck out her foot.
Ridley went down face first in the dirt that billowed up around him like a tiny sandstorm.
To her surprise, Gideon followed, and she held her breath, wondering what he would do, but he merely hauled Ridley to his feet. The man was choking and spluttering, blinking dust from his eyes but he glared at Hetty.
“You stuck-up, miserable bitch! This is all your—” The words ended in a squeal of pain as Gideon yanked his arm up behind his back.
“One more word, Ridley, I dare you,” he growled furiously. “Give me a reason to break your bloody arm.”
Ridley swallowed, his features taut with pain.
Gideon yanked his arm again, and the fellow went from white to green.
“Apologise to the lady.”
His eyes were white hot with rage, but Ridley choked out an apology. “Sorry,” he said, though he didn’t sound the least bit sincere.
“Ludlow! Get this piece of filth out of my sight,” Gideon said, handing Ridley over to the not so tender mercies of the site manager. “You can lock him in my office but make sure to keep men on watch. “We’ll hand him over to Mr King and see what he wants to do with him.”
“Bramwell, no, I—” Ridley said, terror in his eyes as the implications of being handed to the once notorious crime boss became a reality.
“With pleasure, Mr Bramwell,” Ludlow said, hauling him towards the hut before he could speak another word of protest.
Gideon wiped his hands and turned back to Mark, who looked scared to death.
“Why?” he asked the lad. “You had a future here, you’ve got skills. You could have made something of yourself.”
Mark swallowed. “Blackmail,” he said, shaking so hard his teeth chattered. “I didn’t want to, M-Mr Bramwell, I swear it. He didn’t give me no choice. I was stupid—gambling—I couldn’t pay. I’m sorry.”
Gideon regarded him pityingly. “There’s always a choice, but you’ll get your chance to put your case to Mr King.
He’s not as unreasonable as you might suppose.
My advice is to tell him the absolute truth.
You might get lucky.” Gideon turned to Mr Barlow.
“Take him to get cleaned up and then bring him back here. We don’t want Mr King to think the circus is in town. ”
Barlow nodded. “Right you are, Sir, and well done, my lady. That were a clever ruse.”
Hetty nodded but could take no pleasure in their congratulations as they led Mark away. He looked utterly miserable but resigned to his fate and put up no further fight.
Hetty went to Gideon, putting her hand on his arm. “I’m so sorry, Gideon. I know you needed to catch them, but… well, it’s horrid. I don’t think I should like to be a lady detective after all.”
Gideon returned a rueful smile. “You cannot know how relieved I am to hear that, love.”
Hetty curled her fingers about his and squeezed. “Oh, don’t worry. I shall find other ways to turn your hair grey.”
He laughed, gazing at her fondly. “You’re like the paint powder, did you know that, exploding in my face and turning everything rainbow coloured when I least expect it.”
“Well, that doesn’t sound so bad,” she said a little unsteadily, amazed she could speak at all in the wake of such a delightful compliment. At least—she thought it was a compliment.
“No, my dreadful girl, it’s not bad at all,” he replied with a smile, and raised her hand to his lips.