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There came a knock at the door.
"Come!" cried Trounce.
A short white-haired woman shuffled in bearing a tray.
"Coffee, sir,"
"Thank you, Gladys."
The woman padded over to the desk and laid down the tray. Shepoured two cups and silently withdrew, closing the door behindher.
Burton flicked his cigar stub into the hearth.
"Milk?" asked Trounce.
"No. Just sugar." The famous explorer shovelled fourteaspoonfuls into the steaming liquid.
"By Jove!" blurted Trounce. "You have a sweet tooth!"
"A taste I picked up in Arabia. So what happened next?"
"Jane subsequently gave the most complete description of SpringHeeled Jack we have on record and, I can confirm, it matches yoursin every respect, even down to the blue flame flickering around itshead.
"Eight days later, another eighteen-year-old girl, Lucy Scales,and her younger sister, Lisa, were passing through Green DragonAlley on the outskirts of Limehouse when they spotted a figureslumped in an angle of the passage and draped with a cloak. Theperson appeared to be in distress; the sisters heard groans ofpain. Lucy approached it and asked whether she could help, at whichthe figure raised its head, which was clad in a black helmet aroundwhich blue fire raged. The creature screamed and a tongue of flameleaped from its head to Lucy's face, blinding her and sending herstaggering backward. She dropped to the ground and was strickenwith violent fits which continued for many hours after theencounter. Lisa held Lucy, called for help and-My God!"
Trounce's eyes widened and he stared at Burton, his mouthworking.
"What is it?" asked the explorer, puzzled.
"I-I'd forgotten!"
"Forgotten what?"
"My God!" repeated Trounce, in a whisper.
"Spit it out, man!" snapped Burton.
The detective cleared his throat and continued, speaking slowlyand with apparent amazement: "As Lucy lay in her sister's arms,Spring Heeled Jack walked quickly away. Lisa reported that he wastalking to himself in a highpitched, crazy-sounding voice. Most ofhis words, she said, were unintelligible. There was, however, onephrase that came to her clearly."
Trounce paused. He looked at the man opposite, who asked: "Whatwas it?"
"Apparently," replied Trounce, "he shouted, `This is your fault,Burton!"'
Sir Richard Francis Burton felt icy fingers tickling hisspine.
The two men looked at one another.
Shadows shifted across the walls and the sound of a mournfulfoghorn pushed at the windowpane.
"Coincidence, of course," whispered Trounce.
"Obviously," replied Burton, in an equally hushed tone. "In1838, I was seventeen years old and living with my parents andbrother in Italy. I'd spent very little of my life in England andhad certainly never encountered or even heard of Spring HeeledJack."
Another pause.
Trounce shook himself, opened the report, and looked down atit.
"Anyway, now we come to my own encounter," he said, brusquely,"which occurred on June 10, 1840; perhaps the most infamous date inEnglish history."
Burton nodded. "The day of the assassination."
THE ASSASSINATION
Assassination has never changed the history of the world.
De
Constable Trounce's beat incorporated Constitution Hill, and healways timed it so that he got there at six o'clock, just as QueenVictoria and her husband emerged from the "Garden Gate" ofBuckingham Palace in their open-topped carriage for their afternoonspin around Green Park. For the twenty-year-old queen, the dailyritual was a breath of fresh air-so far as the word "fresh" couldbe applied to London's malodorous atmosphere-an hour's escape fromthe stifling formality of Buckingham Palace, with its dusty footmenand haughty butlers, servile advisers and fussing maids; while forthe citizens who gathered along the route, it was a chance to cheeror boo her, depending on their opinion of her three-year reign.
Trounce was usually quick to warn those who jeered to "movealong."
Today, though, as he proceeded along the Mall, Trounce spottedDe
He scrubbed-up well, did De
The pickpocket was obviously looking for a mark and, when hefound it, Trounce would swoop. It would be a nice feather in hiscap if his very first arrest ended the career of this particularvillain.
However, it soon became apparent that De
After a while, Trounce grew bored, so he walked over to thepetty crook and stood facing him.
"What ho, old son! What do you think you're up to, then?"
"Oh bleedin' 'eck, I ain't up to nuffink, am I!' whined De
"It's Wednesday, De
"No law agin' wearin' a Sunday suit on a Wednesday, isthere?"
The crook's rodentlike eyes swivelled right and left as ifseeking an escape route.
Trounce unhooked his truncheon from his belt and pushed its endinto De
"I'm watching you, laddie. Those fingers of yours will beslipping into where they're not welcome before too long, and, whenthey do, nay fingers will be closing over your shoulder, mark mywords. We'll soon have you out of that suit and wearing the broadarrow. There are no pockets in prison uniforms, did you knowthat?"
"Yus. But you ain't got no cause to threaten me!"
"Haven't I, now? Haven't I? Well, see it stays that way, De
With a vicious look at the young constable, the pickpocket spatonto the pavement and scurried away.
Constable Trounce gri
At the end of the Mall he passed Buckingham Palace and turnedright into Green Park. Rather than walk along Constitution Hillitself, he preferred to pace along on the grass, thus positioninghimself behind any crowd that might gather along the queen's route.In his experience, the troublemakers usually hid at the back, wherethey could more easily take to their heels should anyone object totheir catcalls.
Her Majesty's carriage, drawn by four horses-the front leftridden by a postilion-was already on the path a little way ahead.There were four outriders with her, two in front of the vehicle andtwo some yards behind it.
Trounce increased his pace to catch up, walking down a gentleslope that gave him an excellent view of the scene.
Despite the mild weather, the crowd was sparse today. There wereno protests and few hurrahs.