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“They're trying to make me think old flabby guts is RogerTichborne,” his assistant replied. “I can feel them prodding at myhead. But this time they can't get in!”
He raised his fists and dodged about, taking wild swipes at theair.
“Bloody spooks! You'll not get me!”
Fidget bit him again.
“Argh!”
“Stop it, you drunken ass,” Burton snapped. “Calm down. Let'smake ourselves scarce before this lot get any nastier.”
Swinburne swayed. “My hat! I'm absolutely blotto,” he grumbled,fumbling for his flask.
The three of them and Fidget followed the two policemen. Theyweathered a worsening storm of abuse from those they passed.
One man, a big bearded fellow, stepped forward and swung a fistat Burton. The king's agent ducked beneath it and rammed his owninto the man's stomach.
“Bastard!” someone yelled.
Kenealy's voice rang out over the cloth-capped heads.
“You have heard my client speak! I say again, there is aconspiracy against him! The government is attempting to prosecute aman who they know is i
“No!” the onlookers roared.
Trounce and Honesty, heaving the writhing Jeb along, brokethrough the edge of the crowd, with Burton, Swinburne, Spencer, andFidget in their wake.
Burton noticed that the four young gents who'd moved away a fewminutes earlier were once again enduring rough handling at thehands of thuggish men. Their hats had been knocked to the groundand stamped on, their walking canes broken. As he made to go totheir aid, more men separated from the crowd and ran over toTrounce and Honesty, jumping onto them with fists flying. Trouncewas struck on the back of the head by a beefily built individual.He went down. Burton ran and dived at the attacker, catching himaround the waist. He lifted him clean off his feet and dashed himto the ground.
Jeb, meanwhile, his left arm still locked in Honesty's irongrip, sent his right fist arcing up toward the smaller man's chin.Honesty jerked his head back, the fist flew up past his face, andhe replied by ramming his truncheon into Jeb's rib cage. The bigman groaned and fell to his knees.
Trounce, struggling to his feet, caught a boot that was swingingat his face and twisted it violently. The man to whose leg it wasattached pitched over.
A mean-looking fellow dug his fingers into Honesty's shoulder.Burton caught him by the collar, wrenched him around, and sent himspi
The king's agent barked a command at Herbert Spencer: “GrabSwinburne and drag him away from here!”
Spencer made a move toward the poet but was sent staggering whena small wiry man swung a metal rod into his forehead. As thevagrant philosopher stumbled into him and they both fell to thegrass, Swinburne looked up and saw that the attacker possessed aperfectly enormous nose.
“Bloody hell! It's Vincent Sneed!” he cried, for it was the manwho'd been his employer when he'd masqueraded as a sweep during theSpring Heeled Jack case. “It's the Conk!”
Sneed looked down at him with a vicious light in his piggyeyes.
“What didja call me?” he hissed. “The Conk, is it? The Conk? Whothe heck are you to-to-” His eyes widened. “Stone me!” he breathed.“It's you! The blinkin’ whippersnapper what left me in thelurch!”
“And gladly so, you callous blackguard!” Swinburne declared ashe pushed himself to his feet. “What in God's name has prompted youto set foot outside of the East End?”
Sneed stuck out his scrawny chest and said with pride, “I'm afu
Fu
Sneed cast his eyes over the smaller man's smart jacket,waistcoat, and trousers. “What're you a-wearin’ them gentleman'stogs for?”
“Because, Mr. Conk,” Swinburne replied, “it just so happens thatI am -hic!-a gentleman, and, as such, I feel honour bound to-”
Without bothering to finish his sentence, Swinburne let out apiercing scream and charged forward with his head bent low, drivingit straight into Sneed's stomach. The East Ender grunted as thewind was knocked out of him, but managed to fling his arms aroundthe poet's waist and heaved him up, head downward.
“All right, you little rat-” he began.
“Oh no you don't!” Herbert Spencer cried, and kicked Sneed'slegs from under him. The sweep fell flat on his back andSwinburne's shoulder buried itself in his groin.
“Oof!” he gasped, and as the poet rolled off him, Sneed curledinto a ball and vomited onto the grass.
“Ha!” Swinburne yelled. “That'll teach you, you swine!” The poetadopted what he thought might be a boxer's stance and swayedunsteadily. “Come on! Get up so I can knock you down again!”
“Beggin’ your pardin for a-sayin’ so,” Spencer interrupted, “butyou ain't got no chance against the likes o’ this scoundrel.” Hegrabbed Swinburne by the wrist. “So just you follow me out o’ thishere affray.”
“What? No! I want to punch him on the blasted nose, Herbert! Thefiend treated me foully when I was-” Swinburne's words were lost inthe escalating commotion as Spencer dragged him away and off towardthe edge of the crowd.
Sneed took a great gulp of air and yelled after them: “I'll getyou yet, you pipsqueak! This ain't finished by a long shot! By God,I'll flay you alive!”
Burton, meanwhile, was helping Detective Inspector Trounce upoff his knees. “Come on, Trounce. Hey! Honesty! Leave that man!Let's go!”
“He's under arrest!” Honesty protested. His dapper appearancehad been considerably dishevelled.
“He's more trouble than he's worth!” Burton shouted above thenoise of the angry crowd. He bent and picked up Fidget.
Herbert came abreast of him, dragging Swinburne.
“Naargh!” the poet cried, incoherently. He broke away from thephilosopher, swung his fist at nothing in particular, missed, andstumbled. Spencer bent low, scooped him up, and threw him over hisshoulder.
Burton and his companions backed away from the crowd.
The workers howled abuse at them and shook their fists.
“What in God's name is happening?” Trounce gasped.
“There's a riot developing,” Burton said, “and we have to getout of it immediately. Are you all right? You took a blow to thehead.”
“I know. It's aching abominably.”
“Mine, too,” Honesty noted. “But I wasn't hit.”
“Me neither, but I have a throbbing at the back of my skull,too,” said Burton.
“I'm fine,” put in Spencer. “P'raps it's me life on the streetswhat's given me a stronger constitution.”
They hurried out of the crowd, pushing aside swearing,threatening individuals, and hurried away from Speakers’ Corner andinto Park Lane. Men poured into the streets behind them. There camethe sounds of breaking glass, screams, yells, and crashes. Burtonglanced back and saw a group pushing a hansom cab onto its side. Avelocipede was stopped, its rider pulled off the high saddle andpunched in the face.
The king's agent and his companions jogged along the pavementuntil they came to the corner of Edgware Road. They hastened downthe wide thoroughfare. A millipede omnibus-they were now known as“omnipedes”-thundered past and the cloud belching from its sidescurled across the street. Two ghostly figures formed within thevapour then faded from sight.
“Put me down,” Swinburne groaned.
Spencer placed the poet on his feet and the little man doubledover and clutched his head.
Burton held his assistant by the arm. “Is it the same pain youfelt in the labyrinth at Tichborne House?”