Pip and the Twilight Seekers (7 page)

“Yes?” she answered.

“Mrs. Duvell?” enquired Jarvis, wearing his kindest grin.

“Yes.”

“And how are we this evening?”

“I’m fine, thank you, Mister Jarvis.” She stared at him, confused by his mild-mannered approach combined with the lateness of the hour.

“Can I help you with something?” she asked.

“Oh, I wouldn’t have thought so, Mrs. Duvell. It’s the children I’m seeking. The young ones. City rats, I call them. Everywhere, they are. One just needs to know where to look, I think.”

“Yes, quite. Well, if I see anything I’ll be sure to tell you,” she urged, and she attempted to shut the door. But Jarvis’s foot was wedged in the jamb.

“You sure you don’t have anything for me, Mrs. Duvell?”

“Quite sure,” she smiled, nodding her head, and again she tried to force his foot out from the door frame.

Jarvis came close to her frightened face and stared hard.

“I’m feeling generous, seeing as the weather has delivered a pleasant evening.”

He looked round over his shoulder, as if he was about to share a secret with the lady at the doorway. And then, in hushed tones, he continued.

“Mrs. Duvell, if you don’t bring that child out here in the next five minutes I’ll be delivering you to the authorities. If you do as I ask, I shall forget where I found the little urchin and I’ll expect you to thank me for it. Do I make myself clear?”

She stared at him for a good while longer, saying nothing. Then the door closed and the latch could be heard returning to its place. Jarvis stood and waited. There were noises. Muffled voices and movement. Up and down steps. Doors banging. A dog barked in the distance on the other side of town and then others came, as if calling to each other. Jarvis had not realized how long five minutes was. He was not known for his patience. He was about to bang at the door again when it opened fully. A small frightened boy appeared with a handful of belongings and a drip-white face. He was long-haired and scruffy and Jarvis took a step backward at the sight of him. Mrs. Duvell retreated into the parlor, staring out at Jarvis with tears streaming down her face.

“Please don’t hurt him, Mister Jarvis. He’s not mine. He’s the son of Mister Brice. He’s a good boy. Never did nobody no harm.”

“Why, thank you, Mrs. Duvell, how very obliging of you. I’m sure he’ll be just fine. Now that was easy, wasn’t it? May I remind you that children are banned in the hollow? Good day.” And he shut the door in her face.

Jarvis curled his hook into the shoulder of the boys’ tunic and yanked him out into the street, dragging him to the carriage. He forced him inward and locked the door soundly and the last thing Mrs. Duvell heard was Jarvis shouting at the horse to get back up the small climb to the city road.

The smile had stayed across Jarvis’s face. He was so delighted with his catch that he stopped to take another look. Pausing at the stone bridge, he climbed down and walked to the back of the carriage. He peered in through the window and he could just see the shape of the small boy, his watery eyes glistening under the torchlight.

“How sickly sweet,” he laughed, and then he climbed back into his seat.

“Where next?” he asked his friend Captain Dooley.

And then the spooky croaking voice came again, loud and clear.

“Born of the same hour and only a moment away. The Carraway twins are asleep in their beds.”

“My, oh my. Mister and Mrs. Carraway. How surprising. All that time she lay in bed with the fever. Such a deceiving plot. She bore no illness at all, it seems. Surprising what people will do to conceal children in the womb,” Jarvis said, chattering away to himself. And then he steered his carriage toward the riverside houses.

But then he was corrected.

“Not at the Carraway house. They fear the searches and sometimes at night, the children are in the care of the DeGale family, along the track where the watermill sits. Below the bridge.”

“Ahhh, I see. They’re so sly, but so am I,” laughed Jarvis, and he was having so much fun he had forgotten how freezing cold the air had become.

Within moments he was parked up again and rapping at the door with his hook. Thud, thud, thud.

But not every taking was going to be so simple. Mister Jarvis was about to meet with much younger and bigger opposition. Mister DeGale was not so much a pushover as the last one. His large frame almost filled out the space as he opened the door.

Jarvis was not perturbed. He informed Mister DeGale that he was about to get into hot water if he didn’t hand over the Carraway children.

“Who told you, Jarvis? You’d have to get past me to get to those children, anyway,” insisted DeGale.

Jarvis took one long look up at the man before him, square-jawed and broad in the shoulder. Hmmm, he would have to think for a moment. What would melt this man’s ice-cold bravery?

“It’s a battle of wits is it, Mister DeGale? Very well. Let me show you something.” He fiddled with the lock of his back door and pulled out the young boy.

“Have you met Mister Brice’s youngest son?” he asked. “I’m presuming Mister Brice would like to see him again, but if you don’t bring out those twins I’ll have you explain to him what happened to his beloved child.” As he said this he held the boy with his hooked hand over the side of the bridge, ready to let him drop. The boy screamed out loud and then his cry fell to a quiet, pleading blubber of help.

“He’s quite heavy. I can’t imagine I’ll hold on much longer. I don’t play games, Mister DeGale. You’d best hurry up.”

DeGale dropped his head in defeat. He had the might to crush Jarvis but he did not have his evil will. He returned quickly with the Carraway twins. “Don’t hurt them, Jarvis. They’ve done nothing wrong. Keep them safe or I’ll come looking for you.”

“Thank you, Mister DeGale,” Jarvis shouted as he left in high spirits. “Room for a few more, Captain Dooley.” He grinned. This was the best night he had had in a long while.

The next brought problems: a young girl with too much fight in her. A kicker and a screamer. Guards approached through the darkness. “Do you need help, Mister Jarvis?”

She was biting and pulling at Jarvis’s hair and tearing his cloak. “Let me go! Let me go!”

The guards jumped from their horses but the snow was making it hard underfoot and somehow the girl slipped through their hands, her parents shouting after her, “Run Shira, run!”

“You’ll hang for this!” called Jarvis to her parents. “After her!” he instructed the guards. But she was lost in the maze of alleyways.

Forced into a bad frame of mind, Jarvis decided he would take the children he had and return later. “Plenty of time,” he told himself. Three in one night was a good catch considering he hadn’t caught one in such a long time. He was determined to outdo Roach and return with much more than he had managed.

And that would have been the end of his night’s searching but for a small diversion.

“Where oh where are those children from the tavern?” he said to himself, scratching away at his chin and sneering all around him.

“Three little birds at Mister Floyd’s!” croaked the old wooden soldier.

“Oh, really!” said Jarvis as a surprised smile cut across his face. “Why didn’t you tell me, my wooden friend?”

“Captain Dooley should be seen and not heard. Only speak when spoken to. There’s a good boy.”

Jarvis looked down at him. He really was an odd little fellow, even for someone from a place as strange as Hangman’s hollow. He diverted the steer of the carriage in the opposite direction.

“Then we shall call there on the way home. It would be nice to catch up with our friend Percival Floyd after so long,” he said as his evil grin gave way to his crooked teeth.

It was the very sound of those carriage wheels that woke Pip, Toad and Frankie. All three of them had come to know that noise only too well. Its distinct, rumbling, rattling, loose-in-its-frame trundle had made them sit upright in their resting places. Pip had to rub his eyes. What on earth had brought Jarvis to the door?

“Is it him?” said Frankie. “You don’t even have to tell me,” said Toad. “I know that sound too well.”

“Floyd must be in league with him,” said Pip. “He must have said something. Somehow sent him a message.” He was rubbing at the window to clear the frost and take a clearer view.

“No, definitely not,” said Toad. “Floyd is a true friend to my father. He has been for a lifetime. Something else brings him here.”

“Look,” said Pip, “in the back of the carriage. There are children.” And they craned their necks to get a view of what stood beneath the cottage window.

“You’re right. But I can see something far worse than that,” said Toad. “I hope I’m wrong.”

“What is it?” gasped the others.

“It’s Captain Dooley,” announced Toad. “Jarvis is wearing him at his waist.”

And for the first time, they saw a brief glimpse of Captain Dooley and discovered that he was in the possession of Jarvis. Nothing could be more dangerous. Nothing could put them at more risk and harm than this. How on earth had he discovered the old wooden soldier?

A huge crash came from below as Jarvis made his entry. The door buckled open, taking Floyd by complete surprise as he lay snoozing in his chair.

“Bring them to me,” snarled Jarvis. “Bring them all.” He was still gasping from the effort of his dramatic entry.

“But, I … I …” stuttered Floyd, unable to find the words.

From upstairs, only muffled shouts were heard. The children panicked, picking up their things.

“There’s no one here. Only me,” insisted Floyd, but then Jarvis’s eyes fell upon the four empty bowls in the hearth and without saying anything more he stormed upstairs, flinging back the doors to the rooms and stabbing his hook into the bedcovers in case the children hid beneath. He turned out the cupboards and drawers, swearing that when the captain told him something, it was true, and that was all the proof he needed.

And then he flung open another door and saw a scene to make his blood boil: an open window, and beyond it, small footsteps disappearing into the alleyways. They were gone. They had escaped him yet again.

Jarvis let out a scream and returned to the front door. “Remember my promise, Percival Floyd,” he said. “You will swing at the gallows for this.” And then he was off into the night.