Death and the Arrow by Chris Priestley

getting old,” said Ocean, putting the smoking pistol inside his coat. “I was aiming for his ear. Come on, gents,” he said, “all this racket will have roused the constables. Time we wasn’t here.”
    He led Tom and Dr. Harker briskly down several alleyways, up a curving flight of steps, and through the back of an inn; to their surprise, they emerged into the busy throng of Smithfield, coming to a halt next to a wagon full of fleeces.
    “You have our undying gratitude, sir,” said Dr. Harker, shaking Ocean’s hand.
    “It was great luck that you happened by,” said Tom.
    “Well, not luck exactly, Master Tom,” said Ocean. “The truth is, I’ve been following you gents. I thought I might come in handy and, well, I was right.” He grinned. “No offense intended, of course, but even with that sword, these are dangerous waters you’re paddling in.”
    Tom thought he saw the doctor blush slightly at the mention of his sword.
    “Ocean is a very unusual name, if you don’t mind me saying,” Dr. Harker said.
    “They call me Ocean on account of how I was born at sea; on the Atlantic’s briny deep. I come into this world on a Bristol-bound brig out of the Americas, flapping on the deck like a new-caught codfish. My dear old mother, bless her bones, was returning from those parts, where she’d lately resided, transported there for thievery and the like. Transported there for being poor, if you asks me. Transported there for being born in Shoreditch and not in Mayfair.” Ocean looked away for a moment and then continued. “She died in the having of me, bless her, so I never knew her. I was adopted by another of her kind, who brought me to this city and taught me the craft of thievery. That’s the truth, sir. I am a thief, but I’m an honest thief.” He smiled. “There, now you have my life.”
    “And I owe you mine,” said Dr. Harker, shaking his hand. “Ocean, I’m very pleased to renew our acquaintance. And I think we ought to tell you all that we know so far, shouldn’t we, Tom?”
    “Yes, sir,” said Tom. “I think we should.”
    So Ocean learned of their search for Will’s murderer and what they had discovered so far. He was quick to offer any assistance he could, but he also had a few words of caution. “As you found out,” he told them, “these parts can be a deadly place for them that don’t know their way about. You see the shape of the thieves here? Those villains would have shot you dead and thought no more about it.”
    “I don’t think they were thieves, Ocean. Or at least they were not about to steal from
us
.”
    “How so?” asked Ocean. “What fight could those men have had with you?”
    “I don’t know, Ocean,” said Dr. Harker. “But I’m sure those two men are involved in the Death and the Arrow mystery and in the murder of young Will.”
    “God help them if that’s true,” said Ocean. “But there were three men in that alleyway, Dr. Harker.” Tom and the doctor looked at each other in surprise. “Four, if you count the man on the roof.”
    “What do you mean?” said Dr. Harker.
    “Well, there was a man who didn’t want to be seen, skulking in a doorway some ways off.”
    “What did he look like?” said Tom, reminded of the man he saw at Will’s funeral. “Was he a big man, dressed in black?”
    “Not so big, no,” said Ocean. “Wiry, I’d call him. Now, the man on the roof—he was big.”
    “On the roof, you say?” said Dr. Harker.
    “That’s right. Up on the roof, behind the chimney stack. I just caught a fleeting glimpse, mind you, but he was there.”
    “But I’ve seen him too,” said Tom, suddenly remembering.
    “Really, Tom?” said Dr. Harker excitedly. “Can you remember when?”
    “Just after Will told me about his job, I saw someone high up on the roof ridge when there was a break in the fog. Do you think he was following Will? Is he the killer?”
    “I don’t know, Tom,” said Dr. Harker, deep in thought. “I don’t