gruesome sight, stared thoughtfully at the gibbet and its contents. ”Who do you suppose it was?” She asked it most indifferently, as if she were merely wondering aloud.
Yet Mr. Perkins took her idle query most seriously. ”Why, I don’t know,” said he, pondering, rubbing his chin. But then did his eyes come alight of a sudden. ”Or perhaps I do,” said he to her. Then did he call up to the driver of the coach: ”How far are we from Deal?”
“Not far at all,” said the driver. ”I should not doubt we will see it take shape when the road next climbs a hill.”
“In that case, I would give a good wager that yonder hangs all that is left of Rufus Tucker.”
“The one you were talking about? The one who killed the exciseman?” I had not seen Clarissa so animated since her first meeting with Samuel Johnson.
“The very same, miss, for I know very well that there was no such body on display before I left here. And I now remember running into a lad from Deal whilst I was in Aldershot waiting transfer to another regiment. He told me old Rufus’s body had been shipped back to Deal for display purposes. The idea was that he was to hang there to warn all against shooting excisemen.”
“Imagine!” sighed Clarissa. ”That could be Rufus Tucker.”
“JEREMY!”
That was Sir John’s bellow from across the road. Quite unmistakable it was, though not near so fierce as I may make it seem, writ so in capital letters. It was loud enough, nevertheless, to suggest to me that he might be in distress. Adding to that, he was not where I had left him. I looked uneasily about but he was nowhere to be seen.
“Jeremy!”
Another bellow, somewhat more impatient, rose from aspot a bit behind me. I hastened to the place and found Sir John lying disheveled and somewhat disappointed with himself at the dusty bottom of the deep ditch which ran along that side of the road.
“Is that you, Jeremy?”
“It is, Sir John. Are you hurt?”
“No, no, though my pride is a bit bruised. I fear I must ask you for a hand up.”
That I gladly offered him. I tugged hard, and up he came. Yet though on his feet, he still required help in scrambling up the crumbling wall of the ditch to the road. I pushed—though that did no good at all. But then, as I bent low from the road level to grasp one of Sir John’s hands, I found a helper beside me—none other than Mr. Perkins. The constable gave his only hand to the magistrate, and we two hauled him up.
“Who is that helping poor Jeremy? Is it you, Constable Perkins?”
“It is, Sir John.”
“Ah well, I should have called earlier for Jeremy to lead me back but I heard your voices, and I thought I could simply walk to the sound of them. But I misstepped, lost my balance, and fell to the bottom of that … what would you call it? A ditch?”
“It was a ditch, yes sir.”
“Sometimes I fear that I attempt too much. Perhaps I should accept the limitations my blindness has put upon me.”
“Ah, do not say that, sir. If you was to give in to your fate, there’s a certain one-armed constable might be forced to give in to his.”
Sir John chuckled. ”Well, I would not wish to encourage that—no, certainly not.”
Sir John had accepted my help in seeing him back to the coach. Yet without notice, he stopped of a sudden and said to me, ”Jeremy, I have something to discuss with Mr.
Perkins. Would you then go to the coach and tell all that we shall be with them in just a few moments’ time?”
Having no choice in the matter, I agreed, though I saw little need for such secrecy. Ultimately, their conversation lasted many more moments than a few and became at one point quite heated before it was done. When at last they returned to the coach, Sir John called up to the driver and asked that he stop when the town of Deal came into view. Only then did he ascend to the coach’s interior, bang upon the ceiling, and set us into motion once again.
“Jeremy,” said he, ”you serve as
Yet Mr. Perkins took her idle query most seriously. ”Why, I don’t know,” said he, pondering, rubbing his chin. But then did his eyes come alight of a sudden. ”Or perhaps I do,” said he to her. Then did he call up to the driver of the coach: ”How far are we from Deal?”
“Not far at all,” said the driver. ”I should not doubt we will see it take shape when the road next climbs a hill.”
“In that case, I would give a good wager that yonder hangs all that is left of Rufus Tucker.”
“The one you were talking about? The one who killed the exciseman?” I had not seen Clarissa so animated since her first meeting with Samuel Johnson.
“The very same, miss, for I know very well that there was no such body on display before I left here. And I now remember running into a lad from Deal whilst I was in Aldershot waiting transfer to another regiment. He told me old Rufus’s body had been shipped back to Deal for display purposes. The idea was that he was to hang there to warn all against shooting excisemen.”
“Imagine!” sighed Clarissa. ”That could be Rufus Tucker.”
“JEREMY!”
That was Sir John’s bellow from across the road. Quite unmistakable it was, though not near so fierce as I may make it seem, writ so in capital letters. It was loud enough, nevertheless, to suggest to me that he might be in distress. Adding to that, he was not where I had left him. I looked uneasily about but he was nowhere to be seen.
“Jeremy!”
Another bellow, somewhat more impatient, rose from aspot a bit behind me. I hastened to the place and found Sir John lying disheveled and somewhat disappointed with himself at the dusty bottom of the deep ditch which ran along that side of the road.
“Is that you, Jeremy?”
“It is, Sir John. Are you hurt?”
“No, no, though my pride is a bit bruised. I fear I must ask you for a hand up.”
That I gladly offered him. I tugged hard, and up he came. Yet though on his feet, he still required help in scrambling up the crumbling wall of the ditch to the road. I pushed—though that did no good at all. But then, as I bent low from the road level to grasp one of Sir John’s hands, I found a helper beside me—none other than Mr. Perkins. The constable gave his only hand to the magistrate, and we two hauled him up.
“Who is that helping poor Jeremy? Is it you, Constable Perkins?”
“It is, Sir John.”
“Ah well, I should have called earlier for Jeremy to lead me back but I heard your voices, and I thought I could simply walk to the sound of them. But I misstepped, lost my balance, and fell to the bottom of that … what would you call it? A ditch?”
“It was a ditch, yes sir.”
“Sometimes I fear that I attempt too much. Perhaps I should accept the limitations my blindness has put upon me.”
“Ah, do not say that, sir. If you was to give in to your fate, there’s a certain one-armed constable might be forced to give in to his.”
Sir John chuckled. ”Well, I would not wish to encourage that—no, certainly not.”
Sir John had accepted my help in seeing him back to the coach. Yet without notice, he stopped of a sudden and said to me, ”Jeremy, I have something to discuss with Mr.
Perkins. Would you then go to the coach and tell all that we shall be with them in just a few moments’ time?”
Having no choice in the matter, I agreed, though I saw little need for such secrecy. Ultimately, their conversation lasted many more moments than a few and became at one point quite heated before it was done. When at last they returned to the coach, Sir John called up to the driver and asked that he stop when the town of Deal came into view. Only then did he ascend to the coach’s interior, bang upon the ceiling, and set us into motion once again.
“Jeremy,” said he, ”you serve as
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