it?”
“How d’you mean, convenient?” asked the man nervously.
“Well, if Patrick was with you, that gives you an alibi as well, don’t it?”
“I … I … I don’t need an alibi,” Sneyd stammered. “Nobody says I did it.”
“But you was in this wood the night Tommie was murdered?” Wiggins persisted.
“I was, yes.”
“And you didn’t see nobody else?”
“I might have done. But I can’t be sure. I didn’t see Tommie, either.”
“So you say, Mr Sneyd. So you say…”
“Yes, I do say.”
“Thank you,” Wiggins said, taking hold of the lapels of his jacket like a lawyer interrogating a witness in court. “I’ve only got one more question for now.”
“What’s that?”
“What was Tommie doing in the woods? Where was he going?”
Sneyd looked confused. His mouth opened and closed but no sound came out. Gertie stepped in.
“I dare say he was comin’ to see us.”
“Did he usually come at that time of night?” Wiggins asked her.
“No,” she said. “He usually come earlier in the evenin’, while it was still light.”
“So why was he coming then?” he pressed. “That’s another thing we gotta find out. And when we do, we’ll know who killed him.”
A B LACK-AND -W HITE C ASE
Sparrow was so weary the next morning that the other lads had to tip him out of bed before he could wake up. He lay on the hard floor, trying to collect his thoughts, wondering why every bone and muscle in his body ached. Ginger and Jim had to stuff his legs into his breeches, then pull them up. Alfie and Charlie stuck his feet into his boots and all four of them hauled him upright and helped him to climb unsteadily down the stairs.
“Come on, Sparrow,” Ginger urged. “You better not let Hogg see you like this. He’ll have you runnin’ round the yard till you drop.”
It was barely light in the yard, but Fred had already washed himself in the big stone water trough. He took one look at Sparrow’s bleary eyes and laughed.
“What’s this, Birdie? Can’t wake up? Soon put that right. Come here.”
He grabbed Sparrow by the neck, shoved his head into the water and held it under. It was bitterly cold and Sparrow struggled to escape, desperately holding his breath. Just as he thought he was going to drown, Fred finally let go. Sparrow surfaced, gasping for air.
“There you are, Birdie.” Fred guffawed. “You awake now?”
Sparrow nodded, speechless.
“Say thank you, then, like a good lad.”
“Thank you,” Sparrow spluttered.
“Thank you, Fred,” corrected the head lad.
“Thank you, Fred,” Sparrow repeated.
“That’s more like it.” Fred clapped his hands loudly. “Right, let’s get these boxes opened up. Give the hosses some air.”
The lads moved quickly along the row of boxes. As they opened the stable doors, the horses stuck their heads out, snorting a welcome to the day. To Sparrow’s surprise, when he opened Silver Star’s door it was Blackie’s face that appeared. He turned to find Fred looking at him.
“Why is Blackie in Star’s box?” he asked.
Fred made an angry gesture. “That stupid Hogg,” he said. “He must have put ’em back wrong last night.”
“Hogg?”
“Yeah. We thought Star might have a bit of a strain coming on,” Fred explained, “so we took both of ’em out to give ’em a rub down. Can’t be too careful with the big race so close.”
“Last night?”
“After you lot had turned in. Can’t you smell the liniment?”
Sparrow sniffed. He had already noticed a powerful medical smell.
“Pooh,” he said. “I wondered what the pong was.”
“Horse liniment. You’ll soon get used to that, workin’ in a stables. We might even give
you
a rub down with some – ease your aches and pains,” said Fred with a malicious smirk. “So, Birdie, better open up next door and see if Star’s in there.”
Sure enough, when they opened Blackie’s door the horse that appeared had the familiar white star on its nose. Sparrow
“How d’you mean, convenient?” asked the man nervously.
“Well, if Patrick was with you, that gives you an alibi as well, don’t it?”
“I … I … I don’t need an alibi,” Sneyd stammered. “Nobody says I did it.”
“But you was in this wood the night Tommie was murdered?” Wiggins persisted.
“I was, yes.”
“And you didn’t see nobody else?”
“I might have done. But I can’t be sure. I didn’t see Tommie, either.”
“So you say, Mr Sneyd. So you say…”
“Yes, I do say.”
“Thank you,” Wiggins said, taking hold of the lapels of his jacket like a lawyer interrogating a witness in court. “I’ve only got one more question for now.”
“What’s that?”
“What was Tommie doing in the woods? Where was he going?”
Sneyd looked confused. His mouth opened and closed but no sound came out. Gertie stepped in.
“I dare say he was comin’ to see us.”
“Did he usually come at that time of night?” Wiggins asked her.
“No,” she said. “He usually come earlier in the evenin’, while it was still light.”
“So why was he coming then?” he pressed. “That’s another thing we gotta find out. And when we do, we’ll know who killed him.”
A B LACK-AND -W HITE C ASE
Sparrow was so weary the next morning that the other lads had to tip him out of bed before he could wake up. He lay on the hard floor, trying to collect his thoughts, wondering why every bone and muscle in his body ached. Ginger and Jim had to stuff his legs into his breeches, then pull them up. Alfie and Charlie stuck his feet into his boots and all four of them hauled him upright and helped him to climb unsteadily down the stairs.
“Come on, Sparrow,” Ginger urged. “You better not let Hogg see you like this. He’ll have you runnin’ round the yard till you drop.”
It was barely light in the yard, but Fred had already washed himself in the big stone water trough. He took one look at Sparrow’s bleary eyes and laughed.
“What’s this, Birdie? Can’t wake up? Soon put that right. Come here.”
He grabbed Sparrow by the neck, shoved his head into the water and held it under. It was bitterly cold and Sparrow struggled to escape, desperately holding his breath. Just as he thought he was going to drown, Fred finally let go. Sparrow surfaced, gasping for air.
“There you are, Birdie.” Fred guffawed. “You awake now?”
Sparrow nodded, speechless.
“Say thank you, then, like a good lad.”
“Thank you,” Sparrow spluttered.
“Thank you, Fred,” corrected the head lad.
“Thank you, Fred,” Sparrow repeated.
“That’s more like it.” Fred clapped his hands loudly. “Right, let’s get these boxes opened up. Give the hosses some air.”
The lads moved quickly along the row of boxes. As they opened the stable doors, the horses stuck their heads out, snorting a welcome to the day. To Sparrow’s surprise, when he opened Silver Star’s door it was Blackie’s face that appeared. He turned to find Fred looking at him.
“Why is Blackie in Star’s box?” he asked.
Fred made an angry gesture. “That stupid Hogg,” he said. “He must have put ’em back wrong last night.”
“Hogg?”
“Yeah. We thought Star might have a bit of a strain coming on,” Fred explained, “so we took both of ’em out to give ’em a rub down. Can’t be too careful with the big race so close.”
“Last night?”
“After you lot had turned in. Can’t you smell the liniment?”
Sparrow sniffed. He had already noticed a powerful medical smell.
“Pooh,” he said. “I wondered what the pong was.”
“Horse liniment. You’ll soon get used to that, workin’ in a stables. We might even give
you
a rub down with some – ease your aches and pains,” said Fred with a malicious smirk. “So, Birdie, better open up next door and see if Star’s in there.”
Sure enough, when they opened Blackie’s door the horse that appeared had the familiar white star on its nose. Sparrow
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