Page 39 of Charmless
“Forgive me Your Highness. I believed I saw a notorious criminal lurking in the crowd.”
“Here is the villain right here!” A voice bellowed, the same shrill one I had heard earlier.
My heart skipped a beat. Had Mal not managed to get away after all? I whirled about as a huge man struggled through the crowd. Arno Warrington, wealthy owner of the Midtown counting house was a respected Midtown citizen who had an unfortunately high-pitched voice for such a big man.
People scrambled out of the way as Warrington pushed his way forward, dragging someone in his wake. But it was not Mal who struggled in the man’s meaty clutches, only a small boy.
Warrington tried to say something to Horatio, but the excitement and curiosity of the crowd had risen to a fever pitch.
“Silence!” Horatio called out with an unmistakable ring of authority that reduced the hubbub to a murmur.
As soon as Warrington could make himself heard, he said, “Commander, I caught this young rogue picking pockets.”
“Did not!” the boy cried, kicking out and struggling in a futile effort to be free. Warrington gripped the child by one arm, nearly yanking him off his feet. Women near them shrank away as though the man dangled some sort of vermin by the tail.
“Lemme go, you big oaf!” the boy shouted. Beneath his bravado, I detected the fear in his voice.
I gasped as I recognized a familiar mop of brown hair, scrawny legs poking out from his coarse woolen breeches. It was the same lad that Mal had employed to deliver my earrings when he had redeemed them from Withypole. The boy remembered me as well.
He directed pleading eyes toward me. “Miss Ella! Tell them. You know me. I’m no thief.”
“Silence. You little liar,” the prince snarled. “How would my beloved be acquainted with such a grubby?—”
“But I do know him.” I smiled encouragingly at the boy. “His name is Tom Piper, and he is a young man of great enterprise.”
Warrington snorted. “For stealing.”
“I didn't steal nothin’!”
“Impudent whelp! I caught you with your hand in my pocket.” Warrington gave Tom a rough shake. When the boy cried out in pain, Horatio ordered the big man to release his grip.
Keeping a firm hold on the boy’s shoulders, Horatio hunkered down beside him. If I had to guess Tom’s age, I would have said somewhere around ten years, although there was a shrewdness in his eyes that made him seem far older.
Confronted by the Commander of the Midtown Garrison and with the prince glaring down at him, any other boy would have been shaking with terror. Although Tom’s lower lip quivered, he met Horatio’s stern gaze with defiance.
“If you were not stealing, what were you doing, Tom?” Horatio asked.
“Passin’ out my cards. I tried to get the fat feller’s attention, but he paid no ’tention so I just snuck one into his pocket. Tell him to look. He’ll find it.”
Keeping one hand on the boy’s shoulder, Horatio straightened and addressed the counting house proprietor. “Mr. Warrington, if you will oblige us?”
“He certainly will not!” Florian spluttered. “Of all the outrageous?—”
“Your Highness, please. It will be the quickest way of clearing up this matter.”
The prince fumed and Warrington rolled his eyes, but he complied with Horatio’s request. The man delved impatiently inside the inner pocket of his brocade frock coat. His eyes widened with surprise as he produced a slightly wrinkled and grubby square of paper. He frowned as he examined it and suddenly his huge shoulders shook with laughter.
Warrington handed the card over to the commander. By standing on tiptoe and craning my neck, I was able to make out the crudely lettered words.
Tom Piper. Man of busYness.
Errands Run, Packeges Deelivered.
No service too big or small. Reasonable rats.
Utmost diskretion.
Horatio’s lips twitched as he read the card out loud. Ripples of laughter spread through the crowd. The only ones who did not look amused were the prince and Tom who appeared indignant that his card would be a subject for mirth.
