Page 42 of The Missing Maid
‘Simple but brilliant,’ Harry said grudgingly. She peered out of the shattered window. ‘There’s a light on, anyway. Somebody is home.’
Removing his cap, Oliver scratched his head. ‘So now what?’
Harry settled into a crouch by the window. ‘Now we wait.’
It was cold and uncomfortable and the stench of decay and mould made her want to gag. It must have been a shock to Mildred’s system to come here after the grandeur of the Finchem house, or even after her parents’ home in Foxley. It wasn’t just the dirt or the neglect that troubled Harry; perhaps it was just a fancy but beneath the rotting leaves and rubbish she thought she detected an air of hopelessness about Tea Cutter Row. ‘Do you ever wonder what it would be like to live somewhere like this?’ she asked Oliver quietly, after they had been there for around an hour.
‘I’m trying not to,’ he said gravely. ‘I think something hairy just crawled up my trouser leg.’
Harry shuddered. ‘That’s not what I meant. Can you imagine what it’s like to grow up in a place like this? Without heating or hot water or money for food?’
There was a brief silence. ‘It’s no accident that many of the criminals I see in the courts come from deprived areas. It’s easy to do the right thing if you’ve never had to worry about where your next meal is coming from.’
She couldn’t argue with that. But her grandmother’s charity work had shown her it was possible to give hope and opportunities to communities like these. Oliver expected Dora to react to their approach like a hardened criminal but perhaps there was a small chance she might see the error of her ways if Harry explained how desperate Mildred’s situation was. Only time would tell.
They waited mostly in silence, moving only to shoo a rat or restore blood flow to numbed limbs. If Harry hadn’t been wearing a watch, she might have guessed it was the small hours of the morning when Dora eventually appeared. But a quick glance at the dial told her it was just before eleven o’clock when the girl’s slight figure came into view at the end of the street. ‘Oliver,’ she whispered and felt him stir beside her. ‘There she is!’
‘Are you sure it’s her?’
Harry watched the figure move along the street. It was impossible to make out much detail but she thought whoever it was had the right height and build. ‘I suppose there’s only one way to find out.’
‘She’ll run,’ Oliver predicted, straightening up.
‘Then we’d better hope we can keep up with her,’ Harry said. ‘Ready?’
She sensed rather than saw him nod. ‘Ready.’
The figure was almost at number 25 when Harry and Oliver burst out of the empty house and charged towards her. ‘Dora! We want a word with you,’ Harry challenged gruffly. ‘Or should I call you Mildred Longstaff?’
For a second the girl froze, her face a mask of startled indecision. Then she was off, darting like a hare for the safety of number 25. But Oliver was faster. He reached out a hand to intercept her. She danced past him into the middle of the street and paused to bare her teeth. ‘Who are you?’
Harry held up both hands. ‘We don’t want any trouble. In fact, we want to help you. All you have to do is tell us what you know about the Lord Robertson burglary.’
Dora stared at her. ‘You’ve come to the wrong place if you don’t want no trouble.’ She glanced at the window of the house. ‘You’re already in it, up to your necks.’
‘It’s you who’s in trouble, Dora,’ Oliver said. ‘We know you brought Mildred here when she lost her job with Lady Finchem. And we know you took her place at Lord Robertson’s on the night of the burglary.’
The girl laughed. ‘Have you two just got out of the loony bin or something? I’ve got no idea what you’re on about.’
Harry narrowed her gaze. ‘I think you do. And I’m sure Mildred would be able to pick you out of a police line-up as the person who set her up.’
‘Mildred?’ Dora snarled, suddenly ferocious. ‘She ain’t going to be picking nothing. Not long for this world, from what I hear. Such a shame but like they always say, if you can’t do the time, don’t do the crime!’
With a sudden lunge, she tossed the bag she held at Oliver, who caught it with a grunt of surprise. Then she was running, dodging between Harry and Oliver and speeding back the way she had come. ‘After her!’ Harry roared, cursing the weight of the misshapen boots that were part of her disguise. What she wouldn’t give for her white tennis shoes, she thought as she panted after Dora, trying to keep her in sight. Oliver sped past her. ‘Stay with her,’ Harry called. ‘I’m right behind you.’
The girl was swift, and she had the advantage of knowing the streets. She led them on a torrid race, dodging left and right down alleyways and cut-throughs, twisting down shadowy side streets in an effort to shake them off. Harry thought her lungs might explode with the effort of keeping pace but she stuck at the task with breathless determination. Sweat dripped down herface as they tore past the Albert Arms. It was closing time – clusters of burly men stood on the street, clapping each other on the back as they said goodnight.
‘George! Sammy! Help me!’ Dora cried over her shoulder, and Harry glanced back to see a pair of bulky figures detach themselves from the crowd.
‘What’s going on, Dora?’ a deep voice called.
‘Debt collectors,’ she cried and the crowd let out an ugly rumble. A second later, the noise erupted into a roar and it seemed as though the whole company was thundering after them. Oliver looked over his shoulder with grim resignation. ‘You stay with Dora. I’ll keep them busy.’
Harry stared at him. ‘You can’t fight them all – they’ll kill you!’
Oliver grimaced. ‘They’ll have to catch me first.’
He peeled off to the left and the crowd howled in response. The thunder of feet on the street lessened but Harry knew she was still being pursued. Sucking in as much oxygen as she could, she redoubled her efforts to reach Dora. Soon the girl would be at the Elephant and Castle junction, with many different roads to choose from and the possibility of leaping aboard a bus or tram. Harry had to keep her in sight until then.
