Page 22 of The Curious Story of the Missing Lady
“As I recall,” said Herrick, edging closer like a stalking beast, “that most vile Thompson had a strawberry-shaped mark about the size of same on his cheek!” With this, the constable lunged, grabbed the man by the head and, with his thumb, rubbed the smudge from his cheek, revealing a large, strawberry-shaped mark underneath.
“Ah ha!” shouted Herrick. “There’s your man, Stamford. A common grave robber!”
“Please, sir!” cried Thompson. “I swear I was acquitted of that crime, sir! Believe me. I wouldn’t be standing here before you if I was guilty!”
“Right,” said Herrick. “You’re going to tell us here and now who sent you, or I swear by the Almighty Creator Himself that I’ll see you hang high above the village and buried with a stake in your heart!”
Thompson, not a man known for his intestinal fortitude, fell to his knees. “Please don’t, sir! His name is Garret, sir! And I met him in the publick house. I don't know nothing more about him, sir. He’s a big man, that’s all.”
Herrick turned to the Earl. “Sound like your man, alright.”
“Please let me go, sir. I swear I’m on the up and up.”
“Where do you live, Thompson?”
“Round Surrey, sir.”
“I know men in Surrey,” said Lord Stamford. “I’m going to notify them and have them keep watch over you.”
“Thank you, sir!” Thompson cried with a bow of his head.
“Don’t thank me, you dog! They are going to watch that you don’t leave your house! Because I intend to have Constable Herrick follow up on his plan for you if it turns out you’re lying to us about your relationship to this Garret fellow.”
Thompson rose on coltish legs. “Yes, sir.”
“Leave here at once,” commanded Lord Stamford, pointing to the door with a rigid arm,
“Yes, sir,” Thompson said weakly.
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He deliberately chose an obscure path back to town, ashamed by any eyes that might lay upon him.
“You’re a flaky little cod, is what you are, Thompson,” he muttered as he trudged through brambles and wet soil. ”It’s not worth it, is what it is. Better to dig up a body for four shilling a pop than to be pilloried like that.” He smacked himself in the forehead with his palm. “Stupid bloody dullard!”
He let out a girlish shriek as he was suddenly grabbed by the lapels and pulled off the trail.
“Alright, weed, out with it!”
“Don’t hurt me, Mr Garret! I done as you told!”
“What’s the story, then?”
Thompson swallowed hard. His mouth was bone dry. “T-they got the constable there, sir. They threatened me with hanging. W-why didn’t you tell me it were a ransom note?”
Garret stung his cheek with a slap. “Stop yer shrieking! Here ...” He dug five shillings from his coat pocket and jammed it into Thompson’s. “That’s for the job well done and for keeping your bloody gob stuffed. Youdidkeep your gob stuffed, right?”
“I did, sir. I swear.”
“Off with you. You don’t know me no more. You never have. Got it?”
“Yes, sir. Never met you in my life!”
With this, Thompson scurried off without a look behind him, vowing to himself to head straight to the church come Sunday morning – that was if he could remember where the bloody old building was.
Chapter 16
Garret’s right heel felt as though someone had driven a nail into it. He came in and slung the cloth sack from his shoulder, then sat down with a grunt and began pulling off his boot.
