Which o’ them toffs is goin’ ter say as they ’anged the wrong bloke? None o’ them—and yer can lay money on that.”
“They won’t ’ave no choice,” she said fiercely, biting into her own pie. “The p’lice already knows as it weren’t the man they ’anged. They’ve got proof. An’ they know ’oo it were—they just can’t get proof o’ that neither.”
“I don’t believe yer.”
“I don’t tell lies,” Gracie said furiously, filled with indignation because this was not a lie but the absolute truth. “An’ yer got no right to say as I do. Yer just ’aven’t got the guts ter stand up to ’em and say wot yer know.” She tried to fill her expression with utmost contempt, but having her mouth half full got in her way.
“Yer damn’ right I in’t,” he agreed. “An’ fer why? Because it won’t do no good. Now you go back ter yer mistress and tell ’er ter ferget it. Garn!”
“I in’t goin’ nowhere till yer come an’ look at this geezer wot really done it.” She took another huge bite of her pie. “An’ then yer say as if it were ’im wot spoke to yer outside the thee-ayter. An’ we should find them geezers wot was ’anging ’round the end o’ Farriers’ Lane that night, an’ find out wot they really saw, not wot the rozzers told ’em they saw.”
“Wotcher mean ‘we’?” His voice rose to a squeak. “I in’t goin’ anywhere. I ’ad more’n enough o’ the rozzers w’en the murder ’appened—I don’t need ter go lookin’ fer ’em now.”
“O’ course you as well,” Gracie said exasperatedly, swallowing the bite of pie. “In’t no point me goin’ by meself. I weren’t there. I din’t see ’im.”
“Well, I in’t goin’.”
“Please.”
“No.”
“The geezer wot really done it is still out there,” she protested.
“Don’t matter ter me. Now go away an’ leave me alone, won’t yer?”
“No. I in’t goin’ ter leave yer till yer come wif me an’ ’ave a real look at this geezer, an’ say if ’e were the one or not.”
“Yer can’t foller me ’round!”
“I can.”
“Look.” He was exasperated. “I can’t do nuffink fer yer. An’ I go places as it in’t right for yer to come. Nah go away!”
“I in’t goin’ till yer comes an’ ’as a look at this geezer.”
“Well, yer goin’ ter wait a long time.” And with that he turned his back and began talking to a potential customer, making a considerable show of ignoring Gracie.
Gracie followed him back to his stall, and then stood clasping her coat closer around her and waited, watching. It was cold and her feet were so chilled she had lost feeling in them. But she was certainly not going to give up, if she had to follow him until he went to bed.
Late in the afternoon Joe tidied his stall and locked his few goods away for the night, then left. Gracie came to attention and followed after him. Twice he turned around, caught sight of her, and glared, at the same time waving his hand to shoo her away. She made a face back at him and continued to follow.
He went into a public house and pushed his way to the counter, and she went in after him, wriggling and following through people to find a place beside him, luxuriating in the warmth after the biting cold outside.
“Go away,” Joe said furiously, glaring at her.
Half a dozen people turned to look at him, then at Gracie.
“Not till yer come an’ look at the bloke wot did it,” she replied stubbornly, sniffing as the sudden warmth made her nose run.
“Don’t yer never give up?” he whispered. “I told yer—they won’t believe me, whatever I say. I’d be wastin’ me time. Don’t yer ’ave no wits at all?”
She did not bother to argue her intelligence.
“You just come an’ look at this bloke. If it were ’im, they’ll believe yer.”
“Yeah? Why’s that then?” Skepticism was deep in his thin face.
She was not going to tell him Pitt knew Harrimore was guilty. He might not understand the necessity for proof. Nor could she easily explain how she knew such a thing.
“I can’t explain everything to yer.” She sniffed again.
“Yer don’t know.”
“Yes, I do so. An’ I’m still goin’ ter foller yer till yer ’ave a real look at ’im. The rozzers won’t bovver yer, if that’s wot yer scared of.”
“Don’t yer talk down ter me like that, yer miserable little article,” he said furiously. “Yer’d be scared too, if’n yer ’ad two wits to rub tergether. You any idea wot them rozzers can do, if they takes a real nasty to yer? And they do, if yer says as their evidence in’t no good. Ask me—I know!”
“You don’t ’ave ter tell the rozzers, not ter begin wif,” she said triumphantly. “Jus’ come and look at ’im, and tell me.” He turned away and she pulled at his sleeve. “An’ I swear I’ll leave yer alone. If’n yer don’t, I’ll come wif yer everyw’ere.”
“No rozzers?” he said warily.
“I swear it.”
