upon which I was working when you brought to me Sir John’s summons. You object to having our life put before the world, do you? Well, does it mean naught to you that I hold our lives to be as truly exciting and adventurous as any in a romance-or a book of any sort? Real life is grand, Jeremy. Don’t you-”
“Still, Clarissa,” I said, interrupting her, “‘a certain blind magistrate,’ ‘a noted lexicographer from Lichfield?’ How could you?”
“Oh pish-posh,” said she, “I was but having a bit of fun there.”
“Well, your fun may be another’s misery.”
“None of that now. Sir John and Samuel Johnson can defend themselves.”
I was about to reply to that when she spoke up once more and uttered words that proved prophetic.
“Sometime in the future, Jeremy, you yourself may write books about Sir John. And why not? What better memorial could he have? Until then, let us consider that he can and should be written about by one of us. Does that not seem reasonable?”
I had to admit that it did. Perhaps, reader, I had already, at that early date, begun to think about writing this series of books. There we left the matter. I, for one, was quite exhausted by our quarrel-if quarrel it was. But, as Clarissa gathered up her things, I added what, for a while, I later came to regret.
“It’s been decided,” said I to her, “that I shall be going up to Newmarket for the big race, as we discussed.”
“I know,” said she. “Sir John told me.”
What I later came to regret for a little while was that Clarissa had not given up that daft idea of hers of combining our savings and betting all upon the longest shot on the boards. She made that plain when, just as I was waiting to leave with Mr. Patley next day, she suddenly appeared and, from her large apron pocket, drew a great, jingling pile of coins tied up neatly in a kerchief.
“Here,” said she, “you’ll find a pound and eleven shillings. You don’t need to count it, for I’ve done that over and over again. You’ve probably twice that amount. Just put it together with mine and wager it where it will do the most good.”
“But Clarissa-”
“Not a word, Jeremy! Just remember what I said: favorable odds and the right attitude. That will do it.”
And, having spoken thus, she planted a kiss upon my cheek and ran for the door. There she waved and disappeared inside.
So there I stood in Bow Street, awaiting the arrival of Mr. Patley, so that we two might leave together for the Post Coach House and catch the evening mail coach to Newmarket. I knew that there was time to spare till it departed; nevertheless, I was eager to be under way.
Mr. Marsden had come to work early that day as if to assure Sir John and the rest of us that he was fit to do all that was asked of him. Even so, his voice was thin and wheezy, and he seemed to speak only when it was absolutely necessary. I was worried about him; and Sir John, though he voiced no doubts, did not demand much from him.
The magistrate took me aside and told me that I might continue with my packing, for he accepted Mr. Marsden’s assurances that he was well enough to finish the week out. I was to alert Mr. Patley that all would be proceeding as planned.
Before leaving, I sat down in Sir John’s chambers and took down a letter from him to the magistrate of Newmarket, explaining who Mr. Patley and I were and what purpose we had there in the town. He asked the cooperation of the magistrate in our efforts and assured him that we would respect his jurisdiction in all matters.
When he had signed the letter, and it was sealed with his official seal, he handed it over to me and told me to tuck it away someplace safe.
“Between us I will advise you only to make use of this if you get into trouble with his constables. You will then have to explain why you did not present the letter the moment you arrived.”
“And what shall I tell him?” I asked.
“Anything you like,” said he with a sly smile. “Lie, prevaricate, give him the best sort of story that you can make up quickly. But at such a distance, I warn you, I cannot help you much.”
“I noticed that you said nothing in the letter about firearms. Am I to take it that that means we are to take none with us?”
“You have taken it correctly,” said he. “Mr. Patley may take his club, and you, I suppose, that God-awful weapon you secretly carry with you wherever you go.”
“The cosh?”
“That’s it. But you may make use of them only in the
I assured him I did.
“And you will pass it on to Mr. Patley?”
“I will, sir.”
“Then Godspeed to you, Jeremy. Come back with Alice Plummer, and we’ll be much closer to solving this case. I believe that to be true with all my heart.”
With such a leavetaking as that, you may well suppose that I was determined to do my very best, and I took the hand he offered me in both of my own and gave his a proper squeeze.
“Good lad,” said he.
I left his presence and took my place just outside the door to Number 4 Bow Street, my new portmanteau at my feet, and there I awaited the arrival of Mr. Patley.
After bouncing along for the entire night, we came at dawn to Cambridge. Though not so grand as Oxford, the towers of the university there gave it the appearance of some fairy-tale city of a past that never was. Then, as we approached, the rays of the rising sun caught them so that for a minute or two they shone quite brilliantly. The early morning sun can make even London look thus enchanted.
There we stopped, and, as the great bags of mail were tossed down, I myself descended to the cobblestones and helped down two of the passengers-an elderly man and his much younger wife. The couple had grumbled all the way from London at the roughness of the road and the speed of the horses. I was glad to be rid of them. I walked about then in the early morning cold, glad to have the chance to stretch my legs a bit. In the distance, I could see what I took to be the university buildings, yet I was not to get much closer to them than the coachyard, on that trip. Then came a call from the driver, and I hopped up into the coach and closed the door after me.
Through it all, Constable Patley had slept. I, on the other hand, had dozed only fitfully, and that during those brief periods wherein the horses were walked that they might rest a bit. Yet we were not long beyond the outskirts of London when the constable had fallen into a dreamless sleep-no mumbling, no tossing nor turning; he was simply dead to the world for the duration of the journey. Later, I asked him how he had accustomed himself to sleeping so soundly under such conditions. He told me that it was a skill (if that be the word) he had developed whilst serving in the army. “Oftentimes,” said he, “’tis necessary to take your sleep whenever you have the opportunity-and such times come more often in the army than you might suppose.” Mr. Perkins, who had the same sort of ability, told me much the same thing: he developed it in the army.
Not far out of town, we came upon the river Cam and followed it alongside until Newmarket was visible in the distance. It is no match for the Thames, as you may suppose; by comparison, it is hardly more than a stream. Nevertheless, the river and the bankside greenery are as pretty as any could wish. Indeed, some of the scenes I saw along the way were quite beautiful in the quiet way of the English countryside.
As it grew brighter, Mr. Patley began to stir. He stretched, flailing round him slowly in ever-widening circles. He blinked his eyes open, saw that we were alone there in the coach, and let out a moan.
“Ohhh, Jeremy, I’ve a terrible piss must be taken.”
I banged upon the ceiling of the coach and felt the conveyance grinding to a halt most immediately. Yet Patley did not wait for a complete stop. He jumped out the door as soon as it was safe and ran to the side of the road.
“Why didn’t your friend do his business back in Cambridge like the rest of us?” the driver called down to
