The Parliament House by Edward Marston

Author:Edward Marston
Language: eng
Format: mobi, azw3, epub
Published: 2010-12-13T00:00:00+00:00

They set out even earlier than usual. Bridget McCoy was not optimistic.

'He'll not be there,' she said, gloomily.

'He may be, Mother. You never know.'

'He was not at the market when you went there yesterday.'

'He might have been,' said Patrick, lumbering along beside her. 'I could easily have missed him in the crowd. That's why it needs two of us to catch Mr Field.'

'That's not his name, Patrick.'

'How do you know?'

'Because I've been thinking about it,' she said. 'If a man was about to commit a terrible murder, would he give his real name to me? No, it would be foolish of him. A name can be used to hunt someone down.'

Patrick was bewildered. 'If his name is not Mr Field,' he said with a frown, 'then what is it?'

'We may never know.'

'We will if we catch him today. I'll make him tell us the truth.'

'No, Patrick.'

'He lied to you, Mother. That was wrong.'

'Yes,' she agreed, 'and he deserves to be punished but it's not for us to touch him. That's Mr Bale's job. I made that mistake the first time. When I saw him in the market, I ran after Mr Field - or whatever his name was - and he must have seen me coming. I scared him off.'

'I can run faster than you.'

'He may have a weapon.'

Patrick held up his fists. 'I have two.'

'They're no use against a dagger or a pistol,' she said. 'Save them for rowdy customers at the tavern. This is a job for a constable.'

'That's what I'll be one day, Mother.'

'One day - perhaps.'

They walked on in silence. Bridget felt it would be too unkind to dampen his enthusiasm by reminding him of some of the other aspects of a parish constable's occupation. All that Patrick thought about was the pursuit and arrest of criminals. On the previous day, he had returned in a state of exhilaration because he had watched a prisoner being locked in the pillory by two constables. It was a task that he relished doing himself. It simply required brute force. When it came to giving evidence in court, or to interrogating a suspect, it was a very different matter. Patrick would flounder badly. He would be a figure of fun once again.

'I could have brought a cudgel,' said Patrick, bravely. 'I took one off that man I had to throw out last Saturday. He tried to hit me with it. With a cudgel in my hand, I could take on anybody.'

'You'd only get hurt.'

'Not if I get in the first blow.'

Bridget was firm. 'No, Patrick. All that we can do is to find him. We have to leave it to Mr Bale and Mr Warburton to arrest him.'

'We can't let him get away.'

'No, we'll follow him. We'll find out where he lives and then report it to the constables.' Her despondency returned. 'If we ever catch sight of him, that is, and I don't believe we will. He's gone forever. That lousy, scurvy, villainous son of a pox-ridden whore may not even be in London.

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