Dodger

water too. And people will come running down when they hear the gunshot.’ He gave her Solomon’s pistol and said, ‘Do you know how to fire one of these things if necessary?’
    ‘Well, I have seen men shooting, with my . . . husband, and I think I can.’
    ‘Right!’ said Dodger. ‘You just point the bit at the end at anyone you don’t like, and that generally works. If all goes well, I think I should be able to come and find you around about midnight. Don’t you worry now; the worst thing in these sewers right now is me, and I’m on your side. You will hear voices, but just lie low and keep very quiet, and you will know it’s me that’s coming to find you when you hear me whistle; just like we planned . . .’
    She kissed him and said, ‘Do you know, Dodger, your first plan would have worked too.’ Very pointedly she put on her finger the ring she had ‘found’ on the tosh, then she left, following the slightly lighter bricks in the darkness.
    Dodger worked fast now. He scurried at speed back down through the sewers to the place he most emphatically had stopped Charlie going into, and with care pulled out from hiding – and from the sheaves of lavender – all that remained of the unfortunate girl, yellow-haired and wearing exactly the same breeches and cap as Simplicity was wearing. He slid the wonderful ring on her cold finger – the gold ring with the eagles on the crest.
    Now there was the worst bit. He drew out the Outlander’s pistol, took a few breaths, shot the corpse in the heart twice, because the Outlander as a matter of course would use two shots to make sure, and – horribly, and almost without looking – once in the side of the face where the rats had begun to . . . well, do what rats usually do to a nice, fresh corpse. He whispered, ‘I’m sorry.’ Then he took from another hidey hole amongst the junk in the sewer a bucket of pigs’ blood. He tipped it out, trying all the time to not exactly be there, trying to become a disembodied spirit watching somebody else doing all these things, because as often as he told himself that he had done nothing really bad, there would always be a little part of him that would argue.
    And then he walked back along the tunnel, sat and sobbed and listened to the noise of splashing feet coming at speed down the sewer, led, interestingly, by Charlie, followed by a couple of policemen. They found Dodger curled up in tears, tears that right now came of their own accord.
    ‘Yes,’ said Dodger, crying. ‘She’s dead, she’s really dead . . . But I did my best, I really did.’
    A hand landed on Dodger’s neck and Charlie said, ‘Dead?’
    Looking at his boots, Dodger said, ‘Yes, Charlie, she was shot. There was nothing I could do. It was . . . the Outlander, a right proper assassin.’ He looked up, tears glistening in the lamplight. ‘What chance would the likes of me have against someone like that?’
    Charlie looked angrily at Dodger and said, ‘Are you telling me the truth, Dodger?’
    Now Dodger looked up with his head held high. ‘It all happened so quickly that it’s all a bit of a fog. But yes, I’d say that’s the truth of it all right.’
    Charlie’s face was suddenly much closer to Dodger’s. ‘A fog, you say?’
    ‘Yes indeed, the kind of fog in which people see what they want to see.’ Was that just a hint of a grin in Charlie’s eye? Dodger had to hope so.
    But the man said, ‘Surely there is a corpse?’
    Dodger nodded sadly. ‘Yes, sir, I can take you to it right now; indeed I think I should.’
    Charlie lowered his voice and said, ‘This corpse . . .?’
    Dodger sighed and said, ‘A poor girl’s corpse . . . and I have the culprits and will bring them to justice with your help, Charlie, but Simplicity, I am afraid you will never see alive again.’
    He said these words very carefully, eyes glued to Charlie, who said, ‘I cannot say I am pleased by what I hear, Mister Dodger, but here is a constable and we will follow your lead.’ He turned to Disraeli, who almost stepped back, and said, ‘Come along, Ben, as a pillar of Parliament, you should witness this.’ There was an edge of command in that suggestion and a few minutes later, they had reached, indeed, the sad corpse of ‘Simplicity’, lying in a pool of sewerage and blood.
    ‘Good lord,’ said Mister Disraeli, doing his best to appear shocked. ‘It would appear that Angela’s footman is really . . . Miss