Ten
John stood on the street corner in one of the working class districts of London later that afternoon.
An oversized livery wagon pulled by two dapple-gray steeds rattled down the muddy, half-frozen street. People bundled in heavy wool hurried along the sidewalks, rushing in and out of buildings, going about their daily business. The smell of fresh bread rolled from a well-maintained, albeit shabby, inn. Through the window he spied the pale face of Simon’s mother, Mrs. Carlson, seated at a table with his three younger brothers. John had set them up with a hot hearty meal, and arrangements for a warm, dry room until more permanent arrangements could be made.
“Mr. Jeffries is in there?” John pointed to the main door of the run down rooming house Mrs. Carlson and her children had been relegated to.
Simon nodded.
John twisted the emerald family ring off his little finger. He handed the piece to Simon. “You give this to Jeffries just like we discussed, all right?”
“I will, milord.” The boy took the ring and darted across the street. John followed at a more leisurely pace. Through the window he spied Simon approaching the wooden counter. A man of middling years stepped out and stooped over the lad. No doubt Mr. Jeffries.
Simon handed the man the ring.
Jeffries’ round face reddened with rage. “You only brought back one bloomin’ piece? Yer mother will pay fer this.” He grabbed the boy’s coat and closed his fist around the ring, raising it over his head with malicious intent.
Simon flinched hard.
John threw the door open with a violent crash. Jeffries startled, losing his grasp on Simon’s shirt. Simon quickly darted behind John, panic and relief lining his little face. The low burning anger within John roared to life. He had no patience or empathy for those who would use or abuse children.
Jeffries gulped, raking a nervous glare over John. “Wh-who are you?” he asked, obviously unused to ranking gentleman in his rooming house.
“Someone with little use for thieves.” John stormed into the lobby, closing in on Jeffries. An ivory handled letter opener with an elephant carved in the handle winked from the counter. John’s frown deepened. “And you’ve stolen from some very good friends of mine.”
“N-not I. Th-the boy.” Jeffries scrambled backward, dropping John’s ring to the floor.
Stepping over the ring, John snared the worn ascot around Jeffries’s neck and dragged the fiend to within an inch of his face. “I know all about how you’ve used this lad and lorded his mother’s poor health over him.”
Jeffries gulped. Dread pooled in his gray eyes.
“What have you done with the stolen belongings?”
“M-most of it’s s-sold,” he stammered. “But there are a few things still locked up in me office.”
