"Papers about what?"
"That some kind of joke? You know I can't read."
Jack tipped his head back, sighed. "Who are you working for?"
"I can't tell you that now, Jack-o'-Lantern. Ain't none o' your business no more."
"It is my business. I live there."
Patrick snorted a harsh laugh. "And what right 'ave you got to live there? Eh? You fink that man's yer uncle? Because I ain't so sure you're any more a Langley than me."
Jack shoved Patrick in the chest, slamming him back against the door with such force that I heard a crack of wood. Beside me, Samuel bristled and his hand took mine, reassuring me that he would not let anything happen to me. I appreciated the gesture, although I wasn't scared. Jack's anger was directed at Patrick and the man looked terrified. He held up his hands in surrender.
"S-sorry, Jack, I meant no 'arm."
"Who you been sayin' that to?" Jack's voice was a low growl, just audible through the invading fog. "You don't know me no more," he went on. "Got that, Patrick? Now, tell me 'oo paid you to take them papers from Langley."
Patrick shook his head. "Can't say."
Jack slammed him back against the door again. The window nearby opened and the young boy's head popped out. "What's that racket?" When Jack glared at him, the lad ducked back inside and slammed the window shut.
"Tell me, Patrick," Jack snarled. "I ain't got time for this."
"I can't! Said 'e'd kill me if I told, 'e did."
"I'll bloody kill you if you don't." Two sparks flared in the darkness and one landed on Patrick's jacket. He yelped and patted it, and it quickly fizzled out.
"What was that?" Samuel whispered. "Did those sparks came from Jack's hands? Is he holding some sort of ignition device?"
"Whoa," said Patrick, breathing hard. "Careful, Jack-o'-lantern. It's just business. It ain't personal."
"It is to me." Jack's voice was once more cultured, gentlemanly, but it was no less threatening. "They hang thieves."
"You wouldn't turn me in." Patrick's voice trembled. "We was friends once, don't that mean somethin' now?"
"Not if you cross me. Tell me who you work for, and I'll leave you alone. If you don't..." He patted the burned patch on Patrick's jacket. "I may not be able to control my temper next time."
Patrick's swallow could be heard clear across the street. "Don't tell 'im I told you."
"I won't."
"I don't know 'is name."
Jack's hands glowed but no sparks shot from them. "You must know something. Where can I find him? What does he look like?"
"I met 'im down at The Boar. Spoke like a toff, 'e did, and 'ad white 'air and only one arm."
"One arm?"
"Aye. And a shiny, pale face."
Jack nodded. "Anything else?"
"Nope. You goin' to the rozzers?"
"Not unless you do it again. Tommy begged me to keep your name to myself, for old time's sake."
Patrick grinned. "Them old times were a laugh, weren't they, Jack-o'-lantern? When you used to set stuff on fire—"
"Don't," Jack bit off. "Don't tell a soul about those days. Understand? My charity extends only so far."
Patrick nodded quickly. "Speakin' o' charity..." He jerked his head at the window where the lad had peeked out. "Winter's almost 'ere, and there's more comin' every day than I know what to do wiv."
"I'll send money and warm clothes as soon as I can. You only had to send word, Patrick. No need to take to thieving again."
"Once a thief, always a thief, eh, Jack-o'-lantern? We can't change 'oo we are deep down."
Jack stared at the window. "Don't lead any of those children along that path. And don't steal from Langley again."
He strode toward us, and Samuel and I ducked further into the shadows as he passed. When I looked up again, Patrick had gone inside. The street was cold and quiet, the darkness almost complete except for the single lamp fading in and out near Patrick's door.
"Let's go," Samuel said. "Walk fast and don't make eye contact with anyone. We might just get out of here without being accosted."
I allowed him to lead me away as I considered what I'd just learned. One thing I was sure about now—Jack hadn't been involved in the theft of the papers from Langley. But I was even more certain that he was trying to deceive his so-called uncle by pretending to be his heir. As Patrick had said, Jack wasn't a Langley.
Someone reached out of the shadows and jerked me to a stop. I screamed and a hand clamped over my mouth. It stank, and I gagged into the palm. The other hand held a blade to my throat. It's cool metal bit into my skin but didn't cut.
Samuel stopped too. "Let her go," he said. His voice was steady, commanding. If he were afraid, he didn't show it. I, on the other hand, quivered like jelly.
"Give me yer money, sir, and she won't come to no 'arm."
"I haven't got any," Samuel said. "I gave it all away."
Brittle laughter filled my ear. Foul breath made me gag. I tried to shove the man off, but his grip tightened. Oh God, Oh God, Oh God.
"Then I want yer coat," he said.
Samuel removed his coat, and the attacker let go of my mouth to take it. But instead of handing it over, Samuel threw it. The man caught it, but he lowered the knife in that brief moment of confusion, and I ducked out of the way. Samuel stepped up and punched him in the nose. Blood sprayed over the coat and cobbles, but thankfully not on me.
Samuel grabbed my hand. We ran until we were out of the slum and back on the main street. We paused for breath within the circle of light cast by a lamp. I put a hand to my chest and sucked in air.
Samuel gripped my shoulders and searched my face. "Are you all right, Violet? Are you hurt?"
"No, I'm fine. Thank you, Samuel. You saved me."
His fingers kneaded my shoulders, but I got the feeling it was as much to reassure himself that I was unharmed than to comfort me. "I'm glad I was able to help."
I felt sick to my stomach. It was my fault entirely. He'd only agreed to accompany me because I'd insisted. What had I been thinking? "I'm so sorry, Samuel. I didn't know it would be like that. Those people...they're so...desperate."
"Starvation does that."
"I should have known. I've read the stories of Mr. Dickens."
He laughed and patted my hand. "Then you are indeed a woman of the world."
We walked off in what I assumed was the direction of Claridges, but in truth I couldn't be certain. The fog had become so thick it shrouded the entire street and I could see no landmarks, let alone recognize them. The clip clop of hooves and the rattle of wheels on the road signaled that a vehicle had gone past, but it could have been a spectral carriage for all I knew. It was nowhere to be seen. Behind us, footsteps echoed. I turned, but could see no one. The footsteps continued.
Had Jack doubled back and now followed us? Or had someone been following the entire time and I'd been too distracted to notice?
"I've just had a thought," Samuel said, apparently oblivious to the footsteps.
"Oh?" I looked back over my shoulder, but the tap tap of shoes on the pavement had ceased. "What about?" If it were about Jack, I already had a response in mind. I might not know everything about him, but I didn't want to divulge his fire-starting secret to Samuel. Not yet.
"Do you recall how you said your narcolepsy may be caused by fear?"
"Yes."
"I don't think it is, or you would have suffered an episode just now. You were terrified, weren't you?"
"More than I've ever been in my life." It was quite true, I realized. I'd not even been that afraid when I woke up in the carriage after Jack abducted me.
"Yet you didn't fall asleep."
"Good lord. You're right!"
"That means it has another trigger."
"Yes," I muttered. "Yes it does."