No they haven’t, I thought to myself, determined not to let Billy wear me down with his jibes. After all, I had supped on fine meats and sparkling wine.
‘Good morning, Mr Shepherd,’ I said, stretching and yawning as if just waking from a deep sleep on a goose feather mattress. I was feeling strangely light-headed as if buoyed up still on the bubbles of the champagne. ‘I see the weather is set fair today.’
Billy half-turned to look up the grating but then caught himself.
‘You’ve cracked, ain’t you, Cat? Poor girl: one night behind bars, and you’ve lost it.’
‘No, au contraire, mon ami, I have never been more in my right mind. I was just reflecting on the pleasure a good supper can give an empty belly.’
‘A good supper? You call a crust of bread and a mug of scummy water a good supper? They must ’ave been meaner at the theatre than I thought.’
I picked up my mug, which still had an inch of pale golden liquid at its bottom, and raised it to my companion.
‘Your good health, sir,’ I toasted him and downed it with a gulp, then gave a small, contented burp.
‘Mad! Quite mad!’ exclaimed Billy, rubbing his hand across his forehead, half in admiration, half in doubt.
The rattle of keys at the door made us both look up. Constable Lennox appeared in the entrance.
‘Miss Royal. Come with me.’
My heart leapt into my throat as I wondered what this summons signified. Surely it was too early for the magistrate to be sitting? I would have thought he would be sipping hot chocolate in his powdering gown, not choosing to deal with the London riffraff like me. Or . . . I swallowed hard . . . had they caught Johnny? But I had no choice in the matter: I had to follow.
Billy must have been wondering the same thing. My premature departure did not suit him at all: he’d not yet had time to persuade me to lie to save us both.
‘Where’s she goin’?’ he asked the runner urgently, again rushing to the length of his chain like a zealous guard dog.
The runner did not deign to give an answer, but shut the door on him.
‘This way, miss.’
He did not place his hand on my shoulder as he had done on my last outing from the cell but walked ahead, shining a lantern so that we would not miss our step. Anxious but intrigued I followed him up the stairs and into an office. There, standing in front of the desk occupied by the clerk Amos, was a gentleman in a claret-coloured jacket and black boots. He turned to face me: it was the Earl of Ranworth, Johnny’s father.
‘Is this the child, my lord?’ asked the runner respectfully, ushering me forward.
‘Indeed it is,’ said the earl. He was staring as if stunned to see me there, though apparently he had asked for me to be brought to him.
‘And you say you know for a fact that she gave forty pounds to your son on behalf of the duke’s daughter, which he returned to this child on the evening of the day before yesterday, after receiving money from you?’
‘That is exactly right. So, you see, constable, the girl would not have had time to return the money to its original owner as no doubt she intended to do.’
‘So how did it end up in the hands of Billy Shepherd?’ the runner asked, looking at me doubtfully.
‘I suggest you ask her. Has anyone thought to listen to what she has to say about the whole matter?’
Constable Lennox coughed uncomfortably. ‘Well, sir, I can’t say that . . .’
‘Ask her then, man!’
The runner turned to me. ‘You heard the gentleman,’ he said roughly. ‘What’s your story?’
‘Billy’s boys broke in to steal . . . to steal something they thought was in the theatre,’ I began quickly. ‘Two of them . . . I don’t know their real names . . . found the money under my pillow and took it. I told Billy and he took it off them later to count it.’
‘So he wasn’t one of the thieves who stole it from you?’
I reluctantly shook my head but the truth was I couldn’t incriminate Billy without explaining more about Johnny and the beating.
‘There you are, constable,’ said the earl loudly, putting an arm around my shoulders. ‘You’ve got the wrong people. It’s those two boys you should be after, not this little girl. Tell the man what they were like, child, and I’m sure that’ll be the end of the whole business.’
‘Now wait a minute, my lord,’ stuttered the runner. ‘I can’t just let her go. I need proof. Where’s this son of yours? What’s he to do with it? I’ll need to speak to him.’
‘You can’t, sir. He sailed this morning on the tide.’
‘Where to? When will he be back?’
The Earl of Ranworth drew himself up to his full patrician height and glared at the runner. He reminded me forcibly of Johnny in one of his more frightening moods, such as when he had confronted Billy’s gang with empty pistols.
‘I don’t know, man,’ he said irritably. ‘He’s gone and that’s that. You can’t keep an innocent child in prison just because my son’s not here. My word not do then?’
‘But the duke!’ said the runner feebly.
‘Heavens, man! I’ll deal with that. Look, here’s fifty pounds bail for the girl.’ The earl drew a large paper banker’s draft from his pocket book and let it flutter down on to the desk. ‘You let her go now and I’ll swear that the duke will have dropped all charges by mid morning or call me an ass!’
As the unfortunate runner did not want to be accused of calling a lord an ass, he reluctantly picked up the banker’s order and nodded to Amos.
‘Start to make the necessary arrangements, Amos,’ he said. ‘I’ll clear this with the magistrate.’
‘Sir John Solmes, isn’t it?’ said the earl.
Constable Lennox nodded.
‘In that case, I’ll come along and help you. We’re old friends . . . went to the same school. You sit there, child. I won’t be long.’
The earl led me to a chair by the fireside and handed me into it as if I were a fine lady.