Page 83 of Dark Assassin (William Monk 15)

“She told me ’bout wot she done in the army an’ such.”

“Me too, now and then. She doesn’t talk about it a lot.”

“Sad, eh? All ’em men ’urt bad.” Scuff frowned. “Lot o’ ’em died. She din’t say so, but I reckon as they did.”

“Yes, I reckon so, too. Are you hungry?”

“Yeah. Are you?”

“Yes.”

Scuff tried to climb over to the edge of the bed, as if he would come downstairs to eat.

“No!” Monk said sharply. “I’ll bring it up to you!”

“Yer don’t ’ave ter,” Scuff began.

“I’d rather carry the supper up than have to carry you again,” Monk told him dryly. “Stay where you are!”

Scuff subsided and inched back to the center again. He lay against the pillow, watching Monk.

“Please don’t fall out,” Monk said more gently. “You’ll hurt yourself worse.”

Scuff said nothing, but he did not move again.

They were all three of them in the bedroom, halfway through eating, when the interruption came. Hester was cutting up vegetables for Scuff and letting him pick them up with a fork. He did it carefully, uncertain at first how to manage. Monk was eating steak and kidney pie with a vigorous appetite. Suddenly there was a loud knocking on the door, again and again, almost as if someone were trying to break in.

Monk put his plate on the tray, the last mouthful uneaten, and went downstairs to find out what it was.

Orme stood on the step in the rain, his hair plastered to his head, his face white. He did not wait for Monk to ask what it was, nor did he attempt to come in.

“There’s bin a cave-in,” he said hoarsely. “Down at the Argyll tunnel. The ’ole lot. It all came in and God knows ’ow many men’s buried.”

It was what James Havilland had feared, and Monk would have given everything he owned not to have had him proved right. “Do they know what caused it?” he asked, his voice shaking. Even his hand on the door felt cold and somehow disembodied.

“Not yet,” Orme said, ignoring the rain dripping down his face.

“Suddenly the ’ole side just slid in, wi’ water be’ind it, like a river. An’ then ’bout fifty yards further up the line ’nother lot went. I’m goin’ back there, sir, ter see if I can ’elp. Although God knows if anyone can.”

“Another slide? That means there are men trapped between the two? Is there any sewage down there?”

“Dunno, Mr. Monk. Depends on wot it were that slid. It’s close ter one o’ the old sewers as is still used. Could be. I know wot yer thinking—gas…” He did not finish.

“I’ll come with you.” There was no question of what he must do.

“Come in out of the rain while I tell my wife.” He left the door open and went up the stairs two at a time.

Hester was standing in the bedroom

doorway, Scuff sitting up on the bed behind her. Both of them had heard Orme’s voice and caught the sound of fear in it.

“There’s been a cave-in. I have to go,” he told her.

“Injuries? Can—” She stopped.

He gave her a quick smile. “No. Your place is here with Scuff.” He kissed her quickly, harder perhaps than he meant to. Then he turned and went back down the stairs again, took his coat from the hook in the hall, and followed Orme out into the street.

There was a hansom waiting. They climbed in and shouted to the driver to hurry back to the tunnel. He needed no urging.