great relief he moved his eyes from the paper and looked at Alfie with a smile.
‘Yes, sir. I think I had better go now, sir, the warder is getting impatient. I’d like to come again, sir, some time, if I could . . .’
‘The boy would like to come again some time, officer,’ said the clergyman, opening the door. He still kept the paper in his hand. ‘I’ve given him this prayer so that he
may read it to himself and if his sister visits tomorrow he wants to give it to her. Will that be all right?’ He moved the prayer slightly as the turnkey seemed about to snatch it from
him.
Quite a courageous old cove, thought Alfie, making sure to keep his face bland and innocent. He, himself, could not afford to annoy the turnkey in any way.
‘Not up to me what he gives to the sister – that will be up to them in the lodge, but he can keep that with him if wants to,’ said the turnkey. He gazed with such a blank face
at the prayer that Alfie immediately suspected that the man could not read. His spirits rose. A warder might have been more suspicious of his strange poem than an innocent old clergyman.
‘Thank you, sir,’ said Alfie with relief. He made a respectful bow to the clergyman, muttered his thanks again and clanked his way down the stone passageway feeling a little more
hopeful. Was it possible that he had taken the first step towards freeing himself from the most dreaded, most fearful prison in the world?
CHAPTER 20
T HE M ISSING F INGER
‘Tom,’ said Sammy.
‘What?’ asked Tom in a bad-tempered manner. He chewed on the remains of the crust from the loaf that Sarah had brought yesterday. He was in a furious mood. He was annoyed with
himself and that made things worse. Jack had asked him to go down to the river, but he had refused irritably.
Why had he allowed himself to sick up that pie? It was the best piece of food that he had seen for a month. He felt really hungry this morning and the bread wasn’t helping much.
That was not the worst thing, though.
Why had he been tricked into telling Sarah that he was the one who betrayed Alfie? He’d never hear the end of it, he thought gloomily. Even Jack was hardly speaking to him this morning.
Jack, unusually for him, had even gone so far as to say firmly that neither he, Sammy nor Sarah would have told.
He had been fool enough to tell that cove about Alfie, Tom told himself savagely, but he was even more of a fool to let it out to Sarah. There was no need. After all, the man could have found
that bit of information from lots of people – Betty for instance.
‘You know that fellow who got you to tell him about Alfie,’ began Sammy.
‘Oh, shut up,’ said Tom viciously. ‘Shut up or I’ll hit you; blind or not, you’ll feel the weight of my fist.’
‘I was thinking that we could put our ideas together,’ said Sammy mildly. He took very little notice of Tom. Tom was always all bark and no bite. In any case, Mutsy would never allow
him to hurt Sammy. Mutsy was lying very close to Sammy this morning, bewildered by the absence of Alfie. Never before had a whole night gone by without Alfie appearing and somehow the big dog knew
that. Sammy stroked him gently and felt the dog nuzzle up to him.
‘What ideas?’ Tom sounded more sullen than angry now.
‘Well, I was wondering if you noticed anything funny about this geezer – anything about his hands?’
‘His hands? Nah, I didn’t notice nothing – he had gloves on.’
‘Yeah, leather ones.’ Sammy thought hard. ‘What did the gloves look like?’
‘Couldn’t tell you. I didn’t take no notice.’ Tom was getting bored.
‘Did he take them off when he handed you the pie?’
‘What do you want to know that for?’ Tom sounded suspicious, as if he felt that Sammy was trying to trap him into something.
‘Just wondered.’
‘You can stop talking about the pie. I’m sick of the pie. It’s all right for you. People look at you and say, “Oh, that poor itty blind boy,
‘Yes, sir. I think I had better go now, sir, the warder is getting impatient. I’d like to come again, sir, some time, if I could . . .’
‘The boy would like to come again some time, officer,’ said the clergyman, opening the door. He still kept the paper in his hand. ‘I’ve given him this prayer so that he
may read it to himself and if his sister visits tomorrow he wants to give it to her. Will that be all right?’ He moved the prayer slightly as the turnkey seemed about to snatch it from
him.
Quite a courageous old cove, thought Alfie, making sure to keep his face bland and innocent. He, himself, could not afford to annoy the turnkey in any way.
‘Not up to me what he gives to the sister – that will be up to them in the lodge, but he can keep that with him if wants to,’ said the turnkey. He gazed with such a blank face
at the prayer that Alfie immediately suspected that the man could not read. His spirits rose. A warder might have been more suspicious of his strange poem than an innocent old clergyman.
‘Thank you, sir,’ said Alfie with relief. He made a respectful bow to the clergyman, muttered his thanks again and clanked his way down the stone passageway feeling a little more
hopeful. Was it possible that he had taken the first step towards freeing himself from the most dreaded, most fearful prison in the world?
CHAPTER 20
T HE M ISSING F INGER
‘Tom,’ said Sammy.
‘What?’ asked Tom in a bad-tempered manner. He chewed on the remains of the crust from the loaf that Sarah had brought yesterday. He was in a furious mood. He was annoyed with
himself and that made things worse. Jack had asked him to go down to the river, but he had refused irritably.
Why had he allowed himself to sick up that pie? It was the best piece of food that he had seen for a month. He felt really hungry this morning and the bread wasn’t helping much.
That was not the worst thing, though.
Why had he been tricked into telling Sarah that he was the one who betrayed Alfie? He’d never hear the end of it, he thought gloomily. Even Jack was hardly speaking to him this morning.
Jack, unusually for him, had even gone so far as to say firmly that neither he, Sammy nor Sarah would have told.
He had been fool enough to tell that cove about Alfie, Tom told himself savagely, but he was even more of a fool to let it out to Sarah. There was no need. After all, the man could have found
that bit of information from lots of people – Betty for instance.
‘You know that fellow who got you to tell him about Alfie,’ began Sammy.
‘Oh, shut up,’ said Tom viciously. ‘Shut up or I’ll hit you; blind or not, you’ll feel the weight of my fist.’
‘I was thinking that we could put our ideas together,’ said Sammy mildly. He took very little notice of Tom. Tom was always all bark and no bite. In any case, Mutsy would never allow
him to hurt Sammy. Mutsy was lying very close to Sammy this morning, bewildered by the absence of Alfie. Never before had a whole night gone by without Alfie appearing and somehow the big dog knew
that. Sammy stroked him gently and felt the dog nuzzle up to him.
‘What ideas?’ Tom sounded more sullen than angry now.
‘Well, I was wondering if you noticed anything funny about this geezer – anything about his hands?’
‘His hands? Nah, I didn’t notice nothing – he had gloves on.’
‘Yeah, leather ones.’ Sammy thought hard. ‘What did the gloves look like?’
‘Couldn’t tell you. I didn’t take no notice.’ Tom was getting bored.
‘Did he take them off when he handed you the pie?’
‘What do you want to know that for?’ Tom sounded suspicious, as if he felt that Sammy was trying to trap him into something.
‘Just wondered.’
‘You can stop talking about the pie. I’m sick of the pie. It’s all right for you. People look at you and say, “Oh, that poor itty blind boy,
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