was his greed, it seemed.
âWhat would be my reward for helping you?â he asked.
Goodfellow stroked his beard and rolled his eyes.
âOne bar,â he said. âAnd before you try any âagglinâ, just remember thatâd be enough to get you back to England in style, and itâs me whatâs paid the price forââ
âDone,â the Whelp said. âDo you have the map with you now?â
âStrewth! I did walk into the right saloon, diânât I?â Goodfellow gleefully groped beneath his grimy coat for a moment . . . then froze, his expression turning wary. ââAng on a tick. âOw do I know you ainât gonna fiddle me out of me dosh?â
The Whelp regarded him coolly.
âYou have my word, I have never fiddled with anyoneâs dosh.â
âââIs word,â âe says. Ha! Iâll need a lot more than that before I âand over me map. Why, you could scarper with the whole boodle and leave me with nuffinâ but me bloody âump! No, no . . . a security, thatâs whatâs called for. To show your good faith.â
âWhat sort of security are you talking about?â the Whelp asked.
Goodfellow looked him up and down, then pointed a knobby finger at the watch fob looping from the Whelpâs vest pockets.
âThat watch, letâs say.â
âMy father gave me that.â
âAnd Iâll give it back . . . when you give me the silver.â
Slowly, reluctantly, the Whelp pulled out a gold pocket watch and placed it on the table.
âSmart lad,â Goodfellow said. After furtive glances left and right, he produced a scroll of paper and unrolled it on the tabletop just long enough to show it was, indeed, a crudely sketched map.
The Whelp swept the map off the table.
Goodfellow slipped the watch into a coat pocket.
âYou stayinâ at the Clarendon?â he asked.
The Whelp nodded.
âAlright, then,â Goodfellow said, âIâll meet you behind the âotel at nine oâ clock tonight to do the divvy. Till then, Iâd best keep out of sight.â
He pushed away from the table, then paused before turning to go.
âPleasure doinâ business wiff you, guv,â he said, and he gave the Whelp a wink with his bulging-wide right eye.
âI canât believe even you would sink so low,â I said to the Whelp as the hunchback hobbled away.
As usual, my disapproval seemed to amuse the insolent jackanapes no end.
âNeither can I,â he said with a smile. âWell . . . I suppose I should go, too. I shanât be leaving for another hour or so, but in the meantime Iâve preparations to make.â He tugged at the sleeve of his black frock coat. âIâm hardly dressed for an expedition. Shall we return to the Clarendon?â
âYou go ahead,â I said. âSuddenly, I find I actually prefer the company here.â
My show of pique merely gratified the Whelp all the more, and he headed for the door with such a jaunty spring to his step I wouldnât have been surprised had he started whistling.
I sat there alone, pretending to drink my steam beer so as to keep the saloon keeper at bay and avoid the curious (and hostile) stares of the other patrons. After a few minutes, however, I had company again: a hunched figure appeared in the doorway and came sidling toward me.
I greeted him with applause as he retook his seat.
âBravo. A masterful performance.â
My companion shrugged modestly.
âI had a receptive audience,â said Sasanoffâfor, as youâve surely long since guessed, he and Goodfellow were one and the same. âHeâs so eager for adventure he would have believed me had I appeared to him as Admiral Lord Nelson. Now . . . what say we properly fortify ourselves for the cold?â
What I said was âyes,â of course, and soon we were stoking up warmth with a surprisingly
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