Chapter 12 – A Gentleman

They entered the police station and Maggie skipped inside the doorway, feeling that they were safe, and confident a meal was sure to come their way. After watching him go about his business, she felt reassured by Blake and safe in his presence. She felt things were going to be all right, despite the uncertainty of where he might send them afterwards. She also felt certain those men, those callous murderers, would be caught and given the punishment they deserved.

She continued skipping, almost absent-mindedly, unaware of a gentleman sitting on a bench inside the station, waiting for his complaint to be dealt with. He was a well-dressed man nursing a hangover, brimming with anger, due in part to the shoddy treatment he had received from the Metropolitan Police. Moreover, his mood had not been helped by the fact that he was light a number of portable items, taken from his person the previous evening by a gang of street thugs. He held up his throbbing head and looked toward the ceiling above, wondering what the city was coming to...

As Maggie entered the building, the gentleman brought his head back to his chest and swivelled to look left, to where a clamour of voices - especially those of children - had broken his silent wait. He especially wished to discover from where the awful tippity-tapping noise was coming. He looked to the doorway and to the young girl skipping. In an instant, he was reminded of the crime he had come to report. His mind travelled back to the previous evening and the young girl who had led him astray down the deserted alleyway in that God forbidden slum...

A voice called out across the police station.

Maggie turned, stunned for a moment.

"Harlot!" A gentleman stood up tall, fury and spittle seeping from his mouth. He turned to the officer behind the desk and pointed at Maggie, "She's one of the gang who robbed me last night!"

Sergeant Blake looked to Maggie but walked over with his fellow officers toward the agitated gentleman who, in turn, moved towards where Maggie and Thomas stood, all the while pointing and shouting. Maggie and Tom watched as the police officers challenged the gentleman, who looked like he might dispense with a trial and execute the children at that very moment.

Sergeant Blake was in a rage, too. Upset by the language used by the man, he seized him by the shoulders and began to reprimand him about his behaviour towards the 'young lady'.

In that instant, without the officers noticing, Maggie and Thomas paced backwards to the main entrance of the station house, slipped through the door, and disappeared from view.

Once on the other side of the door, they fled. They ran as quickly as their aching legs could manage, away from the station house and within minutes were back among the crowds on the bustling streets. They didn't wait, or look back to see if they were being pursued. They ran. And they kept on running.

They came to a halt close to Gray's Inn, close to where they had first met the police officer on the beat earlier that morning. They were exhausted, breathless and now without direction. Maggie looked back around the corner. They had not, as far as she could figure, been pursued.

"We was better off mudlarking!" exclaimed Tom catching his breath.

"Really? You really think that to be so?" replied Maggie.

"Yes I do!" He looked to her, as if waiting for her to scold him, but she remained silent. "What will happen if we get caught now, Sis? What will happen to us now?"

Maggie felt exhausted. She was tired of doing the thinking for two people. She longed for someone to make a decision on her behalf for once. An adult perhaps.

"Oh don't worry, Thomas" she began in a sarcastic tone. "It'll just mean the workhouse. Or maybe a reform school, or a hulk on The Thames somewhere. I've heard thieving street children are locked away in enormous ships down by the mouth of the river. Although it could get worse," She grinned.

"What could be worse, Sis?"

"How about transportation," She replied.

And before Tom could make the next logical step, she began to laugh. A tired, hysterical laugh.

"Just imagine it, we may be sent to Van Diemien's Land." She paused to catch her breath and let Tom take in the irony. "At the same time as Father has escaped and is presumably heading here to find us." She laughed again. "All the while he will be here searching for us, and we will be on board a ship, being sent over there to the other side of the world." She continued laughing until the hysterical laugher turned into a slow, sobbing shriek.

Tom moved in closer. They hugged each other and knew that the cruelty of the world had left them bereft of hope once more. Maggie wondered how it was things had gone so terribly wrong. Was leaving the river, like Tom had suggested, really the worst decision they had made? It had all looked so promising not twelve hours ago. Mr Turner had promised to move them on to Sanctuary, as soon as he could. There they would be able to attend school; do a fair day's work and earn a fair day's pay; enjoy exercise and gym; and maybe even be reunited with their father - if indeed he had managed to escape. If indeed if he was still alive.

"There is only one place to go now." Maggie announced.

"To Sanctuary?" Tom replied.

"Eventually, yes. But for now we need to lie low, stay out of sight as much as possible. And there is only one person in this city that can help keep us out of sight. It will cost us, I realise that. It may be a great cost too. But it is the price we must pay."

"Who, Sis, who?" asked Tom.

"There is only one option I'm afraid."

***

Metropolitan Police Evidence: The Power Papers - Document 7

The Times Newspaper, London - 'Continuing Mystery of Missing Publisher', May 30th 1842.

Your correspondent has stumbled upon a most unlikely mystery that has left the good people of Holborn in lather these past few days. It appears Metropolitan Police officers are baffled by the mysterious disappearance of Mr William Turner - publisher, translator and supporter of the Chartists cause.

Even more mysterious is the manner in which his disappearance came to light yesterday.

In a remarkable turn of events, two of the City's dirtiest waifs walked in from the streets and reported Mr Turner disappearance to police officers. They further related to the officers a wild tale of the gentlemen's most gruesome murder at the hands of two cold-hearted killers.

Police have confirmed Mr William Turner is indeed missing. Yet what the two young scavengers have to do with such a man, as William Turner, remains unclear. The two youngsters names have, however, been given to press correspondents in the hope of bringing them back to the light of day. The children go by the names of Margaret and Thomas. Yet these two strays have themselves subsequently vanished from sight since reporting their ghastly story.

The mystery deepened further when Mr Turner's housekeeper claimed the children were the offspring of fierce firebrand Thomas Power - the man sentenced to transportation for life for treason and riot, after instigating the notorious riots at Clerkenwell and Soho in May 1839.

One of the children is said to be around twelve or thirteen years old and the other closer to ten. Police are desperate to talk to the children once again and wish them to aid them further with their investigations. Any information forthcoming in this most mysterious of cases, will be greatly appreciated by the police. The children were last seen at Hunter Street Station House, Holborn.

***