The Terror Time Spies (15 page)

“We expected you yesterday, dearies.  One room, booked right n’ proper though.   Here it is. 
S Bonespair, Gentleman, and his two children. 
Mr Bonespair’s here?”

“Er, he’s coming later,” answered Henry quickly, but secretly thanking the itinerary too, as the lady peered down suspiciously at Spike, Francis and Armande. 

“But he says we’ll need another room, Maam, although my friends go back to London tomorrow.  If you please,” added Henry, improvising again. 

The fat, red faced women looked a little taken aback, but it turned out that she had another small room available in the attic, where Spike could rest with Hal.

“Three shillin’ then,” she grunted, holding out a large, greasy palm, “with dinner included.  If his Lordship has had his fill and there’s any left.”

Henry handed over another three coins and his heart sank a little more.  This travelling business seemed very expensive indeed. and their bag was almost empty now.  Henry rather hoped Spike was right and that their Granny did have a huge pile of Huguenot Gold.

“Thank ye, Sir.  I can show you, straight,” said the proprietress, “or you can wait in there, for your pa.  You might want to get acquainted with the other passengers, deary.  Or you might NOT.”

The lady of the house looked at them very significantly indeed, then across at a smoky room, where a number of strange characters were already waiting, in front of a blazing open fire.  Half were tucking into suppers, served by a flustered, dirty faced young maid, or sipping pints of frothing ale, in large and filthy tankards, lit by the flickering glow at the open hearth. 

It all looked rather homely, if the grown ups did not look so dangerous.

As Henry led the others inside, the Club felt very uncertain, because it was the first time they had all been together, in public. 

In the main tavern room a short, plump man with a high, white stock was regaling another man though, so they were not noticed immediately. 

“
Aspire, Acquire, Retire
,” the man in the stock was crying loudly, “That’s me motto, Sir, and of my notable firm too; Guttery, Prank and True.  Thomas Guttery, Sir, at yer service.  Lawyer to the rich n’ respectable, expert in Legal arrangements, and Special Patents.”

Francis glanced at Hal, as the boys both thought of Wickham’s strange Patent Revolutionary watch, and Hal noticed a kind of leather wallet under the man’s arm. 

The lawyer was bowing to another man, who had a wild, drooping grey moustache and, although wearing a simple wig, wore clothes far more colourful than the rest.  His own big brass watch was strung in his bright blue waistcoat.

 “And you, Sir?” said Thomas Guttery, taking something from his own waistcoat and holding it up to his eye.  Francis recognised a Quizzing Glass, a single spectacle, attached to a woven cord.  Henry’s friend was rather jealous, because Francis Simpkin’s eyesight was not very good, which meant he was starting to develop a squint.

“Your name, if you please, Sir?” said Thomas Guttery.

“Obediah Tuck, Siree,” answered the other, in a strange, drawling accent, like nothing the children had ever heard before, “From Boston.”

“BOSTON!” cried Guttery immediately, “You hale from the American Colonies then, Sir? ”

 “Colonies, Siree?” said the other, “We’ve our Indeeependence now, if you recall, Mr Guttery,” added the American.  “We had ourselves a little Tea Party, to kick it all off, and General George Washington fought a war too, over the deleecate matter.”

Thomas Guttery knew it very well and so did Francis Simpkins, who was listening hard and had just taken out his notebook.  Nineteen years before, the English colonies in the Americas had rebelled against Great Britain and his majesty King George III.  These were Revolutionary times indeed. 

After seven years of bitter fighting, the thirteen American colonies had finally won their Independence too.  Now their first leader, General George Washington himself, known by the strange title of President, had been elected to lead them all, in the very same year as the Revolution in France - 1789. 

Thomas Guttery felt something close to admiration, as he thought of the famous George Washington, although an enemy of the British King.  For a start he wasn’t a blasted Frenchie, and besides, hadn’t ‘
Farmer Washington’
been a determined and brave fighter?

A great spy too, Francis Simpkins suddenly remembered, a great Spy Master, in fact, wanting to put this all down in his reliable history. 

“Yes, of course, Sir” said Thomas Guttery, “Though the Law
,
that’s what we need back again, Sir, and Justice too.  And what is it like, Sir, over
there
?”

“Another World,” bellowed Obadiah Tuck, with a knowing smile, stroking his great moustache thoughtfully, “Another World entire, Siree.  Though takin’ this world there too.”

“And what takes you into France, Sir?” enquired the lawyer.

“Why business, Siree, business,” drawled big whiskered Tuck, “The very life blood of Nations.  As your great economist Adam Smith said, we are all moved by an unseen hand.”

“Indeed, Sir. 
Aspire, Acquire, Retire
,” said Guttery more approvingly, and Henry Bonespair thought it a rather sad ambition, but remembered miserably their rapidly dwindling coin, “So tell me Sir, what do ye think of England – of our inns and modes of transport?”

“England has its civilised side,” answered the American, with a sceptical smile, “but its tyrannies too, and I find yer carriages slow indeed, Siree, now that a Man may fly.”

Little Spike looked up.  What on earth was the funny colonist talking about?

“Fly?” whispered the lawyer, taken aback himself.

“Why yes indeedee, Siree.  Fly like a bird.  For my own cousin is none other than Dr John Jeffries himsel’.”

Obediah Tuck said this as if the whole world should know the name, but the lawyer just shrugged blankly.

“Balloons, Sir,” the American almost bellowed, by way of explanation,  “Cousin John flew with Mr Blanchard himsel’, thee natural heir to the works of the great Montgolfier twins.  All the way across your English Channel, in a mighty big balloon too, from France, held up entirely by hot air.”

Spike gasped now.  It sounded incredible, almost unbelievable, and the seven year old suddenly wanted to do it too, to actually fly.  What an age this was to be alive.

“And thees days are filled with enlightnin idees, Siree,” said Tuck,  “Extraordinaree and Revolutionary idees.  Progress.  A world where
anything
may happen.  That certainly appeals to me great love of humanity, Siree.  Maybe one day Man may discover how to travel to the moon, Siree, or even through Time itself.  They say one Isaac Harrison is making great new strides in exactly the matter.”

Henry Bonespair blinked, for against his chest he had just imagined that Harrison’s Patent Revolutionary Chronometer had moved, all on its own and Francis gave him a keen look.   

“So the United Boston Balloon Company has been newly formed, Siree,” the big American went on, in that booming voice, “of which I am proud first President, to carry the miracle throughout the civilized world.”

Thomas Guttery did not seem to agree that this was very civilised at all. 

“At our Embassy in France,” said the American, “Benjamin Franklin and Thomas Jefferson assure our firm certain protection, and I tell ye, Siree, manned flight will revolutionize the whole world.”

The portly lawyer smiled rather thinly and shifted on his feet.

“You should establish a Patent then, Sir,” said Guttery, doing a quick calculation of expenses in his head, “and proper ownership too, which Guttery, Prank and True might advise you on.  But you approve of a World Revolution, Sir, and of what occurs in France now?” he asked, with a dark frown, as Obediah Tuck seemed suddenly lost in his own thoughts.  “The Devil’s loose abroad, Sir, in Frenchie disguise.”

The American’s strong brow had furrowed, but he smiled.

“A lot occurs that a Man may not approve, Siree,” he answered gravely, at last, “in acheeevin great and difficult change.  But now France has a Constitushon, like our great Americas, by which men may govern themselves, and so be free.   Freedom, or fear and tyranny, that’s the battle of man and the world now.  Are we not all born equal under God, Siree, born with free will, and did not your own countrymen cut off a King’s Head too? An English tyrant’s. King Charles I.”

Knowledgeable Francis Simpkins was nodding and Thomas Guttery frowned.

“Well, History is certainly being made,” the lawyer admitted quietly. “For good or bad.”

“History, Siree?” said Tuck, with a scornful laugh, “History is never what happened, Siree, only what you think happened, inevitably.”

Despite the interest of this gown up talk, Henry Bonespair suddenly noticed the Snareswoods eating in their own room beyond, protected by a half drawn curtain, attended by three nervous servants.  Adam Snareswood was staring across the room, whispering to his sister Emily, who seemed excited too.  Could they be talking about
them
?

The Pimpernels drifted closer to the fire now, in a little huddle, thinking of what Henry had said in the coach about looking for spies.  As they passed a table, with three rough characters dressed in the same sombre black, Spike thought she heard one talking in French, but Henry had drifted over to the fireplace on his own.

As he looked into the flames again, Henry felt tired and dizzy in the smoky room.  He wondered what the time was, but he suddenly blinked, then almost cried out loud. 

There, just like back in the Night Watch Inn, was that same ghastly scene again, and those three strange figures, watching that woman on a wooden scaffold. 

Henry Bonespair knew it was a Queen now, the Queen of France herself.

The three watching so intently seemed not quite part of the scene though, somehow of the fire instead, and there was something most unusual about them too. 

The vaguely familiar one was an enormously tall and thick set man, with hair in a black ribbon, just like a pirate.  He looked Italian and Henry remembered that strange voice down the well.  It had sounded Italian too.

Beside him was a lady, a rather striking redhead, but the third was quite the oddest of all the three.  He looked like an overgrown child, much shorter than the other two, yet with an enormous bald head, that he kept rubbing painfully.

The two males were dressed in what seemed to be silk pyjamas, with a little crest on each of their pockets, and the beautiful woman in the fire, who’s face reminded Hal of another picture that he had seen once in a noospaper, of a figure called Lady Liberty, was wearing a red velvet gown and bright blue stockings. 

All three carried flat leather cases like Mr Guttery’s and they were wearing orange leather gloves.  Henry Bonespair suddenly wondered if they were lawyers too.   

But as he watched, Hal saw a skeletal hand reach for the lever on the great scaffold and the terrible axe blade fall.  Even as it did so, Henry remembered what Armande St Honoré had said was the one thing in France now, so close across the Channel too:  DEATH. 

Suddenly though the three watchers turned and they were looking straight back at Henry Bonespair himself, from the fire, their eyes glittering knowingly. 

Henry almost pinched himself, but he knew he was not asleep now, even on his feet. 

These dream like figures could see
him
, Henry knew it, out there in the Eagle Inn, with the other passengers waiting to embark for France.  In fact they were watching Hal Bonespair most intently and Henry was suddenly terrified. 

“Havagal,” hissed a voice though, “Frevegenchevegees.”

Hal blinked, the scene was gone, just flames licking against blazing, sparking logs and Henry swung round, still dazed by his reverie and wondering where he was.

“Frevegenchegees,” repeated Spike, glancing at the three men in the corner, and wondering what was wrong with her silly brother.

“Yeveges, Spavagike.  Shavagoosh.”

The three French seeming travellers did not look up, or notice the children by the fire either, and Spike broke into English again.

“But Hal, wots a Double Agent?” she asked, rather too loudly.

“Hush, Spike.  Not in here.”

Henry was really troubled now and he began looking around at the others in the room suspiciously.  He suddenly felt terribly threatened, as he noticed a gaunt figure, all in black too, with a vicious scar across his right cheek, keeping himself very much to himself. 

Then Hal spotted a man he hadn’t noticed before, hidden in the shadows, in a tight stock and scruffy business-like clothes.  He had a weaselly little face and an alert, but secretive air, writing on reams of paper on the table in front of him, his tankard and empty plate thrust aside.

“And you Madam,” Francis Simpkins heard Obediah Tuck ask suddenly though, to an elegant but very self possessed lady in the corner, “What takes
you
to revolutionary France, if I may so boldly enquire, beautiful Lady?  Who are ye, Madam?”

The dark eyed Lady was in a flowing taffeta dress and duck grey wig, fanning herself airily and Spike suddenly thought she looked rather wonderful, despite the little girl’s feelings about Grown Ups.