Chapter 4

“Get away from there, boy! Scoundrel! Ruffian! Villain! Rascal!” a fat shopkeeper came hurrying out of the jewellers carrying a large broom and proceeded to wave it around menacingly at a small boy who had extended his hand to one of the fine, gold watches on display just inside the shop door.
  “It weren’t me, mister! Honest! I didn’t pinch your time keepers; I’m a right down, reliable gentleman, I am! ” the boy pleaded, backing away as the large man turned a rather peculiar shade of purple in his rage.
“Gah! Be off with you, you crook! If there were a policeman looking on he’d be having hold of you without delay!” he brandished the broom at the boy once again and he ran off as fast as his little legs could carry him, clutching a handsome silk handkerchief that looked odd taken into account his disposition.
“Scoundrels! Ruffians! Villains! Rascals!” the shopkeeper muttered, sweeping the step of his shop with the broom; this was rather unusual for that object served more purpose as a threat to any scoundrels, ruffians, villains and rascals that happened to pass by his place of business than for the customary function a broom most commonly performed.
  An onlooker, dressed most handsomely in the finest garments of the season, and looking with interest at the shop entitled Blackstock’s, neared the door and bent down at the fine gold brooches, necklaces and the other beautiful jewels that could be seen there, with what appeared to be great interest.
  The shopkeeper looked up from the step he had been sweeping only half-heartedly and ceased his stream of ‘Scoundrels! Ruffians! Villains! Rascals!’ to attend to this wealthy-looking customer, whom he had already acknowledged with a look of great surprise.
  “Good morning to you, sir!” he boomed, taking great care to talk loudly enough for the majority of people in passing to hear.
  “A wonderfully crisp morning it is too,” the gentleman replied. “I have been regarding several items in the window with great interest and am speculating how to go about making an offer. “
  “Ah, good sir! Pray, do come in. Business is much more respectable when done away from prying eyes and ears. Do come in and warm yourself!”
  As the gentleman passed over the threshold, the shopkeeper cast a furtive glance at the busy street opposite before closing the door and bolting it once.
  “Where is it, my good Blackstock? I am a busy man and must not be kept waiting,” the gentleman demanded, towering over the short, plump shopkeeper.
  Blackstock hurried over to take his superior place behind the polished counter, as though desperately trying to keep some authority in his place of work; his hopes faded fast however as he looked up at the stern and formidable gentleman, whom he was well aware was only a counter-width apart from himself.
  “It is all very well to pretend within the realms of eavesdropping but once we are immune, Blackstock, you would do well not to cower behind the counter and keep up the misunderstanding you seem to have formulated, but to back down and give me the information I require. I have said it once, but I shall speak again. I’m a busy man who must not be kept waiting.”
  “I am not afraid of you, Mr. Dewsbury,” Blackstock replied, quietly but dangerously.  “You may be superior in the way of wealth, intelligence, integrity and in society, but I do not think you need be quite so sharp, especially in your present surroundings, which do happen, forgive me, to be mine.”
“I apologise sincerely for the impression I seem to have given you, but I’m afraid I do not quite understand your manner today, Blackstock.  For many weeks now I have known you to be reliable, willing and especially co-operative. What has happened that has changed you so?” asked the bewildered gentleman.
  “I have decided not to keep up my little facade any longer, that is all. I have decided to lay my cards out on the table and to no longer allow myself to be underestimated.  But back to the business; I understand your needy position, Mr. Dewsbury, but I have gone to great lengths to retrieve this invaluable item; lengths that a respectable gentleman such as yourself can only imagine.  I have failed all along to see what I personally shall get out of it and that perhaps, is the reason for my uncharacteristic demeanour. Perhaps you would care to enlighten me on that subject?”  Blackstock spoke in tones evidently intended to be pleasant and casual, yet he could not quite keep a betraying tremor out of his speech.
  “My dear Blackstock, the fine work you have done shall be a reward in itself; you will be compensated in the knowledge that you have greatly advanced the police’s chances of finally sentencing the infamous Grapplewell to his death,” An uneasy feeling crept in to the pit of Mr. Dewsbury’s stomach as he watched various expressions flit across the wily shopkeeper’s face.
  “Mr. Dewsbury, you misunderstand me. I am not speaking of rewards such as those you have mentioned, though I am sure they are true enough; my interest lies in what financial changes you will be making to my bank account. It should be easy enough for you, given your profession.”  A greedy look came into Blackstock’s eyes as he spoke and seemed to possess him for a few seconds; this did not go unnoticed by the shrewd Mr. Dewsbury, who was growing increasingly worried. 
  “You can hardly expect to be rewarded in that way, Blackstock? Why, from the very beginning you yourself suggested there should be no payment made  either way, whatever the outcome might be!” Mr. Dewsbury cried, indignantly.
  “That was before I realised the great measures and precautions I would have to take to save your necks from the rope of the damned,” Blackstock smiled smugly at Mr. Dewsbury, who was becoming increasingly infuriated; the tables seemed to have turned the full three hundred and sixty degrees, for Mr. Dewsbury was no longer in control.
  The gentleman sighed angrily. “I am in a hurry, Blackstock, and therefore both unable and unwilling to continue this dispute. If you will kindly hand the thing over, we can come to an arrangement about payment another day. “
  Blackstock chuckled sanctimoniously and disappeared into the back of the shop, leaving an annoyed Mr. Dewsbury alone. He was bitterly regretting taking Blackstock into his confidence at all; it was not the demanding of a reward that caused him such anguish, though that alone would be difficult enough.  Blackstock’s failure to keep to the original bargain made had caused his facade to slip and Mr. Dewsbury had for the first time, seen his true colours; needless to say he did not like them one bit.  Blackstock was no longer the meek, reliable and perfectly capable businessman he had been before; Mr. Dewsbury now saw that he had misjudged his trustworthy patron and that he had been taken in far too easily. Blackstock was nothing but a scheming, materialistic man who would stop at nothing to get what he wanted.
  “The gun, as promised,” Blackstock smiled smugly as he returned with a rather dirty package and placed it smartly on the table in front of Mr. Dewsbury. “I shall expect to hear from you soon then, my good sir, with regards to the payment. Good morning to you!”  He added mockingly as the other man headed towards the door, his head held high.
  Mr. Dewsbury paused as he drew back the bolt on the door. He turned to face the complacent shopkeeper, standing behind the counter.
  “You were correct, Blackstock. Your true countenance has shocked me somewhat, I shall admit. What you said was not unreasonable; I have underestimated you. Greatly.”
  “You are too trusting, Mr. Dewsbury.  Perhaps this time, you will take heed and learn from your mistakes. Your miscalculations will be your downfall, mark my words,” Blackstock replied.
  “Just as greed and selfishness will be yours,” Mr. Dewsbury said, turning on his heels and striding out of the shop with dignity, holding open the door for another who passed him and stepped into the warm edifice just that moment vacated by the indignant Mr. Dewsbury.
  This newcomer was not of the same class as the customer before him; he was dressed in a black cape and was not by any means, an unfamiliar figure to the cunning Blackstock.
  “In the name of mercy, do bolt the door!” Blackstock cried, recognising the man.
  “There is no need, Blackstock. I shall be long gone in several minutes.  In any case, it would look suspicious,” the messenger replied. “I’ve been watching your shop all morning. The fellow I passed in the doorway, was he...?”
  “That was him.”
  “You gave him the ‘incriminating’ evidence?” the messenger asked, a sly smile threatening his features.
  “He has no idea it is a false gun, if that is what you mean. However, I am afraid I have shattered my pretence in giving it to him; he will never trust me again,” Blackstock replied.
  “That is not so bad. What is the importance of one wealthy banker? Nothing when compared to the importance of William Grapplewell. You have done well; I will be sure to inform him of this,” the messenger made towards the door but was stopped by the shopkeeper.
  “I do think that the mission I have accomplished is by far more of an indication of loyalty and intelligence than what is required for your job.  You want to be careful; if you don’t do something more impressive you might well find yourself out of the business,” Blackstock said warningly.
  “I do what he tells me to do and he expects nothing more. I will not be put in my place by somebody who knows nothing about the trade.  You have done a good job this time but that does not mean you are any superior than I; you would do well to remember that. You’ve already made an enemy of one man today; I suggest you don’t make it two. Good day to you.” The messenger swept out of the shop, leaving a rather deflated Blackstock alone in his shop.
  Janey stood motionless across the street; she had recognised the figure that had departed from Blackstock’s Jewellers and this scared her more than she could admit to anyone.  A  family trip in to town had been rather enjoyable until now; now that she knew that wherever she went, wherever she was, he was destined to be there also. Like an unshakeable shadow she couldn’t get rid of.  For Janey was afraid of this messenger; afraid of his connections and afraid of what he stood for.  But she couldn’t do anything; nothing except walk on by and blend in with everyone else in the busy capital of nineteenth century England.