100. A Rose In Jeopardy Read Online Free PDF

of coats and cloaks that hung behind the old man and at the glass case full of gold chains and brooches and shiny pocket watches.
    He had never been inside a pawnshop before and he had just thought it might be a useful place for him to pick up a change of clothes – a disguise – so that if he bumped into anyone he knew, they would not recognise him.
    He had not really thought of all the people who had fallen on hard times and who had come here to pawn not just their valuables but even their clothes for a little cash.
    How many of these people, he thought, would ever be able to come back and claim their possessions?
    There was a sad smell of poverty and unwashed shirts lingering in the shop and he turned to leave.
    “Hold on, sir,” the old man called out. “What is it you need? All sorts come here for our help.”
    Lyndon shook his head.
    “Nothing, really. I made a mistake.”
    The shop door rattled and a thin young girl came in, her arms piled high with a mass of black garments.
    Lyndon stood back to let her pass and she went up to the counter and dumped the clothes on it.
    “There!” she said. “What’ll you give me for ’em?”
    Lyndon noticed that the garments, coats and jackets and trousers of black wool looked old but well made.
    The old man shook his head.
    “Where did all these come from?”
    “The Mistress gave me them.”
    “A fine story,” the old man retorted. “Next thing I know, I’ll have the Constable here going through my stuff and doing me for handling stolen goods. Be off with you!”
    “But – ” the girl’s grey eyes filled with tears.
    “Out!”
    The old man then shoved the pile of clothes off the counter, pushing them at the girl so that she staggered and almost fell.
    Lyndon caught the girl’s arm to steady her and then followed as she stumbled out onto the street.
    “Are you all right?” he asked her, as she seemed so upset.
    “The Master died last night, bless ’im, poor old thing,” she sighed and gave a little sob. “And the Mistress said I should take ’is clothes, as she don’t want ’em in the ’ouse no more.”
    Lyndon noticed that the girl was wearing a white parlourmaid’s apron and cap.
    “Who is – was – your Master?” he asked her.
    “Signore Goldoni!” she replied and a large tear slid down her thin cheek. “The best violin player you’ve ever ’eard, till he got poorly and took to ’is bed.”
    She must be telling the truth, Lyndon thought.
    “Don’t you have a family that you could give them to?” he asked her. “Your Papa or a brother perhaps might like them?”
    She gave a squeak of laughter through her tears.
    “What for? These are gentlemen’s things. Look at this great black cloak. I can’t see me Pa wearin’ that when ’e goes to the docks to look for work. And me brothers are just little ’uns still. No we need the money, mister. Ma’s just got a new baby and Pa’s bin laid up with a bad back. They must be worth a bit.”
    Lyndon took the black cloak from the top of the pile and held it up. It was very long and fastened at the neck with a loop of thick gold chain.
    No one would recognise him if he wore something like this.
    “Did the Signore wear a hat by any chance?” he asked.
    The girl nodded.
    “It’s ’ere, somewhere,” she said. “A great big old floppy thing!”
    Lyndon then reached into his pocket and took out a handful of coins.
    “Here,” he said. “I’ll take the things. Please give my best regards to your family – and my condolences to the Signora Goldoni!”
    The girl’s mouth fell open with astonishment.
    “Oh, thank you! Thank you, sir,” she cried.
    She gave a little curtsy, clutching the money to her heart and her face was so full of delight that Lyndon had no doubt that she was telling the truth about the clothes.
    As she hurried away up the narrow street, he looked around at the towering warehouses for a deserted doorway where he might hide and effect his transformation.
    There was no