A Christmas Promise Read Online Free PDF Page B

actually came off the floor. She jerked around and looked at the man not three feet away. He had come in silently, and she had heard nothing. He must have been wearing those velvet slippers.
    “I …,” she began. “I …”
    He waited. He was tall and lean and his hair was very black, with just a few streaks of white in it at the sides. His skin was coppery dark, his nose high-bridged and aquiline.
    She drew in a deep breath. “I need ’elp,” sheadmitted. This was not a man you lied to. “An’ Mr. Wiggins says as ye’re the wisest man around ’ere, so I come ter ask.”
    “Does he indeed?” Mr. Balthasar smiled with a definite trace of amusement. “You have the advantage of me.”
    “Wot?” She blinked.
    “You seem to know something of me,” he explained. “I know nothing of you.”
    “Oh. I’m Gracie Phipps. I live in ’eneage Street. But I come cos o’ Minnie Maude. ’er uncle Alf got killed, an’ Charlie’s lost an’ could be all on ’is own, an’ in trouble.”
    “I think you had better tell me from the beginning,” Mr. Balthasar said gently. “This sounds as if it might be quite a complicated matter, Gracie Phipps.”
    Gracie drew in her breath and began.
    Mr. Balthasar listened without interrupting, nodding now and then.
    “…so I think as Jimmy Quick in’t tellin’ thetruth,” she said finally. “Cos it don’t make no sense. But I still gotta find Charlie, or that daft little article in’t gonna give up till summink real bad ’appens.”
    “No,” Mr. Balthasar agreed, and his face was very grim. “I can see that she isn’t. But I fear that you are right. Several people may not be telling the truth. And perhaps Minnie Maude is not quite as daft as you imagine.”
    Gracie gulped. The room with its crowded shelves and endless assortment of treasures seemed smaller than before, closer to her, the walls crowding in. It was oddly silent, as if the street outside were miles away.
    “Course she’s daft,” Gracie said firmly. “’oo’s gonna kill a rag an’ bone man? On purpose, like? ’e jus’ died an’ fell off, an’ as ’e were on Jimmy Quick’s patch, ’stead of ’is own, no one knew ’im, so ’e jus’ laid there till someone found ’im.”
    “And what happened to Charlie?” Mr. Balthasar asked very gently.
    “Charlie couldn’t pick ’im up,” Gracie replied. “An’ ’e couldn’t get ’elp, so ’e jus’ stayed there with ’im…sort o’…waitin’.”
    “And why was he not there when poor Alf was found?”
    Gracie realized her mistake. “I dunno. Someone must a stole ’im.”
    “And the cart? They stole that also?”
    “Must ’ave.”
    “Yes,” Mr. Balthasar said very sincerely. “That, I fear, may be far more serious than you realize.” He searched her face, as if trying to judge how much she understood, and how much more he should tell her.
    Suddenly she was brushed with genuine fear, a cold grip inside her that held hard. She fought against it. Now it was not just helping Minnie Maude because she was sorry for her, and felt a certain kind of responsibility. She was caught in it herself. She looked back at the strange features, the dark, burning eyes of Mr. Balthasar.
    “Why’d anyone steal it?” she said in little more than a whisper.
    “Ah.” He let out his breath slowly. “There I think you have it, Gracie. What was in it that someone believed to be worth a human life in order to steal?”
    Gracie shivered. “I dunno.” The words barely escaped her lips. “D’yer think ’e really were killed?” It still seemed ridiculous, something Minnie Maude would make up, because she was only eight, and daft as a brush. Gracie swallowed hard. It was no longer a bit of a nuisance. She was scared. “She jus’ wants ’er friend Charlie back, an’ safe.”
    Mr. Balthasar did not answer her.
    “D’yer think they done ’im in, too?” Her voice wobbled a bit, and she could not help it.
    “I doubt it,” he replied, but there was