Breaths of Suspicion Read Online Free PDF Page B

sudden silence, broken only by the harsh breathing of a single individual, half-seen , wide-shouldered, shaven-headed, heavy and almost ungainly, looming over me in the darkness.
    ‘Mr James … are you all right?’
    Thick gnarled fingers closed on my arm, hauling me to my staggering feet until I was clasped to a broad chest. The heavy features of my rescuer were thrust into mine and I smelled onions and beer on his breath. Satisfied that I was not seriously hurt, my rescuer turned away and hauled to his legs the muttering drunkard at myfeet. When he leaned young Jervis into my grasp, it was only then that I recognized our saviour. It was the pugilist, well known as Lewis Goodman’s fixer: Porky Clark.
    The scarred, battered features were thrust close into mine again, as though he was reassuring himself I was not badly hurt. He began to brush me down, removing dirt from my shoulders and chest, then, after a moment, he nodded satisfaction and let out a gusty, beer-and-pie flavoured breath. ‘Mr Goodman don’t like trouble so close to his place,’ he muttered.
    ‘Where … where did they come from?’ I asked shakily.
    ‘Them pack rats? There’s an alley back of the night house,’ Porky replied, nodding in the general direction of Goodman’s premises. ‘It’s happened afore. The villains will’ve been watching for gennlemen like yous coming out with full pockets.’
    ‘And where did you come from?’ I wondered.
    He hesitated. The question seemed to bewilder him for a few moments. He scratched his stubbly chin, picked up the battered billycock hat he seemed to have mislaid during the scrimmage with the three thugs and ran a hand over his shaven head. ‘Came out afore you, Mr James. Just to take a look around, like.’
    There was something unconvincing in his brief explanation, but I thrust the thought aside. I took a deep breath, caressed my injured rib with a gentle hand and swore. ‘It’s as well you came out too, Porky, or we’d have been well and truly turned over.’
    ‘They was just amatoors,’ he opined, grandly boastful. ‘They was ’specting easy targets. I put the boot into them. Come on, Mr James, let’s get you and Mr Jervis to the Strand. There’ll be hansoms there. We’ll get you and the young ’onnerble home straightaway.’
    He was right. As soon as we emerged stumbling from the dark side street we saw a cab standing there, almost as if it had been waiting for us. Porky Clark raised a hand to the driver, then half-lifted young Jervis inside where he collapsed on the horse-hair seat like a bundle of old clothes. Porky stepped back as I ascended,clutching my sore rib.
    ‘Best not tell Mr Goodman about this,’ he muttered. ‘He don’t like his gennlemen bein’ took after they leave the house.’
    It would have been the reason Porky had come out into the street before we emerged, I had no doubt. He would be well aware of the dangers that the streets outside the night house might offer to the unwary. He closed the door behind me, and instructed the driver. ‘Inner Temple.’
    There was the crack of a whip, the cab lurched on its way and Porky Clark was lost once more in the enveloping darkness of the side street.
    Beside me, young Jervis was leaning his curly-locked head on my shoulder, and he had begun to snore. I guessed that later that morning he would have little recollection, if any, of the encounter in the alley. He would certainly not be aware that Porky Clark had come to our rescue. I slipped my hand into the pocket of his coat: his purse was still stowed safely there, and it felt comfortably swollen with the night’s winnings. I found my fingers itching with a momentary temptation: by extracting a few notes I could make up for some of my own losses that evening, and I had, after all, provided a service to the young rascal. But I resisted the temptation.
    It would hardly be wise to relieve the son of the Attorney General of some of his winnings at
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