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Pedestrians crowded together,
trying to hold solid ground and not end up slogging through the
muck. Here and there, it happened anyway and some poor soul would
fight with the mud hoping to get back their lost shoe.
    I continued searching the lane until I found
a person of interest. A constable walked his beat down the other
side of the street. Surely, I supposed, this would be exactly the
person to whom I could tell my story and find justice for myself
and my father.
    I watched the traffic and then bolted into
the lane behind a dark carriage. Mud sprang at me from the rear
wheels, pelting my face. I skidded across the mud, trying to
prevent my hurdling beneath another team of horses coming down the
opposite side. I barely managed to keep my life, then darted behind
the buggy and driver, slip-sliding my way to the boardwalk on the
other side of the street.
    Curses were cast my way, but I was safe. The
policeman stood just a block away. I began my trek toward him,
weaving through the crowd. I only barely noticed that a few shops
sold their wares on this side. People stood shopping near doorways
at tables with books, ceramics and various knick-knacks.
    As I passed through the crowd of people, I
nearly ran into a group of three boys going the opposite direction.
They were all dressed worse than I was, meaning their clothes were
older and more worn, whereas I wore finer quality despite having
slept in an alley the previous night.
    The boy leading the other two gave me a
sharp look and grinned. I stopped, awestruck as they passed. They
all turned slightly, wondering what my problem might be, but
carried on nonetheless.
    I turned back toward the constable, now only
a few yards away. Had I really seen what I thought? Those
ears. Preferring not to confuse my purpose, I shook myself and
started back for the constable again. As I approached, he turned
his nose down, giving me a suspicious look. “What are you doing,
you little ragamuffin?”
    “Sir, I’ve come to report a murder,” I
began.
    He looked scalded. “A murder? What on earth
are you talking about? Where?”
    I tripped over my own words, hurriedly
trying to explain my situation. “It’s my father, sir. He was
murdered last night in an alley. A man robbed us and killed him
right in front of me.”
    He stood erect, giving me a cursory look as
though he hadn’t been listening. “Are you American, boy?”
    I halted, confused. “Yes, sir. My father and
I arrived only yesterday on a steamer from New York.”
    “And you say, your father was murdered?”
    “Yes, sir, before dark in an alley.”
    The constable rubbed his chin. “And where
was this alley?”
    I thought, but couldn’t answer him. “I’m not
sure, sir. I ran for my life and don’t know London at all. But I’m
sure it couldn’t have been far from here.”
    He gave me half a smile. “That’s very
interesting. We’ve had no report of any murders last night, or the
night before. We’ve certainly not recovered any bodies. Are you
sure you’re not pulling my leg, trying to get one over on the
bobby?”
    I stood before him mystified by his
response. I had just begun to protest his indifference when a shout
came from down the street. “Stop thief!”
    We both looked in time to see the same three
boys I had just passed on the sidewalk running from the scene. A
shop owner stood shouting with a broom in his hand next to an angry
patron pulling on his empty coat pocket.
    A massive hand snatched my coat at the neck.
“You little dipper!” he barked. “So that’s your game…distracting me
so your thieving friends could make off with the goods under my
nose!”
    I had no time to muster a defense before the
constable tore down the street with me in tow. He dragged me
kicking behind him, blowing his whistle and ordering the other boys
to stop.
    “Please, sir, I don’t even know those
boys!”
    But the constable didn’t listen. He shouted
ahead to pedestrians to move out of his way as he maintained
pursuit.