The Scarlet Thief Read Online Free PDF Page B

paper with you, if you wish. I have read enough for today. I didn’t know you could read, Lark.’
    ‘My mother taught me. I don’t get much chance to practise though so I’m a little slow.’ The admission brought back some of their earlier closeness and Sloames handed the newspaper over with pleasure.
    ‘Here, take it. I would be perfectly content if you were to take the daily paper with you at the end of the day. The Times is a little long-winded but at least you will learn something of the campaign we are shortly to join.’
    Jack nodded his thanks.
    To go on campaign with Sloames was everything Jack had ever dreamt of since he had first taken the Queen’s shilling. But it would mean leaving Molly.

The street was dark. A few gaslights lit the main streets in town but in the long rows of terraced housing behind the new train station the darkness was left to smother the backstreets in an impenetrable gloom. The days had finally started to draw out but the evenings still pressed in quickly. In the poorer areas of town, little spare money could be wasted even on the cheapest tallow candles, so the darkness was left to rule unchallenged.
    Jack dawdled his way closer to the house where Molly lived with her mother. He was smartly dressed in his best uniform, as was required to pass the guard and be allowed into town. He did his best to avoid stepping in any of the unsavoury mess that littered the ground. He wished he had had the foresight to bring a lantern and he prayed he would arrive at Molly’s house without his well-polished boots smeared with some noxious substance.
    There were few people around now darkness had set in, the people crammed into these small terraced houses seeking whatever rest they could get before returning to their work in the morning. Occasional raised voices echoed down the street as people vented their anger and frustration on one another, and in the house next door to Molly’s a baby wailed, its plaintive cry reverberating through the gloomy street.
    With a determination he did not feel, Jack rapped on the scarred front door of number twenty-seven. The house behind its sturdy door was silent.
    The sound of bolts scraping gave Jack just enough time to pull one last time at his uniform before the door was cautiously opened and an anxious eye peered round its edge.
    ‘Jack!’ The relief in the familiar voice was clear. Few respectable people welcomed visitors once night had fallen and Jack had expected to waste half the night on the doorstep persuading those inside to lower their guard and unbar the door. ‘What are you doing here at this time of night?’
    Molly opened the door wide, quickly ushering Jack into the narrow hallway while nervously looking down the quiet street to see how many of the neighbours’ curtains were twitching.
    The house stank of boiled cabbage and the harsh carbolic soap the family borrowed from the laundry for use at home. Molly held a single candle in a holder and in its flickering flame Jack thought she had never looked so lovely. She had discarded the linen cap that contained her unruly locks during the day and she wore her hair down. In the dim light she looked almost angelic, her face now devoid of the constant red flush he was so used to seeing in the heat of the laundry.
    ‘You shouldn’t really be here this late. It isn’t proper.’
    Jack removed his shako and held it awkwardly in front of him. ‘It’s a bit late to worry about that now.’ He smiled as he saw a flush of crimson on Molly’s cheeks.
    She turned to call up the stairs. ‘It’s alright, Mam. It’s just Jack. He won’t be staying long.’ She fixed Jack with a challenging glare, daring him to try any more of his ribald humour.
    But Jack was there on a more serious errand. He looked at Molly as earnestly as he could. ‘I haven’t come for anything untoward, Molly. I just want to talk.’
    ‘Then you’d better come through to the kitchen. We can’t use the parlour, not just the two