Free Touched by Angels by Alan Watts Page B

his mind’s eye, alone in his cell, or outside in the blazing sun, smashing up rocks.
    As he walked into the parlour and watched his mother pulling the needle from King’s back, the sight of the congealed blood on the metal made him feel sick. Revulsion swamped him in waves as she wiped it on King’s jacket, before going through his pockets
     
    ***
     
    Lil levered up the floorboards, cringing at the frightful squealing noise they were making, that was impossible to muffle. A foetid damp smell rolled up from the hole, and they heard squeaking, followed by the scamper of little feet.
    He was heavy, but raw fear was driving her.
    When King was finally laid to rest, with his bowler hat on his face, she was too nervous to pray over him, and thought it hypocritical anyway.
    The hardest part was putting the nails back, because although some went in with a push, others had to be tapped in, using the jemmy as a crude hammer. The noise seemed out of all proportion to the force used.
    When she had finished, her mind turned to the money once more, as she wondered what King’s intentions were for it, though she knew it hinted at dangerous discord.
    She was to find out what the very next day, when Robert ran home from school with a newspaper clutched in his hand.
     
     
     

Seventeen
    She felt her heart sink, seeing King, whose Christian name was Adam, staring back from the front page, and above him, the headline confirming he was on the run.
    It seemed his two uncles, one of whom must have been that ogre with the monocle who had evicted the Inkpens, were contesting his father’s will, insisting that much of the liquid assets of his estate were theirs. They had even posted a cash reward of one hundred pounds for information as to their nephew’s whereabouts.
    The ten thousand must have formed part of that estate. She could guess what had happened. With nobody else in the world he could trust, and with the high probability of these ruthless men winning a court case, the spectre of destitution would have been most unpalatable for him, after a life of ease, so he had taken what he could and run.
    Unsurprisingly, the article went on to the missing fob and that Adam King might have it in his possession. They desperately wanted this back too, for sentimental reasons.
    Doubting they could even define it, she laughed out loud.
    They were even offering a separate reward of one hundred pounds for its safe return.
    By now, suspecting there was more to the watch than just its value, she laid the paper down and said to Robert, “Go and get it. We’ll have a closer look.”
    With the chain coiled in her palm, she studied the exterior of the watch, back and front, wondering if something significant might be engraved there, in numerals or letters so tiny, the unsuspecting would miss them.
    She had read an old book once, where such a ruse foiled a thief, but here, there was nothing. Once more, she opened it, and gazed at the inside of the cover. It was completely bare, save from a tiny hallmark. She looked at the white enamelled face, with its Roman numerals again, this time more closely. Nothing.
    She felt increasing despair, but without saying anything, Robert took it and depressed a tiny lever he had noticed below the face. It swung upwards on a sprung hinge.
    The workings were visible and engraved in the back were the numerals 7, 6, 2, 9 and beneath, the words “Coutts & Co Strand.”
    They looked at each other puzzled, but then Lil whispered, “Of course, it’s a bank. The number must be that of a safety deposit box.”
    “What’s that?”
    “A sort of safe, where rich people keep their valuables. So that’s what they’re after! There must be a fortune inside. There’s just one other thing though, and without it, the number is useless.”
    They both waited in silence for a few seconds, until Robert asked, “What?”
    “The key. Safety deposit boxes need one to open them. He must have one, either on his person, or…”
    “The