Free The American Boy by Andrew Taylor Page A

Allan upon an errand – I did not judge it prudent to enlarge upon its nature – and that the man had approached them on their way back. I added that I had been fortunate enough to witness the moment when the man accosted the boys.
    â€œWhat exactly did he do, Mr Shield?”
    â€œHe took Charles by the arm.”
    â€œWhy would he do that if he were a beggar? Would he not ask for money instead?”
    â€œI think it likely his wits were disordered, sir. He had been drinking. I cannot say whether he intended to offer violence or whether his design was simply to attract the boys’ attention and demand money. Young Allan tried to drag Charles away.”
    â€œA brave lad. The man was carrying a stick, I understand?”
    â€œYes, sir.”
    â€œAnd he offered you violence?”
    â€œYes, sir, but it didn’t signify – I had a stick myself and I fancy that even without it I would not have been in difficulties.”
    â€œMy son told his mama the man was somewhat larger than you.”
    â€œTrue, sir, but on the other hand I am somewhat younger.”
    Henry Frant turned aside to sharpen a pencil. “Would you indulge my curiosity a little further and describe him?”
    â€œHe was well above the middle height and had an ill-trimmed beard. He wore blue spectacles, and a blue coat with metal buttons and I think brown breeches. Oh, and a cocked hat and a wig.” I hesitated. “There’s one more thing, sir. I cannot be absolutely certain, but I believe I may have seen him before.”
    â€œThe devil you have. Where?”
    â€œIn Southampton-row. It was on the day I came to collect your son when he first went to school. I took Edgar Allan to his parents’ house on the way. The man was loitering, and asked me when I was leaving if that was Mr Allan’s, and then he hurried away.”
    Frant tapped his teeth with the pencil. “If he were interested in Allan’s boy, then why should he attach himself to mine? It makes no sense.”
    â€œNo, sir. But the two boys are not unlike. And I noticed the man stooped to look at me.”
    â€œSo you formed the impression he might be short-sighted? Perhaps. I will be candid, Mr Shield. A man in my situation makes enemies. I am a banker, you understand, and bankers cannot please everybody all the time. There is also the point that a certain type of depraved mind might consider stealing the child of a wealthy man in order to extort money. This attack may be no more than a chance encounter, the casual work of a drunkard. Or it may be that the man was more interested in Mr Allan’s boy. But there remains the third possibility: that he nursed a design of some sort against my son, or even in the long run against myself.”
    â€œTo judge by what little I have seen of him, sir, I would doubt that he could put any design successfully into action, apart, perhaps, from that of raising a glass or a bottle up to his lips.”
    Frant gave a bark of laughter. “I like a man who speaks plain, Mr Shield. May I ask you not to mention what we have discussed to my wife? Speculation of this nature must inevitably distress her.”
    I bowed. “You may depend on me, sir.”
    â€œI take this kindly, Mr Shield.” Frant glanced at the clock on the mantel-shelf. “One more thing, for my own private satisfaction I should like to meet this fellow and ask him a few questions. Should you come across him again, would you be good enough to let me know? Now, I must not keep you any longer from your half holiday.”
    He shook hands cordially with me. A moment later I was walking down to Holborn. My mind was in a whirl. There is something intensely gratifying about being treated civilly by people of wealth and indeed fashion. I felt myself a fine fellow.
    Perhaps, I thought as I strolled through the autumn sunshine, my luck was changing. With Mr and Mrs Frant as my patrons, where might I not end?

14
    The