Free Death of a Chimney Sweep by Cora Harrison

moment, the dog and the fire were protecting the five boys, but that was not going to last. Sooner rather than later, one rat, bolder than the others, would brave
that swinging torch, would rush past those snapping jaws and where one rat went, then the rest would follow . . .
    Alfie made up his mind. ‘Mutsy, here boy,’ he said and obediently Mutsy joined him. Alfie transferred Sammy’s hand to the knotted rope on Mutsy’s collar.
    ‘Go home, boy, take Sammy home,’ he said. There was no time to waste on explanations.
    Quickly Alfie took one of the buns from his bag. Handing the torch to Frank, he broke the bun into ten pieces and tossed them at the rats. Instantly they all turned towards the food, an
appalling horde of screaming, scrabbling, squirming and biting as they fought for the pieces of bread.
    Alfie took the torch back from Frank. By now Sammy and Mutsy had gone through the gate, Mutsy towing Sammy along at such speed that the blind boy was running. The clever dog had understood that
he had to get Sammy away from the menace of the rats.
    Alfie made himself wait until they were out on the street. Now he knew what he should do. It would take a steady nerve and a lot of luck. Once through the gate, he would be almost at the back
yard of the Mitre & Dove public house. And outside that yard stood ten tall dustbins.
    Alfie fumbled with his left hand in the bag and drew out the second bun. Now he suddenly began to run, crumbling the bun as he went.
    The rats came after him – there were so many of them that he could hear the patter of their naked claws on the cobblestoned surface.
    As he ran, Alfie dropped pieces of bun behind him. If only there was enough to last!
    He was fast through the gate, but the rats were at his heels. He half turned, swung the torch in a semicircle behind him and dropped the last piece of the second bun. It was a fairly big piece
and once again the rats fought over it.
    Now Alfie had reached the dustbins. The lid of each one was weighed down by a large stone. Quickly he tipped the nearest stone to the ground, risking placing his precious, flaming torch on top
of it. The torch was dying down; the flame had almost consumed the tar. Soon it would be useless to him, but for the moment it was the only thing that stood between him and the rats.
    Then Alfie lifted the dustbin lid and stood with it in his right hand. His left hand drew out the last bun.
    Alfie took a deep breath. He held up the broken bun. Two hundred small, glittering eyes looked up at him. Quickly Alfie threw the bread into the tall bin. Already it was half full of putrid
scraps of waste food. The rats did not hesitate. They swarmed up the side of the bin and dropped down on the food. Soon they were piled up almost to the top. There was just enough room.
    Alfie clanged the lid down and quickly added the stone. Then took another stone and another until the lid was weighted down. He picked up his torch. His legs were trembling but he waved a
cheerful salute towards the boys and then turned to go out onto the street.
    At that very moment, a cart swung in from Westminster. A man swore, a whip was flung around Alfie’s neck, half-strangling him and causing him to drop the torch as he clawed desperately at
the choking leather.
    ‘So it’s you,’ said a voice.
    It was Grimston, the master chimney sweep.

 
    CHAPTER 17
    M URDEROUS
E YES

    Alfie stood very still. He could not fight that stranglehold. The door of the public house opened and two men came out, laughing loudly and clutching at each other, hardly able
to stand. Alfie saw at a glance that they were both very drunk, but even so he tried to attract their attention by coughing wildly.
    The men took little notice, but Grimston loosened his whip and Alfie managed to get a hand between his neck and the leather.
    ‘Good evening, Mr Grimston,’ he croaked.
    ‘What are you doing here?’ hissed Grimston. He looked back towards the stables. The three boys stood beside