Free The Empress of India by Michael Kurland Page A

see anything. They may be met with kicks or blows, they may be forcibly ejected from here or there, but they will incite no suspicion that they are any more than they seem to be. Sneak thieves, scamps, and hooligans, yes. Spies, no. Give someone something bad to think about you and he will be satisfied, and will seldom try to imagine something worse.”
    And the Coneys were performing their assignments well. For the cost of six shillings a week, Pin Dok Low had eyes and ears all over London. Such was the price of the souls of a dozen boys.
    “Well, Charles?” Pin Dok Low demanded, sitting on his high red chair behind his high ebon desk and staring down unblinkingly at the young street arab. “What have you for me today?”
    “There’s nuffing stirring at the Baker Street crib,” Charles replied, hat respectfully in his hands, feet together, eyes focused on the little ivory idol on the desk. “Mrs. Hudson, the landlady, she goes out and comes in ’bout twice a day. That Dr. Watson, ’e come there yesterday for a bit, kind of stared at fings in the study—you could see him fru the winder from the ’ouse across the street—and went away again. But no sign of Mr. Sherlock Holmes.”
    “Welcome news,” Pin said.
    “And?” “And that professor cove in Russell Square—’e’s going away.”
    Pin Dok Low stood up and slapped his hands down on the desk with a sudden noise that made the Rodent jump. “Going away? What do you mean, going away?”
    “I means what I says,” the Rodent said, trying not to cringe as Pin Dok Low towered over him. “ ’E put this ’ere great trunk in a growler first fing this morning and sent it off to Victoria Station, didn’t ’e? And then ’e followed ’imself with another trunk in a second growler, didn’t ’e?”
    “Blast!” said Dr. Pin Dok Low. “Where on earth could the man be going?”
    “India,” Charles told him. “ ’E’s going to India. Calli-cutta, as ’e said.”
    “Indeed?” Pin sat slowly back down on his chair. “Calcutta, is it? And just how do you know that?”
    “Didn’t I follow ’im to Victoria Station? Didn’t I wisk life and limb by ’anging on to the back of ’is growler? ’E met another cove at the station, see, and I overhears their gab.”
    Pin leaned forward and fixed his gaze on Charles. “And who was the other gentleman?”
    “I didn’t ’appen to ’ear that, did I? They didn’t ’appen to mention ’is name. Big, ’eavyset cove, struts about like a soldier.”
    “And what did they do?”
    “They booked a first-class carriage on the Continental Express. They’re going to cross the Channel tomorrow morning, and take the boat train to Paris. Then they’re going to Calli-cutta.”
    “And how are they going from Paris?”
    “They didn’t say, did they? I mean, they ain’t going to discuss their entire aytinny-arary standing there in front of the station, just so’s I can overhear it, now, are they?”
    “And you heard nothing more?”
    “No, sir,” Charles said. “Well, not much. The professor, he said as how he figures that going as far as they can by train will cut a couple of weeks off the time, ’cause of ’ow a train’s faster than what a boat is.”
    “Ship,” Pin corrected automatically.
    “Yessir, ship. They wants to get there before the regiment sails.”
    “The regiment. Ah, of course—the regiment. Just which regiment would that be?”
    “They didn’t say.”
    Pin Dok Low leaned back and closed his eyes. For several minutes he said nothing, and the Rodent waited with his hat in his hand, unsure of what to do and afraid to make a sound. Finally Pin opened his eyes again. “Interesting,” he said. “But for now . . .” He leaned forward and lowered his head until his eyes were level with those of the young street arab. “You are doing well. Keep it up and don’t fail me, and you and your fellows will be adequately rewarded. Keep an eye on sixty-four Russell Square, in case Professor