Free Death and the Arrow by Chris Priestley Page A

“I must just tell my father, and then I’ll be with you directly.”
    But when he heard where his son was intending to go, Mr. Marlowe looked worried. “Tom,” he said, “I know you feel a need to find the men who murdered young Will, but . . .” He looked down at the floor, then cursed under his breath. “You’re all I have, Tom!”
    “I have to do this, Father,” said Tom.
    His father sighed. “I know it, Tom. I admire you for it. But take care.”
    “I will, Father, I will.”
    Tom’s father patted him on the shoulder and Tom left the print room.
    Ocean was about to follow him out when Mr. Marlowe grabbed him by the coat. “You take care of that boy, do you hear me?” he said.
    “No harm will come to Tom if I have any say in it,” said Ocean.
    “I’ll hold you to that,” said Mr. Marlowe.
    “I’d expect you to,” said Ocean.
    Dr. Harker was as keen as Tom to discover what had happened in Southwark, but none of them were keen to reacquaint themselves with either the sergeant or the gin cellar he was holed up in. Ocean whistled to a hansom cab, and it pulled up in front of them.
    “The Ten-Killed Cat in Southwark,” said Ocean. “And straight there, mind. We ain’t Italians.”
    “I don’t go south of the river,” protested the driver. “Not at this hour. . . .”
    “Get in,” said Ocean to Tom and Dr. Harker.
    “Hey!” shouted the driver.
    “Drive on, you rogue, or my friend here, who is a member of Parliament, will see to it that you lose your license—if you have one, that is!”
    After a few seconds’ thought, the driver moved off, muttering to himself about the unfairness of life and the troubles that cursed him, as cab drivers often do. Tom and Dr. Harker smiled in admiration at Ocean’s quick wit, and he smiled back, enjoying the praise.
    “A member of Parliament, eh?” said Dr. Harker.
    “And a fine one you’d make, I’m sure,” said Ocean with a grin. Tom laughed.
    “A little less from you, lad,” said the doctor. “I had half a thought to go into politics when I was younger.”
    “Well, we’re all thankful you had a change of heart, Doctor, for a greater set of rogues and thieves you couldn’t find outside of Newgate.” Dr. Harker smiled. “It’s no life for an honest man like yourself.”
    The cab pulled up outside the Ten-Killed Cat, the driver still muttering to himself. Tom, Ocean, and Dr. Harker got out and stood on the pavement underneath the creaking sign.
    “Wait here till we return,” said Ocean to the cab driver.
    “Ten minutes and no more,” he replied.
    They walked down the steps as before. The sergeant was just where they had left him. His eyes were still fixed on the door, his hand holding his pistol, the torn pieces of card lying next to it.
    But on his coat was another Death and the Arrow card, pinned there by the arrow that jutted from his chest.

ECLIPSE
    It was only a day after the trip to Southwark and the discovery of the sergeant’s body when Ocean brought news of another victim. Dr. Harker went to view the body at Dr. Cornelius’s invitation. It turned out to be the man who had attacked them after their visit to the Arrow coffee house. If Dr. Harker was right in his calculations, then that meant there were only two of the men left.
    April 22 was the day of the eclipse and Tom set out along Fleet Street with a parcel of pamphlets to deliver on his way to Dr. Harker’s house. He and Ocean had been invited to view the spectacle from the doctor’s roof. A strange evening twilight was spreading over the city, even though it was eight o’clock in the morning, and birds, in their confusion, were heading home to roost.
    Tom walked briskly, eager not to miss anything and glad to have something to think about other than the grim business of the past few days. Without warning, a man stepped out in front of him and blocked his way. “What’s the hurry, lad?” he asked. Then Tom recognized him—the man with the cudgel who had attacked them