The Last Days of Newgate - Andrew Pepper [85]
As casually as he could manage, he threw his hand down on the table, as though to concede defeat.
‘Would ye away a’ that.’ It was only then he smiled.
‘Four sevens.’ He motioned at the cards. ‘Check ’em if you don’t believe me.’ Now the grin had spread across his face. Addressing Pyke as though the others were not even in the room, he said, ‘That’s one hundred and fifty pound ye owe me.’ An excited cheer erupted from the onlookers. ‘Make no mistake, mister, I plan on collectin’ the money, too.’
That Arnold might also have cheated was indicated by the man’s general demeanour and the sheer mathematical improbability of two such strong hands appearing in the same round.
But since Pyke had not even considered the possibility he might lose, it was only once he had actually lost, and had been seen to lose, that the seriousness of his situation became apparent.
He had gambled unnecessarily, allowed his dislike of Arnold to cloud his judgement, and now, since he could not pay what he owed, his prospects were bleak. He estimated there were ten or twelve labouring men in the room, in addition to Arnold and the ex-pugilist, who would relish the opportunity to work him over with their bare fists. As a man with no acquaintances or allies, his life was marginally more valuable than that of the crippled dog that had followed him to the tavern. And any of those men would have killed that dog and given it less thought than whether to order an ale or a stout from the bar.
Briefly, Pyke considered his options, or lack of them. Without a weapon, he could not hope to fight his way out of the tavern. Nor could he simply bolt for the nearest exit. The only way out of the cellar was up the staircase and into the waiting arms, and brickbats, of the mob gathered in the taproom.
To compound his discomfort, it was now unbearably hot, because of the turf fire and the sheer number of bodies packed into the small room. Pyke’s armpits were leaking sweat and his throat felt scratchy. Arnold wiped his brow with the sleeve of his jacket for the third time in as many minutes, before declaring that the time was right for Pyke to settle his debt.
Pyke took a breath, removed his jacket, making sure to retain his wallet, and asked whether it might be possible for him to visit the privy before he attended to the matter in hand. Initially Arnold baulked at such a suggestion but eventually relented, once it was agreed that the pugilist would accompany him as far as the privy door; this was as much of a plan as Pyke had formed.
The outdoor privy was much darker than Pyke had expected. In fact, it was so dark he had to place himself over the privy itself before he could relieve himself. The stench was vile. Outside, he heard Tait tap on the door and ask whether he was done, but he did not hear the movement inside the privy until it was too late; a shuffle of feet and then a click. Something hard and cold - the barrel of a pistol - was pressed into his head.
For a moment, he was stunned at the inappropriateness of it; that he should be killed in such a place, in such a pointless manner. It seemed almost comical. He braced himself for the shot.
‘So how did ye do?’
Pyke heard Megan’s voice but still could not see her in the darkness.
Outside, Tait rapped on the door. Pyke could hear other voices now, too.
‘They tell me it’s loaded but, to be sure, I didn’t check,’ Megan whispered.
‘How did you know I . . .’
‘I figured that sooner or later you’d need to visit the privy.’
Pyke was momentarily overwhelmed with gratitude. ‘Why have you done this for me?’ He tried to retrieve the pistol from Megan’s hand but she was not about to give it up.
‘What?’ she said, sounding amused. ‘Ye think I’d just give it to ye for nothing?’
‘But I’ve already paid you for it.’
Tait banged on the door, harder this time. Thirty seconds and I’m breakin’ the door down.’
‘And now the price has suddenly gone up.’
‘I don’t have any more money.’ He took out his wallet to show her.
Megan took what little he had left and said, ‘Bet there’s plenty more on the table