The Strange Affair of Spring Heeled Jack - Mark Hodder [35]
Trounce was usually quick to warn those who jeered to "move along."
Today, though, as he proceeded along the Mall, Trounce spotted Dennis the Dip and decided to follow him. The notorious pickpocket was, as usual, dressed as a gentleman and looked entirely at ease among the well-heeled crowd that sauntered back and forth along the ceremonial avenue. It was a disguise. Had he opened his mouth to speak, the chopped and diced version of the English language that emerged would have immediately marked Dennis as a native of London's East End, otherwise known as "the Cauldron."
He scrubbed-up well, did Dennis, thought Trounce, as he slowed his pace and kept his eyes on the meandering crook.
The pickpocket was obviously looking for a mark and, when he found it, Trounce would swoop. It would be a nice feather in his cap if his very first arrest ended the career of this particular villain.
However, it soon became apparent that Dennis was rather indecisive today. He wandered from one side of the avenue to the other; trailed first one man then the next; stopped by a doorway and eyed passersby; and all the time his skillful fingers remained in plain view. They didn't plunge into a single pocket, not even his own.
After a while, Trounce grew bored, so he walked over to the petty crook and stood facing him.
"What ho, old son! What do you think you're up to, then?"
"Oh bleedin' 'eck, I ain't up to nuffink, am I!' whined Dennis. "Jest givin' me Sunday best an airing, that's all."
"It's Wednesday, Dennis."
"No law agin' wearin' a Sunday suit on a Wednesday, is there?"
The crook's rodentlike eyes swivelled right and left as if seeking an escape route.
Trounce unhooked his truncheon from his belt and pushed its end into Dennis's chest.
"I'm watching you, laddie. Those fingers of yours will be slipping into where they're not welcome before too long, and, when they do, nay fingers will be closing over your shoulder, mark my words. We'll soon have you out of that suit and wearing the broad arrow. There are no pockets in prison uniforms, did you know that?"
"Yus. But you ain't got no cause to threaten me!"
"Haven't I, now? Haven't I? Well, see it stays that way, Dennis my lad. Now hop it! I don't want to see you in this neck of the woods again!"
With a vicious look at the young constable, the pickpocket spat onto the pavement and scurried away.
Constable Trounce grinned and resumed his beat.
At the end of the Mall he passed Buckingham Palace and turned right into Green Park. Rather than walk along Constitution Hill itself, he preferred to pace along on the grass, thus positioning himself behind any crowd that might gather along the queen's route. In his experience, the troublemakers usually hid at the back, where they could more easily take to their heels should anyone object to their catcalls.
Her Majesty's carriage, drawn by four horses-the front left ridden by a postilion-was already on the path a little way ahead. There were four outriders with her, two in front of the vehicle and two some yards behind it.
Trounce increased his pace to catch up, walking down a gentle slope that gave him an excellent view of the scene.
Despite the mild weather, the crowd was sparse today. There were no protests and few hurrahs.
He jumped at the sound of a gunshot.
What the hell?
Breaking into a run, he scanned the scene ahead and saw a man wearing a top hat, blue