Page 49

The crowd turned as one to look at the discarded whip.

“Is this your whip, sir?” the official asked direly.

The man in the red-tailed coat let out a yell of fury. “That animal was clearly out of control!” he roared.

“He upset the cart only after you cornered him!” Lizzie countered sharply.

“That’s true enough,” the stallholder conceded grudgingly. “I saw ’im come chargin’ across wiv his whip. Thought he was coming for me for a minute, I did.” He tugged at his neckerchief and eyed Mr. Overton reproachfully. “He looked like a ravin’ loony!”

The man scribbling the details down in his book looked toward the irate gentleman. “What is your name?” he asked blandly. “I need it for the official record.”

The man vibrated with anger, but when he spoke, he did so in a barely audible mumble. “It’s Stanley Overton,” he admitted grudgingly.

“Overton?” the official repeated distinctly. “Are you not the owner of that menagerie tent over yonder?”

Stanley Overton ground his teeth. “I am,” he admitted. “But I have never seen that dog before, so don’t you try and pin the blame on me!”

The first official stroked his sideburns a moment thoughtfully before turning back to Lizzie. “No, we have established the animal belongs to this lady, have we not?”

Lizzie looked down and met the creatures eyes a moment and was shaken by the shining confidence the dumb animal seemed to have in her. It was almost as though, she thought, he had chosen her. Lizzie squared her shoulders and gave a short nod. She had never been one to shirk her responsibilities, and besides, a dog was supposed to be the most faithful of companions, was it not? She who was friendless could hardly go wrong in acquiring one now.

“Be that as it may, madam,” the official conceded. “You should have had the dog under control. You have no leash? No means of restraining it?”

Looking down, Lizzie saw the animal was wearing a battered leather collar. She seized hold of it in a firm grip. The beast did not even flinch, just continued to gaze steadily up at her. She exhaled her breath. “I have him securely now,” she assured them and remembering she still had the golden guinea she had made fortune telling, she plunged her other hand into her pocket and lifted her chin. “I will, of course, make reparation to Mr. Wilkins. However, I have not yet had the opportunity to obtain any small change. Perhaps one of you gentlemen could help me?” She stepped forward, showing the gold coin in her palm discreetly to the black-suited official.

He started. “You are ill-advised as a female to go wandering around a place like this unaccompanied with such an amount on you, madam,” he said disapprovingly.

Lizzie frowned at him meaningfully. Surely, he would realize that he was the one being indiscreet! She could practically feel Mr. Wilkins’ gaze on the back of her head as he craned to see what money she had in her hand. The official seemed to take her meaning for at once he cleared his throat, reached into the inner pocket of his coat.

“As to that, sir,” Lizzie said recovering her composure. “I am not unaccompanied. I do not think many would approach me with threat of violence when I am in possession of so very large a dog.”

“There may be something in what you say,” he acknowledged, inspecting the contents of his coin purse. “Here, madam,” he said after picking out several coins. “Will you check it is correct?”

Lizzie did so, and then handed her golden coin over to him with thanks.

“For the official record,” his companion piped up, pausing in the scribbling of his pen. “What is the name of your animal?”

Lizzie only paused for a second. “Sebastian,” she said, suddenly inspired.

The man made haste to note this down in his book as Lizzie turned to Mr. Wilkins. She checked his sign proclaiming the price of his spiced nuts per portion. “How many portions of nuts do you suppose has ended up scattered on the floor, my man?” she enquired briskly of the stallholder. With the eyes of the officials on him, Mr. Wilkins clearly felt hampered in his reply. He scratched the back of his neck and mumbled a sum that the official immediately took issue with.

“She will give you a florin and not a penny more, my good man! We both know as soon as we are out of sight you will be on your hands and knees scrabbling to reclaim every kernel!”

Lizzie handed over the agreed compensation, and Mr. Wilkins thanked her rather huffily before retreating behind his barrow.

“There, now that’s the end of the matter,” said the man in the black suit, glancing meaningfully at Mr. Overton who still stood hovering. His companion snapped his book shut, and they bowed to Lizzie. “Good day to you, ma’am.”

Lizzie inclined her head and watched them walk some distance away before turning to the tall man stood irresolute.

“You are still here, Mr. Overton?” she asked.

“I am, madam!” he snapped. “We both know why.”

“Do we? Perhaps you did not hear the official pronouncement. He said you were not due any damages for your part in this mishap.”

His face turned a mottled purple. “We both know, madam, that is not true!”

“Indeed?” Lizzie asked politely. “Perhaps I should summon him back, then, for all three are still within earshot if I was to raise my voice.” Mr. Overton’s lips trembled with suppressed fury. Lizzie stood silent a moment, letting the difficulty of his situation sink in. “How much do you want for the beast?” she asked softly.