Death in the Devil's Den

by Cora Harrison

  ‘They’re like a huge wheel,’ Alfie explained to Sammy. ‘They’re like gold lines coming out from the centre and whirling around. I’ve never seen anything like it!’ He struggled for words, trying to explain this tremendous sight to his brother.

  You have to be your brother’s eyes, his grandfather had said to Alfie when he was quite young. Don’t ever let him be wondering what everyone is looking at; tell him.

  ‘And now it’s turning different colours! It’s green and yellow and red!’

  ‘What’s that?’ Sammy’s ear was turned towards a large circular building. The sounds of musical instruments were coming from there.

  ‘Listen!’ Sammy seized his arm and Alfie listened. ‘They’re playing firework music,’ said Sammy in a hushed voice. ‘Go on telling me about the fireworks, but quiet-like. I want to listen. They’re playing it like I imagine the fireworks look.’

  So Alfie went on describing the fireworks, how some of them blossomed into pink and yellow flowers, like the ones that grew in the public parks, and how others flew through the air like birds of paradise. Sammy sighed with pleasure and didn’t move until the last notes of the orchestra faded into silence. Even Mutsy stayed very still, his large intelligent eyes fixed on Sammy as though he understood that this was something very important for one of his masters.

  ‘Everything is free here,’ said Tom, appearing beside them. ‘You can do anything you like and it’s all free! Let’s go and see the cascade.’

  The cascade was magnificent. It was like a wall of water pouring down continuously, working miniature watermills and flowing into a river which disappeared behind the stage with small ships sailing on it.

  ‘Supper,’ said Alfie, once he had dragged Tom out from the building where he was investigating a large pump in the company of Mutsy.

  ‘It’s so beautiful,’ said Sarah, looking around the restaurant once they were seated and eyeing the walls covered in enormous mirrors. ‘Look how the coloured lights are reflected by these. I think I’ll have a word with the landlord at the White Horse Inn. Something like this would be a great attraction in his supper room. He and I have great plans for that new room.’

  ‘Supper, Miss?’ The waiter addressed himself to Sarah as the most respectable one of the group.

  ‘What shall we have?’ Sarah looked around at the gang. Mutsy, a dog of discretion, had hidden himself beneath the table and only the tip of his hairy tail appeared from under the long skirt of the tablecloth.

  ‘Beg pardon, Miss, if I could suggest. The chicken is very good, Miss, cooked at the table in front of your eyes. Glass of wine, Miss?’

  ‘Beer,’ decided Sarah. She looked around at the nodding heads, ‘And, yes, the chicken sounds good.’

  ‘Melts in the mouth, this stuff,’ said Jack approvingly.

  ‘Mutsy likes it; his tail is whipping my ankles,’ said Tom with his mouth full.

  Alfie had never tasted chicken before in his life and the creamy softness of its velvet-like texture was something that he thought he would never forget. More and more dishes of different vegetables and sauces were brought and even Tom found it hard to finish what was on his plate.

  ‘What will we do now?’ asked Sarah. ‘I’d love to go up on that swinging boat, Jack, if you’d come with me.’

  ‘I want to have another look at that thing that pumps the cascade,’ said Tom. ‘Come on, Mutsy, old boy. Rats! If you catch one, the man in charge might let me have a look at how they made the watermill.’

  Alfie looked at Sammy. He rather fancied having a go on the swinging boat himself, and he knew that Sammy would enjoy it.

  But there was something else that Sammy would enjoy more; Alfie realised that.

  ‘Let’s go over to the Rotunda,’ he said. ‘There’s a concert starting there in ten minutes.’

  The Rotunda was a beautifully decorated place, built in a circle with a stage in the middle of it. It was covered in paintings – Chinese, Alfie heard someone say. It was the second performance of the evening so they got good seats, right near the stage, and Sammy was rigid with excitement from the moment that the players began to tune their instruments.

  ‘It’s Handel’s Water Music,’ Alfie whispered in his ear and Sammy nodded.

  Poor Sammy, thought Alfie. He could almost feel the waves of longing coming from his brother as his hands moved softly in time to the music. If only their grandfather’s fiddle had not been sold. It was one of the first things that Sammy and Alfie’s mother had done after her father’s death. Alfie thought of Richard and money and how much he would like to get music lessons for Sammy, and to buy one of those gleaming stringed instruments that the men on the stage handled with such care. Blindness would not matter to a player in an orchestra.

  Eventually the music finished and everyone began to move outside, talking and laughing. Sammy sat very still and Alfie stayed beside him. ‘What are you thinking about?’ asked Sammy after a minute.

  ‘I was thinking about Richard,’ said Alfie. Sammy was the only one that he had told the whole story to.

  ‘Poor old Richard,’ said Sammy compassionately. ‘I’m sorry for him, really.’

  Alfie turned surprised eyes on him. ‘Sorry for Richard?’ he asked. ‘Why?’

  Sammy shrugged. ‘Got no family, no gang . . . On his own most of the time . . . I wouldn’t like to be him,’ he said. ‘We have a good time, don’t we? Us and Mutsy – and having treats like this.’

  Alfie squeezed his arm. ‘I suppose you’re right, old son,’ he said. ‘Richard has pots of money, but he don’t seem none too happy.’ He spoke lightly, but he knew what Sammy meant. He and his gang would survive; Alfie was certain of that. And who knows, he thought, what we might do in the years to come.

  ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

  Thanks are due to Anne Clark and the team at Piccadilly who have spared no efforts to make the book as perfect as it can be, to Peter Buckman of Ampersand Agency, who always finds time to read and comment on my many books, and to my family and friends who have to put up with me when I get lost in the fogs of Victorian London.

  This is the sixth ‘Alfie’ book and once again I must acknowledge my debt of gratitude to the man who was my inspiration for the series. I first read the novels of Charles Dickens when I was seven and, throughout a sickly and bed-ridden childhood, I devoured every one of them – and then re-read them until even now I can identify almost every line. I regard Dickens as the greatest novelist that England has produced and I hope that young people who enjoy the London Murder Mysteries may go on to read his wonderful stories.

  The police must move fast to catch the killer of wealthy Mr Montgomery. They need an insider, someone streetwise, cunning, bold . . . someone like Alfie. When Inspector Denham makes him an offer, Alfie and his gang must sift clues, shadow suspects and negotiate a sinister world of double-dealing and danger.

  A man’s body lies in the burnt-out wreckage of the Ragged School. The police say the fire was just an accident – but Alfie suspects foul play.

  Determined to find out the truth, Alfie and his gang must follow up each clue, investigate every suspect and risk their lives on the dangerous streets of Victorian London – until the ruthless murderer is caught.

  A scream rings out through the theatre. The man on stage is dead! Who killed him? Alfie has a few suspects in his sights. But when the spotlight turns on Alfie himself, the search for the murderer becomes a fight for his own survival.

  Alfie knew who it was the moment he saw the body under the gas lamp. Joe the chimney sweep.

  No one else seems to care about the death of a poor boy, but Alfie has reason to believe that Joe was murdered. So he and his gang will risk their lives on the rooftops of London and brave the dark, dangerous world of the chimney sweeps, until they uncover the deadly truth.

  The body lies beneath a statue in Trafalgar Square.

  Alfie and his gang set out to find the murderer, just as a thick fog turns the London streets into a sinister maze. But soon Alfie is
plunged into a still more terrifying world hidden below the city . . .

  Praise for The London Murder Mysteries:

  ‘Fast-paced . . . excellent.’ parentsintouch

  ‘Fast-moving . . . gruesome . . . wonderful descriptions.’ School Librarian

  Head online to find out more about Alfie’s world!

  Be the sleuth yourself and crack all the cases!

  In each story Saxby Smart – schoolboy detective – gives you, the reader, clues which help solve the mystery. Are you ‘smart’ enough to find the answers?

  A mysterious curse, suspicious sabotage of a school competition, and a very unpleasant relative all conspire to puzzle Saxby Smart, schoolboy private detective.

  Stories include: The Curse of the AncientMask, TheMark of the Purple Homework and The Clasp of Doom.

  A terrifying visit to the Hangman’s Lair to recover stolen money, a serious threat of blackmail, and a mystery surrounding a stranger’s unearthly powers test Saxby to the limit in this set of case files!

  Stories include: The Hangman’s Lair, Diary of Fear and Whispers from the Dead.

  www.saxbysmart.co.uk