The Elephant Thief

by Jane Kerr

  “What’s the matter?” Mr. Jameson shouted.

  Danny lifted a lantern and pointed to the dressing on Maharajah’s leg. Spots of blood were expanding into large red circles. Most likely the cut had been pulled apart in the farmyard. In his head, he chalked up another black mark against Crimple.

  Mr. Saddleworth knelt to examine the wound. “Some of the stitches have torn,” he said. “I’ll resew them but I can’t keep doing it. He needs proper rest to allow the cut to heal.”

  “No, there’s no time for that. We have to get to Bolton. He can have a break then.”

  To Danny’s surprise, Mr. Jameson was already hurrying back to the wagon. Perhaps, he hadn’t realized Maharajah couldn’t go on like this. Danny had to make him understand. He grabbed Mr. Jameson’s arm before he could settle into his seat.

  Pointing at Maharajah, Danny shook his head. Then he did it again, crisscrossing his hands across his chest to make sure the message was clear. No! he wanted to shout. No! NO!

  “I’m sorry, Danny.” Sighing, Mr. Jameson curved an arm around one shoulder. Danny supposed it was meant to be comforting.

  “I don’t like this any more than you do. But if Albright wins the bet, Belle Vue belongs to him, and you know about his deal with Cawthorne. There’ll be a glass case waitin’ at Abbeystead, and Maharajah won’t be goin’ into it alive. We have to carry on. At least this way he has a fightin’ chance. Don’t you see?”

  Danny could still feel the tremors vibrating through his body. He looked around at the others—Hetty and her father, Crimple and Sandev—but every face showed shades of the same resignation. And Danny realized that, almost without him noticing, a huge chasm had opened up at their feet.

  They couldn’t go forwards, and they couldn’t go back either. They were caught between two impossible choices without a map to guide them. So when Mr. Jameson made the signal to continue, he didn’t object again. What would be the point? There was danger in every direction.

  They arrived in Bolton just before eleven o’clock on Saturday morning. The town was already busy, and everyone stared. This time, Maharajah and Prince Dandip weren’t the only ones attracting attention. After a night on the road, they were all rumpled and grubby. More like tramps than traveling royalty.

  Taking turns with the others, Danny had tried to snatch sleep in the back of the wagon. But the jolt of the road kept him awake for most of the night, and worry ruined any chance of sleep for the rest.

  Leading Maharajah away from the crowds, Danny followed the wagon into the shelter of an empty churchyard. The elephant pulled down a branch and began eating the leaves. His limp was more obvious, but there was no sign of fresh bleeding.

  “We’ll stop here,” declared Mr. Jameson. “Only for an hour, enough time to get somethin’ to eat. Meet back here at noon. Not a minute later.”

  The last order held a snap of impatience. Everyone’s tempers were threadbare, and tiredness had teased away at the edges. There were less than twenty-four hours to go.

  Mr. Saddleworth began filling a bucket from the church pump. “Henrietta! Come here. I need your help.”

  But Danny could see Hetty’s attention was firmly fixed elsewhere. Crimple was slinking across the yard and everything about him looked slippery, from the quick movement of his eyes to the tense set of his shoulders.

  “I’m sure he’s up to something.” Hetty lowered her voice to a whisper. “Where do you think he’s going?”

  Danny didn’t have any idea. The keeper had been unsettled since yesterday, and he kept shooting wary glances at Maharajah as though expecting another attack.

  Hetty sighed. “I wish we could follow him, but Papa won’t let me out of his sight.”

  Danny hesitated. His first instinct was to stay with Maharajah, but this might be the last chance to find out what was going on. He pointed to his chest and then gestured towards Crimple.

  Frowning, Hetty bit her lip. “Are you sure?”

  He nodded.

  “Then you’d better be quick, or you’ll lose him.” She stood on tiptoe and kissed his cheek. “Good luck!”

  During his years on the streets, Danny had had plenty of practice at being stealthy. One of the most important lessons for a pickpocket was to blend in, to move without being noticed.

  So he wriggled out of his brightly colored waistcoat, removed the turban, and toed off his slippers. Grabbing a basket from the wagon, he stuffed his clothes inside so they looked like laundry. Then he hunched his shoulders and lost an inch in height.

  Now he was able to slip through the crowds quite easily. No one stared at him like they stared at Prince Dandip. He was just a boy on his way to the washerwoman.

  Walking quickly, he followed Crimple. Occasionally the keeper glanced back, but Danny was prepared. He hid behind people, knelt to examine something on the floor, or lifted the basket to cover his face. It worked. The farther Crimple went, the more he relaxed.

  They passed a line of shops. Then a pub. A picture of a white horse swung above the door. Crimple ducked inside. Danny crouched in the shadows and waited. Ten minutes later he was still waiting.

  Fidgeting, he scanned the busy street. On the opposite corner, a hansom cab had stopped outside a grand hotel. A passenger climbed out, and the hotel doorman nodded a greeting. The man turned to reply, and Danny’s eyes widened. It was Arthur Albright.

  Quickly, he worked through the possibilities. Was Albright here to meet Crimple? Were they planning another delay to the Elephant Race? Or were they already celebrating their success? The only way to get answers was to find a way inside. And he was going to have to bluff.

  Using a shop window as a mirror, Danny tugged on his royal costume and brushed down the silk. The turban was the trickiest to get right but he managed it on the second attempt. He stuck two peacock feathers in the top, and they fell limply across his forehead. He only hoped he’d still be recognized as Prince Dandip.

  Pretending a confidence he didn’t quite feel, Danny strode up the hotel steps. For one moment, the doorman frowned, but then his face cleared.

  “I’m sorry, Your Highness. We’d heard you were passing through town, but we weren’t expecting you here. Welcome to the Adelphi.”

  Dipping his head politely, Danny strode through the open door. His pulse slammed against his skin. But the reception desk was empty and, although the hall was lined with doors, only one was ajar. Danny peered through the gap into a large sitting room. A fire smoldered in the grate and sofas faced towards the heat. He slid inside, as quiet as smoke.

  Albright stood at the opposite end of the room, leaning against the fireplace. He was looking down at someone sitting in a high-backed, leather chair.

  “… finally the plan appears to be working. No thanks to you. Failing to inform Jameson about the damaged bridge hardly caused any delays, and the boy stopped you from being stranded in the river for too long. It’s just a pity he was rescued from the water so quickly.”

  Danny’s hands curled into fists. Just as Hetty had suspected, Albright had been paying someone to stop the Elephant Race. Not every mishap and catastrophe had been Alfred Kibble’s fault. The delays had been part of Albright’s plan—even his fall into the river.

  “As for your friend, Peppershank—he’s a fool. He barely stopped you for five minutes at the tollgate. And stealing Saddleworth’s map was pointless. I’m not sure why you even bothered.”

  Albright paused, but whoever sat in the chair said nothing. Danny leant out a little farther from the alcove where he was hiding. It made no difference. He still couldn’t see who it was. Crimple? Could he have sneaked out of the pub without Danny knowing?

  “Anyway, here’s what we agreed.” Albright drew a cloth pouch from his jacket. “It’s all there. Count it if you like.”

  “Do you think I would take your money now? After what you did?”

  Danny jerked, only just stopping the cry that welled in his throat. The voice was hoarse from breathing in smoke, but it was still utterly
unmistakable.

  Albright snorted. “Don’t be so sentimental—he’s just an elephant. And thanks to your incompetence, I had to make the most of every opportunity. By taking off on that wild-goose chase with the boy, you made it easy. Even the fire helped. The beast was surprisingly trusting, right up until the moment I stuck the blade in. You’ve trained him well.”

  Danny pressed his fingers against his lips to hold in a cry.

  “You promised you would not hurt him.” The voice had grown rougher.

  “Then I lied.”

  “You asked only for delays to the journey. If I had known what you would do, I would not have agreed to this.”

  “That’s your problem, not mine.”

  “Yes. To my great sorrow it is.”

  Abruptly, the man in the chair stood, his reflection clearly visible in the mirror hanging over the fireplace.

  Sandev.

  Betrayal, cold as frost, numbed Danny’s insides. He still didn’t want to believe it. Even with the evidence of his own eyes and ears, it seemed preposterous. As if someone had suddenly announced the sky had turned green.

  It was a split second before Danny realized his mistake. He was able to see Sandev, but Sandev could also see him. Their eyes caught in the glass, frozen in reflected shock, and then Danny scrambled upright.

  Albright turned. “Stop!” he shouted. For a large man, he was surprisingly quick. In a few steps, he’d reached the door and slammed it shut. Danny grabbed for the handle, but there was no contest as to who was stronger. However hard Danny tugged, the door refused to open.

  Sinking to his knees, he struggled for breath, drawing out the moment until he felt Albright ease back. Immediately, Danny dived to the side. He’d almost wriggled free when a hand clipped his cheek, splitting the skin.

  Desperately, Danny kicked out. It didn’t work. His arms were pinned behind his back and a fist gripped his neck. It brought back memories of the Wormwell auction. He was trapped again.

  Taking a gulp of air, he lifted his chin. Above him, Albright was smiling, but Sandev stood to one side, silent and solemn-faced. It was impossible to know what he was thinking.

  “How wonderful to see you again, Your Highness.” Albright was mocking. “So now you know all our secrets. Sandev and I have enjoyed an interesting partnership over the last week. It wasn’t difficult to persuade him.”

  Sandev’s dark eyes blinked but he said nothing. Danny was glad. His treachery was far worse than anything that Alfred Kibble had done. Kibble had been a stranger, but Sandev was someone he’d grown to trust.

  “Everything is coming together perfectly. The Elephant Race is collapsing. In fact, I’m told it’s barely even a walk, more of a stumble. They won’t get much farther. And by this time tomorrow, I’ll be in Belle Vue to claim my winnings.” Albright smiled. “And to reveal the real truth about Prince Dandip of Delhi.”

  Danny started in surprise.

  “Oh yes, I’ve known about you for some time. I kept your secret when I stood to benefit. My zoological gardens would have been happy to welcome Prince Dandip and Maharajah as our new star acts. But since you’ve proved so loyal to Jameson and his tin-pot menagerie, I think it’s time to reveal the real story. I expect Jameson’s reputation will be ruined, right along with Belle Vue.”

  Instinctively, Danny tried kicking backwards with his heels. But the grip around his neck only tightened. Albright seemed to find his struggles amusing.

  “Perhaps you can do one last favor for me, Sandev. I’ll give you another fifty guineas if you take the boy.” Albright narrowed his eyes. “And as soon as the Belle Vue menagerie is signed over to me, you can have Maharajah as well. The job’s yours. Chief elephant keeper at the Yorkshire Zoological Gardens. It’s exactly what you wanted.”

  Sandev’s gaze held Danny’s. Danny willed him to say no.

  “Very well.”

  “Good! I don’t care what you do with the boy, as long as I don’t see him again. And just to make sure no one follows, perhaps I’ll spread a little rumor.”

  Albright turned back to Danny. “I don’t expect it will take much to convince Jameson that you’ve run back to Edinburgh. And I can’t imagine anyone will look for you. A dumb mute can’t possibly inspire much affection.”

  Danny fought hard to escape, lashing out with his legs and scratching at anything he could reach. But against two grown men, it was impossible.

  Half an hour later, he was lying in the back of a cart, his hands and feet bound tightly. Then the world went dark as a tarpaulin was thrown across his body. The cart began to move.

  And any chance of escape disappeared.

  The cart stopped much sooner than Danny expected. The heavy canvas was wrenched back, and he blinked against the brightness. The sun had cast Sandev into shadow—and the shadow held a small, curved dagger.

  Suddenly, Sandev raised his arm. Panicked, Danny tried to roll away but the ropes made movement impossible. The blade sliced down, and he felt the ties around his wrists loosen then fall. A few seconds later, the same happened at his feet.

  Sandev put a hand under each of Danny’s shoulders and dragged him from the cart. He slid awkwardly to the ground. The sudden freedom sent a burning sensation through his trembling limbs.

  “Do not worry. You are safe here.”

  Danny didn’t feel safe. He felt as though his world had been tipped upside down and shaken hard. Keeping his head down, he stared at the swollen skin around his ankles—and waited. The silence seemed oddly fragile.

  “I imagine you want to know why.”

  Danny looked up. Sandev stood over him, his face filled with all the emotion that had been missing in the last few days. An uncomfortable mix of guilt, anger, and regret.

  “When Mr. Wormwell died, I had no work. No home. I hoped to find a job at Belle Vue, caring for Maharajah. It is what I have always done. And what I have always wanted to do. Then you appeared at the train station. A street boy. And everything changed.”

  The cracks in Sandev’s damaged voice had deepened. “Mr. Jameson wanted you. And the publicity that you would bring. He did not need me—except to teach you how to do my job. All those years I cared for Maharajah. All the time I spent training him. And it was worth nothing.”

  Danny flinched. He was not going to feel guilty. This was not his fault. He thought about the times he’d been desperate for food. A little warmth. He’d stolen and he’d lied. He’d done things that now filled him with shame. But he’d never knowingly hurt anyone.

  “Then Mr. Albright made an offer. He wanted me to delay the Elephant Race. In return, he would give me back Maharajah, to care for at his menagerie. It was all I ever wanted.”

  Sandev shifted a little. Now the passion had disappeared, instead his face looked tired. “But I will tell you this … I would not hurt Maharajah. And I will never forgive the man who did. Never.”

  Abruptly, Sandev pivoted on his heel and pulled himself back up on to the cart. “Follow the road to the north, and go back to where you belong. I have not forgotten what I owe you. But let me deal with Arthur Albright.”

  It was a moment before Danny realized what was happening. Standing shakily, he reached for the side of the wagon, but it was too late. The horses were already moving. The cart rattled down the road and Danny stood, watching while it disappeared into the distance. He felt bruised, battered, and betrayed. And that was when he was sick.

  Judging by the position of the sun, it was probably midafternoon, and Danny was still no nearer to civilization. An hour or so had passed since Sandev had let him go, but Danny wasn’t heading north.

  He was going south. Towards Manchester and Belle Vue. The shock of Sandev’s betrayal still burnt, but he was not giving up yet.

  Behind him, Danny heard the first sign of life. A large carriage, which had definitely seen better days, bumped along the rough ground. Danny crouched down, shielded by hedgerows. He was fairly sure that neither Sandev nor Albright could be on board but he needed to be certai
n.

  The carriage rumbled closer. Nothing about the driver looked familiar, so he stepped directly into its path. The driver yanked at the reins but the carriage didn’t stop. It kept rolling forwards. On and on and on.

  Now it was so close Danny was sure he could feel the brush of the horses’ breath against his skin. He closed his eyes and thought of Maharajah. The coach groaned, then stopped.

  “What’re you doing, lad? I almost killed you.”

  The driver scrambled down from his seat, sounding more upset than angry. And suddenly, Danny was hit by cold reality. What on earth had he been thinking? He was a mute. A useless mute. How was he going to explain that he needed help?

  Danny edged back a little but he needn’t have worried. The man was staring at him as awestruck as a religious convert.

  “Oh my dear Lord. I don’t believe my eyes.” He pushed his hat back from his forehead and rapped loudly on the side of the carriage. “Oi, Mary. You’ll never believe this. That prince who we saw in Lancaster? The one with the elephant? Well, he’s right here. Come and see.”

  The door swung open and a chain of small children toppled out. A woman emerged last—creased, rumpled, and clutching a baby. She gazed at Danny, with the same wonder as her husband.

  “Oh my word, Jeremiah. You’re right. It’s Prince Dandip. I’d recognize him anywhere.” She fell into a curtsy, then almost immediately bobbed up and swirled around. Danny felt dizzy just watching. “Where’s the elephant?”

  “It looks like he’s all by himself. No sign of anyone else. He just appeared out of nowhere. Stepped right in front of me. I very nearly ran him over.”

  “Good heavens. You mean we almost killed a prince!” Wide-eyed, the woman fanned herself, then sank into another curtsy. This time, she didn’t get up. Giggling, the children stared at Danny. One of the boys started sucking a finger. No one spoke. Everyone seemed to be waiting for him to make the first move.