The Elephant Thief

by Jane Kerr

  Danny smiled. It really had been that close. On the old poster, Maharajah had been wearing the jeweled circus collar but there had been no red bead dangling from the center.

  Wormwell must have used his winnings to buy the ruby—maybe from one of the merchant sailors down by the Leith docks; or perhaps he’d met someone who needed cash more desperately than he had. But then most cleverly of all, Wormwell had hidden it in plain sight. Hanging from the harness.

  Danny supposed it must have seemed like a good plan. The Royal Number One Menagerie traveled all over the country. Wormwell could have sold the ruby whenever enough time and distance had passed. There’d be no paper trails left in bank accounts and lawyers’ offices. Nothing for anyone to find.

  Hetty bounced impatiently. Excitement made it impossible for her to stand still. “Come on! We have to tell everybody. Show them what you’ve found.”

  She raced out of the stall. Danny followed more slowly, the toes of his leather slippers scuffed on the ground. He looked at the ruby again. Perhaps Hetty didn’t realize there were other choices.

  In his hands, Danny held a fortune that didn’t belong to anyone—not the Leith Brotherhood, who’d originally let it slip from their fingers; not the gambler who had won it; and not the police inspector who thought it lost for good.

  Danny could leave now, walk away with the ruby and never come back. This discovery would change his life. He’d be rich. Stinkingly, disgustingly, incredibly rich. Or he could stay here in Belle Vue with these people who had become friends. He had nothing in common with them, except for a great adventure and an elephant.

  He lifted the jewel a little higher so the lantern light shot red sparks across his palm. Then a whimper drifted through the enclosure.

  Hetty was silhouetted in the open doorway, her eyes wide and frightened. A man stood behind her, so close that she seemed to be wearing him as a cloak. One large hand was wrapped around her throat, and fingermarks already stained her skin.

  It was the one person Danny hoped never to see again. Frank Scatcherd.

  Danny stopped. He couldn’t move. Fear pierced his chest like a hook. His palms were damp. How could this have happened? Scatcherd was supposed to be in Edinburgh. Even now, an army of police officers were combing through the city looking for him.

  Yet here he was. An unwanted guest on what had been the best day of Danny’s life.

  Roughly, Scatcherd pushed Hetty back inside the elephant house. She stumbled, but the headlock kept her upright. Only just. Danny could tell she was trying hard to be brave. Her face was pale and she was biting her lip as though to hold in a scream.

  “Did you think I’d trust Alfred Kibble to do this on his own? Not a chance, Boy. If you need something done right, you have to do it yourself.”

  For a moment, Scatcherd relaxed his grip on Hetty’s jaw. She tried to pull away, but he only laughed and squeezed even harder. Danny knew the signs. Scatcherd was playing, like a cat teasing a butterfly. Danny tried not to let his fear show. He willed Hetty to do the same.

  “I’ve been following you for a while now, Boy. Or should I say, ‘Your Royal Highness’?” Scatcherd snorted. “A prince! I’ve never laughed so much. You’ve managed to fool a lot of people. But I know who you are. Don’t I, Boy? You’re nothing.”

  No! Danny wanted to shout. He’d lived for so long without a name, a home, or a family, that he might have believed it once. But not anymore. In the last few days, he had started to dream of something better.

  “But I’m not here to talk about old times. It sounds to me like you’ve found what I’ve been looking for. You’d better hand it over.”

  Abruptly, Scatcherd wrenched his fist higher so Hetty had to stand on tiptoes to ease the pressure on her neck. This time she couldn’t stop the sob from escaping. “You see, one twist is all it would take to break your lady friend’s throat. And she’s a pretty wee thing. I’d hate to do it.”

  And suddenly, Danny’s panic and fear disappeared.

  And whatever had been broken inside began working again as if all it had needed was one brutal kick at the right time and in the right spot.

  “No!” he shouted. The word was raw and rusty because it had been dragged from a pit somewhere deep inside. And the difference from all those other times was that he didn’t have to think about it. Or work at it. It just happened. “NO!”

  Head down, Danny ran. Even if he’d wanted to, he couldn’t have stopped. Anger drove him, steaming through his muscles to work his arms and legs like pistons. A roar rumbled through the elephant house, and Danny knew it must have come from him because he could feel the vibrations in his chest. And then his forehead smacked hard into Scatcherd’s ribs.

  It was difficult to tell who was the most startled. The impact jolted through Danny, and Scatcherd yelled in pain. They both crashed to the ground, bringing Hetty down with them.

  The three of them tangled across the stone floor in a mess of arms and legs. When they stopped rolling, Danny was lying on his stomach, his chin pressed into one shoulder. But Scatcherd must have relaxed his hold on Hetty because she was scrambling up.

  Danny felt a rush of relief.

  “Run!” he yelled. His voice sounded strange, as though he’d borrowed it from someone else and it wasn’t quite the right fit. But now that he’d started talking, he wasn’t going to stop. “RUN!”

  A fist to his temple prevented Danny from saying any more. The pain was blinding but he was aware enough to know that Hetty was sprinting out of the enclosure. Then his mouth and cheek were pressed into the dirt, and he couldn’t move. Scatcherd sat on his spine. And this time, he held a knife.

  “Where is it, Boy? I know you’ve got it.”

  Breathing hard, Danny let his muscles relax. His best weapon was the knowledge that Scatcherd didn’t expect him to fight back. He raised a hand to show surrender, and the King eased off a fraction. There was only a second to act.

  Gathering every ounce of strength, Danny launched himself onto his elbows and flipped over. Sharp and quick. The move knocked Scatcherd off-balance. He fell heavily across the stone floor, and sprawled there, winded. Danny wasn’t going to wait for the next punch. He scrambled to his feet, but before he could take a step, a hand shot out and grabbed his ankle. Only luck stopped him from falling straight back down again.

  Desperately, he yanked loose, but Scatcherd was already lashing out with the knife. Twisting round, Danny brought his foot down hard and the blade fell from Scatcherd’s fist. He kicked again and the knife spun away, out of reach.

  “You’ll regret that.”

  Clutching his injured hand, Scatcherd struggled upright. He aimed a boot at Danny’s knees. Danny managed to avoid the worst of it by dodging to one side. But the blow was enough to send a judder through every bone. He groaned. And as if in answer, a trumpeting noise blasted through the enclosure.

  Danny listened, amazed. It was Maharajah, sounding out a warning. In Cowgate, he’d never had anyone to watch his back. Nobody had ever cared enough before—and now he had an elephant!

  But Maharajah was weak and injured. Danny wasn’t going to drag him into this fight. “Stay.” He whistled. “Stay.”

  He only hoped Maharajah would obey, because it was time to show Scatcherd that everything had changed. That he had changed.

  The fight was going to be ugly. Scatcherd might be large and heavy, but Danny was quick and crafty. And the one thing he wasn’t anymore, was frightened. Hetty was safe and, at the moment, so was Maharajah. That was all that mattered. He had to make sure it stayed that way.

  Danny raised his fists and bent into a crouch like he’d seen the bare-knuckle boxers do on fight nights in Cowgate. Scatcherd did the same. For several minutes, they shuffled around the enclosure like clumsy dancers. A few steps forwards, a few steps back. Dust kicked up from the floor, and only their heavy breathing punctured the silence.

  Then Danny swung a punch, it missed and Scatcherd laughed. He wasn’t laughing when Danny swung a second
blow and raised his knee at the same time. Bent double, Scatcherd hissed, “I’ll make you sorry for that.”

  Danny didn’t reply. He was saving his energy. Using his arms and legs and feet, he made contact wherever he could. A clip to the chest. A strike to the hip. But it didn’t take long for Scatcherd to recover and, when he did, his punches were strong and accurate. Of course, he’d had more practice.

  After one sharp jab, Danny’s left eye began to swell shut. Another cut joined the bruise on his cheek, and his ribs ached from a blow to the chest. Judging by the pain, he thought he’d probably broken at least one bone. But the last punch was the worst.

  It hit the side of his skull, just above his ear, and stabbed through his head. He crumpled to the floor. Everything hurt. He wanted to close his eyes but Scatcherd loomed over him.

  “You’ve surprised me, Boy.” He pressed a knee into Danny’s ribs and pushed down. The pain was almost unbearable. “You don’t normally put up much of a fight. It looks as though you’ve discovered your guts as well as your voice. Now for the last time—give me the jewel.”

  Disorientated, Danny didn’t understand at first and then he realized the ruby was still clutched in his fist. Throughout the fight, he hadn’t let go. It was the only advantage he had left.

  He lifted his hand just a fraction and stared into Scatcherd’s face.

  “No,” he said, and flicked his fingers. The ruby skidded across the enclosure floor. In the darkness, it was impossible to see exactly where it had landed. Danny only hoped the search would keep Scatcherd busy for a while.

  “That was a mistake, Boy. Now I’ll have to go and look for it.” Scatcherd got up and grabbed a lantern. The burning pressure on Danny’s chest eased a fraction. “But don’t think this is over yet. You know I don’t like it when people disobey me.”

  The last words were accompanied by a kick to the ribs and a new burst of pain. Danny’s throat tightened against a scream. But the fact that he didn’t cry out was surely a victory. Wasn’t it?

  He waited a heartbeat, then, clenching his teeth, rolled onto his stomach and slowly lifted to his knees. It felt like a blacksmith was hammering away in his head, while another poked hot irons into his chest. He could barely see through his swollen eye. In this condition, he’d never be able to make it out of the elephant house. He couldn’t even stand. And there was probably not much time before Scatcherd returned to finish what he’d started. Panic surged, hot and urgent.

  How could he escape?

  Pivoting, Danny tried to see through the blur. In the corner, Scatcherd was still scrabbling about in the dirt. But a few feet away, to his left, something metallic glinted on the stone floor. The knife. It was close, but not close enough. Could he reach it?

  He had to try.

  Danny dragged himself along the floor. The effort was almost too much, but he wasn’t giving up now. He stretched out a hand, feeling the strain through every muscle. Just a little farther. His fingertips brushed the knife then hooked around it. Gradually, he eased the blade into his palm, and tucked it behind his back, out of sight. He sat, panting as though he’d run a race.

  Just in time.

  With a shout, Scatcherd grabbed at something in the shadows and lifted it up into the lamplight. There was a flicker of luminous red.

  “Looks as if you were right, Boy.” Scatcherd hadn’t moved his eyes from the ruby. “Wormwell was cleverer than I thought. This must be worth a fortune. I’ll get my money back and more.”

  He slipped the jewel into his jacket, and climbed to his feet. Then all Danny could hear was the tap-tap of boots walking towards him. A tight band of panic squeezed his chest. But behind his back, he held the knife. He tightened his grip on the handle. It slid a little in his damp palm.

  “Now I warned you, didn’t I? I said we weren’t finished yet. And you know me, I always like to leave you with something. A little souvenir to make sure you don’t forget who owns you.”

  Scatcherd reached out and wrenched Danny upright by the shoulders. Pain burnt down his side, and the hammering in his head grew louder. But he stayed upright. He knew what he had to do and he only had one chance.

  “Scared, Boy?” Almost gently, Scatcherd slid his knuckles along the line of Danny’s jaw, and into the soft skin. He pressed hard until it seemed to Danny that bone pushed directly into bone. With a little more pressure, they might even fuse together.

  “NO!” Before he could change his mind, Danny pulled the knife from its hiding place. Against Scatcherd’s throat, it looked jagged and cruel. Surely, the King would turn and run? Isn’t that what bullies did when people fought back?

  But of course, Scatcherd didn’t do what was expected. A smile spread across his face as though he’d just been told a joke. His fist dropped loosely to his side.

  “Go on, Boy. Do it. If you dare.”

  “Not … Boy.” Danny wanted to be strong and confident but the words sounded weak and feeble. To his horror, the knife trembled in his hand. Scatcherd’s smile widened.

  “I can call you whatever I want. You belong to me. Remember? Those letters on your wrist prove it. And what is mine, stays mine.”

  Danny shook his head. “No.” This time, his voice was stronger. “NO.”

  “Then convince me.” To Danny’s surprise, Scatcherd spread his arms wide. Now his body was an open target. “Have a go. Prove that you’re as good as me. That Prince Dandip can beat the King of Cowgate.” He lifted his lip in a sneer. “Take a stab. I dare you.”

  For a moment, Danny was tempted. He was just so tired. Blood and sweat ran down his forehead, into his eyes. Every part of his body ached. More than anything, he wanted all this to be over. Then he could sleep until the pain went away.

  He turned the knife in his palm, testing its weight as if the only decision left to be made was where it would hurt the most. And then through his blurred vision he saw the marks on his wrist, and he realized something.

  He didn’t have to prove anything. To anyone. Because he was entirely happy with the person he’d become. And if he let himself be dragged back into Scatcherd’s world, he would lose all that he had found.

  Killing Scatcherd would mean a lifetime behind bars. It would mean leaving Maharajah and Belle Vue. Hetty and the Jamesons. Everything and everyone he had come to care about.

  “No. NO!” Danny dropped his arm, and spat the words like bullets. “You are not … not worth it.”

  This time, there was no doubting that Scatcherd was angry. With a roar, he lurched forwards. Perhaps that was why he didn’t hear the footsteps.

  But Danny did.

  Or were they only in his imagination? For a moment he wasn’t completely sure. And then Scatcherd’s fist closed around his throat, and he couldn’t get his next breath. The knife dropped from his fingers, and blood filled his eyes.

  “Stop! Get off him!”

  Danny heard Hetty, but he couldn’t see her and, for some reason, that bothered him more than anything else. Suddenly, the pressure around his neck eased. And he fell to the ground, gasping.

  When his vision cleared again, everyone was there. Hetty and Mr. Saddleworth, Mr. and Mrs. Jameson, even Nelson Crimple. And at the door of his pen, Maharajah was on his feet. Caught in the middle was Scatcherd. The King of Cowgate was cornered. He couldn’t run anywhere. There were too many people between him and escape.

  Danny watched the realization sink in, quickly followed by disbelief. It was very possibly the first time Scatcherd had ever been trapped. He spun round to where Danny sprawled on the floor.

  “You think you belong here? Don’t be stupid, Boy. These people will throw you away like yesterday’s fish bones. They don’t want you. You’re nothing to them. Noth—”

  With a quick, precise movement, Mr. Saddleworth swung the ankus and caught Scatcherd neatly on the back of the neck. Face forwards, he fell unconscious into the dirt. For a heartbeat they all stared at his body. He didn’t stir. Then Hetty bent and yanked his head by the hair.

 
“Henrietta!”

  Obediently, she let go and Scatcherd’s forehead bounced on the stone. “That’s for hurting Danny,” she said. Then did it again. “And that’s for hurting me.”

  Danny wanted to laugh, but his bottom lip was split so the chuckle emerged as a moan. Picking up her skirts, Mrs. Jameson ran to his side.

  “Oh my dear Lord, Danny. Just look at you!”

  She knelt in a puff of petticoats and lifted his head on to her lap, not seeming to care that he was bloody and dirty. Danny sank into the softness. He never wanted to move again. And when Mrs. Jameson stroked a hand across his brow, he lay there. And enjoyed it.

  “What in heaven’s name is this all about, Danny?” Mr. Jameson crouched beside them. “You look as if you’ve gone twenty rounds with Bare-Knuckles Broughton. And who’s that bloke?”

  “No one.” Danny spoke slowly. He was still getting used to the peculiar creak of his voice. “No one important.”

  Mrs. Jameson was staring at him as if he’d worked miracles. A wide smile spread across her face. “Danny! You’re talking!”

  “Of course, he is, Ethel May. Haven’t I always told you he’s not dumb?” Mr. Jameson was indignant. “And what’s all this nonsense about where you belong? I can tell you exactly where you belong. Right here.” He looked at his wife. “Shall we tell him, me dove?”

  “Yes, Jamie. I think now would be the perfect time.”

  Mr. Jameson cleared his throat, opened his mouth, and closed it again. Danny was surprised; he wasn’t normally lost for words. His wife gave him a nudge with her elbow. She looked a little nervous. “Go on, Jamie. Say it.”

  “Well, it’s like this, Danny. Me and Mrs. Jameson haven’t been blessed with children. We were never that lucky. But we’ve been thinking about all you’ve done for us. And for Maharajah and Belle Vue. And so we’d like you to come to live with us. In our house. And for you not just to be called Danny. But to be called Danny Jameson.” He paused. “That is, if you want to?”

  This time, Danny thought he actually heard the herald of angels. The angels he hadn’t really believed in two weeks ago at Waverley Station. Now they were singing. There wasn’t a chance he was going to miss this opportunity. His heart rose in his chest.