The Adventure of the Deverill Diamonds

The sunlight reddened the inside of my eyelids and, seconds later, I forced my eyes open to greet the dawn. My limbs were stiff with cold and it took all my effort to move them and get myself into a standing position.

I asked a passing stranger the time. He looked at me as if I were the worst kind of street urchin out to steal his fob watch, said “a quarter to eight” and hurried on his way.

In a quarter of an hour Sam would be at his crossing in Beak Street. I made my way there as quickly as my aching limbs would allow me. As I walked, almost everyone I passed stared at me and the terrible state I was in. I must have looked a frightful sight. Still better than being greeted in the morning by Aunt Cordelia though, however I looked.

I rounded into Beak Street and there was Sam. Alone, thank goodness. Noah and Peter were obviously not early risers. He caught sight of me, did a slight double-take and walked to meet me.

“Gawd. You look awful..” was his charming greeting.

“I had a rough night,” I responded.

I went on to tell him about my run in with Leland and Hettie Deverill. I told him of Leland’s treatment of his Grandfather and his fears about the mysterious “Eddie”. I told him of Hettie Deverill and that I now thought her innocent. I mentioned that Mr Burdon had taken pity on me, but told him nothing more about Mr Burdon’s house or his wife. That was private business and not mine to tell. He asked me where I had slept. I lied and he accepted it once more, although his face told me he knew it to be a lie. Friends who accept your white lies and do not ask too many questions are the very best kind of friends I have realised.

Sam told me about his runaround with the bearded policeman. He had hidden in numerous places, doubled back on himself, appeared briefly to egg the policeman on, then slipped out of sight. This routine was repeated for over an hour. The way he told it was very funny. He knew it was funny but, of course, he kept straight-faced while I giggled like a loon, feeling slightly bad for the policeman, but laughing like a demented hyena all the same!

When he had finished his story I felt much warmer, and happier for his company. We discussed what our next move was to be. Sam wanted to investigate Hettie further but I insisted that it was Leland who was the criminal in that family. We had to go and find the ship called the Aurora, assure Leland we had nothing to do with “Eddie” and try to ask him some questions. Sam called this course of action “crazy” but I insisted and kept on insisting until he gave in.

We made our way to the docks. Having never been there I felt (and reacted) as if I was witnessing one of the Seven Wonders of the World, which amused Sam. There were countless boats - and masts of boats - as far as the eye could see. So many sails filled the view it looked like a house-proud giant had hung out a year’s worth of washing to dry. Barrels and crates were being loaded onto boats via planks. Old men in top hats stood supervising while sailors and stevedores did all the lifting.

We walked past several buildings where a sweet, mild smell drifted out through the doors and greeted my nostrils.

“What’s that lovely smell, Sam?”

“It’s opium. That’s a poppy ’ouse. An opium den.”

Opium! I had read about that terrible drug of course. Mr Dickens’ friend, Wilkie Collins, had taken it and it had destroyed his mind and ruined his life. That such a beautiful smell could come from such a vile, destructive place shocked me. Drugs were a mystery to me and I wanted them always to be one. I decided to change the subject. Looking around, my eyes were drawn to the water lapping up against the boats and the jetties.

“Can you swim, Sam?”

“What?”

“Swim? Can you?”

“No. I… I don’t like the water.”

“Don’t like…?”

“I’m.. Well, I’m scared of it,” he said and it sounded like the first time he had ever confessed such a thing. He left a gap for me to laugh in. I did not so he asked, “You?”

“My Mother, well, my adopted mother took me to the baths when I was young. Taught me to swim. I used to be very good.”

“Good to know,” was his response.

We left the opium dens behind and walked further into the heart of the docks. Sam approached a stevedore loading barrels onto one of the ships. The man had a grisly beard, wore black braces over a loose shirt and was easily one of the most muscular humans I had ever encountered. Even more muscular than Leland Deverill and that was really saying something.

“ ’Ello Jed!” said Sam in a jolly voice, sounding more like the Artful Dodger than I had ever heard him sound before.

“Sammy!” cried the stevedore looking up, smiling, wandering over to Sam and shaking him warmly by the hand. “What brings ya to this neck o’ the woods, Sammy?”

“Lookin’ for a ship Jed. The Aurora. Know it?”

“You gettin’ in bother again, Sammy?”

“Would I, Jed?”

“Probably, knowing you. Yeah, I know it. Captain Carey’s ship. Head down that jetty, last big boat on the right.”

“Thanks, Jed.”

“Keep it clean, Sammy,” said Jed tapping his nose.

What Sam’s nasal hygiene had to do with anything I did not know and I decided not to ask. We walked up the jetty together, looking for the ship. We could not have missed it. It was huge, with “H.M.S. Aurora” painted on it at least four times. A small gang-plank led down from the ship to the jetty and we stopped at the bottom of it. I looked at this vast ship, with all its ropes and masts and was amazed by its beauty and scale.

And then… I saw him.

Leland Deverill was at the very top of a mast, fixing a sail to it. Having done so he swung out on a rope, catching on to another rope which he wrapped his hands and legs around, before swarming down it. He had the agility of a monkey and the strength of a lion. Seeing him carry out this action made me even more certain that he had, by some means, got in and out of Mr Deverill’s room without anyone being any the wiser.

“That’s him,” I whispered to Sam. He moved his gaze to Leland Deverill and nodded calmly. It was only then that I thought what a danger I had put us in. Of how dangerous Leland Deverill was and how ugly this meeting could turn. My heart started to beat hard in my chest but I clung to the idea that this time, at least, I was not alone. With Sam by my side Leland would surely not attempt to hurt me again.

Leland reached the deck of the ship, looking around him for something. He found what he was looking for, reached down and lifted a battered old tin chest. He clutched it to his body protectively. So protectively that I became extremely curious to know exactly what he kept in that old chest.

He was walking down the length of the ship, evidently to put this chest back somewhere (his quarters perhaps). He evidently went nowhere without it. Suddenly, his pale, grey eyes found me. His expression changed and anger made those eyes of his narrow. He stomped towards us, still clutching the chest to him.

“What you doin’ ’ere!” he barked.

“Look!” I exclaimed, holding out my hands in the hope he would stop, “I’m just your Uncle’s neighbour and I’m trying to find out what happened to him! We mean you no harm! We don’t know any Eddie! We’re not from Eddie!”

The last word stopped him in his tracks halfway down the gang-plank. He sucked his teeth and thought for a moment, looking from Sam to me.

“Who’s this streak of urine?” he asked after a moment (but not using the word ‘urine’), nodding towards Sam.

“The name’s Sam Wiggins, Mr Deverill,” said Sam. “You ’urt my friend ’ere yesterday and I’ll be damned if you’re gonna do it again.”

I turned my head to look at Sam. His teeth and jaw were tight and his fists were clenched, ready for a fight. Nobody had ever defended me like he just had and I was deeply touched. Sam was a boy of few words, which made the ones he did say mean much more.

“Alright, tough nut. As you were. Me sister says you’re rich, girly. That right?”

“My family are rich. But I don’t have any money. They never give me any.”

“I know the feelin’… So what business is it of yours what ’appened to the old codger?”

“She found ’im” replied Sam. “Inside the locked room. His ’ead caved in. She wants to know why and ’ow ’e ended up that way. And so do I come to that.” His fists were still clenched and he clearly had no intention of loosening them.

“Do ya now…?” sneered Leland. “Well, girly, it ain’t got nothin’ to do with me. I got no reason to kill ’im. I ain’t in ’is will. I ain’t sorry ’e was attacked and, if ‘e died, I wouldn’t be cryin’ no tears. ’E cut me off without a penny when I went away to sea.”

“So you needed the diamonds then? Or you’d get nothing?” I said, without thinking.

His face turned darker with building fury. He took another step forwards.

“What do you have in the chest?” I asked defiantly.

“You’re outta your depth, girly. Now you and Tom Thumb ‘ere take a walk. And get out o’ my sight.”

“Who’re you callin’ Tom Thumb?” Sam asked, taking a step up onto the gang-plank. I grabbed his arm to stop him moving forwards any more.

“Kakana!” Leland suddenly shouted behind him. There was a pause during which Sam and I looked at each other with raised eyebrows wondering what on earth “Kakana” meant.

It did not take us long to find out. We heard the sound of footsteps and suddenly a small man appeared. He was half the height of Leland, with tanned skin and a twisted upper lip. His eyes were the darkest brown, his hair a raggedy mess of black but his sailor’s clothes were clean and well-fitted. He stood with his legs apart as if he was about to run at us and attack. He cut a menacing figure for someone slightly shorter than I was and I was immediately terrified by the murderous look in his eyes.

“This ’ere is Kakana, girly. A pygmy. We picked ’im up in the Andaman Islands. I saved ‘im from drownin’ so ’e owes me ’is life. Kakana’ll do anything I tell ‘im to, without thinkin’ twice about it. Ain’t that right, Kakana?”

“Yeah Leland. Right,” said Kakana making his way around Leland Deverill, stepping in front of him as if to protect him from us.

“I’ve been teachin’ ’im English, girly so ’e understands me perfectly. Kakana, show ’em your dagger.”

On this command Kakana drew out a lethal-looking dagger from a leather sheath, his twisted lip moving upwards at one side in a sneer.

“’E’ll kill ya make no mistake. ’E won’t think twice about it and ’e won’t care about what’ll ’appen to ’im afterwards. Will ya Kakana?”

“Not a bit, Leland.”

“You too chicken to kill us yerself, Deverill?” asked Sam, contempt in his voice.

“Tough, ain’t ya, pipsqueak? You and little Esther ’ere’ve got to the count of five before I let Kakana loose on ya.”

He began counting down from five and the fearful form of Kakana advanced on us, dagger drawn, slicing the air as he did so in readiness to slice our skins.

Sam looked like he would not budge, no matter what. Perhaps he thought Kakana and Leland were bluffing. But, having experienced the brutality of Leland first-hand, I had no wish to experience more. I grabbed Sam’s arm and tugged him backwards, against his will, away from the sneering Kakana and Leland Deverill, still clutching that old tin chest. Sam tried to resist, but soon we were away from the Aurora and making our way past the opium dens.

“Well?” I asked. “It was him wasn’t it? It must be him!”

Sam grunted.

“What does that grunt mean?” I asked. “You are always grunting and never speaking!”

“What makes you think it’s him?”

I was flabbergasted! After what we had just witnessed how could Sam not see what was right under his nose!

“It’s obvious isn’t it ? He said if his uncle was dead he wouldn’t be upset. He wanted him dead! Trust me! I was there in the hospital room and the way he talked to his uncle was terrible! He needs the money evidently, as his uncle cut him off without a penny. What better way to get back at him and get rich than steal the old man’s diamonds? It’s perfect!”

Sam grunted again.

“Stop grunting for goodness’ sake!”

“And ’ow’d ’e get in and out?”

“Are you deliberately putting obstacles in my way? You saw him swarming down that rope. He could have swarmed up the side of the building with Kakana on his back. That Kakana owes him his life! Or Kakana? Kakana is the perfect size to fit down the chimney! He’s smaller than both of us for Heaven’s sake! So Leland orders Kakana to go down the chimney, cosh the old man and bring the diamonds back up with him!”

A thought suddenly hit me.

“That’s what’s in the chest! The old tin chest! The diamonds are in the chest!”

I jumped up and down at this revelation as Sam kept on walking. I ran to catch up with him, annoyed that he was not sharing my excitement.

“What?” I asked, frustrated by the thoughtful look on his face.

He stopped walking and faced me.

“If Leland ’as the diamonds, why ain’t ’e sold ’em and left the navy?”

I thought it through for a moment.

“Because he can’t just sell them, can he ? One diamond maybe, but a lot of diamonds would make people ask questions. He would need to sell them to a fellow criminal. And that might be taking time. Or perhaps he is going to sell them abroad. Perhaps the Aurora is heading off to Amsterdam or somewhere where he can sell diamonds easily.”

“Alright. We was on the rooftop, right?”

“Right.”

“Did you see any evidence of a rope or a grapplin’ ‘ook bein’ used? Any scuff marks on the tiles? Any broken bits of brick?”

“There was one broken tile. I threw it down the chimney at you. Well, not at you. You know what I mean!”

“And, in broad daylight, a man carrying a pygmy on ’is back, swarms up a rope on the side of the buildin’, sends the pygmy down the chimney and back up again, then they both leave the same way they came? And no-one saw ’em?”

“It’s possible,” I said, folding my arms.

“It ain’t likely tho is it? An’ that leads me to the last question…”

“What question?”

“Why bother?”

“What do you mean?”

“Leland’s his nephew. ’E’s family. ’E could knock on the door to the rooms, his uncle’d let ’im in, ’e could cosh his uncle and take the diamonds. Easy. Why make it look impossible? It don’t make sense. We find the answer to that question and we’ve got the answer to the ’ole thing.”

And with that, he set off walking again, leaving me nursing my broken ego. But I did not feel sorry for myself for long. I had another thought and ran after Sam.

“He made it look impossible to buy him time, Sam! Time to sell the diamonds! Time to get his affairs in order!”

He did not stop this time and we walked along side-by-side, into the busy London streets, arguing.

“You don’t like ’im ’cause ’e ’urt you!”

“You’re right! I don’t like him! He’s evil! He’s a criminal!”

“You ain’t seein’ ’im straight!”

“And you are I suppose?”

“Straighter than you!”

“You just can’t bear it, can you? That I might be cleverer than you! That I might be able to come up with a theory that’s better than yours! Why on earth did you come with me at all if that’s what you thought all along! To “protect” me I suppose! Well, I don’t need your protection Sam Wiggins! Do you hear me? … Why aren’t you arguing back? What…. What’s the matter?”

Sam had stopped walking, had stopped speaking. He was looking at something behind me. I span around on the spot and saw -

An elegant carriage. Inside the carriage the angry faces of Aunt Cordelia and my Father.

I was speechless. I looked around and realised, by sheer chance, we had ground to a halt outside a court of law. A court of law that my Father probably visited regularly.

Aunt Cordelia opened the carriage door and stepped down onto the pavement where Sam and I stood. Without warning she grabbed my arm in a vice-like hold and dragged me away from Sam and towards the carriage. I fought her with all my might, kicking and screaming. Sam looked absolutely shocked by what was happening. He ran forwards to try to help me.

At that moment, my Father spoke.

“This does not concern you, boy.” His voice was deep and husky (through lack of use) and it stopped me in my tracks. I heard it so rarely that I had forgotten what it sounded like. It was commanding. When he spoke you listened. Hearing his voice was like hearing the mating call of a dodo - rare.

Aunt Cordelia had stopped dragging me but still had a tight hold on my arm. We all looked at my Father awaiting his next sentence as if he was Pope Pius IX and was about to tell us how to get into Heaven.

“Esther. Today is the day of my Grand Ball, as well you know.”

Having paid almost no attention to it I had, quite naturally, completely forgotten all about it.

“Your Aunt was most concerned when you did not come home last night. She and I were afraid you might miss the occasion. But now we have found you. We would like you to come home, to get changed and to attend the Ball.”

“I’m not coming home to be beaten again!” I shouted.

He stepped down from the carriage, moving slowly towards me.

“I am not accustomed to being shouted at, Esther. Now, listen to me, I, your Father by law, wish you to join me tonight. It would … It would mean a great deal to me.”

He had never said such things to me. He had rarely spoken, let alone wanted my company.

“And, after tonight? What then?” I asked, boldly.

“It is time for us to get to know one another better, Esther. That much is plain. I have neglected you for far too long.”

These were words I had dreamt of hearing since infancy. Words I had thought I should never hear in this world. I relaxed my entire body and Aunt Cordelia loosened her hold on me. I almost had tears welling in my eyes. He had realised at last! That he had neglected me!

“And what about her?” I asked, pointing to Aunt Cordelia.

“She will not lay a finger on you. You have my word. The way you have been treated has been very wrong and I have turned a blind eye to it. And that was even worse. Please, Esther, come with me and celebrate tonight.”

“Esther…” said Sam.

“It’s alright, Sam. I want to go with him.”

“Esther! It’s cobblers! I don’t buy it!”

“He’s my Father, Sam. I owe him another chance.”

“But..”

“No. I am going. Willingly. We can continue our … Well, we can meet tomorrow. First thing.”

My Father smiled at Sam, gently. I realised I had never seen him smile before. Sam did not return the smile. He evidently thought the worst of the situation where I wanted to think nothing but the best.

I climbed into the carriage, followed by Aunt Cordelia and my Father. My Father knocked on the carriage roof and we set off. I watched as Sam’s worried face and lonely figure grew further and further away. I was full of hope that this was the beginning of a new life for me.

Was I right to be? Was this a new start? Had my Father realised he loved me and that I deserved better?

I’m sure you already know the answer and probably knew it the moment he appeared in the carriage.

I, like the blockiest of the blockheads, did not.