With young Harry held firmly in Strax’s grasp, the group made their way out of the docks area and paused to collect their thoughts at a hostelry known to Madame Vastra. The Crofter’s Arms had a quiet back room where Vastra knew she and her friends would attract less attention than in the public bar.
Thus, away from the bibulous gaze of the masses, Vastra was able to enjoy a dry sherry while Jenny outraged convention by demanding a cup of tea, and Strax drained a pint of the landlord’s finest Old Rotter in a single gulp. Harry made do with warm milk.
Once they were all settled, Madame Vastra assured Harry that she and the others were concerned only with his safety. ‘I may look strange and Strax here would frighten even the most lethargic cow, but we are your friends.’
Harry nodded and said nothing.
Jenny put her hand over his. ‘She’s all right, is Madame Vastra. And Strax too…’ She spared him a sideways glance. ‘In his own way.’
‘The cub will not be safe at the working house,’ Strax said. ‘The walls are strong but the construction is not ideal for defensive engagements.’
‘I agree,’ Madame Vastra said, ‘and so I think Harry must stay with us at Paternoster Row until this matter is dealt with.’
‘You all right with that, Harry?’ Jenny asked.
‘Mr Ransit will do his noggin,’ Harry muttered. He hardly dared imagine what horrors must already be awaiting him back at the workhouse. He longed to see Jim again… Which made him suddenly think: ‘Ere – you reckon it’s cos of the snowman we made that those men wanted to do away with me?’
‘It does seem likely,’ Madame Vastra agreed. ‘The dead woman was, we believe, Felicity Gregson. She had arranged to meet me at Ranskill Gardens this evening. Unable to keep the appointment, owing to an unfortunate double booking at the Greek Embassy, I sent Strax to fetch her.’
‘I was too late,’ Strax said sullenly, leaping to his feet and standing smartly to attention. ‘I failed in my task. I will submit myself for court martial and summary execution forthwith. I suggest coronic acid immersion followed by a laser-pulse blast to the probic vent.’
Vastra, who was used to these outbursts of aggressive contrition, raised her hand. ‘That will not be necessary, Strax.’
Strax seemed perhaps disappointed, and slumped back down in his chair.
‘But what about Jim?’ Harry blurted out.
‘Who?’ Jenny asked.
‘My friend Jim. We built the snowman together. We both saw the dead woman. If they’re after me – what about Jim?’
Madame Vastra sipped her sherry and considered. ‘The ruffians who accosted you now know that we are involved and that you will have told us what you saw. Assuming that is why they attacked you, then they must know that the information they sought to suppress is now more widely held.’
‘They may be prepared to inflict collateral damage,’ Strax said. ‘Perhaps,’ he added with some relish, ‘we are all at risk.’
‘No, no – hang about. They mentioned a boss,’ Jenny pointed out.
‘They were obviously working for someone, my dear,’ Vastra agreed.
‘But what if that someone doesn’t know about us yet. What if they think Harry’s dead, like they ordered.’
‘What if they do?’ Strax seemed not at all interested in the boy’s fate. ‘Casualties must be expected.’
Vastra was shaking her green, scaly head. ‘No, Jenny is right. If the mysterious boss believes Harry has been silenced, then it seems likely he would make similar arrangements for this other witness.’
‘But witness to what?’ Jenny wondered.
‘Never mind all that,’ Harry told them. ‘If Jim’s in trouble, we got to help him, and now.’
Vastra drained the last of her sherry and set the glass down sharply on the table. ‘I agree. Will this Jim have returned to the workhouse, as you did?’
Harry nodded. ‘I reckon so.’
‘Then there is no time to lose. Jenny, settle the tab for the drinks. Strax, make all haste to the workhouse and keep watch. And you, Harry – tell me everything you can remember about poor Miss Felicity Gregson and how she met her fate. Spare no detail. The slightest clue could be of immense help.’
As they made their hurried way back to the workhouse, Harry recounted his story once again. It was only when Madame Vastra asked him if he was sure that there were no other witnesses to the bizarre spectacle of the corpse within the snowman, that he recalled the shadowy figure he had seen behind the snowman, watching them.
Vastra listened to his description, then told him to relate what had happened next. So Harry told her about how he and Jim had both run, but in different directions, and how he had cannoned into Strax.
By now, Jenny had caught up with them and they were approaching the familiar but stark form of the workhouse. Harry did not relish the prospect of explaining his absence to Mr Ransit, and was therefore mightily relieved when Madame Vastra suggested that he wait in the nearby carriage.
‘Strax and I will check the immediate area,’ she said. ‘Jenny – you will see this Mr Ransit.’
‘Right-oh, Ma’am,’ Jenny agreed. ‘And what do I tell him?’
‘That Harry is now in our charge. Make sure he releases him to you as guardian, at least until these unpleasant matters are concluded. If the boy Jim is there, then we will need him released into our care too. I imagine an exchange of currency may be necessary. After that, it will be time to find out what really happened in Ranskill Gardens this evening, and perhaps go on the offensive.’
Strax slammed his fist into the open palm of his other hand. ‘At last,’ he pronounced. ‘We strike for the greater glory of the Sontaran Empire. Sontar-Ha!’ His brow furrowed slightly as he saw the others’ expressions. ‘That is, for the greater glory of Paternoster Row, of course. Pater-Nos-Ta!’
Madame Vastra raised what might have been an eyebrow.
Sitting alone in the well-appointed carriage, Harry began to feel at ease for the first time since he and Jim had completed their snowman and seen the fireworks. He settled back into the plush upholstery and closed his eyes. So it was that he assumed he must have slipped into slumber and be dreaming when someone hissed close to his ear:
‘Psssst!’
He ignored this susurration, turning slightly away.
‘Oi – Harry!’ The words were punctuated by a frantic rapping on the carriage door.
To Harry’s surprise, when he opened his eyes he saw a face he recognised staring in through the adjacent window.
‘Jim!’ he exclaimed in delight. ‘Are you all right? Where have you been? You’ll never guess what happened to me.’
Harry tore open the carriage door so that his friend could climb in and join him.
‘I had to warn you,’ Jim said, looking around warily.
‘Warn me? Too late for that,’ Harry responded. ‘These two geezers already tried to do for me tonight.’
‘Never mind them,’ Jim said. ‘They’re not the real villains of the piece.’
‘Then who is?’ Perhaps Jim was about to reveal the name of the villains’ mysterious employer.
‘It’s the lizard woman and her lot,’ Jim said.
‘Never!’
Harry was about to explain how Vastra had helped him. But Jim went on: ‘Tis and all. She plans to kill you and cook you in a stew, I heard her. She’s planning it with the potato-headed man right now.’
This seemed the height of improbability to Harry, and he wasted no time in telling his friend exactly that.
‘You don’t believe me? Then just you come and listen then. I’ll show you the way. Come with me, and you’ll find out just how much danger you’re really in, right enough. Come on.’
So saying, Jim opened the door and leaped down from the carriage.
Reluctantly, Harry followed. His friend led the way along the outer wall of the workhouse and into a small square on the other side. The square was bordered on three sides by terraced houses, and on the fourth by the workhouse wall. The snow had eased once more, and fog swirled round the enclosed space. Tendrils teased out by the breeze seemed like long, slender fingers clawing at Harry as he followed Jim to a secluded and shadowy corner.
‘So where’s Vastra and the others?’ Harry demanded. It seemed that there was no one here.
But that was just an illusion. A dark figure detached itself from the shadows and stepped towards Harry. The man seemed dark and vague, as if he had somehow coalesced out of the fog itself.
‘I told you that you’d find out how much trouble you’re in, Harry,’ Jim said. For the first time, Harry noticed how much the boy’s voice was trembling. How pale and frightened he looked. ‘I’m sorry, but I had to do it.’
‘Had to do what?’ Harry asked. But deep within his sinking heart he had already deduced the answer.
‘Had to bring you to me,’ the shadow man pronounced. His voice was deep and cultured. As he approached, Harry realised that this was the man from Ranskill Gardens – the man who had appeared at the same time as the fireworks display. Again the man tapped the brim of his top hat, but this time in greeting rather than valediction.
‘But don’t blame poor Jim,’ the man went on. ‘He brought you to me for a very good reason.’
Before Harry could move, the man’s hands whipped out and grabbed him securely by the shoulders. Harry cried out in pain and fear. Fog seemed to seep from open ends of the man’s cuffs, curling round his wrists and Harry’s shoulders.
‘Greater pragmatism has no man than this,’ the figure said. ‘That he betray his friends to save his own life.’
‘What are you going to do with me?’ Harry asked, stammering through the pain and the anger.
But the man’s only response was his laughter, echoing through the foggy night.