The woman glared at Grace.
“I’m not leaving my children with ye.”
“Oh, no, I don’t want you to. I just, here,” she reached into her pocket and handed it to the woman, who took it with caution. Several people surrounding them turned to stare. One even got up and left the room, and Grace felt suddenly uneasy. Instead, she focused on the woman, who was wide-eyed. “Sorry.”
She got up and turned, worried that she had just made a mistake when the far door opened. There in the doorway was the bald man, staring directly at her. Panicked, Grace glanced at the back door, then back at the man. In an instant, he was pushing people out of the way to get to her and she jumped up on the edge of the wooden bed and leapt over a sleeping person before jumping to the ground and rushing to the back door as the bald man shouted. Thankfully it wasn’t locked and she bolted outthe back into a small courtyard that was filled with crates and rubbish.
Whipping around, she saw a narrow walk that led out against the neighboring building. Without thinking, Grace ran toward it and tried to squeeze through as her dress caught on a number of things. The sound of the door slamming open only hastened her attempt to get away. Glancing behind her, she saw the bald man ripping away old crates and pieces of wood to try and make room for himself, but she was too far away. In the next instant, she was free and out the other side, stumbling into the street until a crushing set of hands gripped her arms, causing her to cry out.
“AH!”
“Keep ’er mouth shut,” the unseen man growled into her ear as the bald man finally reached her.
Panic like she had never known before finally seemed to settle into Grace’s heart as she realized just how precarious this situation was. Never before had she ever been handled so crudely and when the man placed a dirty palm over her mouth, Grace was forcibly dragged back into Rabbit House, and she felt a pit begin to grow in her stomach.
The bald man walked around her and opened the door. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw the yellow-toothed woman glaring as the man behind Grace began to drag her upstairs. She tried to kick and wrench out of her captor’s arms, clawing at his hand that covered her mouth if only to scream out for help, but he was holding her too tightly and the bald man only sneered.
“A right mess you’ve gotten yerself into, innit?” he asked as he followed them up the narrow staircase. “But I reckon yer won’t be making much more noise fer long.”
“Yeah,” the man who held her agreed, talking into her ear. “We’ve a gentleman who will pay us twelve pounds sterling for a pretty little pigeon like you.”
Grace stilled in her fight to be released as the bald man nodded slowly.
“Oh, aye. You didna think we were digging up the dead, did you?”
“But Bill, we do dig up the dead.”
The bald man glared at the man behind Grace.
“Shut up, Barley,” the bald man snapped, before refocusing on Grace. “It doesn’t much matter. I have a feeling our friend Mr. Roberts might throw us an extra little something for knocking this bird out of the sky.”
“What do you mean, twelve pounds sterling?” Grace asked, her hackles drawn up.
“A new body is worth twelve pounds. Dug up ones are only worth nine,” Barley said.
“Shut it, Barley!”
“Oi, who’s she going to tell?”
The man holding Grace kicked a door open and dragged her backwards into a sparsely decorated room. Wood floors, wood walls, a small straw bed, and the dingiest of windows barely let in any light.
“He didn’t like you snooping about the other day, little miss,” the man named Barley spat as he tossed Grace onto the straw bed. “But ye’re not gonna be a problem fer him anymore, is ya?”
Both men took a step toward her.
“Remember,” Bill said. “No broken bones. The doctor likes ’em intact.”
“Strangled as usual, I know.”
The realization that these two men were not only employed to rob graves, but they were also providing newly killed persons to Mr. Roberts set Grace’s blood cold. All the missing persons in the newspapers, all having been from Gallowgate. Had they been killed by these two?
“Wait. The people in the newspapers, the ones who’ve gone missing in this neighborhood,” she said with her hands up to stall them. “You didn’t…”
Bill the bald man’s brow lifted.
“Looking for a confession, pigeon? Aye, we did them all in and were paid a pretty penny for it too.”
“Not a penny, Bill. Pounds.”
