The roll of carriage wheels told Ellen that he was finally moving.
The bookshop was a favorite of the Nightingale family. They were often found there perusing the shelves and discussing titles with George Nicholson.
Placing her foot on the first step, Ellen stopped as tension gripped her. The vision that followed was of a man lying on the floor with blood staining his white shirt.
George?
Taking the four steps up, she pushed the door open and entered.
Behind the counter was a boy who she did not recognize. On the other side, with his back to her, was another. Both appeared to be searching for something.
“Where is Mr. Nicholson?” Ellen demanded.
Both turned to look at her as she spoke.
“Not here,” the lad closest said. He was clutching money to his chest. She could see the corner of the banknote sticking out between his palm and finger.
“Well, where is he? And why are you behind his counter?”
The boys ignored her questions and continued doing what they were, dismissing her at their peril. Ellen took the two steps forward to reach them. Raising her umbrella, she then rapped it with some force on the shoulder of the one closest.
It was reinforced with a metal rod after she’d snapped the last one on a man’s head.
“Ouch!” He leapt back and glared at her. “What’d you do that for?”
“I demand an answer. Where is Mr. Nicholson?”
“Not here,” the boy she’d struck muttered, rubbing the injured spot. “You need to leave.”
“Why are you going through his things if he is not here?” Ellen ignored his words. “Are you stealing from him?”
“He’s not been in here all day,” the other boy said, his tone as belligerent as the other one’s had been. “If he left the door open, that’s his problem, and we’re taking advantage of that. Now, a pretty lady like you should go before we decide to check what you have in that little bag around your wrist.”
He raised his fists. Rather than be frightened, Ellen stood her ground and stared calmly back. “I don’t think so. You need to leave here at once. That is Mr. Nicholson’s money, and I won’t let you take it with you.”
The boy came round the counter and stopped beside his friend before her. Ellen guessed they would be about her sister Fred’s age, around thirteen, but it was hard to tell.
“Who’s going to make us, then?” one of them said.
“Me.” Ellen raised her umbrella, and the boys laughed. “It’s wrong to steal from others. You should earn your own money.”
“It ain’t easy to earn money, and if it’s there to be stolen, why not take it?”
“Because that’s stealing and unlawful.”
They charged her, and she jabbed the first in the stomach, then spun and struck the next on the cheek with the metal handle.
Curses filled the shop.
Stay on the balls of your feet. It’s easier to face an attacker that way. Keep moving.
Uncle Bram’s words had Ellen shifting her weight from foot to foot. The boys lunged again. This time she ducked and caught the first lad in the shins, sending him onto his knees. Straightening, she then jabbed the second in the stomach. The boy yelped as he doubled over.
“Let’s go, Snippy!”
The one on the floor tried to crawl away. Ellen beat him to the door.
“Leave what you have in your hands here.”
