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“Yer damn right!” Blackie agreed.
Sutton looked at him closely. “Yer reckon one of ’em’s goin’ ter cave in, Blackie?”
“That’s wot they’re sayin’.” Blackie curled his lip, making his lopsided face look less than human in the yellow light. “Word is ’em stupid sods is gonna keep on cuttin’
till they cross a river an’ drown ’alf the poor devils wot are diggin’ there like a lot o’ bleedin’ moles.”
Hester drew in her breath to ask him to be more specific, then gasped as Sutton kicked her sharply. She shut her mouth and bit her lip with pain to stop crying out.
“ ’Oose works?” Sutton asked casually. “I don’t wanna get caught in it.”
“Go down, do yer?” Blackie squinted at him.
“Bin known ter,” Sutton acknowledged. “Think it’ll be Bracknell and ’is lot?”
“Mebbe. More like Paterson’s.”
“Argyll?”
Blackie gave him a keen look. “You ’eard summink, ’ave yer?”
“Whispers. They true?”
“They move faster’n most, but Sixsmith’s a canny bastard. Very careful, ’e is. But the engines wot ’e uses are big, an’ stronger than most. I reckon they done summink ter ’em, made ’em better. Could slice through an old sewer wall an’ bring a cave-in quick as spit.”
Hester was aching to ask for details, but her leg was still smarting from where Sutton had kicked her.
“So I ’eard,” Sutton agreed. “But I thought it were just daft talk o’ some girl. ’Er pa were scared o’ the dark or summink. Lost ’is nerve an’ shot ’isself, they said. Mind, she never believed it. Said someone else done ’im in.”
Blackie’s eyes narrowed and he leaned forward sharply. “I’d keep yer face shut about that if I was you, Sutton,” he said very quietly. “Stick ter rattin’, eh? It’s nice an’ safe, an’ yer know wot yer doin’. Don’t go down no ’oles in the ground, an’ don’ go askin’ no questions. O’ course they ’ave safety rules, an’ o’ course they don’ use ’em. Fastest one through gets the next contract, easy as that. Better buried alive fer maybe than starved or froze fer sure.” He dropped his voice still further. “I owe yer, Sutton, an’ I owed yer pa, so I’ll tell yer for nothin’. Stick ter rattin’. It’s clean an’ yer don’ upset no one but the rats. There’s things about tunnels as yer don’ want ter know, an’ people in ’em sure as ’ell’s burnin’ yer don’ want as should know you! One feller special, so keep yer nose ter yerself. Got it?”
Sutton nodded. “Mebbe yer right,” he conceded. “Don’t you go down no ’oles in the ground neither, Blackie. If they bump inter a river accidental, it in’t gonna care that yer a tosher an’ ’ave worked these ways all yer life. It’ll come down there like a train, faster than a man can run, an’ pushin’ everythin’ in front o’ it.”
“I don’ go there no more,” Blackie said with a twist of his mouth. “I know which ones is safe an’ which in’t. But yer listen ter me, Sutton! Water, gas, fire, an’ rats in’t all there is ter watch fer! There’s money in this, so there’s men as’d commit murder. Keep out o’ it, see? Go, an’ take that lad there wi’ the eyes out of ’ere. I dunno wot yer come fer, but there’s nothin’ ’ere fer you.”
“I reckon not,” Sutton agreed. Taking Hester by the arm, holding her hard, he turned and started back the way they had come. They had gone a hundred yards before Hester dared speak.
“Mary can’t have come down here, surely?” she asked a little shakily.
“Mebbe, mebbe not, but they know about ’er,” Sutton replied. “She must ’ave asked a lot o’ questions—the right ones, by the sound o’ it.”
“But they wouldn’t tell her anything,” she protested. “What harm could she have done that they killed her?”
“I dunno,” he admitted unhappily. “But if anyone killed ’er, it must’a bin Toby Argyll. Thing is, ’oo told ’im ter?”
“I need to know!” she insisted. “Otherwise, how do we prove that she didn’t kill herself?”
“I ’ave ter know, too,” he agreed. “Or ’ow do we stop ’em from goin’ on faster and faster till they bring the ’ole bleedin’ roof in an’ mebbe bury an ’undred men alive? Or worse ’n that, set the gas alight an’ start ’nother Great Fire o’ London?”
She said nothing. She did not know the answer, but it troubled her. If Mary had been right, could she possibly have been the only one to see the danger? Surely her questions alone would have been sufficient to alarm other people. Was that what Alan Argyll had been concerned about, not the actual situation but the fears and suspicion Mary was stirring up? Was there ever cause to think it could have started a panic?
“They don’t seem afraid,” she said aloud. “They don’t really think it’ll happen, do they?”
Sutton looked at her. “Afraid o’ wot?” he said gently. “Think about it too ’ard, an’ yer’ll be afraid o’ the ’ole o’ life. Bein’ ’urt, bein’ ’ungry, bein’ cold, bein’ alone. Or yer mean bein’ drownded or buried alive? Don’t think too far ahead. Just do terday.”
“Is that what Argyll counts on? Poor Mary.”
“Dunno,” he confessed. “But it don’t make sense like it is.”
