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down to the river?’
    ‘That’s right. The drains from the cesspits lead down into it. Places like inns often just put their rubbish straight down into sewers.’
    ‘Good,’ said Alfie, trying hard not to think about rats. ‘Perhaps we could drop down there and go along it like the toshers do. Let’s lever it up now and be ready to
disappear down if anyone comes.’
    ‘Shh!’ said Jack warningly.
    Alfie gulped.
    Beyond the gleam of light from the cellar window came the sound of heavy footsteps, the scrape of a key in the lock and then the creak of a door handle. Alfie froze, his shoulder touching
Jack’s, ready to spring.

CHAPTER 9
B LOOD M ONEY

    One of the things that Sarah liked best about her new job as parlour maid at the White Horse Inn was that, as soon as the breakfasts had been served, she could leave the inn
until the time for the next meal came up.
    And so it was that she was strolling up Bow Street at ten o’clock in the morning. It was a nice day, she thought. After the storm of last night, the air seemed fresher and cleaner than
usual in London, as though the city had been thoroughly washed by the heavy rain which had not ceased until about one o’clock in the morning.
    ‘I’ll go and check whether the boys are all right,’ she said to herself. There had been no sign of Alfie or Jack after she had brought the warning to them. They had disappeared
with the speed of lightning.
    But there was no one at home in the cellar on Bow Street, not even Mutsy. She knocked again loudly, just to make sure, but there was no bark of greeting, or sound of a large nose sniffing at the
door. Sarah clicked her tongue with annoyance. She was the sort of person who always liked to know whether things were going well, or whether a problem had arisen. Problems she could deal with, but
uncertainty was more difficult. She knocked again just to be absolutely sure and softly called ‘Mutsy’, but no, he was definitely not there.
    At this hour of the morning, Alfie and the rest of the gang would usually have gone out, but Jack, who worked by night, would normally still be sleeping – and last night, Alfie had also
been out late. Either they had already gone out, or else Alfie and Jack had not returned the night before.
    Sarah shivered slightly as she remembered the hard, dangerous eyes of the man who had been looking for two lads at the inn. Had he found them after all? He and his friend had not returned to the
White Horse with the Birmingham engineers who had accompanied him on the chase.
    ‘Seen Alfie, anywhere?’ she asked the butcher who was standing in front of his window, supervising a boy who was sweeping out the sodden piles of wood shavings and flood water from
his shop.
    ‘Haven’t seen him this morning. Saw the blind boy, though. And the other young lad, and the big dog. Dragging some sort of board with him, he was.’ The butcher spoke
impatiently over his shoulder. He wasn’t interested. He was trying to get his shop in order before the customers came.
    Sarah was mystified. What was Tom doing with a board? She puzzled over it for a moment, trying to distract herself from the cold fear in the back of her mind that the man with the scarf had
captured Alfie and Jack.
    ‘Perhaps I’ll go over to Trafalgar Square,’ she muttered to herself. The chances were that Tom and Sammy would be over there, Sammy singing on the steps of St
Martin-in-the-Fields church and Tom searching the fountain for coins that people often threw in there for luck.
    The poster was still outside the police station when she came up to it and people were still gossiping about the daring raid on the post office.
    ‘I heard that fifty gold bars were stolen,’ said a baker, balancing his basket with one arm and staring at the poster.
    ‘I heard that it were jewels,’ said a bare-footed boy.
    ‘They’ve never had such a thing happen at that post office before,’ said the woman beside Sarah. Her voice was loud and excited