Edward Kane, Advocate in The Hanged Man. Chapter 15: Not the usual unsettled dreams

‘Is that you, Mr Horse?’ Edward Kane looked up from his book.

A voice from the hall called back: ‘I’m just taking off me coat…and me jacket, sir.’

Kane went back to his Dickens: ‘I thought you said that you had business to attend to.’

Horse came into the sitting room, holding up a piece of paper: ‘Business sorted, Mr K.’ He went to the mantelpiece. ‘Now – if you don’t mind, sir, I’ll put this here pawn ticket under the mantel clock here – just so that we know where it is.’

The young Advocate nodded: ‘Very wise, Mr Horse. Very wise. We must keep it safe.’

The manservant exhaled. Edward Kane put the bookmark in his book and closed it. ‘I’ve been meaning to say, Mr Horse – you have been very out of sorts these last few days. I thought that I should just enquire…’

‘All is well now, Mr K. All is well. I’ll just get the kettle on and make us a brew.’

He paused for a moment, then: ‘And then I’ll tell you the whole story, sir.’

****

Kane leaned forward in his chair: ‘So – this chap – “Adam” – it transpired that he was wearing your jacket?’

‘He was indeed, Mr K.’

‘And how did you get it from him?’

‘We had…we had, what you could call “a conversation”…’

‘About what?’

‘About potatoes, sir.’

‘“Potatoes”???’

‘It’s a long story, Mr K.’

Now that the missing ticket had been recovered, restored to its rightful owner and placed beneath the marble mantle clock, Horse felt able to laugh at himself (just a little bit, mind) and the entire scenario that had led to that whole goose chase in the first place – three-legged animal and all.

The telling of the story was punctuated by the horrified laughter of the young Advocate, who required to cover his mouth at various points of the narrative to contain himself. Kane smiled: ‘Well, I suppose that she was not the first “Eve” to take something that did not belong to her.’

‘Wish I’d said that, sir.’

Kane wiped the tears of laughter from his eyes with the heels of his palms. ‘Oh, Mr Horse – what a merry dance indeed – all over a dog that did not exist in the first place.’ He began to chortle again. Horse found himself laughing too: ‘Still, Mr K, I’m telling yer, the scraps the butcher gave this week was wery, wery good…’

‘What happened to them?’

‘The Monkey took them to see if he could make the stew.’

More laughter.

Horse got up. ‘I’ll make us another cuppa, sir, and you can tell us what’s happening in your latest case…’

‘My only case…’

‘The one with the doctor what got hanged and woke up in the cart – oh, Mr K, I don’t know why, but if does make me laugh. I’ll get the kettle on again.’

****

No laughter this time. Horse sat, brows furrowed in concentration as his master went into the detail of the case. And then the further information that had been imparted by Mackintosh of the Detective during that promenade up and down Parliament Hall.

At the conclusion of the account, Horse sat back in his chair, tin mug on his lap. ‘Fishy, Mr K. Definitely fishy. The more you tell me about them two doctor brothers…I don’t know. The more you talk about them, the more them two Balloch brothers sound well dodgy. The whole thing sounds like a trick, if you ask me. A trick.’

Kane drew himself up: ‘Mr Horse – The Ballochs are educated and well-respected physicians, not fairground magicians barking at passers-by for the odd tuppence’.

The manservant shook his head: ‘I wouldn’t trust them with my dog, sir.’

He added: ‘If we had one…’

****

A restless night for Horse.

Not the usual unsettled dreams: not the fields of Waterloo, the mud, the pitiful whinnying of the horses trapped amid the flying cannonballs, not the screaming, the constant threat of death.

Different, the dreams tonight. A lost dog (number of limbs unspecified), Horse standing there in Manny’s haberdashery, a hook on the ceiling, a dog lead swaying gently in the breeze (breeze? It’s the interior of a shop!), Manny standing there, smiling, arms spread – ‘Believe me – I have everything you want…’

Horse opened his eyes and lay there staring into the darkness for a long time. He got up and sat on the edge of his little bunk. After much blinking and scratching to rouse himself, the manservant got up and made his way into the sitting room. The mantelpiece marble clock told 5.30. Not due up for another hour or so, but today was going for be different. Edward Kane was expected in court at 10, but before then….

Horse went over to the fireplace, knelt down and put a match to the paper and wood stacked there. He went into the little kitchen area and filled a large kettle with water. He placed the kettle over the emerging fire then went to the door of his master’s bedroom.

There was Edward Kane lying asleep, a copy of ‘Bleak House’ lying open on his chest. Horse smiled. The candle must have burned itself out.

The manservant knelt down beside the bed and whispered in his master’s ear: “Mr K. Mr K, sir – time to get up.’ Kane open his eyes sharply and realised that he had a book on his chest: ‘Mr Horse, I’m sorry...sorry...I must have…what time. Is it?’

‘Just after half past five, sir.’

Kane gave a little cough: ‘Then, um…’ (He knew it was too early to rise but he was still too foggy to articulate it). Horse anticipated the objection: ‘I knows that you’re in court today, sir and that you’re meeting them Balloch brothers beforehand at the Calton.’

Kane blinked and nodded and Horse continued: ‘But you and me, sir, we got to go somewhere first.’

‘Where?’

‘The haberdashers, sir.’

Edward Kane and the Hanged Man continues in Monday’s Scotsman