The Claws of Evil - By Andrew Beasley Page 0,2

up with the idea, it was only going to be a snowball that he threw...but then the carthorse had been good enough to lay a stinking, steaming road-apple right there on the ground in front of him, and one thing led to another. It was pretty much the story of his life.

Satisfied that Wilde had definitely called it quits, Ben paused to set his hat at the right angle. A billycock was like a bowler hat, only a touch more dandy, and in Ben’s opinion it had to be set just so. Happy, Ben grinned at his reflection in a shop window, shoved his throbbing hands back into his pockets and set off back towards Old Gravel Lane and home.

Night was beginning to fall now and the darkness brought a wicked edge to the wind that cut through his coat to the marrow in his bones. As he trudged through the quiet backstreets, a church bell chimed.

It was then that Ben saw the man.

The Weeping Man.

At least that was what the street kids called him.

Ben stopped dead and watched the figure from a distance, trying to make out if it really could be him. Ghoulish curiosity getting the better of him, he took a step nearer.

At first, no one had even noticed that children were disappearing. If there was one thing that the East End wasn’t short of, it was unwanted children. Kids went missing all the time. But then came the sightings and the stories and the whispers, until the length of Old Gravel Lane was abuzz with the news. Beware the Man. The Man in Black who stalked the streets. The Weeping Man who came to take you away in the night.

The descriptions of the villain were always the same: tall, dark. Deadly.

That ain’t the half of it, thought Ben.

The figure that Ben had his eyes on was dressed all in black, as befitting a monster. He wore a long square-tailed coat which reached almost to the ground, and the broad shoulders beneath it made it abundantly clear that no street kid would have the strength to get away once he took hold of them. On his head sat the sort of hat which Ben always associated with undertakers. It was not a comforting image.

The other thing that all the accounts agreed upon was the noise that he made. “Unearthly”, said a frightened clergyman who had heard it on his return from evensong. “Disturbing”, said a mother of three, who had not let her children out of the house since. Unnatural. Bone-chilling. A death rattle.

There were plenty of rumours about what he did with the children he took. But all anyone knew for certain was that kids were disappearing and nothing nice was happening to them.

Just so long as I’m not next, Ben told himself and he edged himself backwards into the hollow of a doorway, trying to become one with the gloom. When the cold wood was pressed hard against his back, he stopped. Then he waited. Not breathing...not moving...while all around him the snow continued its slow and remorseless assault. It was the harshest winter that anyone could remember and so there were plenty of ways for a scruffy street urchin like him to meet his Maker. Given the choice though, Ben had no wish to end his days as the latest victim of the Man in Black.

Ben studied him from the shadows. He was morbidly fascinated, and a little terrified too; although he would never own up to that. Jack the Ripper still cast his long shadow across the East End and Ben had no illusions about there being a happy ending to the story of the Weeping Man. But here he was. And a glimmer of opportunity was beginning to present itself to Ben, like a shiny sixpence begging for him to pick it up.

If, out of all of London, he was the one to identify the child snatcher, then he was bound to become famous. And if he was the one who could lead the bobbies to the beast’s lair, then there surely had to be a reward in it for him. It was a brilliant plan, as far as he could see – the one tiny flaw being that it might cost him his own life trying. Still, so far, so good, eh?

Ben knew that he was being reckless. He knew that no one would come running if he screamed for help. But in for a penny, in for a pound...

Ben stuck