China by Edward Rutherfurd (historical books to read TXT) 📕

put him in a bad temper, that Uncle Adalbert returned home in the evening to be met at the gateway by the kindly Miss Grant, who was looking apologetic. “I’m afraid,” she confessed, “that boys will be boys.”

If she thought this was a good opening, however, she had still failed to understand her employer,

“What is the matter, Miss Grant?” he asked tersely.

“Cricket, I’m afraid. The other children were teaching John how to play. I was watching them, and we were well away from the house. It turns out that he has an excellent eye, and he’s extraordinarily strong for a little fellow his age. The very first time he was to bat, he was bowled an easy ball, and he hit it, quite magnificently…” She looked at him hopefully, hoping this tale of prowess would mitigate the news that was to follow.

“What of it, Miss Grant?” Adalbert cried impatiently.

“I never imagined he could hit it so far, but I’m afraid it went through a window on the second floor,” she added eagerly. “It’s entirely my fault, of course,” she said firmly.

“Where are these children?” he demanded.

“They all went home. There’s just me and John here now.”

Perhaps if John had looked penitent, perhaps even if he had smiled, run up to him, and asked forgiveness, Adalbert might have reacted differently. But as the lawyer came across the lawn to where the boy was standing, holding the offending cricket ball, he noticed only that the child was looking at him sullenly.

And it came into the lawyer’s mind that he was being put upon. His life had been thrown into disorder, he was being obliged to spend precious days in London dealing with disagreeable and dishonest tenants, and now this boy, who showed no gratitude, no family affection, but only looked upon him, his long-suffering benefactor, with insolent sullenness, was quite content to break the windows of his house like a rioter or a revolutionary.

“Are you sorry for what you have done?” he asked menacingly.

“Yes, Uncle.” He was lying, of course. He was hardly even taking the trouble to look as if he was sorry.

“If this is how you and your friends behave, then they need not come here anymore.” He did not really mean it, but he wanted to shock the boy. He did not understand that to the child, it meant that he was to be denied all his playmates forever.

No words. Only that sullen look again. The lawyer decided to try to shame him.

“What would your dear mother think if only she were here today?” That seemed to have got through. He saw the boy’s face pucker up, as if he were about to cry. But still, for Adalbert, it was not enough. “Neither your behavior nor your sullen looks come from your mother,” he observed coldly. “No doubt you get them from your father, whose thoughtlessness has killed your mother and left you an orphan in my unfortunate care.”

“Oh, sir!” Miss Grant’s cry of shock might, in a moment, have made the lawyer turn. But he never had time to do so.

What took place happened so fast that it took all three participants by surprise. For suddenly, his little face smitten with pain and then suffused with rage, the boy grasped the cricket ball and hurled it with all his force at his great-uncle. And whether John’s aim was devastating, or more likely as the result of sheer chance, the ball struck the old man smack in the middle of his forehead between the eyes. Reeling from the shock of the missile, he fell backwards even before his knees had time to buckle. And there he lay, openmouthed, staring up from the grass at the sky, quite motionless.

Seeing him obviously unconscious, Miss Grant ran into the house crying for water and leaving John alone.

Slowly the boy went forward. His great-uncle’s face looked strangely grey. There was no sign of life at all. He had killed him.

And then came the awful realization. Every child knew what happened to murderers. They will hang me, he thought. He did not wait even for kindly Miss Grant. He turned and ran.

When Miss Grant came back with a pitcher of water and began to mop Adalbert’s brow, she noticed that the child had vanished, but assumed he had run into the house. By the time the groom had saddled up and ridden off for the doctor, Adalbert was starting to come around. Miss Grant and the cook helped him to his bedroom, where he lay down with a cold poultice on his head.

Only after this did the governess discover that her charge was nowhere to be found.

She searched in the house and in the grounds, down the lane to the village, and at the houses from which his playmates had come. No one had seen him. The groom arrived back with the doctor, who pronounced that Adalbert would have a large bruise for many days, but that his skull did not appear to be cracked. “He must have absolute peace and quiet. If there is any change in him, send for me at once. Otherwise I shall come by again in the morning.” When she told the doctor about the boy’s disappearance, he instructed her not to trouble Adalbert with this news for the time being. “There is nothing he can do about it in his present condition,” he pointed out. “The boy will reappear soon enough, because he will be hungry.”

She sent the groom up onto the ridge and told him to remain on lookout until sunset. Meanwhile, she went into the woods and searched as far as she could. But darkness fell, and John did not appear.

She went out into the woods again that night with a lantern and must have walked two miles and more, calling his name. Unable to sleep, she was up again before dawn, walking through the trees. Soon after breakfast, she went to the village and organized a search party.

It was only at noon, after telling her