A Very Peculiar Plague by Catherine Jinks Read Free Book Online

handkerchief. ‘I obtained it from an old sea-captain who spent fifty years roaming the West Indies. And here we have our selkie, and our griffin, and our Egyptian basilisk—’
    ‘ Mr Lubbock! ’ Miss Eames cut him off so sharply that he jumped. ‘We are not fools , sir! Nor are we interested in the grotesque productions of a dishonest taxidermist!’ She waved her hand at the exhibits, half of which were rotting away in jars of alcohol. ‘I can see for myself that this waterhorse is a stuffed seal with some kind of mane stitched to its head!’
    ‘Madam—’
    ‘There is only one impersonation that interests us, Mr Lubbock, and that is the person who is passing herself off as Birdie McAdam.’
    Mr Lubbock turned an even darker shade of puce. ‘Perhaps before we continue, Madam, you’d care to introduce yourself,’ he said, straining to sound jovial. ‘I don’t believe I caught your name.’
    ‘Eames. Miss Edith Eames.’ Drawing herself up to her full, not-very-impressive height, Miss Eames placed a hand on Birdie’s shoulder. ‘And this is the real Birdie McAdam.’
    ‘Aha. Yes.’ The showman’s smile became sickly and apologetic as his gaze dropped from Miss Eames’s face to Birdie’s. ‘Dear me, what a surprise! For I must confess, I had no idea that there was a real Birdie McAdam.’
    ‘Nonsense!’ snapped Miss Eames.
    ‘I assure you, I did not. I considered Birdie McAdam to be a mythical figure, like Spring-Heeled Jack.’
    ‘Can you not read, then?’ Alfred growled. ‘She were in all the papers, last summer.’
    Mr Lubbock waved this objection aside with one pudgy hand. ‘Oh, but who can believe the press these days, Mr . . . Mr Bunce, is it?’
    ‘Aye.’
    ‘One reads such fabulous tales of raised corpses, and mistaken identities, and three-headed pygmies . . . why, it’s hard to know what to believe! And when I heard about Birdie’s remarkable deeds of valour, I naturally assumed that such a talented child could not possibly exist.’ Mr Lubbock beamed at Birdie. ‘Were you indeed raised to kill bogles, m’dear?’
    Birdie shrugged. ‘I helped to kill ’em.’
    ‘By singing?’
    ‘That is no business of yours, sir!’ Miss Eames barked.
    ‘Ah, but it could be my business, if the little girl is willing. And very good business too.’ Addressing Birdie once more, Mr Lubbock bent down and placed a hand on each of his knees. ‘I’m pulling in two pounds a night, at present,’ he confided, ‘but if your voice is as sweet as your face, m’dear, the takings could double. And one tenth of that sum could be yours.’
    Jem gasped. He immediately began to calculate percentages, even as he wondered if Mr Lubbock could be telling the truth. Birdie’s eyes widened. Alfred blinked.
    Miss Eames, however, was unmoved.
    ‘Don’t be ridiculous!’ she scoffed. ‘Why would Birdie want to work for you? She is studying with Signora Paolini, and is destined for an illustrious career on the stage!’
    ‘I’m sure she is, Miss Eames, but that doesn’t mean she cannot earn her keep when she is not studying,’ Mr Lubbock pointed out. ‘Why, what’s to stop her from studying in the day and performing at night? I cannot see any objection to it.’
    Neither could Jem. He thought it an excellent scheme – and observed that Birdie, too, seemed struck by the idea.
    ‘She would learn to crack a whip,’ Mr Lubbock continued, ‘and to handle a snake and wrangle a pony—’
    ‘A snake ?’ Jem interrupted, forestalling Miss Eames. ‘What snake?’
    ‘It is a perfectly harmless python. Not at all venomous,’ Mr Lubbock assured him. ‘As for our unicorn – why, she is the daintiest, most docile creature you ever laid eyes on! And our bogle’s as deft as he is big. Very well trained. He knows what he’s about.’
    Alfred snorted. ‘There ain’t a bogle in the world can be trained,’ he said flatly.
    ‘You’d be surprised, Mr Bunce. Here – let me introduce you.’ Before Miss Eames