The Spin Read Online Free

even when we’ve done you a favour. We caught the villain and he was so desperate he was wearing
that
.’ The second guard pointed to the coat. ‘He’s outside now; trembling and shivering like a little puppy. Says he wants to say he’s sorry.’
    â€˜We aren’t sorry,’ the other guard said, picking a ripe pear out of the fruit bowl and polishing it on his sleeve. ‘We never apologise for nothing.’
    Otto gave him a cold stare before following them. The kitchen staff bunched behind him, straining to see.
    The light spilled from the kitchen doorway on to a miserable sight. The grubbin hung like a limp rag between two pan-faced guards. His cheeks were smeared and blackened with grime and his trousers dirty and torn. He had lost not only a boot but also his leg irons.
    â€˜He says he’d like to apologise to you, Otto, in person,’ the first guard said. He prodded the grubbin with his truncheon. ‘Can’t think why. We don’t bother, little moleman – why’d you want to?’
    â€˜Don’t listen to him!’ Brittel snapped, stepping to the front of the onlookers and pointing a thin, stained finger at him. ‘He’s only doing it to get off more lightly. Dirty beggar! Nasty, wormy
grubbin
!’
    The grubbin winced; his knees folded beneath him like paper and his head drooped heavily. His eyes were half closed and his chin shook as he spoke.
    â€˜Sorry, sir,’ he muttered wheezily. ‘Sorry for taking your coat and your food.’ He forced open his eyes a little and peered at the kitchen staff intently, as if trying to pick out one particular face amongst the watching boys. His eyes met with Stormy’s, and there was a flash of recognition on both sides. The grubbin quickly closed his eyes and looked away. ‘I had
no
help, sirs,
none
. It was all my own doing.’
    â€˜Of course he didn’t have help, he didn’t need it!’ Brittel said. ‘Stealing is in their blood!’ He folded his arms across his narrow chest. ‘It’s natural for them, born to it.’
    â€˜We’ll take him off now, then!’ The guards hauled the convict up on his trembling legs. ‘He’s done his apology. Enough. Back to the dungeons with you.’ And they dragged him away.
    â€˜What’s the matter with you, Stormy?’ Brittel said as they went back inside. ‘Your face is a picture! You don’t care what happens to a dirty old grubbin, do you?’
    Stormy shook his head and added quietly, ‘But he might be innocent. We don’t know for sure.’
    â€˜Course we know!’ Brittel said. ‘Those little diggers are all bad. My father lost all his money because of them; cost him his life too, it did.’
    â€˜How’s that, then?’ Tex asked, playing for time, avoiding his kitchen duties.
    â€˜How’s that? My father bought a mine off them; good deep one, supposed to be fresh, supposed to be full, only to find the grubbins had already cleared it out of precious stones and gold. Everything gone. Wasn’t theirs to dig. They’re thieves.’
    â€˜That’s enough, Brittel!’ Otto snapped, slamming the door to the yard. ‘Back to work. All of you!’ The boys scurried to their places.
    â€˜All very well,’ Brittel muttered, ‘but it was the ruin of my old man. Ruin.’
    â€˜I don’t like mysteries,’ Otto went on, ignoring him. ‘Don’t like wondering if my skivvies are honest or not. Glad to know the truth.’
    Stormy had raced back to his place at the end of the table and picked up his knife again.
Honest?
The knife sliced his finger. ‘Ouch!’
    â€˜Stormy?’ Otto called out.
    â€˜Nothing, sir!’
    Stormy sucked his bleeding finger and dived under the table as if he had dropped something.
    He wasn’t honest, but he was safe. He was safe! The grubbin had saved him! Hallelujah!
    â€˜But how