Mullins wrapped up warm as he readied to go out for tonight’s hunt. He had eaten heavily after work today and had slept as much as he was able to. It was now eleven o’clock, and he was ready to start pounding the streets. He was nervous but also hopeful. There was every chance that he could come across this killer, take him down, and deliver him or it or whatever the hell it was to the alderman. He had heard (and seen) that the alderman often patrolled the streets at night, doing this very task. Mullins hoped to run into him early tonight to let him know that he would also be doing the same from now on. He took up a leather pouch in which he had concealed a knife and went out the door into the dark cold of Dublin’s night.
Kate had come to him at the smithy yesterday to let him know that both she and Mary were in agreement that the boar was not what had attacked either of them and that the real killer was still loose and would kill again as soon as it could. Mullins couldn’t say that he was entirely disappointed with this news; he had felt a pang of regret when he heard about the boar, regret that he had not been able to avenge Cleaves and Kate and Mary. But now his chance to do damage to this killer was back, and he was fully prepared. His body still buzzed with the energy of the violence he had seen at the Poddle a couple of days ago.
Kate had taken his hand in the smithy and again said that he didn’t have to do it, that she was afraid for him now, but he clenched her hand and told her he would be fine. As he did, he thought about taking her from the life she had once this was all over, and he did his best to communicate this to her in the touch of his fingers and the look in his eyes. He felt then that she had understood; they both understood that for their future to have a chance of existing, the Dolocher would have to be gone.
It was a cold, hard night, and he could see his breath vapour in front of him as he walked, the light behind it making it look like the smoke from a pipe. He walked briskly to try to keep warm, and he had no set plan as to where he was going. He knew the general area he was going to stay within, but he decided to let his whim and instinct guide him at every junction he came to. As he came to corners or crossroads, he would look in all directions. If he saw breath rising but no person to breath it, he went that way; if he saw a person walking alone, he went that way; if there was something just too eerily silent about a street, he went that way.
He was at this for about half an hour when he saw someone he recognised, but whom he couldn’t place for a moment. He followed the man at a distance, observing his walk and his mannerisms as he went along seemingly without a care in the world. It was not the alderman but someone else he had seen recently: the man who looked at him so oddly when he was taken to the Black Dog—that’s who it was! The gentleman he suspected as a possible killer. How could he not have recognised him immediately?
Up ahead, the gentleman turned a corner onto Francis Street and was out of sight. Mullins quickened his pace and rushed around the corner in the hope he was still in sight, only to find the point of a sword almost prick into his throat. He stopped dead lest his weight cause the sword point to pierce his skin.
“You should be more careful about skulking the streets at night, blacksmith.” The man was smiling at him.
“Put your sword down,” Mullins growled.
“Not until you take your hand from the blade in your pocket,” the man said, nodding to where Mullins was indeed unfurling the leather pouch. Mullins stopped and pulled his empty hand into sight.
“My name is Edwards,” the man said, lowering his own weapon.
“Mullins.”
“I know who you are and what you have been accused of by your own neighbours, and I can tell you that sneaking up on people in the dead of night will not enhance your reputation in the slightest.”
“I’m out to make sure that my name is cleared once and for all.”
“How is that?”
“I’m going to catch the Dolocher and kill it.”
At this, Edwards burst out laughing, and this perplexed Mullins.
“How are you going to find him? The alderman has been out all night many times and has not been able to find him yet.”
“I think I may have found him,” Mullins said angrily.
“You think I am the Dolocher?” Edwards asked, still amused.
“I don’t see why not. I’ve seen you around the streets at night, and you are pretty handy with that sword.”
“I haven’t been questioned by the law about any of the killings, which is more than I can say for you, my good man.” Still that smile on his face.
“The alderman knows I’ve had nothing to do with the murders.”
“Does he know you are out at night now, looking to get yourself killed?”
“He doesn’t know, but if I see him I will tell him.”
“I can assure you that I am not the Dolocher and that if you are going to be wandering the streets at night, you and I may see a lot of each other.”
“So long as I don’t see you killing anyone, I’ll not bother you again,” Mullins said with a sarcastic sneer, but again Edwards only laughed.
“You are lucky you are talking to me; any other gentleman would have you in the stocks for talking to them like that.” Mullins didn’t know what to say to this. “Carry on, blacksmith, and the best of luck to you. If I see the Dolocher, I’ll tell him you’re looking for him.” He laughed heartily once more as he turned and walked away.