A doddering old man with thick grey sideburns and a ragged beard hobbled into the prison room accompanied by a guard and headed straight for the cell where the Bandits and Johnathan were being kept. With him he carried a case so full that its contents – bottles of liquid and washcloths – could clearly be seen spilling from the top. He hummed softly to himself as he walked.
‘Well, well, well,’ he said when he saw them sitting resigned on the cell floor, leaning against the bars.
Samuel hadn’t fully recovered, so his place was still on the bench, but his eyes focused on the old man with apprehension. ‘When Director Stronghold sent for me, I wasn’t told that there were five of you. This may prove to be my most interesting job for weeks.’
‘Mr Kingston, I presume,’ Erin said, standing up to
