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at 10A.’

‘Great,’ Jack said, with a look at Morton, which suggested that he had no idea what was happening.

Whilst he stood watching the man head over to the orange pine shelving behind him, Morton felt his cheeks redden when he realised that he had just said, ‘My dad…’ He took a surreptitious look at Jack, who seemed either not to have noticed, or not to have cared. Morton watched as the archivist ducked down and then tiptoed to examine the yellow labels jutting out from the various records contained on the shelves. He pored over one label longer than the rest, then pulled out the document from which it emanated: a large flat brown box which he carried over and placed on the counter. ‘There’s one—ASSI 31/25,’ he said, returning to the shelves and retrieving what looked like a bundle of dirty washing. ‘And here’s the other—ASSI 94/1985.’

‘Wow,’ Jack commented, placing a hand on the string-bound document entitled ‘Kent Lent Assizes 1827 Felony File.’

Morton smiled at the thought of what he hoped would be contained within that file. He picked up the box and headed from the room, with Jack carrying the other bound document behind him. Stopping at the nearest free desk, Morton set down the box and removed the lid. Inside was a large book with a thick, hard binding that might have once been white or cream in colour but which was now dappled and streaked in various shades of brown. In black ink on the front was written, ‘Fair Agenda Book Lent 1826-Lent 1829.’ He pulled out the book and carefully set it down between two foam cushions.

Jack watched Morton with a look of marvel or pride, as he carefully opened the tome: a summary account of the Home Circuit Assizes between 1826 and 1829.

‘Do you want me to make a start on this?’ Jack asked, pointing to the bundle.

‘Yes, please,’ Morton replied. He had spent most of the two-hour drive to Kew explaining the Fothergill Case to Jack, including some key names and dates, so he only felt the need to recap, ‘so, you’re looking for any mention of smugglers, Aldington, George Ransley, Samuel Banister, Ann Fothergill...’

‘Got it,’ Jack confirmed, gently teasing apart the string binding which held it together.

Having deduced that the volume had been arranged chronologically, Morton turned the pages until he reached one titled, ‘Kent. 7th George 4th 1827,’ meaning the seventh year in the reign of George IV. Morton cast his eyes down the sepia mottled paper then turned to Jack and said, ‘The trial began at Maidstone on the 12th January 1827.’

‘Thanks,’ Jack said, beginning to unravel great long sheets of curled paper. Morton watched for a moment as Jack began to pore over the document, then returned to reading his own. The summary of the case began with the usual legal opening for this ‘special session of the Kent Winter Gaol Delivery’ before moving on to the cases being presided over. Forgery. Highway Robbery. Murder. Then he spotted the Aldington Gang: George Ransley, John Bailey, Samuel Bailey, Thomas Denard, Thomas Gillham, Richard Higgins, William Wire, James Smeed, James Wilson, Charles Giles, Richard Wire, James Hogben, Thomas Wheeler and James Quested.

Morton studied the names for some seconds. No sign of Samuel Banister.

The first indictment against the men was, ‘For feloniously being assembled with firearms in order to be aiding and assisting in the illegal landing and carrying away of uncustomed goods,’ to which all had pleaded guilty. Beside their plea came the judgement against them: ‘To be venerally hanged by the neck until they be dead on Monday the 5thday of February next.’ From his research, however, Morton knew that the men’s sentences had been commuted to transportation for life. Next, the same men had been charged with the murder of Richard Morgan, to which they had pleaded not guilty. The judgement was listed as ‘Acquitted.’

‘I don’t think this is right,’ Jack said, standing back to allow Morton to see the problem which he had found.

‘What’s up?’ Morton asked, looking at where Jack was pointing.

‘The Lent Assizes were held on the 19th March 1827—two months after your guys were tried.’

‘But that doesn’t make sense…’

‘I’ve had a quick look through the cases and there’s nothing that fits,’ Jack reported.

‘That’s odd. Wait there,’ Morton said, striding to the far side of the room, where he was confronted by a long bank of files and folders. He searched the shelves, quickly finding and selecting a thin black book and carrying it back over to Jack. Flipping through the pages of indexes to the various Home Circuit Assize Courts, his index finger came to rest on 1827. ‘Lent, Summer, Special,’ he read. ‘Same for the other counties in the Home Circuit. Essex, Surrey, Sussex and Hertfordshire, they all follow that pattern.’

‘So,’ Jack began, ‘if Lent is too late, then Summer also stands to be too late. Should we order the Special, then?’

Morton nodded, biting his lip. He suddenly felt the weight of Jack’s presence and wished that he were more knowledgeable on the Assizes: ‘I just want to go and speak to someone about it—just to be certain before I order it up.’

‘Sure thing,’ Jack said. ‘I’ll double-check this one, just to be absolutely sure.’

Morton ventured to the helpdesk, where a genial man with greying brown hair pulled into a ponytail on the back of his head, and thin glasses perched on his nose, sat typing at a computer. He looked up as Morton took the seat opposite him.

‘Hello, what can I do for you?’ the man asked, a strong Southern Irish accent pushing through his dry lips.

‘Hi,’ Morton said. ‘I’ve got a question about the Home Circuit Assizes…’ He explained his problem, probably with unnecessary detail about the trial of the Aldington Gang smugglers.

The man listened without interruption, then tapped into his computer. He nodded at something on-screen,

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