Read Online Death in the Peerless Pool by Deryn Lake - Free Book Online

remember her and the way she came for me.’
    Samuel overheard him. ‘There’s darkness in this case, isn’t there, John?’ he asked fearfully.
    â€˜Darkness – and a great evil,’ the Apothecary answered slowly.
    There had been much activity at the Peerless Pool that morning. As arranged, the Principal Magistrate, John Fielding, accompanied by Joe Jago, had arrived by coach shortly after eight o’clock, having risen and breakfasted early. Once on the premises, he had gone to the Fish Pond and allowed Jago to describe the scene for him as it appeared in full sunlight, then report on what the team of Runners searching the grounds had so far unearthed. After that, the Blind Beak had set up a room in Mr Kemp’s house and started to question those who had been present not only on the day when the body had been found but also at the Pleasure Garden during the previous day and evening.
    An account of the Peerless Pool’s routine had emerged from those examined. The Garden shut every evening at sunset, a bell being rung half an hour beforehand in order to warn bathers and those taking refreshment or in the bowling alley that closing time was drawing near. Then, when all the patrons had finally gone, the waiters would go around locking the gates for the night.
    â€˜I believe there are two ways into the Peerless Pool,’ Mr Fielding had said, sitting back in his chair, apparently negligent, the bandage that covered his eyes this day giving the impression that he was resting.
    â€˜Yes, Sir,’ the waiter being questioned had answered. ‘One leading off Old Street, through which subscribers are admitted. The other a small gate going off Pest House Row, almost opposite the French Hospital. It leads to the west comer of the Fish Pond.’
    â€˜And what is the purpose of that?’
    â€˜It allows the dedicated anglers, those with a season ticket, to go straight to the Pond without having to walk through the rest of the Garden.’
    Mr Fielding had nodded. ‘I presume there is someone on daily duty there?’
    â€˜Oh yes, Sir.’
    There had been silence, and then Joe Jago had asked a question, his ragged features harsh in the early morning light.
    â€˜But surely there is a third way in. Did I not spy a gate leading from the back of this property to a path going across the fields in the direction of Islington?’
    â€˜Yes, Sir. You did, Sir.’
    â€˜And is this, too, locked at night?’
    â€˜So I would imagine, though that is the duty of Mr Kemp’s household servants, not the waiters.’
    The Magistrate had fingered the curls of his long, flowing wig, a magnificent creation in its way, though nothing like as fine as that worn by Sir Gabriel Kent.
    â€˜So it seems there are three entrances by which the body could have come in, Joe.’
    â€˜It looks like it, Sir.’
    â€˜Though only of use to someone with a key or a friend on the inside of the Garden.’
    â€˜So it would appear.’
    â€˜Did you see the letter that Mr Rawlings sent me this morning? Nick Dawkins read it to me but I left it on my desk for you to peruse.’
    â€˜The one in which he …’
    But Joe got no further. There was a polite tap on the door and the very person under discussion came walking in. John and Samuel had finished their morning’s investigations and had arrived to compare notes with the finest brain in London.
    As comprehensively as he could, the Apothecary described all that had taken place, especially dwelling on the extraordinarily empty state of Hannah Rankin’s room. Mr Fielding nodded occasionally but deliberately asked no questions until John had finished speaking. Then he said, ‘Tell me, was Mother Hamp sober enough to be questioned before you left?’
    â€˜Just about.’
    â€˜Did you ask her if Hannah had given notice of quitting?’
    â€˜I did, but she replied no. I then enquired when she had last