Read Online Maggie MacKeever by The Baroness of Bow Street - Free Book Online
Authors: The Baroness of Bow Street
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Alas, it is the curse of the journalist to suffer punishment for the expression of his views. Consider the great John Walter who founded the Times. He went to Newgate for criticizing the Duke of York and while there had his sentence increased because, while incarcerated, he further censored the Prince of Wales, the Duke of Clarence, and the Duke of York again. I shall bear my punishment manfully if only I may write my column behind bars.”
“Devil take you, make an end!” snapped Leda, and Willie paused mid-spate. She turned to Crump. “Out with it. Why are you here?”
“Leda, Leda!” Willie crooked an admonishing forefinger. “This is Mr. Crump’s opportunity to learn more of the newspaper world. Would you deny him? Think what benefit a knowledge of journalism might be to him in the fulfillment of his duties.” His eyes gleamed. “And think what benefit Mr. Crump might prove to us, being as it were on the inside! We might, with his assistance, publish detailed accounts of atrocious crimes before our competitors even knew they had occurred.”
“An excellent notion,” mused Leda. “What say you, Crump?”
The Runner reached into his coat pocket. “I say that I hold a warrant for your apprehension, Leda Langtry, on the charge of murdering Lord Warwick. You must consider yourself in custody.”
Willie screwed a tarnished monocle into one eye socket and regarded Crump. “I thought, old fellow, that you looked damned familiar! Now I remember that it was you who took Leda into custody before. I had on that occasion prudently taken refuge in the printing room but glimpsed you nonetheless. We will soon consider you quite one of the family.”
“Warwick’s murder?” Leda looked stunned. “You must be mad.”
“Tell that to the Chief Magistrate.” Crump drew forth a pair of handcuffs, which closed with a snap and a spring. “The evidence against you is so overwhelming that the jury probably won’t even retire.”
“This is beyond infamous!” Willie stared at the cuffs. “Do you mean to lead poor Leda shackled through the streets? For shame, Mr. Crump!”
Crump fastened the cuffs around Leda’s wrists. “Interfering with the law is a serious offense, and I’m not unaware that you’ve been treating me to a rare mare’s nest. To what purpose, I might ask myself? Can it be you’re in this thing up to your own neck?”
Willie clutched his throat, the picture of dismay. “And to think I had thought I liked you, Mr. Crump!”
Leda gazed upon her shackled wrists. “So the jury won’t go out? You seem very sure of yourself.”
Crump was not to be goaded into mention of Lord Warwick’s valet, who professed himself willing to swear to Leda’s guilt in the witness box. “That I am.”
“Despair not, Leda!” Willie darted about the room. “We shall make it a cause célèbre. The world will rise up in arms to protest that Leda Langtry has been confined to Newgate, there to mingle with thieves and murderers and the like, and will clamor for your release. Meanwhile you’ll take notes as the scoundrels practice their dying speeches and smuggle those notes to me. We’ll have their last words in print before the wretches ever mount the scaffold.”
“It’s more likely you’ll be there yourself, my lad,” growled Crump, as he guided Leda toward the door. “Because I mean to look most particularly into your activities!”
“Mine!” Willie looked like a startled hare. “You are quite mistaken in me, Mr. Crump, but it is a very amiable fault for you to overvalue me so.” He glanced at Leda. “Have no fear! I’ll see you don’t hang, dear one, even if you did dispatch Warwick to his final rest, which I doubt. Your innocence must be apparent to any right-thinking man.”
“Right-thinking!” sputtered Crump, who with the reluctant Leda in tow had barely reached the doorway. “You think it right that you should interfere with the apprehension of a murderer?” Willie’s smile, a gesture
“Devil take you, make an end!” snapped Leda, and Willie paused mid-spate. She turned to Crump. “Out with it. Why are you here?”
“Leda, Leda!” Willie crooked an admonishing forefinger. “This is Mr. Crump’s opportunity to learn more of the newspaper world. Would you deny him? Think what benefit a knowledge of journalism might be to him in the fulfillment of his duties.” His eyes gleamed. “And think what benefit Mr. Crump might prove to us, being as it were on the inside! We might, with his assistance, publish detailed accounts of atrocious crimes before our competitors even knew they had occurred.”
“An excellent notion,” mused Leda. “What say you, Crump?”
The Runner reached into his coat pocket. “I say that I hold a warrant for your apprehension, Leda Langtry, on the charge of murdering Lord Warwick. You must consider yourself in custody.”
Willie screwed a tarnished monocle into one eye socket and regarded Crump. “I thought, old fellow, that you looked damned familiar! Now I remember that it was you who took Leda into custody before. I had on that occasion prudently taken refuge in the printing room but glimpsed you nonetheless. We will soon consider you quite one of the family.”
“Warwick’s murder?” Leda looked stunned. “You must be mad.”
“Tell that to the Chief Magistrate.” Crump drew forth a pair of handcuffs, which closed with a snap and a spring. “The evidence against you is so overwhelming that the jury probably won’t even retire.”
“This is beyond infamous!” Willie stared at the cuffs. “Do you mean to lead poor Leda shackled through the streets? For shame, Mr. Crump!”
Crump fastened the cuffs around Leda’s wrists. “Interfering with the law is a serious offense, and I’m not unaware that you’ve been treating me to a rare mare’s nest. To what purpose, I might ask myself? Can it be you’re in this thing up to your own neck?”
Willie clutched his throat, the picture of dismay. “And to think I had thought I liked you, Mr. Crump!”
Leda gazed upon her shackled wrists. “So the jury won’t go out? You seem very sure of yourself.”
Crump was not to be goaded into mention of Lord Warwick’s valet, who professed himself willing to swear to Leda’s guilt in the witness box. “That I am.”
“Despair not, Leda!” Willie darted about the room. “We shall make it a cause célèbre. The world will rise up in arms to protest that Leda Langtry has been confined to Newgate, there to mingle with thieves and murderers and the like, and will clamor for your release. Meanwhile you’ll take notes as the scoundrels practice their dying speeches and smuggle those notes to me. We’ll have their last words in print before the wretches ever mount the scaffold.”
“It’s more likely you’ll be there yourself, my lad,” growled Crump, as he guided Leda toward the door. “Because I mean to look most particularly into your activities!”
“Mine!” Willie looked like a startled hare. “You are quite mistaken in me, Mr. Crump, but it is a very amiable fault for you to overvalue me so.” He glanced at Leda. “Have no fear! I’ll see you don’t hang, dear one, even if you did dispatch Warwick to his final rest, which I doubt. Your innocence must be apparent to any right-thinking man.”
“Right-thinking!” sputtered Crump, who with the reluctant Leda in tow had barely reached the doorway. “You think it right that you should interfere with the apprehension of a murderer?” Willie’s smile, a gesture
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