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Authors: Bruce Alexander
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them are marked in just such a way on the back. Come here and I’ll show you, shall I?”
“No, Sir John has asked for me. Perhaps later.”
With that, I left her and jog-trotted up the stairs and down the hall to the little room he called his study. It was there that he went to consider and suppose. Dark and light were one to him, and so he sat most often in the dark as he thought. That, in any case, is how I found him on the evening in question.
“Is that you, Jeremy? Come, sit down. Light a candle, if you like.”
“No, I’ve no need,” said I, as I took a chair across the desk from him.
“I wanted to explain my dismissal of you earlier today.”
“I understood it, Sir John.”
“I hope you did. It was naught but my wish to get our friend Deuteronomy alone and get him talking that moved me to send you so roughly on your way.”
“Well,” said I, “you got him alone right enough. Did you get him talking?”
“Yes, and I did not like the sound of all I heard from him. I truly believe he would murder his sister if he were to come across her in his present state. I gave him a stern warning, yet, in truth, I’m not even sure he heard me, so overwhelmed was he by the news I had given him. He was certainly attached to that niece of his, wasn’t he?”
“He was indeed.”
“He’s claimed her body for burial at St. Paul’s, Covent Garden. I’d like you to attend the funeral service in case anything should turn up there. Find out when it will be held from those at the church, will you? Probably not until the day after tomorrow—tomorrow being Easter.”
“I will, Sir John.”
“You might even take Clarissa along to the funeral—with Lady Fielding’s approval, of course. Women seem to know how to behave on such occasions.” He sighed. “Let me see,” said he, “what else? I’d also like you to find out from Mr. Baker if Mr. Plummer is riding tomorrow. Baker often attends these meets, I believe. If Deuteronomy Plummer rides, I’d like you to attend and let yourself be seen by him. I want him to know that we are watching him, so that he does nothing foolish, nothing violent. You understand, I’m sure.”
“Indeed I do, sir.”
“And what, if anything, did you turn up in your search of that woman’s place—the one who got herself murdered? Katy Tiddle? Was that her name?”
“I found odds and ends. There are labels of one kind or another—nothing of interest there. But more promising is a pile of tickets and stubs, each one numbered—that is, they would be promising if I could figure out just what they are and what the numbers are for. Clarissa believes them to be pawn tickets.”
“Oh? Then no doubt she’s correct,” said he, pleasing me little. “When handling a case like this, Jeremy, it is important to keep at it diligently. Do something on it each day. It is only thus that we shall ever manage to solve it. And I assure you, lad, that indeed we shall solve it.” He hesitated, then added: “Why not proceed on the assumption that Clarissa is correct and see where that leads you?”
THREE
In which I view my first horse race, and the investigation begins
And so it came about that I went next day to Shepherd’s Bush in the company of Mr. Baker—or have I said that quite right? No, the way of it was that Mr. Baker—night jailer, armorer, and general keeper of quarters for the Bow Street Runners—told me the way there, even drew a rough map for me, and agreed to meet me there in midafternoon. Thus might he have the opportunity to take a few hours sleep before the first heat of the first race. He told me he had often done it so, for as I learned, he was quite passionately devoted to what was even then called by some “the sport of kings.” In all truth, I know not how George III, nor the late Louis of France, felt about the racing of horses round a specified course. I do know, however, that any man who gave to it the dedication and enthusiasm that Mr. Baker
“No, Sir John has asked for me. Perhaps later.”
With that, I left her and jog-trotted up the stairs and down the hall to the little room he called his study. It was there that he went to consider and suppose. Dark and light were one to him, and so he sat most often in the dark as he thought. That, in any case, is how I found him on the evening in question.
“Is that you, Jeremy? Come, sit down. Light a candle, if you like.”
“No, I’ve no need,” said I, as I took a chair across the desk from him.
“I wanted to explain my dismissal of you earlier today.”
“I understood it, Sir John.”
“I hope you did. It was naught but my wish to get our friend Deuteronomy alone and get him talking that moved me to send you so roughly on your way.”
“Well,” said I, “you got him alone right enough. Did you get him talking?”
“Yes, and I did not like the sound of all I heard from him. I truly believe he would murder his sister if he were to come across her in his present state. I gave him a stern warning, yet, in truth, I’m not even sure he heard me, so overwhelmed was he by the news I had given him. He was certainly attached to that niece of his, wasn’t he?”
“He was indeed.”
“He’s claimed her body for burial at St. Paul’s, Covent Garden. I’d like you to attend the funeral service in case anything should turn up there. Find out when it will be held from those at the church, will you? Probably not until the day after tomorrow—tomorrow being Easter.”
“I will, Sir John.”
“You might even take Clarissa along to the funeral—with Lady Fielding’s approval, of course. Women seem to know how to behave on such occasions.” He sighed. “Let me see,” said he, “what else? I’d also like you to find out from Mr. Baker if Mr. Plummer is riding tomorrow. Baker often attends these meets, I believe. If Deuteronomy Plummer rides, I’d like you to attend and let yourself be seen by him. I want him to know that we are watching him, so that he does nothing foolish, nothing violent. You understand, I’m sure.”
“Indeed I do, sir.”
“And what, if anything, did you turn up in your search of that woman’s place—the one who got herself murdered? Katy Tiddle? Was that her name?”
“I found odds and ends. There are labels of one kind or another—nothing of interest there. But more promising is a pile of tickets and stubs, each one numbered—that is, they would be promising if I could figure out just what they are and what the numbers are for. Clarissa believes them to be pawn tickets.”
“Oh? Then no doubt she’s correct,” said he, pleasing me little. “When handling a case like this, Jeremy, it is important to keep at it diligently. Do something on it each day. It is only thus that we shall ever manage to solve it. And I assure you, lad, that indeed we shall solve it.” He hesitated, then added: “Why not proceed on the assumption that Clarissa is correct and see where that leads you?”
THREE
In which I view my first horse race, and the investigation begins
And so it came about that I went next day to Shepherd’s Bush in the company of Mr. Baker—or have I said that quite right? No, the way of it was that Mr. Baker—night jailer, armorer, and general keeper of quarters for the Bow Street Runners—told me the way there, even drew a rough map for me, and agreed to meet me there in midafternoon. Thus might he have the opportunity to take a few hours sleep before the first heat of the first race. He told me he had often done it so, for as I learned, he was quite passionately devoted to what was even then called by some “the sport of kings.” In all truth, I know not how George III, nor the late Louis of France, felt about the racing of horses round a specified course. I do know, however, that any man who gave to it the dedication and enthusiasm that Mr. Baker
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