Foxe and the Path into Darkness

by William Savage

  ‘The money had to be paid right away, last night, it seems,’ Foxe added. ‘Perhaps Alderman Harris feared that, if he ignored the demand, some harm might come to the mayor and he would be blamed.’

  ‘Don’t try to defend the man,’ Halloran said, his voice shaking with anger. ‘Don’t you agree that it was a hoax? For a start, even Belton was worth more than a hundred guineas, especially taking into account the embarrassment the city is suffering by his unexplained absence. And why be in such a rush for a paltry sum like that? It makes no sense.’

  ‘It does seem most likely to have been a crude hoax,’ Foxe replied calmly. ‘Perhaps the man the constables seized as he came to collect the money has something to tell us that might be useful. It seems he is in the Bridewell, though in what state I cannot imagine. I was told they beat him severely before dragging him away.’

  ‘Yes,’ Halloran said, ‘they would. But how do you know all this, Foxe? Were you there? Couldn’t you have intervened?’

  ‘I was fast asleep in my bed. The news of what was afoot reached me by several routes, so I decided at once to set some of the street children to watch. I’d been told that Harris wanted to keep it a secret. I definitely wasn’t to know. Of course, some of those around him picked up on what he was planning and couldn’t wait to tell Mrs Crombie in the shop. She told me.’

  ‘The street children again. You use them a great deal, don’t you?’

  ‘I do and they rarely let me down. In this case, they hid unnoticed and saw all that happened. Their leader brought me their report less than an hour ago and I hastened here to tell you.’

  ‘I’m damned glad you did too! I’ll be off right away to tell the other members of the committee. They’ll be as angry as I am. We’ll make sure Harris and his associates are suitably reprimanded. Will you walk with me, Foxe? It’s on your way home?’

  ‘With your agreement, Halloran, I very much wanted to spend a few minutes with Miss Lucy while I’m here.’

  ‘Lucy? But of course, Foxe. You didn’t need to ask, you know. You’re a close friend of the family and can speak to any of us at any time. Come into the hall and I’ll tell Perkins to find her for you.’

  In fact, that proved unnecessary. Mrs Halloran was passing and her husband asked her to send a maid for Lucy to tell her Mr Foxe wanted to speak with her.

  ‘Of course I will,’ Mrs Halloran said. ‘Lucy will be delighted to see dear Mr Foxe again.’

  Foxe doubted that was true, but said nothing.

  ‘Go back into the library, Foxe,’ Halloran said. ‘Lucy will come to you there. Get her to tell someone to bring you some coffee. Sorry to rush away but you know why.’

  7

  When Lucy came in, she indeed looked very far from pleased to see Foxe again. She was also accompanied by a maidservant who crossed the room to sit behind and slightly to one side of her mistress. The two of them faced Foxe like two magistrates about to hand down a lengthy sentence on a malefactor.

  ‘You wish to talk to me, Mr Foxe?’ Lucy said coldly. ‘Very well, here I am.’

  Despite the coldness in her voice, Foxe felt an involuntary jolt of excitement at the sight of her. It’s no use, he told himself. It’s as Mistress Tabby said. I am deeply and hopelessly in love with Miss Lucy Halloran. None of the women I have been with before—and there have been many, God knows—have had such an effect on me. I only pray that I can recover from what was a true disaster at the start and bring her to see that I am not the selfish, self-centred oaf she believes me to be.

  ‘I would really prefer to speak with you on your own, Miss Lucy,’ Foxe said as calmly as he could. ‘There may be confidential matters to be discussed.’

  ‘I hardly think you would talk with me about anything truly confidential,’ came the reply. ‘Besides, this is my chaperone.’

  Ouch! That was definitely a low blow. Foxe realised he must have managed to make the young woman even more angry with him than he had imagined. But why had his seeming indifference to her absence overseas produced such an extreme result? Coldness he could understand; this willingness to wound him he could not. Very well, he’d do his best under the circumstances, starting with a demonstration that he was not going to either plead with her or return blow for blow. He directed his gaze towards the maid.

  ‘What is your name, young lady?’ he asked her.

  ‘Susan, sir.’

  ‘I’m pleased to make your acquaintance, Susan,’ he replied. ‘My name is Ashmole Foxe.’

  ‘I knows that, sir,’ she said. ‘Everyone in Norwich knows who you are.’

  ‘Then we are even,’ Foxe said. ‘I know your name and you know mine.’

  He turned back to Lucy at that point to catch a fleeting look of amusement on her face, though it was quickly replaced by a frown when she saw he was directing his attention to her again.

  Foxe took a deep breath. This was his best chance to make things right. He’d thought about little else since he had first seen Miss Lucy on her return. Now the ideas he had formulated would either succeed or fail. If they failed, he might not get a second chance.

  ‘I hope you haven’t come to say what I think you might,’ Lucy said. ‘If you have, I can tell you that I don’t want to hear it.’

  ‘I very much doubt that what I want to ask you will be expected,’ Foxe replied in a level tone. ‘It is not about myself anyway. You will know that your uncle has asked me to try to solve the mystery surrounding Mayor Belton’s disappearance?’

  Lucy simply nodded assent.

  ‘I want to ask you if you would be willing to help me in two most important ways. I believe this business will prove far more complex and harder to disentangle than appears on the surface. In most situations I have been in before, the necessary areas to be explored have been reasonably clear from the start. Here they are not. I feel sure it is neither a straightforward kidnapping nor any kind of personal attack. What lies behind the mayor’s sudden disappearance I do not know. At present, all I can think is that the solution, if it can be found, will lie somewhere in the man’s background and character.’

  ‘All quite fascinating,’ Lucy said, ‘but I hardly see how my help can be needed.’ Yet despite those words, Foxe was sure she was becoming more interested by the moment. No one with her intelligence could remain aloof from such a mare’s nest of a mystery.

  ‘In all my cases,’ he replied, ‘I have received a great deal of vital information from unexpected sources, often from casual remarks picked up by someone who knows what I am interested in. Someone who is clever enough to realise that what they have just heard might well be a clue of the utmost importance. Let me give you an example. I came here today to see your uncle and tell him of something of which he was totally unaware. It has now sent him scurrying off to apprise his fellow aldermen of the news and urge them to action. I learned of it because, yesterday morning, Mrs Crombie, whom you know, picked up some gossip in the bookshop which put her on alert. She summoned me to hear it as quickly as possible. Fortunately, I was then able to take action to prevent someone else’s ill-considered actions from further compromising this situation. My plan, such as it was, succeeded and so no real harm was done.’

  ‘What was this vital piece of news?’ Lucy asked. Was she still more interested or did she believe that he was telling her some exaggerated tale? Foxe couldn’t be sure.

  ‘That a ransom note had been received concerning the mayor and a sum of money demanded at once. As I heard it, this note had been sent to a particular alderman who had decided to keep the news to himself and provide the ransom required, in the belief that, by doing so, he could seize the kidnapper and secure the mayor’s release.’

  ‘And considerable glory for himself, no doubt,’ Lucy said. ‘What ransom was demanded?’

  ‘A hundred guineas.’

  ‘Then it must have been a hoax. Of course, if he had been instructed to do everything in secret, it might have been a trap to lure the alderman into doing something that would cause him embarrassment
afterwards; if, say, the mayor was found dead and a rumour was spread that the alderman’s refusal to pay a ransom was the cause.’

  ‘I never even thought of that,’ Foxe said in wonder. ‘You may well be correct. However, he agreed to pay and it was arranged that the money was to be left at a certain spot in the market place for collection.’

  ‘So, you went there and intervened,’ Lucy said.

  ‘Not at all. I went to see a new play at the theatre then straight home to my bed. I contacted the street children and told them to set a secret guard on the spot and tell me this morning what had taken place. That is what they did and I came straight here to tell your uncle.’

  ‘Not those dreadful urchins who lurk around the streets, stealing and picking pockets, surely.’

  ‘They are just children, Miss Lucy,’ Foxe said simply. ‘Children who have fallen on the hardest of times and must do whatever they can to survive. None of them, I’m sure, would choose to live the life they do. They are forced to sleep in corners and old sheds or in the porches of churches. As a result, they are always half-frozen, as well as being tormented by hunger. The people who do notice them drive them off with curses or blows. Sometimes they’re seized and handed over to the tender mercies of the Overseers of the Poor, but these are often the very people they have fled from in the first place. True, some, mostly the boys, steal and pick pockets, while the girls earn a few pence in the most obvious way open to a female on the streets. I help them as much as I can, mostly by handing out a few pence at a time. I dare not hand over a larger sum. Adult ruffians would have it from them within moments. I’m sure they are pleased with what I give them, but it is the least of my gifts.’

  By this time, Lucy was staring at Foxe with eyes wide in amazement.

  ‘What else do you give them then?’ she asked. ‘What could they value more than money to buy food?’

  ‘I give them respect. I do not judge them by the situation they have been forced into. In return, they help me in ways such as I have already explained. They have also arranged for some of their number to constitute what amounts to a constant bodyguard. Wherever I go in the city, a few of them will always be discreetly following me. If anyone assaulted me, one would run for help—probably to Bart—and the others would come to my defence. You would be surprised how much damage a group of angry children can inflict on even a grown man. When Bart came, as he would, it would go very hard indeed with my attackers.’

  ‘Bart?’ Lucy asked. ‘Who is Bart?’

  ‘You know of Mistress Tabby?’

  ‘Of course. Everyone knows of the Wise Woman.’

  ‘Bart is Mistress Tabby’s servant and protector,’ Foxe explained. ‘He’s a massive fellow with the strength of several men in his limbs but the mind of a child. Still, to those he knows and likes, he is kindness itself. You couldn’t ask for a more useful or loyal person about you. He too has given me great assistance on many occasions.’

  ‘Do these street children have a leader?’ Lucy asked.

  ‘Certainly. Most either barely knew a parent or were wretchedly abused by any they did know. The same is true of any masters who were given charge of them. They cling together for warmth at night and for protection and, like all human beings, they crave affection as much as food. That’s why their leader is nearly always an older girl, who can act as the mother each of them lacks. The present leader is called Betty Furniss. She, like most of her predecessors, is a street prostitute, yet still a sweet and intelligent girl. I have already offered her my help to find a more stable and respectable life, when she decides what she would like to do. I have taken two former street children into my own household as servants and found another a place amongst the Norwich Company of Comedians. I have little doubt that I can help Betty too, when the time comes.

  ‘“A sweet and intelligent girl”, you call her? I can hardly believe you would even deign to speak to a common prostitute, let alone use such words of one of that kind.’

  ‘Why not? She is a human being, as we all are. Some of us are fortunate to have been born into better circumstances, that’s all.’

  Lucy swung around to speak to Susan. ‘Did you know Mr Foxe befriended the street children in this way?’ she demanded.

  ‘Yes, Miss Lucy,’ the maid replied. ‘I know he doesn’t want it to be known as a source of praise for him but most of us servants are well aware of his kindness to these poor wretches. The street children think he is a saint. They would do anything for him.’

  Lucy turned back to Foxe. ‘You have surprised me beyond measure, Mr Foxe,’ she said. ‘I know you came to ask me something but I do not think I can deal with anything else of a surprising nature right at the moment, since you said what you wanted would not be what I expected. Please allow me time to think all this over. You can return tomorrow, if you wish, and we will continue where we left off. In the meantime, I have a single piece of advice for you on where to start your investigations. See what you can discover about the clerk who disappeared. I think that will be useful to you.’

  ‘I had forgotten about the clerk.’

  ‘That may prove to have been a mistake,’ Lucy said. ‘You are not the only person who can make enquiries. I sought out information on this man on my own initiative and have found it quite confusing. I’m sure there’s more to be discovered.’

  ‘You’ve done your own investigating?’

  ‘Why not? When you return, I may tell you what I have found ... if you do not adopt as superior a manner as you have just done. For now, I will bid you farewell.’

  Foxe rose in obedience to her words, stung by her rebuke. He had come to make peace, not antagonise her further. He must truly tread on eggshells if he hoped to restore her positive view of him. However, as he turned to go, he had some final things to say.

  ‘Farewell, Miss Lucy. Thank you for agreeing to speak with me. I might be able to return tomorrow but, if not, I will send a message to arrange another convenient time. Farewell to you as well, Susan. I am most glad to have made your acquaintance and hope to see you again very soon.’

  ‘G’bye, Mr Foxe,’ the maid managed to mutter, her face bright red with blushes. Then she turned and fled from the room.

  LUCY RETURNED to her own room after Foxe had gone. She needed peace and quiet to rearrange her thoughts and calm her emotions. There were many philanthropists in Norwich who devoted some of their time and money to try to improve the state of the poor. However, she knew of none who had so radically departed from the conventional thinking of the time. It was held that the poor were in that state because they were somehow inferior to the rest of humankind. It took a man like Mr Foxe to treat them with the same respect that he would extend to anyone else.

  Has she been guilty too of dismissing the poor as of little account? She knew it was true and now felt thoroughly ashamed of herself. So, what did his actions make Mr Foxe? A saint, as Susan said the street children thought him to be? Hardly, given his many affairs and obvious delight in female company. Weren’t saints supposed to be single-minded and celibate? That could never apply to Mr Foxe! Perhaps he was simply a man whose mind was so independent that he could free himself from the common viewpoint and see the world as it really was.

  She left that source of speculation and turned to something much closer to her heart. It was the simple fact that Foxe had returned and asked to talk with her.

  After the outrageous way in which she had snubbed him the last time they met, she had expected he would want nothing more than to keep well away from similar experiences in the future. Yet, he had not only returned and requested to speak with her in private but even asked her to play a part in his investigation. She had made a feeble excuse to send him away simply because her mind and emotions were in such turmoil at that point that she didn’t know what to say or do.

  Why had he come back? Why was he trying to involve her in something that must be extremely important to him? She could not answer either of these questions. All she did know was that she was unques
tionably delighted and relieved that he had spoken thus.

  8

  As soon as he got home, his mind still torn between hope and despair, Foxe sent Henry, his groom, to bear a message to Mrs Belton, asking for an urgent meeting with whichever employees at Belton’s Worsted had known the chief clerk best. Lucy had been right. He really should have approached such people at the warehouse before now. They were bound to know a good deal about Johnson and what had gone on in the business during the course of the year. Ah well, better late than never, he supposed. If only his mind were not so befuddled! Asking for permission from Mrs Belton was just a matter of courtesy. He had no real idea who might be in charge until Belton reappeared, so didn’t know who else to ask. It seemed churlish simply to turn up and start asking people to leave their work to talk to him.

  Henry returned with the response that Mrs Belton would be perfectly willing to allow Mr Foxe to talk with Comiston, the bookkeeper, who was now the only remaining person who knew Johnson well, having worked alongside him for many years. However, she would like to speak with Mr Foxe herself first. Unfortunately, she would be engaged on other matters until early afternoon the next day. If he would be so good as to come to Belton’s warehouse, she would see him at around two o’clock in the afternoon. She was having to spend a good deal of time at the business at present, since her husband’s disappearance had left things in some disarray. After their meeting, she would call Comiston to talk with him.

  That gave Foxe a free morning, so he decided to take his usual walk around the marketplace and call at the coffeehouse. It seemed a long time since he had followed what had been his nearly invariable routine. It was a walk he found both enjoyable and refreshing. The bustle of the marketplace, the sight of the great keep of the castle looming above the houses on the far side and the hope of enjoyable conversation over coffee.

  The moment he entered the coffeehouse he saw his friend, Captain Brock, seated at a table by the far window, so he naturally went over at once to join him.