Foxe and the Path into Darkness

by William Savage

  ‘Blackmail?’ Lucy said.

  ‘I know you like that explanation,’ Foxe said, ‘but I have already explained why I think it unlikely. You may, of course, turn out to be right but I shall still look for alternatives. Whatever moved Belton to violence, it must have arisen that evening when Johnson went into his office, determined to confront him with all that he had discovered. I imagine Belton became enraged and struck him down. That seems to me the only rational explanation, even though it offers several problems.’

  ‘What problems are those?’

  ‘For a start, how did Belton get Johnson’s body down the stairs from his office and into the coal shed at the far side of the yard? Belton was not an especially sturdy man and was well into his fifties, I would say. Johnson was at least of similar height, judging from his body, though somewhat less rotund. It would be a significant task, especially without drawing attention to what you were doing. We know there was a night watchman on the premises after the employees had gone home.’

  For several minutes the two of them sat, faces creased up into frowns, and tried to find an answer to this puzzle. Suddenly, Lucy sat up and began to smile.

  ‘I know how it was done,’ she said, her voice full of excitement. ‘Johnson walked.’

  ‘Walked?’ Foxe said. ‘Why would he do that?’

  ‘Because, I imagine, Mr Belton was threatening him with something like a knife or a pistol. He probably told Johnson that his intention was simply to lock him in the coal shed while he left the building. Once he heard the night watchman on his rounds, Johnson could bang on the door and would be released. Then, once they got there, Belton snatched up some convenient object and struck Johnson down with it.’

  ‘I think you’re right, Lucy,’ Foxe said, now as excited as she was. ‘There were probably various bits and pieces of old fire-irons and the like in that shed. Belton could have grabbed one and hit out as Johnson turned towards him. All the employees would have gone home by then and the nightwatchman would not have been bothered by the sight of Johnson preceding his master across the yard. Besides, Johnson would never have suspected that Belton really intended to kill him.’

  ‘Even though he knew his master intended to imprison him?’ Lucy said. ‘That’s a poor way to silence someone, surely.’

  ‘Not if you intended to leave the city anyway. I suspect Belton’s plans to do so were already in place by then. All he would need to do was hasten them. No, that can’t be the answer. If he left at once, he could not take the bulk of the money he had amassed. It would have been far too heavy to carry on his own.’

  ‘What if Johnson turned and tried to wrestle with Belton to free himself,’ Lucy said, ‘Perhaps Belton hit him to prevent his escape but did so too violently. He went to look at Johnson after he fell and realised the man was dead. That would have made him panic so he would hurry to get as far away as he could.’

  ‘Once again you are ahead of me, dear Lucy.’ Foxe paused, but there was no rebuke for his slip. ‘Belton might have been able to persuade a magistrate that taking money from his own business was not theft, but nothing could protect him from the gallows if he was found to be a murderer. Oh, I could kiss you for being so clever!’

  ‘Please don’t, Ash,’ the young woman said hastily. ‘What if someone came in and saw you doing it? It would be terribly embarrassing.’

  ‘Then I will restrain myself,’ Foxe said, noting that she had not suggested that she personally would find the experience distasteful, ‘despite the strength of my wish to do so. Do you think we now have the complete picture of what went on that evening?’

  ‘I think perhaps we do. Even so, it doesn’t explain why Belton had been taking money from the firm for some weeks beforehand, does it?’

  ‘I think I can answer that,’ Foxe said. ‘What if he were planning to leave Norwich and start a new life somewhere else, taking as much money with him as he could? Everything we have been told about the man makes it plain that, when something went badly wrong or some plan of his failed, his automatic response was to drop the entire idea and try to move on to something else. During the course of the spring and summer his attempts to raise more money to bolster his personal finances had failed, as had his attempts to gain significant additional orders for his firm’s cloth. He’d also been the victim of a confidence trickster in a particularly embarrassing way. There was more. His term as mayor looked like being enough of a failure to provide endless ways in which his fellow aldermen and councillors could ridicule him for years to come. Even his wife would have nothing to do with him and was plotting against him—though he may not have known that, of course. I think he had formed a plan to amass as much money as he could, in secret, then leave the city and begin a new life elsewhere, probably under another name. When he had done that I cannot be sure, but my best guess would have been in July sometime. As each month passed, he felt a greater and greater urgency to amass still more money. That would explain his final attempt in September to raise a loan on his wife’s jewels.’

  ‘But when he found he had killed Johnson,’ Lucy interrupted, keen to show she was following Foxe’s idea on her own, ‘he had to flee, even though he was not yet ready and did not have enough money to hand. If all that is true, where do you think he is now, Ash?’

  ‘Many miles away, I imagine. He may have been forced to leave urgently but we are still most unlikely to be able to find him. If he stays wherever he is, he will be safe enough, though I don’t imagine he could have taken more than a fraction of the money he had accumulated with him as he fled.’

  ‘Are you saying we should abandon the hunt?’ Lucy said, obviously deeply disappointed at the idea.

  ‘By no means. Having taken such trouble and care to collect a significant amount of money for his new life, it’s quite possible he hopes to return to collect it. No, all this is merely surmise. It would be wrong to abandon the case on such a basis. If you agree, we will press on.’ By now, Lucy was nodding her head in frantic agreement. ‘Please tell your uncle that we are fairly certain that we now know what took place in the final weeks before the mayor disappeared. That it seems very likely that he was the one who killed Johnson as he was going to reveal what his employer was doing. Then say we are still uncertain about Belton’s whereabouts, or even if he is still alive, so we intend to press forward in new directions.’

  ‘If Belton was behind the ransom plot, he must have been alive then. Why not now?’ Lucy objected.

  ‘Once again, it comes down to “if” and perhaps …’ Foxe said, ‘we are rich in conjectures and woefully poor in facts, Lucy. Even Johnson’s murder cannot be laid firmly at Belton’s door.’

  ‘Can my uncle tell the other aldermen what we suspect?’ Lucy asked.

  ‘I think he should say nothing about the possibility of Belton being a murderer for the moment. It would do no good to raise a public hue and cry after him. Besides, we have no actual evidence that could support a prosecution. Ask him to stop at saying we suspect Belton was taking money in secret from his own business but have yet to discover the reason.’

  ‘Very good, Ash. That is what I shall tell him.’

  ‘One other point, Lucy. I promised to set the street children the task of seeking out Belton’s alleged mistress. I fear I have not yet done so. I sent a message asking Betty Furniss to come to see me this morning but, by the time I left, she had not been. According to one of the boys who haunts my footsteps, no one is quite sure where she is. I hope that, when I return home, she will either be there or will have left a message to say when she will come. I need to give the children detailed instructions to make sure they don’t frighten the lady and cause her to alert Belton—if he is still in Norwich or nearby, that is. Betty is the only one I can trust to organise things properly.’

  20

  Most of Foxe’s days began quietly, with a leisurely breakfast and a gentle walk around the marketplace, followed by coffee. Occasionally he found himself thrown into the midst of some unexpected activity and had to
forego his usual gentle entry into the day. The next morning fell into neither category. It began in a dramatic manner then reverted to the usual pattern, although only when it was too late to do more than walk briskly around the marketplace and return to his house to get on with other things.

  The dramatic element started as he was finishing his breakfast. Henry, his coachman, appeared unexpectedly to bring him the news that “the girl Betty” was waiting for him in the stable.

  ‘She didn’t go to the back door, master, ‘cos she knows Florence don’t like her any and tries to send her away if she can,’ Henry said. ‘She must’ve heard me movin’ about, so she come to me an’ asked me to tell you she was ‘ere. She says you wanted to speak to ‘er.’

  ‘I do indeed,’ Foxe said. ‘Go back to the stable and tell her I will be there in a few moments. I need to have certain words with Florence first. I can’t have a servant deciding whom I can talk with and whom I cannot, however much she dislikes that person. Do you know if Charlie is in the kitchen?’

  ‘Charlie? Yes, ‘e be there right enough.’

  ‘That explains it. Florence fears Charlie will see Betty and decide he prefers young ladies with a fuller figure. Poor Florence is sadly deficient in the matter of female curves.’

  When Foxe reached the stable, he found Betty Furniss nuzzling with the horse as usual, while Henry looked on with an indulgent eye. Hearing Foxe come in, Betty stopped what she was doing and began to apologise for not coming before.

  ‘I didn’t know you wanted me, Mr Foxe,’ she said. ‘The boys couldn’t find me ‘cos none of them knew where I was. What ‘appened was this, you see. One of the girls, a tart like all the rest, took real sick and seemed like enough to die. We couldn’t let her crawl into some corner and die all alone, could we? So, me and some of the other girls carried ‘er to St George’s churchyard. The sexton there ‘as a kind of shed where ‘e keeps ‘is tools. We put ‘er inside an’ wrapped ‘er up in as many bits of blanket and cloth as we could find. Then we sat with ‘er, stroking ‘er face and ‘ands and talkin’ to her all gentle like. I was ‘olding ‘er in my arms when she died early this mornin’, Mr Foxe. She didn’t ‘ave much of a life, poor mite, but at least we made sure she didn’t die all alone.’

  ‘Don’t worry, Betty. What you were doing was much more important than anything I could want. Where did you put the poor girl’s body?’

  ‘We left ‘er where she was,’ Betty replied. ‘Sexton will find ‘er sooner or later and probably bury ‘er somewhere in the churchyard.’

  ‘Henry,’ Foxe said to the coachman. ‘Betty will show you where this girl’s corpse is. Take these two guineas, find the vicar or curate of the church and tell him they’re to pay for giving the girl a decent Christian burial. Don’t take no for an answer. She was as much one of God’s children as the greatest lady in the land. Tell him I shall have severe words with the archdeacon about any clergyman I find neglecting his duty by refusing her proper burial. Betty can’t go on her own because he’d either drive her away without listening to what she wanted or take her to the magistrate and claim she had stolen the money. Make sure you tell the parson who sent you. I’m well enough known in this city for him to realise I don’t make empty threats.’

  ‘Yes, master. I’ll put the real fear ‘o God into ‘im,’ the coachman said with relish.

  Betty was staring at Foxe in stunned amazement.

  ‘Why’re you doing this?’ she said. ‘You never even knew Daisy.’

  ‘Was that her name? No, I never knew her, but that doesn’t matter. I know of her now, and that is quite enough. I won’t have her thrown into some pauper’s grave after all you and the others tried to do for her. I may not have been able to help her in life but I can surely see she’s treated decently after she’s died. That’s all I’m doing, Betty, and I’m glad to do it.’

  ‘Mr Foxe,’ Betty said through her tears. ‘You’re … you’re … wonderful. Quite wonderful!’

  ‘I’m just a man like other men. The only difference is that I have a conscience and the means to do as it tells me. Now, to business. I need you and the children to find someone for me. I don’t know her name or even exactly what she does. All I have is a third-hand description of a young widow, perhaps around twenty-five years of age, who keeps a shop that was left to her by her grandmother quite recently. It may be a shop which sells glassware and ornaments. It may sell something else. The only information I have on its location is that it is probably somewhere in the general area of Pottergate. It’s really important that she’s found, and quickly. Here’s two sixpences and eight pennies to give to those who search and sixpence for yourself. Do you think you can find her for me?’

  ‘After what you just done for Daisy, Mr Foxe, me and the children would find you anyone you wanted in any part of this city. Don’t you worry. We’ll find ‘er, make no mistake about it.’

  ‘One more thing. It’s vital that none of you approach her in any way or do anything that makes her aware that she’s been identified. There may just be a man hiding out with her whom I specially want to talk to. If he gets the least hint that I’m on to him, he’ll flee from this city and I’ll never find him. Have you got that?’

  ‘Don’t let ‘er know she’s bin rumbled. Keep well back and tell you where she is. That right?’

  ‘Quite right, Betty. Now go on your way and take Henry to the churchyard before you do anything else. I shan’t rest easy until I know that Daisy is to be given a proper burial.’

  Foxe walked back inside, deep in thought. Might Belton really be hiding in his mistress’s house? It seemed unlikely but it felt best at the time he was giving Betty her instructions to take such a possibility into account. As he walked around the marketplace later, he kept turning the idea over and over in his mind. What did it matter if this young woman knew she had been located? If Belton had already left the city without her, she’d be most unlikely to know where he’d gone. Nevertheless, he wanted to speak with her anyway in case she knew something that might be of use. What he needed to do now was work out the best means of approaching her and persuading her to talk to him.

  Even so … there remained just the barest possibility Belton was still hiding in the city. If he’d fled once he’d hidden Johnson’s body, as Foxe assumed was quite likely, he surely couldn’t have taken all the money he’d amassed with him. Coins were heavy. Nor would he want to be walking around carrying a small fortune in banker’s drafts or similar paper on his person. All the while he was collecting together the means of starting a new life in reasonable comfort, he must have been hiding what he had stolen somewhere safe.

  Suppose he had left the city. Foxe would take a large bet that at least some of his ill-gotten gains had been left behind. If that was so, wouldn’t he come back as soon as he could to collect them?

  When he got back home, Foxe took twenty guineas, the most he had in the house, put them in a small leather bag and weighed them in his hand. Even such a small amount would be uncomfortable to carry in a pocket. Five such bags—a hundred guineas—might be carried in a sack but it would weigh you down a great deal. They would also clink at every step. Norwich was full of thieves. A man carrying a bag heavy with coins would attract them like wasps to a pot of jam. Banker’s drafts would solve the problem of weight, but would need to be obtained in ways which would not draw unwanted attention. By Foxe’s very crude calculations, Belton had amassed something like five hundred pounds. A hundred years of wages for a chambermaid or ten years for a curate. You couldn’t turn up at a banker’s office with as little as fifty pounds and ask for a banker’s draft for the same amount without being asked some very searching questions. Keeping the individual amount down to, say, ten pounds at a time would necessitate fifty visits to a bank. No, to several banks. Collecting so many banker’s drafts in person would also risk causing gossip. There were quite a few banks in Norwich so visiting most of them once or twice would be possible but doing so would definitely take a considerable time. Johnson
’s death had probably thrown all Belton’s plans into disarray. Looked at from his point of view, fleeing from the city almost at once had to be the least desirable option as it would mean leaving the vast bulk of the money he had stolen behind. Nor would returning to collect it be that attractive. To do so might well demand ten or more visits, each one carrying the risk of detection.

  The conclusion had to be that Belton was still in the city somewhere. The more he thought about it, the more certain Foxe became. Someone would also need to be hiding him. He couldn’t go out himself even to buy food without being spotted and identified. It all pointed to this mysterious mistress of his as the likeliest person to be helping to keep him safely out of sight.

  Foxe devoted the rest of that day to his shop, his accounts and above all to Charlie Dillon, his apprentice. Henry had said he was in the kitchen earlier, which meant it wasn’t a day for one of his lessons in bookbinding.

  He found Charlie helping Mrs Crombie in the shop, took him aside into the stockroom and spent more than an hour talking with him about his progress in the skills of bookbinding and asking whether his master was satisfied with his progress. Finding that all was going well and that Charlie had been told he would soon be fully competent to work unsupervised, they talked about the next stage. Foxe had in mind to add an extension to the building holding the shop and workroom. There was just room on the plot, by his reckoning. He would have space made equipped with benches, tools and everything else needed by a bookbinder. Charlie could work there but still feel one of the household and wander through into the shop from time to time to talk with Mrs Crombie and the others. Someone else would be found to do the fetching and carrying he did at present for Mrs Crombie.