by Will Thomas
“I don’t know,” she admitted. “Perhaps my parents have had things their own way for a while.”
“They’d have to be barmy to toss away so beautiful a daughter.”
“How you talk, sir. Perhaps they need to have their perch shaken a bit, if that isn’t too mean-spirited. I have done nothing to warrant censure. My parents would have defended me against anything when I was married to Asher.”
“Leave it to me, then, my employer and me. Between us, we’re awfully good at shaking birds from perches.”
“It cuts, I must confess. He’s my papa. Protecting me or my reputation should not stop merely because I married a Gentile.”
“No, it shouldn’t,” I said.
“Do you forgive me for keeping a secret from you?”
“Rebecca, I’d forgive you anything.”
She dabbed her eyes, folded my handkerchief and gave it back to me with a sniff. Her eyes were red from crying.
“Do you feel better?” I asked.
“I do. I’ve been carrying that burden around for months.”
“You should have told me the moment you knew. We must have no secrets between us.”
“No secrets,” she promised.
“Just trust me.”
“But you’re so different from Asher, you see,” she said, sitting down on the settee. “He didn’t care what mattered to me or what I thought as long as I kept a proper house and invited the right people to tea. You don’t care a fig about those things.”
“I don’t have a high regard for our species as a whole. If I have to live according to someone else’s expectations, then already he has not lived up to mine. Your father is so concerned that this group shouldn’t associate with that group, and yet if he were treated that way, I’m sure he would consider himself ill-used.”
“That’s Papa. He always worries about supporting his family. Mama loves her house and servants and nice china, and he must be on good terms with everyone and work hard to meet our needs.”
“Not your needs,” I said. “I’m taking care of those myself now.”
“Yes,” she said, touching my sleeve.
My mind wandered for a moment. “I’m not the ideal son-in-law, but he might trouble to get to know me before he condemns me. That’s how it works for most people I know.”
She laughed again. “You’re terrible, you know. You always make yourself out to be a fool. Everyone underestimates you.”
“I prefer it that way. Some of my East End associates need not know that I quote Keats and Shelley, and some of my West End associates need not know that I carry a sword cane. Not everyone is entitled to know everything about me. Or us.”
“That sounds like hard-won advice. Did you acquire that philosophy in prison?”
“Rebecca, until you came along, the entire earth was my prison.”
She took my hand in hers and held it tight, running a finger along the lines in my palm.
“You will do your best to keep safe, won’t you?”
“I’ll take precautions, such as they are,” I replied. “You haven’t reconciled yourself to my work yet, have you?”
“You can’t change. I understand that. The occupation has overtaken you and now you can’t quit. It’s true, I’d rather you were a stockbroker. It’s much easier than telling my friends you are an enquiry agent. But then, as you said, you’re not here to meet their expectations, are you?”
“Precisely.”
“You know, I’m starting to agree with you. People can be so petty. Perhaps I’m taking their opinions too much to heart. I have you. What else do I need?”
“At last, we agree on something,” I said.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
I returned to Whitehall so quickly that even Barker looked surprised. He was standing by the coatrack and had begun to don his heavy overcoat when I entered.
“Is the matter with Mrs. Llewelyn concluded?” he asked.
“Not yet, but it shall be soon. Where are we going?”
“Finbury Park.”
I snapped my fingers. “The American evangelist, Cochran.”
“Precisely.”
When we reached Finbury, we found the tent fully assembled and people making preparation for the evening event. However, there was no sign of Cochran himself. We began asking one man after another where he could be found. Finally, we were directed to a small public house nearby, where we found Cochran in a corner drinking nothing stronger than lemonade. He was a little over thirty and he reminded me of a matinee idol, with good features and hair neatly parted and pomaded behind each ear. However, he was a spindly fellow beneath that theatrical chin. At some point, perhaps, his body would mature and he would become the sort of fellow women follow with their eyes, if not their hearts.
“Sir,” Barker said, bowing.
Cochran looked up from what I presumed were the notes for his sermon. He rose while trying to turn over in his mind just who these two men were, the taller one especially. I’d seen that look on a thousand faces by then and would see a few thousand more.
“May I help you, gentlemen?”
I stepped around the Guv and put our business card in his hand. Barker sat, in spite of the protest of the captain’s chair beneath him. Going to a table nearby, I pulled a chair closer to them. Meanwhile the evangelist ingested the novel term “private enquiry agent” and tried to make sense of it.
“Are you gentlemen with Scotland Yard?”
“No, sir,” Barker said. “Not in this matter. However, we have cooperated with them in the past. Our offices are but one street apart. We are working for a family who has just lost their son. Hillary Drummond was his name. He had arrived in Charing Cross from Germany mere minutes before his death a couple of days ago.
“Who is this Drummond fellow?”
“He was working for the government.”
“How did he die?”
“He was trampled by a horse and carriage after he had been run through with a sword.”
Cochran raised a brow. “What did he do to deserve such a fate?”
“That is what we have been hired to determine. We have been questioning anyone who had recently arrived from Germany. The government has been kind enough to give us a list. We understand you came here from Berlin.”
“Yes, I did,” Cochran said, leaning forward and clasping his pale and bony hands. “We had a very successful tour: Hamburg, Berlin, Leipzig, Nuremberg, and Heidelberg. Many souls were saved. The country is ripe for the Lord’s work.”
“No doubt,” Barker said. “Did you acquire any new workers or assistants during your tour who might have followed you here?”
“You suspect someone in my camp following?”
“Everyone on the list must be questioned. It is my profession. No one bears you or your followers any ill will.”
“I wish that were so. Europe has become decadent. The cities I have spoken in have been sophisticated and prosperous. They have also teemed with vice the way a ghetto teems with rodents. They are a far cry from my home in Albany. I hope England shall prove to be a more pious nation, sir.”
“Are there any Germans with you?” the Guv asked.
“None.”
I stopped taking notes and looked over my notebook at Cochran.
“Who translated your sermons while you were in Berlin?” I asked.
“No one. I speak German. My parents immigrated to New York from Bavaria. My brother and I were raised in a community among hundreds of Germans.”
“Are you sympathetic to the German cause, rather than the English one?”
“I’m not unsympathetic. After all, I have German blood, and not a drop of English.” Cochran frowned and looked down at his feet. I could almost hear the wheels and cogs turning in his head. “What do you want, Mr. Barker? I have a sermon to finish.”
“As I said, I am investigating a murder.”
“Am I a suspect?”
“Mr. Cochran—”
“Reverend Cochran.”
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bsp; “Reverend Cochran, your name appears on a list provided by the government. My work, as I see it, is to eliminate suspects from that list until I am down to one. Provide me with a proper explanation of your business here and we shall be on our way to question someone else. When did you arrive in London?”
“Three nights ago.”
“The night before Drummond’s death,” my employer said. “Where are you staying?”
“The Savoy.”
I coughed. He was staying in the grandest, newest, and best-appointed hotel in London, if not all the British Isles. Cochran looked at me as if I accused him of something, which I hadn’t. That is, not yet.
“I was exhausted from the trip,” he answered. “I slept until nearly nine, then ate my breakfast late.”
Barker nodded, as if this were natural, which I suppose it was; the clergy keeps irregular hours.
“Did you break your fast with your colleagues?” I asked. “They may be able to vouch for your presence.”
Cochran’s cheeks turned pink. “I saw them around noon. They were staying at a hotel nearby.”
“Oh, really?” I asked. “What hotel is that?”
“The Metropole.”
The hotel was in a bystreet not far from the Savoy. I’d been there a time or two on a case. It did not quite have an unsavory reputation, but I would not put a group of religious followers there.
“So, you were not seen,” I said.
“Ah, but the staff at the Savoy will remember me.”
“Aye,” Barker said, “but the staff is very discreet there. I’ll wager they would say you were not there if you were, but I’m not certain they would corroborate a guest has been there.”
I glanced at my employer. One corner of his mustache was higher than the other. He was enjoying this exchange.
“I was there!” Cochran continued. He was clearly nettled.
“We’ll go to the hotel later, Reverend. You did say ‘Reverend,’ did you not? What denomination is that?”
“It is no denomination. We are the One True Church!”
“The One True Church? You mean there was none until you started your crusade?”
Cochran frowned. “No, that is the name of our church, the One True Church.”
“So, yours is not the real One True Church. That is merely the name you have chosen.”
“That is correct.”
“Then what happened between the Lord’s death and resurrection and a few years ago when you began this church?”
“There is an unbroken line of martyrs in their fight against the Whore of Babylon!” he replied.
“These martyrs, are they a continuous procession of saints or did they come along piecemeal?”
“It does not matter, sir. It was the ideas they brought with them and developed, one concept upon another.”
“I see.”
Cochran frowned. “Anyway, this discussion has nothing to do with whatever you have come for.”
“That is so, sir,” my employer remarked. “We have gone off on a tangent. Tell me, have you heard of the words ‘Mensur’ or ‘Mensurites’?”
“No, sir, I have not,” Cochran said, showing signs of impatience.
“Did you notice any group of men, especially young men in uniforms, while you were preaching in Germany?”
“A few, as I recall. Military outfits, you know, frogged jackets and the like. Caps. Not the same each time. Green, blue, black. Rather smart-looking uniforms. I didn’t know why they had come or who they were.”
“Did you preach a particular message while you were there?” the Guv asked.
Cochran shifted in his chair. It was hard wood, and uncomfortable, not unlike a pew, in fact.
“I preached the same message I’m preaching tonight: The Downfall of the Whore of Babylon and the Return of Christ.”
“Do you mean the downfall of the Roman Catholic Church?” Barker asked, his hands folded over the head of his stick.
“I do.”
“And who then shall rise?”
“The Teutonic race, of course.”
My employer glanced at me, as if a theory had been confirmed.
“You have found a topic of interest to the public, I am sure.”
“We’ve filled the tent every night. Two services, in fact. I hope we’ll have three on both Saturday and Sunday.”
“Have you noted any suspicious persons about during your tent meetings here?”
“A few protesters. Catholics. A few Jews.”
“Why Jews?” I asked. “I mean, what concern would they have with your preaching there?”
“We marched through the City and the East End,” he replied. “A procession of sorts, to drum up interest.”
“Did it work?” I asked.
“It did. Our camp meeting is free. It is good for the soul. It is uplifting and pure. We even hired an omnibus to ferry people here.”
Free entertainment with transportation? What East Ender would refuse? Of course, many of them—the bricklayers, dockworkers, matchmakers, and sugar refiners—would be glad to discover they were Teutonic, the pure race who would eventually inherit the earth. A man who works sixty or seventy hours a week would be glad to hear that.
“That is reassuring,” Barker said. It was as close as I’d seen him come to sarcasm.
“You should attend!” Cochran said.
“Thank you, Reverend. We should be glad to.”
Cochran shot me a glance as if to say “I dare you.” Not to Barker; but to me, personally. I did not think I had been particularly rude to him. In fact, I had bitten my lips a half-dozen times.
“Well, sir,” my employer said, rising from his seat. “Thank you for your time and your invitation. Your answers were honest and forthright. We shall let you finish your sermon. Come, Thomas.”
We turned and left. Barker shook his head.
“Let me get this right,” I said. “The Teutonic races, that is, the Germans, the Baltic States, the English and the Americans, shall take over the earth, civilize it, create a utopia, then present it to a grateful Christ, who will say, ‘Well done, good and faithful servant.’”
“I hate to see Scripture twisted in order to prove a theory.”
“Mensurites,” I remarked. “He saw Mensurites in Europe.”
“He would. They are in the open there. Speaking of which, I assume Cochran’s camp meetings for the poor are subsidized by meetings for the rich and curious. It is not only the deprived who want entertainment, and an American revival meeting might be diverting to some.”
“Perhaps Cochran bought or stole the manuscript and hoped to use it as a talking point in his sermon. Drummond stole it or acquired it somehow, and took it to England. Cochran came to get it back and brought some youths with him from Heidelberg. They killed Drummond here, in London and now they are stowed away in a hotel nearby, hunting for the manuscript, and waiting to either depart or to join the ranks, so to speak. Perhaps Cochran has even promised to take them to America and resettle them.”
“Perhaps,” Barker conceded. “But you are speculating.”
“It was just a theory. I wish we could find one of those Mensurites and make him explain why he is here and who brought him.”
“How is your German?” the Guv asked.
“Rudimentary,” I answered. “It was necessary to read at Oxford. I studied it from a copy of Popular Educator. Afterward, I lost most of it. There was no one to practice with, you see. If one doesn’t use it, one forgets.”
“A pity.”
“That doesn’t mean I can’t work out a simple conversation. It will merely take a while.” I glanced at the Guv. “What about these blue coats? They have to be somewhere in London. Shall I start with the Metropole?”
“There are a number of hotels in London, let alone inns. For all we know, whoever funded these lads has a house, in which case it would be a waste of time.”
“But, sir, we’ve got to do something,” I argued. “We can’t sit here all day.”
> “Perhaps we can sell the satchel to the highest bidder.”
“What?” I practically yelled.
He chuckled. “Your face. It was worth the remark to see it.”
“This is serious,” I said. “We could get in a lot of trouble.”
“I don’t see why, since we are not charging the government a farthing.”
We were near Finbury Park itself, flanking a row of shops, the kind that offer basic services such as barbering and fish and chips. Barker consulted his watch.
“We have three-quarters of an hour. Do you know what I require?”
“What?” I asked.
“Cocoa,” he said, and walked into a small and quaint-looking neighborhood tearoom.
“Cocoa,” I muttered under my breath, and followed after him.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Once Barker had his fill of cocoa, we started walking, I with my hands in my pockets, he carrying his stick in a pair of black leather gloves stretched across his farthing-sized knuckles. I found myself thinking of Forbes again. There would be no more chatting over mochas and dominoes in the Royal, no secret talks in the Freemason’s hall behind the restaurant. All the flavor of the establishment would be gone without his presence. How could I visit it anymore without hearing his sparkling wit, as barbed as Wilde’s or Whistler’s. Who would relate pertinent information that had come to his hand from an urchin just minutes before? Death, our shadow, an ever-present menace.
“I am not pleased with this day so far,” I said.
“What did Pollock Forbes say?” he replied, as if reading my mind. “Mustn’t grumble?”
“I’m good at it.”
“You have certainly grasped the essentials. Tell me, do you believe Mrs. Llewelyn would find the idea of your joining an organization such as the Knights Templar objectionable?”
It still gave me pause that the Guv referred to Rebecca in such a manner. Sometimes he can be as frosty as the weather. Certainly, I did not expect him to call her by her given name. Knowing him as I did then I realized he is slow to accept changes, such as a married assistant and his bride. It would come in time, if we were patient. But as he said, things were about to change in more ways than one.
“I don’t believe she will object as long as it did not take me often from the house. Rather, it is the other Mrs. Llewelyn who would object. My mother taught me not to make vows save in a church and not to be aligned with organizations whose motivations cannot be described in one sentence.”