An Experiment in Treason

by Alexander, Bruce

  Indeed it was. She must have done a remarkably good job of describing the place to Sir John, for she did a proper job of describing it to us — until she lost her way in a digression which took us to Bloomsbury Square for purposes of comparing its imposing facades with that of Lord Hillsborough’s grand house in — or just outside — Whitehall.

  (Clarissa said that she believed Lord Hillsborough’s residence to be one of those by Inigo Jones. Molly wished to know who then was Inigo Jones and why he had such an odd name. It took me a bit of pleading to get matters back on track.)

  The reason why she did concern herself with such matters was that the burglars had actually managed to enter by way of the front door. One of them (there were apparently only two in all) had been most adept with a picklock. As the night watchman made his rounds, timed roughly at five-minute intervals, the burglar worked upon the lock. It could not have taken long to gain entry, for there was no evidence of them having taken cover behind the shrubbery in the front of the house. Probably they were inside the house within five minutes — and probably a good deal less than that. Sir John had commented that such a bold entry by the front door was quite unusual. Oddly, none of the house dogs had barked.

  Once inside, they did not have to roam about, looking for the right room. One of the two, no telling which, had acquired a bit of mud on the bottoms of his shoes, and it was possible for Clarissa to follow his track from the front door to their goal, Lord Hillsborough’s study. It seemed certain that the burglars either knew the house well, or else had a detailed diagram of it.

  It immediately became clear that while the burglars knew their way through the house, they had no notion of where to look for what they sought — nor perhaps did they even know exactly what they sought. Papers littered the floor; files were emptied; drawers were thrown about. All this could not have been done silently. Noise enough was made by them to bring one of the servants, a footman, from his station in the house. Though called a footman, he seemed also to have the responsibilities of a guard within the house, for he was well-armed. He was found upon the floor of the study with a pistol in his hand and another tucked into his belt. The back of his head was crushed. Sir John commented that he must have died instantly. He added that this, too, was highly unusual for burglars: They much prefer to enter and leave, their presence undetected and, if at all possible, their theft unnoticed. These were men in a hurry, so reckless in their haste that they were forced to kill in order to continue their search. And yet Sir John declared that he thought them experienced in their trade. “If nothing more,” said he, “their entry through the front door proved that they were daring and resourceful — but desperate.”

  What could have been worth so much that they would dare to be so incautious? It was to the answer of that question that he had sought out Lord Hillsborough. But the nobleman was of no help at all. He appeared before Sir John in the study, wearing a dressing gown of lustrous black silk and an icy look of contempt. That expression turned to disgust as he stood in the middle of the room and surveyed the chaos upon the floor round his desk. Though he had been forced to step over the body of the footman in order to gain the center of the room, he gave the poor fellow little attention and no sympathy: What was left of him was now simply in the way.

  “What will you, Sir John?” he asked. “There is but little of the night left, and I should like to use it to sleep.”

  “This should not take long,” said the magistrate.

  “Well, let’s get on with it.”

  Nevertheless, Sir John was not to be rushed. Yet finally did he speak up: “This room has been described to me as being in a great state of confusion. Have you any notion who might have visited this upon you?”

  “None at all. But then I have not many burglars or suchlike criminals in my circle of acquaintances.”

  “I suppose you do not. But you might have one or two who were so eager to have something of yours that they would hire men of that sort to get it for them. Now, I realize that it will take you quite some time to go through the contents of this desk — which, as I am told, are littered over the floor. Nevertheless, you may be aware of something in your keeping which is important to keep secret. You may have gone immediately to the place where it was hid just to see if it were still there.”

  “There was no such secret document or documents,” said Lord Hillsborough, “and therefore no hiding place.”

  “Nothing of a personal nature?”

  “No, nothing.”

  “Nothing that might be used to embarrass you? Or extort money from you? “

  “Nothing at all, I tell you!”

  “Well and good, well and good,” said Sir John in the manner of a peacemaker.

  “There is another matter, however. I know that you are a member of His Majesty’s government.”

  “That is correct.”

  “I fear, however, that I know not which position you hold. Could you perhaps inform me in that matter?”

  “I am secretary of state for the American colonies.”

  “Is that it indeed? Why, you must be kept busy these days, what with all of the trouble caused by the more quarrelsome of those colonists.”

  “That is so,” said Lord Hillsborough.

  “Could you then have had something in your possession to do with these colonial matters? Something, that is, which might invite a burglary such as this?”

  “For the last time, I know of nothing that is missing. If, in making my inventory of the contents of the desk, I discover something missing, I shall notify you immediately.”

  “Please do. And Lord Hillsborough?”

  A deep sigh, then: “Yes? What is it?”

  “One last question: How did you learn of the burglary? I take it you were asleep?”

  “Yes, I was. The butler, Carruthers, woke me to tell me.”

  “And how did he learn of it?”

  “That you will have to ask him.”

  “Thank-you. That will be all I require of you for the time being.”

  And at that, Lord Hillsborough stamped out the door of the study, making no effort to disguise his annoyance at Sir John’s rather direct interrogation.

  Mr. Benjamin Bailey, as chief constable, had visited many such scenes as this one in the company of Sir John. And, having made his own investigations and asked a few questions, was ready and waiting with the butler, Carruthers, who had admitted the party from Bow Street; there was also another man, big and burly, who looked to be a footman, as well as he on the floor in the study.

  Sir John and Clarissa went into the hall to talk with these men, and at that time the magistrate requested that the study be closed until the body therein could be delivered to the medical examiner for the City of Westminster (i.e., Gabriel Donnelly). The butler told them that he had learned of the burglary and the murder from the second footman, whose name was Will Lambert, waiting to be interviewed. It was the butler who sent word to Number A Bow Street to report the matter to Sir John. But that was about all that the butler told them. He had behaved well in an emergency, and he had done what needed to be done.

  Mr. Lambert, however, had a good deal of significance to tell. It was he, after all, who had discovered the body of Albert Calder on the floor of the study and noted the chaos left behind by the burglars. It seems that Calder and Lambert had been charged with guarding the interior of the house each night for the past month; they were to be specially watchful round the master’s study. When Calder had failed to wake up Lambert, the latter woke of his own accord and, noting the late hour (near three in the morning), believed something was amiss. He armed himself and —

  That, as it happened, reader, was as far as Clarissa got with her narrative of the night before, for just then we heard heavy steps upon the stairs which led up to the kitchen where we were sat round the table. They were unmistakably those of Sir John. He reached the door, and without a pause threw it open. He marched into the kitchen. We all sat dumb before him. Thinking it only proper to offer s
ome greeting, I rose from my chair.

  “Good evening to you, Sir John,” said I. “Mr. Donnelly and I have just — “

  “Good evening?” he interrupted me. “Good, you say? I see nothing good in this evening. I’ll be damned if I do.” And so saying, he marched on past us, up the stairs and into the bedroom which he shared with Lady Fielding.

  TWO

  In which Sir John

  is forbidden access

  to a state secret

  Within minutes, Mr. Donnelly had departed, and Molly had banked the fire. It was time for us in the kitchen to climb the stairs and proceed to our beds. I had seldom, if ever, seen Sir John in a mood so foul. It would not do for him to hear us buzzing and whispering there in the kitchen.

  Weary in spite of the long nap I had had in the coach, I lay in bed in my small attic room high above them all. From the floor be-low, I could hear the voices of Sir John and Lady Fielding — his deep and rumbling in anger, and hers lighter, higher, and in a sort of pleading tone. I could hear the voices but not the words that were spoken. What might they be saying?

  Next day, the three of us met once again in the kitchen. I was, as usual, the first to arrive. With shoes in hand, that I might not disturb Sir John and Lady F, I came quiet and knelt down to kindle a blaze in the fireplace; such had been my task as long as I had been there at Number 4 Bow Street. Having done thus much, I put on the water for a pot of tea. At about that time, Molly and Clarissa appeared, still groggy with sleep.

  Tea was brewed. The loaf of soda bread baked for dinner, still fresh and light, was put out by Molly with a crock of butter. We ate and drank our fill and gradually came full awake as we whispered round the table.

  “What do you s’pose has gotten into him?” asked Molly.

  “Oh, it’s to do with Black Jack Bilbo,” said I, “of that I’m sure.”

  “Undoubtedly,” said Clarissa.

  “And it’s all because of that woman, isn’t it? I’ve little use for her myself. It’s not personal, mind you now — simply because she took away my livelihood and turned me out of a place which had been my home for a good five years or more. Ah, no, for had she not brought her cook from France and sent me packing, I would not have met and married Albert Sarton. We were not together but a year — not even that — yet it was the best time of my life, so it was. So no, I don’t see that I can blame her for personal reasons.”

  “What then?” said I.

  ” ‘Twas the way she set her hat for Mr. Bilbo there on the boat. She saw him as one who might rescue her from the god-awful situation which she found herself in. I’ve seldom seen a more bold and barefaced attempt to ensnare a man for reasons of personal salvation.”

  At that, Clarissa and I exchanged quick looks but said naught. From what we had seen there on shipboard on our return from Deal to London, the attraction between Bilbo and Marie-Helene had been both real and mutual.

  Molly caught the glances that passed between us and would not let that moment go unnoted.

  “Ah, you two,” said she to us. “I know, indeed I do, that she’s won you over, as well. She’s a charmer, she is, and no getting around it. But just remember what I’ve said, will you?”

  I nodded soberly, but Clarissa simply said, “I will.”

  Then did we, all three, fall silent, and in that silence I heard stirring in that room at the top of the stairs wherein Sir John and his Lady slept. I wondered, would they emerge in the next moment or two and save us from this awkward moment.

  But then Clarissa did rouse herself and announce — to me, in particular:

  “I did not have the opportunity to finish my story last night.”

  “Ah,” said I, “so you did not. What more have you to tell?”

  “Simply this,” said she. “I told Sir John when we left the grand residence in Whitehall that, in my judgment, Lord Hillsborough had not said a single word of truth all the time we had him before us.”

  “And how did Sir John react to that statement?” asked I.

  “Oh, he jested with me. ‘Not a single word?’ said he. ‘Surely something. Not even — oh, what do they call them? — the articles and the conjunctions?’ Yet I stuck by what I said, even though I was forced to admit that Lord Hillsborough had neither sweated nor gone shifty-eyed.”

  “What then did you tell Sir John made you so sure?”

  “It was his arrogance,” said Clarissa. “He is that rare sort of liar who is so well-practiced at it that he tells lies as readily as the rest of us tell the truth. He feels neither worry nor guilt as we might. Yet, I must confess, I base this on naught but my feminine intuition. So I told him.”

  “And what was Sir John’s reaction to that?” I asked her.

  “Oh, again he jested, yet more in earnest than before, I believe. ‘Tells lies readily? Feels neither worry nor guilt?’ said Sir John, ‘why, I believe you’ve found him out for what he is — a. poUtLclan!’ And at that he laughed in quite the most jolly manner.”

  By then I, too, was laughing — though a bit loud and lusty, I fear.

  Next we knew, a knock came upon the door, hard and insistent, like that of one of the constables — and so it turned out to be. The laughter all of a sudden died in my throat, and I jumped up from my place at the table to open the door. It was none but Mr. Baker, jailer and armorer of the Bow Street Runners.

  “Ah, Jeremy,” said he. “The Lord Chief Justice, so I am told, requested the presence of Sir John and does so most urgently — so urgently that he’s sent his coach-and-four to get him there quick.”

  “When will it be here?” I asked. “I’m not certain that he’s yet awake.”

  “When? Well, it’s down there in Bow Street right this minute, so you’d better get him up and let him know.”

  Having delivered his message, he gave me a wave and descended the stairs. I eased the door shut and called out, “Better make another pot of tea.” Then did I rush up the stairs and pound upon the door to Sir John’s bedroom.

  The Lord Chief Justice was William Murray, Lord Mansfield. As such, he was nominally in charge of the administration of justice throughout the realm. This often put him in direct contact with Sir John, who as the magistrate of the Bow Street Court, settled disputes, sat in judgment upon lesser crimes and misdemeanors, and, after weighing evidence, bound over for trial in the higher court those charged with high crimes and felonies. Sir John’s abihties and his reputation did exceed his office, and therefore Lord Mansfield often sought him out for advice and counsel and to undertake special missions for the Court. Thus had I traveled hither and thither throughout England in his company, visiting cities as far afield as Bath. Though naturally I said nothing of it, it was my hope that this sudden summons from Lord Mansfield would entail a trip of some sort to distant parts; for, reader, I must confess that I did greatly enjoy travel.

  I wore my best. Once I had made Sir John presentable, I hied up quickly to my room and changed into the breeches and coat which Lady Fielding had just bought for me (complaining that if I would just stop growing, I would not need my store of clothes to be constantly replenished). Why did I feel it necessary to dress my best when I would more likely than not be given no notice whatever by Lord Mansfield? Well, there were sometimes men of distinction there — and one of them might sometime give me notice. I hoped to find emplo3mnent as a law clerk eventually.

  And then, of course, there was that nasty butler of Lord Mansfield’s. He had been quite the bane of my life since the time I first arrived at Number 4 Bow Street and began delivering letters and messages to the Lord Chief Justice at his residence in Blooms-bury Square. I would never be denied entrance in the company of Sir John Fielding, but, at least, there would be no question that I properly belonged if I wore my best. In later years, I realized that the butler whom I so disliked had taught me the importance of proper dress.

  Upon this occasion, I received not so much as a frown from Lord Mansfield’s butler. Indeed it was quite the contrary. When he threw open the doo
r and stepped back that we might enter, he gave an appraising look to my attire (which he had not seen before) and nodded his approval. Then did he lead us down the great hall to a door which I knew did open into the study of the Lord Chief Justice. He opened it. We stepped inside.

  “Ah, there you are. Sir John. Do sit down. I’ve something to discuss with you.”

  “I’m gratified to hear it. I had hoped that we would not be pulled from our beds thus early only to sit here in silence.”

  I helped Sir John into his seat and then sat down in the chair beside him.

  “Sorry about that,” said Lord Mansfield. “But I must off to court in a short time, and this was best talked about in the morning, for there is a meeting in a short time that I wish you to attend.”

  “Oh? What sort of meeting?”

  “I’ll get to that in due course.”

  “That also is gratifying — but do continue.”

  “Night before last,” Lord Mansfield began, as if about to tell a long story, “you visited the residence of Lord Hillsborough to investigate a burglary which had taken place there that very night.”