by Emily Organ
“Here it is,” said James. In one swift movement he gripped my legs just above the knees and propelled me upwards. It was all I could do not to cry out in surprise.
“Can you get over it?” asked James, staggering forward a step.
I reached out and felt bricks beneath my fingers. Stretching upward I could feel the top of the wall. “Yes! Yes, I can!”
I tossed my bag forward into the darkness and heard it land reassuringly on the hard ground over on the other side of the wall. I grabbed the top with both hands while James pushed my legs up.
“What about you?” I whispered back to him.
“I’ll manage it,” he replied. “I think it’s about six feet. Just get over and I’ll be right behind you.”
I clambered awkwardly over the wall, my skirts getting in the way. I landed uncomfortably on the other side, falling heavily onto my elbows and back. Above me I could see the outline of the wall and a silhouette of James as he gripped the top of it with his arms.
“Blakely!” came a shout.
James’ silhouette came into sharp relief as a torch was shone onto him from behind.
“James!” I reached up and seized one of his arms to help pull him over. It was imperative that the men on the other side of the wall were given no chance to pull him back down.
James reached out a hand and I grabbed it. He had managed to get most of his body onto the top of the wall, but appeared to be flailing.
“Pull on my arm, Penny!” he called down. “They’ve got my leg!”
He began to thrash about wildly, and I could only guess that his foot had made contact with one of the men because there was a cry of pain and then James came tumbling down onto my side of the wall.
“Are you all right?” I asked him, tripping over my bag.
“I think so. Let’s move!” He jumped onto his feet and grabbed my hand again.
“This seems to be a passageway,” he said. “I’ve no idea which direction we should take.”
One of the men had reached the top of the wall and was shining the lantern down on us. I gripped my bag in one hand and James’ hand in the other.
“Let’s go!” he said, taking the lead.
The light from the lantern showed that the passageway ran between the gardens of a row of houses. With the two men still clambering over the wall behind, we ran as fast as we could until we reached the street.
I could only see the dark outlines of houses on one side of the street, but the sky had opened up over the other half.
“This is where they’re building the new homes,” said James.
I heard footsteps behind us. “They’re catching us up!” I whispered.
“This way!” he said, pulling me toward the undeveloped side of the street. “They’ve built the road and the pavement, but not the houses as yet.”
The road began to climb steeply.
“Couldn’t you have chosen the downhill way?” I commented between gasps.
“I think our men have gone that way,” he said, pausing and looking back down the street. We could still see the lantern light, but the men did not appear to be heading in our direction.
“It always pays to take the trickier route, Penny,” he said, laughing breathlessly. “They’ve assumed we were heading down to the houses.”
I also began to laugh as relief took hold of me.
“Where are we now?” I asked.
A brisk wind whipped around us and I noticed we were still holding hands even though there was no longer any real need.
“I think we’re close to Green Lanes.”
“What does that mean?”
“If we follow the road south we should hopefully reach civilisation, otherwise known as Finsbury Park.”
“And south is which way?”
“Luckily, it’s a clear night tonight, though it would help if the moon was out.” I could just make out James’ face looking up at the stars in the gloom.
“I think if we continue along this road it should join up with Green Lanes,” he said. “Turning to the right will take us south.”
“You can tell which direction we need to take just by looking at the stars?”
“Sometimes. It depends on the time of year. It’s something my father taught me during my boyhood.”
“Well it’s certainly coming in useful now,” I said. I glanced behind us and saw that the lantern light was even smaller than before. “Hopefully we’ve lost them now.”
“Hopefully.”
“I’m glad you came with me, James. I felt it was too dangerous to try to find you before I left.”
“It was! Those men were very close behind us. I stayed awake knowing you would try to make a dash for it.”
“I’m worried, though. You’ll most likely lose your job for defying Chief Inspector Cullen.”
“Probably, though I’m more concerned for my family than my job.”
“Oh dear, yes. I hope we can keep them safe.”
“The only way to do that is to find out who is behind all this. We need to put a stop to them before someone else gets hurt.”
We continued to make our way up the hill, still hand in hand.
Chapter 64
After a short walk down to Finsbury Park we managed to hail a lone cab on Seven Sisters Road. James checked his watch by the light of a gas lamp. It was almost two o’clock.
“We should be able to find something to eat at one of the cafes that open early near the markets,” said James. “How about Billingsgate?”
“That sounds good,” I replied, “and it’s near the offices of Chakravarty and Sheridan in the City.”
The streets were deserted as we travelled toward Billingsgate with the horse progressing at a brisk trot.
“I need to speak to both Chakravarty and Sheridan,” said James. “One of them believed Forster had not been caught up in any trouble and the other believed he had, is that right?”
“Yes that’s right. I’m sure one of them must know something. Coincidentally, my brother-in-law is doing some legal work for Sheridan on a government contract, so it might also be worth speaking to him.”
“We need to speak to as many people as possible, Penny, and we need to find out what Cullen is up to. When he first asked me to stop working on the case I believed what he had told me about the threats to my family. I felt certain at the time that he had my best interests at heart, but now I’m not so sure. It’s difficult because I have always held the man in such high regard, but the manner in which he has treated you is unforgivable. I fail to understand how he can justify it.”
“So maybe he didn’t have your best interests at heart at all. Perhaps he was merely trying to keep you away from the investigation for his own convenience.”
“I’m inclined to think that’s the case. It sounds like he’s caught up in something, doesn’t it?”
“I believe so. I’ve never trusted him, as you well know.”
Fish porters were already moving busily around the arched brick edifice of Billingsgate Market as they unloaded carriages piled precariously high with crates and baskets of fish.
After we had paid the cabman he pointed us in the direction of a pub, which happened to be open despite the ungodly hour.
James and I weren’t the usual clientele at this time of day and a few heads turned as we walked into the Blue Boar. We sat down and were soon served with kippers, toast and coffee.
“Did you notice the telegraph office opposite the market?” I asked James. “You must send a telegram to Charlotte as soon as it opens.”
“I will.”
“She’ll be so relieved that you’re safe. She has had such a dreadful time.”
“Four nights is a long time to be away.”
“And no news; nothing at all! Chief Inspector Cullen could at least have reassured her or even explained what had happened. That’s what I don’t understand about him. He was so tight-lipped about the whole matter.”
“Before I carry out my investigations today I
need to understand what the motive behind each of the murders was,” said James. “Firstly, there’s poor Mrs Forster.”
“Presumably targeted because of her husband.”
“You haven’t come across any information that suggests she might have got herself in any trouble?”
“None at all.”
“So we think Mrs Forster was sadly murdered because she happened to be Mr Forster’s wife. The gang came for both of them but Mr Forster wasn’t there that evening. Forster himself was chased down outside the East India Club in St James’s Square. Mr Chakravarty suggested he may have been caught up in the trade of stolen opium, did he not?”
“That’s right, although Mr Sheridan refuses to believe it.”
“So Mr Forster worked for Mr Sheridan for a number of years without any bother.”
“It seems that way.”
“But he got into trouble with Mr Chakravarty for securing a mortgage advance on a property he didn’t own.”
“That’s right.”
“So Mr Chakravarty could have arranged Forster’s murder as an act of revenge?” said James.
“Possibly.”
“Then there’s Mr Holland, who was caught stealing opium.”
“He stole it under duress. His intentions were honourable to begin with, given that he had reported his colleague Charles Mawson.”
“Mawson was dismissed for stealing opium after Holland reported him.”
“Yes, and for a while I thought Mr Mawson had arranged to have Mr Holland murdered out of revenge for what he had done.”
“But then Mawson was murdered.”
“Yes, in a similar manner to Mr Forster,” I said.
“But Mawson still could have ordered Holland’s murder.”
“Yes, he could have done.”
“Perhaps Mawson was murdered in revenge for what he had done to Holland. This case can become confusing quite quickly, can’t it?” James sighed.
“It certainly can. My theory is that Mr Holland and Mr Mawson were both murdered for stealing opium.”
“It’s an odd motive, though. They didn’t cause anyone any personal harm, and both were punished by their employer.”
“Perhaps they were murdered to ensure that they remained silent,” I suggested.
“Yes, I like that theory. Someone didn’t want them to talk.”
“And that same someone didn’t want anyone finding Mr Holland’s diaries. This is where I don’t understand Cullen’s involvement. He said he had arranged for the dairies to be stolen because they contained secret information. How did he know what the diaries contained? He also said that it would not have been good for them to officially be in the possession of the police. Who was he protecting?”
“I’m still holding out hope that he has a suitable explanation for his actions.”
A horrible realisation gripped me as I sipped my tea. “Chief Inspector Cullen said the contents of the diaries were secret, but Emma Holland has read some of them! She told me about the thefts carried out by her brother and Charles Mawson. If Cullen went to the trouble of having the diaries removed, what will he do about Emma when he realises she has read some of them?”
“Perhaps he has assumed that she won’t cause any trouble.”
“She’s desperate to find out who murdered her brother. She will most certainly cause trouble if no progress is made on the case.”
“Then we must keep an eye on her,” said James.
“Perhaps Chief Inspector Cullen will have a couple of men put a hood over her head and whisk her off to North London,” I scoffed. “That seems to be his manner of dealing with these situations.”
“He’s probably found out that we’ve escaped by now,” said James. “He won’t be happy about it.”
“Good,” I said. “It’s about time someone stood up to him.”
“But we don’t have much time. We need to work quickly before he realises what we’re up to.” James checked his watch. “Fortunately, it’s not long until the telegraph office opens, so I shall soon be able to send a telegram to Charlotte. After that we’ll go and see a good friend of yours at the City of London police.”
I groaned. “Not Chief Inspector Stroud?” I had come across him before while reporting on the death of Richard Geller at the medical museum inside St Bartholomew’s Hospital.
“I’m afraid so, as I shall need him to lend me some men. I will have to bring in Chakravarty and Sheridan so they can be interviewed.”
“What about Chief Inspector Cullen?”
“I’ll have to bring both men in before he finds out what we’re up to.”
Chapter 65
Once James had sent Charlotte a telegram we made the fifteen-minute walk to the red-brick headquarters of the City of London Police headquarters in Old Jewry. Large, grey-whiskered Inspector Stroud was initially reluctant to help, still clearly resenting the manner in which James had wrested the Geller case from him. However, he begrudgingly agreed to allow a sergeant and a constable to accompany us once James had explained what he planned to do. With the two police officers in tow we made our way to Mr Chakravarty’s deposit bank in Change Alley.
The City was fully awake by this time, the pavements filled with smart-suited men hopping off omnibuses and striding in through the imposing stone facades of banks and offices.
While we walked, James explained the case to the two police officers, both of whom wore the gold-buttoned uniform of the City of London Police. Sergeant Coutts was about thirty with neat brown whiskers, while Constable Ellis was a younger man with a long face and a black moustache.
Mr Chakravarty was occupied with a client when we arrived at his office in Change Alley. After a short wait we discovered that he was in a bad temper.
“Is this regarding that Forster chap again?” he fumed. “I wish I’d never set eyes on the man, I really do. I lost a lot of money to him, and now even after his death I’m being hounded.” He paused and pointed a finger at me. “I’ve told this news reporter everything I know about him, and that was rather magnanimous of me given the circumstances in which we first met. The woman lied to me, Inspector!”
“I take full responsibility for that, Mr Chakravarty,” James replied. “It was all my idea.”
“It was a ridiculous idea! Call yourself an inspector of the Yard, do you? This is not how I expect Scotland Yard to conduct itself. And what are you doing in the company of a news reporter in the first place? Her kind are not to be trusted.”
“You may also notice that I’m in the company of two other police officers,” said James. “Please mind your manners, Mr Chakravarty.”
“Don’t patronise me, Inspector, I know full well how to mind my manners. What do you want?”
“I should like to request that you accompany Sergeant Coutts here to the police station in Old Jewry. I plan to interview you there later this morning.”
“Are you arresting me?”
“No, this isn’t an arrest.”
“Then I respectfully decline.”
“In which case I should be forced to arrest you. I’m giving you the opportunity to attend the police station voluntarily, Mr Chakravarty.”
The moneylender laughed out loud. “But if I don’t go I’ll be arrested? That doesn’t sound very voluntary to me, Inspector.”
“You’re right, it’s not. But your reputation is at stake, and a voluntary attendance will surely sound better to your clients than an arrest.”
Mr Chakravarty gave this some thought. “I can’t disagree with you on that front, Inspector, but what am I supposed to have done? You don’t think I murdered that chap and his wife, do you?”
“I don’t know yet.”
“Do you consider me a suspect?”
“Until you’re able to clear up a few matters for us, yes.”
“You think I bludgeoned the man’s wife, then stabbed him in the back? Do I look like someone who would do such a thing?”
“No, but you could have paid a gang to do it.”
/> “I wouldn’t waste my money, especially having already lost so much on the man! What would I have to gain by murdering him?”
“I can’t be sure until we’ve talked about it in greater detail. Revenge, perhaps, or maybe you were hoping to reclaim your losses from his estate.”
“Believe me, Inspector, I have better ways to spend my time. I may be angry that he defrauded me, but I know how to write off my losses. It’s part of the job.”
“Good, then please accompany Sergeant Coutts to the station and I shall meet you there shortly,” said James. “I just have one other matter to attend to first.”
“It will be interesting to hear how Mr Chakravarty conducts himself during his interview,” I said to James as we made our way to Sheridan and Company in Lombard Court with the young constable following closely behind.
“It will indeed. I can’t work the man out at all.”
“I can imagine him being cold-hearted enough to organise a murder,” I said.
Lombard Court was only a short walk from Change Alley, and I could see that the young constable was impressed by the opulent decor of Sheridan and Company.
“Mr Sheridan is currently unavailable, Inspector,” said Miss Wainman.
“Can you tell me when he might be able to make himself available?”
“He’s not in the building at the present time.”
“You didn’t answer my question, Miss Wainman. When will he be available to answer a few of our questions?”
“I’m unable to say, Inspector, as I don’t know when he’ll be back.”
James placed his card on her well-polished desk. “When he returns, can you please ask him to attend Old Jewry police station as a matter of urgency?”
“I will do.”
“Have you seen him at all today?”
“Briefly, but then he went out somewhere. He doesn’t always tell me what he’s doing.”
“It really is urgent, Miss Wainman. I expect to see him at Old Jewry later today. If he doesn’t turn up we’ll have to arrest him, and I’m sure that would cause great embarrassment for the man and all his colleagues.”