Anatomy of Evil

by Will Thomas

  “You will build again, I am sure,” Barker murmured.

  “I will. I intend to. For tonight, however, I shall mourn the Drake Club, and plot deviltries against Inspector Littlechild. He will regret what he did here tonight for the rest of his life.”

  Barker reached forward and scratched the cat’s forehead. It stretched its neck out for the attention.

  “We shall take our leave, then.”

  “If you see Philippa soon, give her my love.”

  We made our way gingerly down the staircase, and the butler saw us out.

  “That’s the second time he mentioned Mrs. Ashleigh,” I said to the Guv. “How does he know her?”

  “He is her cousin. His father, the Earl of Sanditon, is in the House of Lords, and on the Board of Commission for Scotland Yard. I suppose we should probably call the Countess ‘His Lordship,’ but he eschews such titles.”

  “My word,” I said. “Did Littlechild know he was assaulting a peer?”

  “Probably not. He was trying to improve his relationship with the royal family by destroying a temptation to the Duke of Clarence.”

  We wandered through the streets deep in thought.

  “The way he spoke, he acted as if men who are only interested in other men are like an ethnic minority, like the Jews or Chinese.”

  He did not respond. We walked along, me with my hands in my pockets, which Barker doesn’t like, and he with his clasped behind him. I shook my head.

  “You have a problem?”

  “I do. I know such things exist, in boarding schools and such, but I was not aware it was on such a scale. Are the men who visited the Drake Club married or bachelors?”

  “Both, I assume.”

  “So they are hiding their private interests?”

  “Of course. They are illegal and condemned by the church. But as Henry said, one cannot change one’s spots. They did not visit the Drake Club out of some need for excitement, as one goes on a night of gambling and carousing. They go to meet others of their kind and feel as if they are not alone.”

  “That must be wretched for them,” I said.

  “It is,” Barker admitted. “For some time, I searched the scriptures for such passages as might apply. In the end, I decided it wasn’t my place to tell another human being how to live his life.”

  “I see.”

  “Within reason, of course. Do take your hands out of your pockets, Mr. Llewelyn.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

  The following morning, the seventeenth of October, we were to return to the palace. So far we had twice been unable to see or speak to Mr. James K. Stephen, and my employer felt he could neither confirm nor deny a connection to the so-called Ripper without a conversation with him. Sir Henry Ponsonby was able to get us an appointment during one of their tutorials.

  “Didn’t Sir Henry say the duke was twenty-four?” I asked as our cab neared Buckingham Palace. “That’s an advanced age to require a tutor.”

  “I gather His Highness is a lackadaisical student, and I’m certain there must be a great deal of preparation if he is to eventually become king.”

  “I wonder that they don’t sack the fellow, Stephen. Men have been sacked for less. Do you suppose the duke has any say in the matter?”

  “Let us withhold judgment on that score until we’ve spoken to Stephen, shall we?”

  I don’t know what I was expecting when James Stephen entered the room, but the man himself was a surprise. He was tall, broad shouldered, handsome in a square-jawed, athletic way. He had a head of blond curls a matinee idol would envy, and brown skin from lying in the sun. His eyes were blue, and when he spoke it was in an Old Etonian drawl.

  “What can I do for you, gentlemen?”

  “Mr. Stephen, we are working for Scotland Yard on the Whitechapel case.”

  Stephen sat down on a divan as if the palace belonged to him. “I assume you want to know where I was on the night of the last murders,” he said.

  “No, sir. We know very well where you were that evening. You were at the Drake Club.”

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about. I was here that evening.”

  “I could provide the name of the man, or rather the boy, with whom you spent the evening.”

  “That’s a damnable lie, and slanderous, Mr.—”

  “Barker,” the Guv said. “Cyrus Barker.”

  “I shall remember that, Mr. Barker. My father is a chief justice.”

  My employer smiled tolerantly. “I know that, Mr. Stephen. In fact, there is very little about you that I do not know. For example, I know you prefer a cocktail made from champagne and stout, and you have cigarettes made for you especially from Astley’s.”

  “Obviously, you’ve been talking to the staff at the Drake,” Stephen said. “What exactly is it that you want?”

  “Let me see if I understand this correctly, sir. You were hired as the Duke of Clarence’s tutor, based upon your excellent student record. Since then, you and His Highness have become … close.”

  “Be careful,” the tutor warned.

  “I shall. The royal family has not been told of your friendship, because if they had, you would be sacked. They would forbid you from ever seeing the heir again. However, were that the case, you might reveal to the press not only your relationship, but also the fact that many on the staff here at Buckingham Palace share the same tastes you do. It would cause a major scandal. Therefore, Sir Henry is on the horns of a dilemma.”

  “Look, Barker, what do you want? I must get back to my lesson.”

  “Discretion, Mr. Stephen. I want discretion. You know the Drake has an unsavory reputation, yet you took His Highness there more than once. The press might not write about it yet, but they have eyes and ears and they stay up late if there is a story to write about.”

  Stephen looked down and I saw a resigned smile on his lips. He shook his head.

  “You don’t understand,” he said. “I did take Eddy to the Drake once, to show him what it was like. Unfortunately, he liked it. I’m not responsible for every decision he makes. He does as he pleases. My control over him is limited.”

  “I understand His Highness is all but engaged to be married,” I spoke up. “How does he feel about that?”

  “We’ve talked about it extensively. While he has no interest in Princess Alix, he understands his duties as the heir to the British throne. He is willing to go through with them provided the princess agrees to give him certain liberties and separate rooms. I think she will. She appears to be a docile little thing. Goodness knows Eddy won’t be the first English monarch with an interest in men.”

  “Sir Henry might have other ideas about the matter.”

  “Poor Ponsy. I’m afraid we’ve given him a hard time of it. I wouldn’t envy him having to tell Prince Albert, who has bagged more ingénues than a Sandringham hunting party, that his son, the product of his loins, is a poof.”

  “You really cannot control him?” Barker asked.

  “I’m trying. You must understand. When a young man has certain feelings and believes he is the only one in the world to have them, and then he discovers there are others like him, he wants, he needs to speak with them, to share company with them, and learn from them. He wants to have the freedom to be himself.”

  “Does he want to be the royal heir?”

  “Not especially. I think Eddy loves his grandmother, but after she passes on and his father, a known womanizer, is on the throne, perhaps morals will ease and he might step down from his duties.”

  “You said he was willing to undertake his duties,” Barker said.

  “Yes, I did. And he is, but you cannot blame him for hoping it might not come to that. He’s confused right now. Who wouldn’t be in his situation? But I know Eddy better than anyone in the world. He’ll do the right thing.”

  Barker sat farther back in the seat, but not all the way. We were in Buckingham Palace, after all.

  “Have you and the duke been traveling around Whitechapel
?”

  “Oh, rather, yes. He’s needed to get out of the palace.”

  “So, you’ve been to the Drake. Where else?”

  “There are one or two other establishments, not as nice as the Drake. Public houses where gentlemen alone are welcome. We’ve been to a few music halls that are daring. And, of course, we’ve just driven around. His Highness is very interested in the Ripper case. We’ve been to all the spots where the women were found.”

  “In what sort of vehicle have you been traveling?”

  “A closed coach.”

  “What of the royal seal on the sides?”

  “Don’t take us for total fools, Barker. We covered them.”

  “And what did you wear on these excursions?”

  “Evening kit, of course. Capes and top hats. We are gentlemen.”

  Now it was Barker’s turn to shake his head. I began to speculate myself. If the people of Whitechapel saw a strange coach with all its emblems covered, and a flamboyantly dressed gentleman in the same areas as Jack the Ripper, it would be a small matter for them to believe them one and the same. The Ripper was like a hermit crab, gluing bits of legend to his shell. Suddenly, the killer is an aristocrat, who does his killing in a coach and wears a cape and topper. Jack is a toff.

  I was thinking of my next question when a door opened and a young man strolled in.

  “James, I finished my essay … Oh.”

  Barker and I rose automatically. It was the correct thing to do in the presence of the Duke of Clarence. He was in his shirtsleeves and a silvery waistcoat with a cobalt blue tie fastened with a large pearl. He was of slight build, with pomaded brown hair, a small waxed mustache, and eyes like fried eggs. They were impossibly white with pale blue irises. The only other man I had ever seen with eyes like that was Oscar Wilde.

  “Your Highness, these gentlemen are from Scotland Yard.”

  Those eyes, so placid, seemed to harden and catch fire. “Oh, really? And what do they want?”

  “They were concerned that with our recent visits to Whitechapel, we might place ourselves in danger.”

  “There is a good deal of unrest there at the moment, Your Highness,” Barker said. “A band of vigilantes has taken over the area.”

  “Someone threw eggs and vegetables at our carriage on our last visit. Do you recall that, James?”

  “Of course. They claim they are starving there, yet they throw enough for a good meal at a passing carriage.”

  “So, tell me, Mr.—”

  “Inspector Barker, sir.”

  “Tell me, Inspector Barker, how is the Ripper investigation coming along?”

  “Well enough, Your Highness. We certainly have enough men on it at the moment.”

  “Are there any promising leads? That is the proper phrase, is it not?”

  “It is. I understand you and Mr. Stephen have become quite the sleuthhounds.”

  “We have driven around the East End on a few occasions, yes,” the duke said. “Have you heard that my father once walked about the East End dressed as a workman to see how the lower classes live?”

  “I had not, Your Highness. That is very forward thinking of him.”

  “Is it not? James tells me that Siddhartha Buddha did the same thing.”

  “So I understand.”

  “You know the Buddha?”

  “I grew up in China, sir.”

  “You’re not the common chappie I would expect from Scotland Yard.”

  “I am a special inspector, Your Highness, brought in by the new assistant commissioner, Robert Anderson.”

  “The more the merrier, eh?”

  “I have experience tracking men.”

  “Why are you here, perchance?”

  “He came to ask me about the vehicle we were traveling in,” Stephen told him.

  “I was not speaking to you, James. I was speaking to the inspector,” the duke said.

  That must have hurt, I thought. Now I understood what he meant when he said he could not control the duke.

  “We wanted to be certain that the coach we saw in Whitechapel was yours. There are many who claim this killer commutes from the West End.”

  “Are we suspects?”

  “Well, sir, sometimes it is difficult to separate the fox from the hounds.”

  “How so?” the Duke of Clarence asked.

  It occurred to me then that one wrong word from Barker’s lips and we would be off this case and in serious trouble. I looked at him, wondering what he would say next, but then I never could guess what he’d say next.

  “The easiest way to find the killer is to eliminate as many people as possible. In the beginning, everyone is a suspect. Your being in the area now and then made both of you ‘persons of interest,’ but having satisfied my concerns, I feel safe to say that neither of you are the man we are looking for.”

  “Were we suspects, then?”

  “Yes, Your Highness, you were.”

  The heir broke into a smile. “Good! Excellent! I’d like to think I had done something to concern Scotland Yard at least once in my life. I’ve spent most of it trying unsuccessfully to impress my father and grandmother. Let them worry for a while.”

  “We’ve had Sir Henry worried,” Stephen said.

  “Old Ponsy would worry if there was a crack in my morning egg. He worries about all sorts of things that he cannot control.”

  And you’re certainly one of them, I thought.

  “You are taking your time in tracking down the fellow,” the duke went on.

  “Tell me, Your Highness,” Barker said. “You’ve had the advantage of seeing all there is to see. Is there any person, or type of persons, or any place you think might be of interest to Scotland Yard?”

  “There is,” he said, as if glad to tell us where we’d gone wrong. “The sailors. They carry knives, they frequent prostitutes, and they are often foreign and hot-tempered.”

  “Because you have suggested it, I promise I shall look into the matter thoroughly. I’ll relay the message to ‘A’ Division and see if we can’t investigate them.”

  The royal’s soft-boiled eyes glittered. “Really?”

  “Of course. As you say, the two of you have investigated the matter. We take your opinion seriously.”

  The duke looked stunned. He looked as if no one had taken his opinion seriously in his entire life. For all I knew, no one had. “Thank you.”

  “We must get back to our lessons,” Stephen said.

  We all rose.

  “It was a pleasure to meet you, sir,” my employer said.

  The prince nodded and left. Stephen put his hands on his knees and pushed himself into a standing position. He raised an eyebrow as if to say, “You see what I have to deal with?”

  “Can you gentlemen see your way out?”

  “We can.”

  “Do you really intend to look into the matter of the sailors?”

  “We have plenty of constables milling about in the East End. It would not hurt to investigate the docks more thoroughly.”

  “Thank you. Am I still a suspect?”

  “You are and shall remain one until this killer is caught. If you are not guilty, you’ve nothing to worry about.”

  “Ah.”

  “James!” the duke called.

  “Coming!” the tutor replied, and with a final glance our way, hurried to the door.

  “What now?” I asked the Guv.

  “We report to Sir Henry that the duke and his tutor are no longer viable suspects in the case.”

  “But you just told Stephen he is still a suspect.”

  “Just because someone has an alibi doesn’t mean I don’t suspect them. Alibis can occasionally be got round.”

  “Can anyone at the Drake Club be trusted, as far as being able to claim Stephen was there at a certain time?”

  “Aye. Pigeon.”

  “Pigeon?”

  “The butler. Henry Inslip occasionally refers to him as his conscience. He’s an old retainer of the family
. Honest to a fault. Not that one could find fault with honesty.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

  After we returned from the palace, Cyrus Barker led me back to the Frying Pan again without so much as a word, and ordered a shepherd’s pie and some chips to be washed down with bitter. The pie was very good, or maybe I was just tired and hungry.

  “You look in a proper mood. What are you thinking?” I asked.

  In answer, Barker tugged a small, ripped envelope from his pocket and handed it to me. I could almost see his eyes glittering behind his spectacles. It was a common envelope, but no penny stamp was affixed to it. It had not been posted. Had it been delivered by messenger, perhaps? I pulled out a piece of foolscap and regarded the letter, which had been written in red ink.

  Dear Push,

  here you have thrown in your lot with Scotland Yard. Don’t rightly care what bloodhounds nip at my heels I’m having too much fun ripping whores. I’ll get another one before first snow. don’t count yourself smarter than a common peeler

  Catch-me-if-you-can.

  P.S. Try the kidne pie Ha ha

  Carefully, I put it back in the envelope and returned it to the Guv.

  “Where did this come from?”

  “It was shoved under the door of our room overnight. Do you think you can dissect the letter for me?”

  I would rather have sat back and ordered another pint, but I knew that wasn’t going to happen. I suppressed a sigh and took the letter out of the envelope again and stared at it. Taking a final swallow of my tepid ale, I wiped my mouth and began to speak.

  “First of all, he knew who you are, and that you were staying here. I suppose that’s not surprising the way word travels around here. Also, we have not gone out of our way to disguise our presence in the area. There has to be some curiosity about us, as Mr. Lusk and his vigilantes knew all about us. I would speculate that this makes our work more difficult, since he will be able to recognize us, while we won’t recognize him.”