‘Only to bring you to your senses,’ James said. ‘A few minutes more dithering and we would have run out of time. They’ve promised me they will get this thing up to fifty miles per hour, and we are lucky the tracks are quiet at this time of night, but we are still cutting it fine.’
Archer drank more tea, this time unaided. He swallowed and put down his cup.
‘Tell me everything.’
By the time the train reached Crewe, Archer knew about Silas’ arrest, Lady Marshall’s involvement and Creswell’s ensuing actions. He understood the gravity of the situation and shared James’ suspicion that the case was not being treated in the usual, lethargic manner of the court. He also understood the need to be present as a character witness and had no qualms about doing so.
There was still a great deal for James to explain, and he put his notebook on the table beside the brandy and coffee Carlton had served after their supper. The colour was back in the viscount’s cheeks and, apart from early morning stubble and unkempt hair, he was more like his usual self.
‘What I don’t understand,’ he said. ‘Is why you think Quill is not behind this, and how we came to be on a special service. Nor do I grasp what is to be gained from the trial if Quill is not the mastermind.’
‘I think I know what’s going on,’ James said, opening his book. ‘If you will allow me?’
‘Please.’
Starting with the threat letter, James proceeded in order. ‘You figured out the first verse of this, and you were right. I got it almost straight away as well. Very amateurish, and not like Quill, however. It didn’t fall into place until Silas told me the name of the man who has accused him.’ He produced his copy of the threat letter and turned it so Archer could read. ‘Forget Quill,’ he said, ‘and read it again. This time, don’t think of Lieutenant Harrington and two years past, think of more recent events, the opera house and the Foundation. Take it line by line.’
Archer regarded him quizzically before holding the letter and adjusting the distance so he could read. ‘A dish is served albeit cold to he who meddled with our gold.’
‘Revenge,’ James said. ‘As we know, but gold refers to money not, as I first thought, to a golden boy, a favourite.’
‘Money?’
‘Income, more like. Carry on.’
‘To he who took my love… I took Quill’s love, although I didn’t know it at the time. Men with no Christian wife are men like us, I suppose. It sounds like Quill.’
‘It’s meant to. Read on.’
‘I set a trial and a trail for him to follow to the gaol. The trial of rescuing the girls, the trail is made of clues that led to Long Light, which used to be a fortress with a dungeon.’
James sipped his coffee before explaining. ‘The trial is what’s happening tomorrow. Whoever wrote this also set up the arrest. Trail and trial are a play on words. We’re on their trail, you were on the trail of the kidnapped sisters and either way, they lead to gaol, either the trail to Long Light or, via a trial, to Newgate. Are you following me?’
Archer, deep in thought, nodded slowly as the possibilities sank in. ‘And there to meet midwinter eve else brother dear be left to grieve.’
‘To set the date on which you had to be at Long Light and therefore out of the way of the court hearing so Silas would have no-one to call on for help. In other words, left alone to grieve for his sisters, or for his loss of liberty. The Tennyson verse was then the clue to the location.’
‘Can you be sure of all of this?’
‘Lord Easterby told me to believe in myself, and yes, I am sure. Even more so now I know who is behind it.’
‘A gem of wisdom you have yet to share.’
Archer’s familiar tone was creeping into his voice, that was a good sign. ‘I was hoping you would be able to work that out for yourself,’ James said. ‘But it is very late, and I doubt you’ve slept much.’
‘Not for about twenty hours. You?’
‘Had a kip on the way down. So…’ James took back the letter. ‘Gold is income, but I only know that because I know who has done this.’
‘Then tell me who it is, and I’ll have them arrested.’
‘Not so fast, Sir. We need proof, but I have an idea for that which I will tell you later. Can you not think who else wants to see you ruined? Excuse my French — or rather, Sir Easterby’s French — but who have you pissed on recently? Also, and think carefully, who do you know called Dan Stony.’
Archer thought but came up with nothing. ‘Stony?’ he said. ‘I should remember such an unusual name.’
‘It gets better. His title, abbreviation I grant you, is the Rev Dan Stony.’
Archer pulled a face. ‘Really?’
‘No. It’s an anagram of his real name. Bit childish if you ask me, but, like Quill, this bloke likes to think he’s cock of the walk.’
‘And the real name?’
‘Tony Danvers.’
The name meant nothing to the viscount.
‘I had my suspicions, checked it out and guess what? That’s the name of the man who owns nineteen Cleaver Street, the brothel.’
It took a moment for the information to filter into Archer’s tired brain, but it landed with a shock. ‘The man behind Roxton’s mistreatment and the opera house affair?’
‘Affair might be too romantic a word, but yes. The same.’
‘You mean this was set up by that place because we… you and Silas thwarted them last time?’
‘Well, yeah, I thought that at first.’ James had dropped his polite voice and reverted to his natural Riverside accent. At four in the morning and after what he had been through, he didn’t care. ‘But then I started thinking about it some more,’ he said. ‘The trial, the speed of it all, the judge…’ Rummaging in his trouser pocket, he found the pages torn from Debrett’s. Looking at one, he muttered, ‘No, that’s Tennyson,’ found the other and passed it across. ‘Here. You might need this.’
Archer took the page and read the name. ‘Lady Maureen Gardner?’
‘What? No.’ James flipped it over.
‘Judge Galloways? Really, James, I find that hard to swallow.’
‘Which is exactly what everyone is supposed to think,’ James said with a hint of triumph. ‘A man like that trying a case like this? Well, no-one is going to suspect he has any involvement, are they?’
‘Involvement?’
James nodded, waiting for Archer to catch on.
‘With Cleaver Street?’
James nodded again.
‘No!’
‘Oh, yes. Not only did Silas hear his title when he was there rescuing Roxton, he saw the man and someone used his surname. They’ve probably threatened the judge with exposure if he doesn’t toe their line. Either that, or he’s in on it.’
‘Don’t be ridiculous. Galloways went to school with my father.’
‘And who would know that, Archer?’ James folded his arms. If there was any satisfaction to be found in their situation, this was the part he had been most looking forward to. ‘Who knows enough about you and Silas to link all this together?’
James had time to finish his coffee before Archer admitted defeat.
‘Then try this,’ James continued. ‘The arrest was made the day after you received the letter. It was delivered with the late post, and someone knew you’d rush in where others fear to tread. They may not have known you would leave immediately, but you would definitely have gone by the time Silas was taken in. It’s what you do, leap before you look. The trial is today when you are supposed to be negotiating with kidnapers, and that’s not a coincidence. They had that date prearranged, and waited until only a couple of days before it to get you out of the way, knowing it would be too late for you to do anything.’
‘Yes, I see that, but… I find thi
s very hard to believe.’
‘Then here’s something else to think about. Who knew what you and Silas were doing on October the eleventh? Who knew that Silas could give no alibi because he was with you and the Ripper at that exact time? Who else not only knew your movements, but your involvement with Quill, your feelings for Silas and your love of Tennyson poetry?’
Archer’s face blanched.
‘And, to top it off, who else wants to see you ruined?’
‘It can’t be.’
James nodded; Archer now understood.
The viscount’s face was deathly pale, and a tear trickled from his eye. ‘Thomas?’
James stared at him blankly, moved by his sudden sadness. It was a moment as fleeting as the country station they steamed through, the whistle blasting.
‘No, you idiot. Tripp!’
‘Oh, thank God for that.’ The name sank in. ‘Tripp?’
‘Paid me to get the dirt on you. Failed. Knew about Silas, and knew you were onto the Ripper. I’m guessing at that because I wasn’t there, but he knew you were out of the house that night and honestly, it doesn’t take a genius to add up the coincidences. And, importantly, he knew about Quill and maybe his half-brother, Miss bloody Arnold the rent boy.’ He banged the threat letter triumphantly. ‘This is Tripp working in cahoots with Cleaver Street to get Silas away from you, have you shamed in public for harbouring and employing a criminal, and thus, Tripp gets his revenge on you for firing him while Danvers and his mob get you back for your Foundation’s work which screws with their income stream. See? And now we know all that, I’m going to have a brandy.’
He drained the glass with one hefty swig.
‘Oh, and by the way,’ he added, hunting in his knapsack. ‘You’re going to owe Lord Tennyson a fortune for this train.’
‘You went to see him?’ Archer was again as bemused as he had been back at Long Light.
‘Decent chap once you get past the guard dog,’ James said. Now everything was off his chest, he was lightheaded. It might have been the brandy, but he suspected it was the relief. Archer was on his way home, and there was a chance Silas could be saved. ‘But on the upside, Archie…’ He handed the viscount his book of poetry. ‘He autographed it for you and invited us to dinner one night. He thinks it’s all very romantic. There’ll probably be an idyll about you before long.’
Archer used the handle of a teaspoon to open the book cover as if he was terrified something would jump out. He gasped when he saw the inscription.
‘Clearwater,’ he read. ‘Your splendour will never fall while you have men like James-Joseph at your side.’ His voice cracked, and more tears escaped his tired eyes. ‘Amore Salvat.’
‘I asked him to put that last bit,’ James said. ‘But hey, before you burst into tears, you’ve got a lot more listening to do before we get to Euston.’
‘I have?’ Archer’s voice was weak. He sniffed.
‘Yup.’ James took hold of the viscount’s wrists, drawing his attention away from the inscription. ‘And you really are going to have to trust me.’
Twenty-Two
The train delivered its passengers to Euston fifteen minutes early, by which time James had made it perfectly clear to Archer what he had to do when called as a witness. The viscount had slept for a few hours but still looked like a man at the end of his tether as James gave Mr Carlton a healthy tip and asked him to pass a little extra on to the driver and his fireman. Having put Archer into a waiting carriage, he told his own to wait while he dispatched a telegram to Creswell at the courthouse before being driven directly to Bow Street.
There, he argued with the desk sergeant, and afterwards the custody guard, before being allowed to visit Silas for ten minutes.
Silas was again standing facing the wall as the keys rattled, and the guard threw open the door. The officer reminded James of his time limit, explaining that Silas would be taken across to the central court at nine-thirty, and in return, James asked the man to bring water, soap and, for a hefty bribe, shaving materials. These the man dutifully delivered a few minutes later, by which time Silas had removed his dressings, and James was doing his best with his clothes, making them as presentable as possible.
‘A quick shave and you’re done,’ he said, as the guard left. Once the footsteps had drifted away, he continued. ‘Right, mate. All you’ve got to do is plead not guilty and then say nothing.’
‘Are you sure?’ Silas asked.
‘Yes.’ James set about shaving him
His injuries were starkly apparent, though his lip was less swollen, and his eye more open than when James had first seen it. The wounds would have no bearing on Galloways, he was sure of that, but they might draw sympathy from the jury.
‘Archer is back,’ James explained. ‘And I have told him everything.’
Silas took James’ wrist, preventing him from putting the razor to his chin. Concerned, he said, ‘Everything?’
‘Well, no,’ James admitted. ‘Not what happened right before the arrest. We don’t need to complicate things.’
Silas released him. ‘How is he?’
‘Tired like the rest of us, but he’s got the bit between his teeth.’
‘He believed you?’
‘Yes, and he believes in you and in Creswell. You’ve got nothing to worry about.’
‘What about Fecks? Will he be there?’
‘No.’
‘Where is he?’
James hadn’t thought to create a story for Fecker and improvised. ‘He’s gone on to Larkspur,’ he said, hoping it was true. ‘He’ll be waiting for you when we get there.’
‘Where were they?’
‘Archer will tell you all about that when he sees you.’ Not wanting to distract or upset Silas with news of his sisters, James moved the conversation along. ‘Now then, I want you to learn to do things with your fingers.’
‘You what?’
‘Don’t speak or I’ll cut you.’ James shaved deftly, paying special attention to the sensitive parts of Silas’ face and his swollen upper lip. ‘You’re going to be in cuffs, I reckon, and I’m not sure if you’re standing or sitting or what, but Archer, on the witness stand, must see your hands. I’m going to be in court, so look for me too, and I’ll be able to see you, but mainly, keep your eyes on Archer.’
‘I will, mate,’ Silas said as James wiped the blade. ‘What about my fingers?’
James put down the razor.
‘Look at this,’ he said. Holding his wrists close together as if cuffed, he lay his hands on the shelf, fingers flat. ‘Now ask me a question. Pretend you’re the prosecution.’
‘You’re bonkers you are.’
‘Go on, think of something. You’re the prosecution, I’m you.’
Silas thought for a second before asking, ‘Were you fucking a bloke that night?’
‘Probably not how it’s going to be phrased,’ James said. ‘But did you see what I did?’
‘Er, no.’
‘Ask again and look at my hands.’
‘Are you guilty?’ Silas asked.
James lifted and lowered one finger on each hand as if he was impatient.
‘Get that?’
‘Yes,’ Silas said dubiously.
‘Now ask me another.’
‘You never make things easy.’
‘Just do it, mate, and watch my fingers.’
Another quick pause for thought and Silas asked, ‘Do you fancy me?’
‘Honesty, Silas. Now is not the time.’
‘I know, but your fingers moved. They did this.’ His hands were flat in his lap, and he moved his little fingers, spreading them apart from the others. ‘What does that mean?’
James’ cheeks burned red. ‘The up and down was a signal for “
no”, the little fingers side to side is for “yes”,’ he said, returning to his shaving duties. ‘Those are the only movements you can make. Anything else will draw attention. It’s loosely based on semaphore.’
‘Seems easy enough, but why would I need to do that?’
‘So you can signal to Archer if you recognise the judge as the man at Cleaver Street that night.’ James passed Silas a towel to wipe his face. ‘To be honest with you,’ he said with a sigh. ‘I have no idea what’s going to happen, but I do know that you’ve got all of us behind you.’
‘Trying to keep positive,’ Silas said, throwing away the towel. ‘It’s funny. I spent most of my life trying to avoid the law ’cos I was on the wrong side of it. Nicking from stalls to feed Iona and Karan, thieving a bit of coal from the docks and all the other stuff. But all the time I was avoiding the law, I was grateful for it. Always felt like there was someone out there keeping the real villains away, you know, the muggers and the murderers. Now I’m on the wrong side of it, I wish it weren’t there at all.’
‘Hey…’ James crouched and took his hands. ‘It’s going to be okay. We’re going to get you off. I promised you that, and I meant it. Archer said you’d see Larkspur before Christmas and you will.’
Silas gave him a faint smile, looking directly into his eyes as he gripped back. ‘I don’t understand,’ he whispered.
‘What, those signals?’
‘No, you eejit. I don’t understand how come I got friends like you. What did I do to get handed out Fecks and Archer, Jimmy and…?’ He stopped and considered.
‘And Thomas,’ James finished the sentence. ‘I know you don’t think much of him, but he cares about you, honest.’
‘Yeah, well, Tommy’s a strange bugger. Okay, yeah, friends like him and all.’
‘Who knows why we meet the people we meet?’ James said. ‘Who knows why we instantly dislike some and love others? I can’t tell you that, but what I can tell you is that love and hate come and go, but true friendship stays. I hardly know you, Silas, but what I do know is that you and me are going to be mates until we’re old men laughing about when we were young. I’m here for you, whatever it takes, whatever you need. Don’t lose heart.’
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