SV - 03 - Sergeant Verity Presents His Compliments

by Francis Selwyn

  Even on such a hot afternoon, a fog of escaping steam half-filled the cobbled courtyard as the gate was locked again behind Stringfellow's cab. Beyond the opaque glass of some of the windows, flesh-pink shapes moved to and fro. It was no secret that in such establishments, in the moist heat, the girls' clothes became sodden rags within ten minutes.

  Many of them worked stripped naked to the waist and some chose to work naked altogether.

  In her parlour, to which the hiss and clatter of the laundry penetrated clearly, Mrs Rouncewell, dark and brawny with two tufts of hair springing from moles on her chin and cheek-bone, surveyed her visitors.

  'We 'oped,' said Samson piously, 'that you might favour us with your assistance in a delicate investigation. This young person, Miss Elaine, is to be asked questions of great consequence to a titled and noble family. Only she won't answer. However, she has also been apprehended begging and extorting. Now, for that she might be confined in gaol. But such wouldn't serve the noble family and wouldn't answer questions. On the other hand, if she was brought to repentance by a lady of a firm hand, such as yourself, and taught to answer when spoke to, then her misdemeanour might be forgot. And o' course, Elaine here would be expected to apprentice herself here to you, for which the parish might reimburse you, and for which you wouldn't pay a 'aypenny wages to her.'

  Mrs Rouncewell thought about this.

  'Quite the best thing for 'er,' she said at last. 'It beats the Old Bailey by lengths. Miss Workhouse! Sister Charity! In 'ere.'

  Two burly young women in grimy smocks appeared. 'Her,' said Mrs Rouncewell, nodding at Elaine, 'for the barrel.'

  Without another word said the two smocked women seized the handcuffed girl and in a few deft movements stripped off the skirt and the pants she was wearing underneath. One of them pulled aside a curtain, revealing an alcove into which a barrel lying on its side had been securely wedged. Verity, nervously sensing what was about to happen, looked at Samson. But Samson watched with complete calm. The women lifted Elaine and pushed her face down over the barrel. As it was happening, the sturdy adolescent tossed back her fair hair and twisted her face round defiantly. Then her head and shoulders disappeared over the far side of the barrel and Verity could see nothing beyond the full pale cheeks of Elaine's bottom. Mrs Rouncewell armed herself with a switch cut from an ash plant.

  'And now,' she said, 'p'raps you gentlemen'd 'ave the goodness just to take a turn down so far as the Elephant.'

  As they left the parlour, she turned to her task, measuring the ash-plant carefully across the plump globes which Elaine reluctantly presented.

  'A fine mess,' said Verity furiously as they crossed the yard, 'a fine mess there could be out of all this.'

  'A fine mess there could be for you, my son, if that little whore Elaine won't answer your questions,' said Samson confidently.

  There was a sharp smack followed by a shrill cry. "owever,' said Samson, 'Mrs Rouncewell ain't one to let you down.'

  They walked the length of the New Kent Road to the Elephant and Castle, and then turned back. As they entered the cobbled yard once more, the sounds of the confrontation between Mrs Rouncewell and her new apprentice-girl were still continuing. Samson led the way into the parlour. Elaine twisted and lunged convulsively like a fish in a net. Mrs Rouncewell looked up.

  'How the minutes fly,' she said in surprise. 'I usually sends gentlemen to walk a stretch. It helps to give me a grip hold o' time.'

  Elaine, red-eyed and weeping copiously, struggled upright. Mrs Rouncewell patted her familiarly on the rear, causing the girl to jerk forward.

  'Cry away, Elaine my dear,' said Mrs Rouncewell. 'It exercises the lungs, washes the face, and clears the eyes of dust. And it softens the temper. Why, you'll be as meek and obliging for the next half-hour as ever Mr Samson could ask!'

  With that Mrs Rouncewell drew her smocked assistants to her and left the girl with the two sergeants. Elaine wore neither her skirt nor pants, both of which garments Mrs Rouncewell had taken as a precaution against her fifteen-year-old apprentice absconding.

  'Well, now, Miss Elaine,' said Samson jovially, 'p'raps you'd just care to answer questions as they're asked.'

  Elaine snivelled and said nothing, her hands rubbing busily behind her. Samson walked slowly round her, thoughtfully admiring the bare thighs, the triangle of light hair between them, and the nakedness of the girl's body from her waist down to her stockings. Verity produced a pencil and a notebook.

  'Now, miss,' he said self-consciously, 'where might you have been when a picture was took of you in tournament costume, breeches and a doublet?'

  'Never 'ad a picture done,' she said sullenly.

  'Where might it have been done and you not know?'

  'Greenwich Fair,' she said, 'Brighton races, Lewes, Lansdown Fair, Newport. There's a thousand places we went.'

  'And where might you have written a letter to Lord Henry Jervis, that is now dead?'

  'I never did,' she said, nervously pulling at her lower lip with her teeth. 'I never 'eard of him.'

  'Miss Elaine,' said Verity softly, 'the letter is found, your hand is identified, your picture with it for good measure. Now, that barrel is still there and it's no inconvenience to put you backside-upwards over it and call in Mrs Rouncewell. So I just ask you again, where might you have writ that letter, signed Anonyma?'

  'It was done when I came to town, two months since,' she said grudgingly. 'I was to have had money and never a penny I got.'

  'Why did you write it?'

  'I was made to. Charley Wag, 'im that was coopered afterwards. He made me do it.' 'Why Lord Henry Jervis?'

  'I knew a bit about him, and Charley thought he'd know me.'

  'Miss Elaine,' said Verity, 'Lord Henry Jervis died violently. There's suspicion he was cruelly murdered. Now, let's have the truth of that letter.'

  But even as he spoke he realized the mistake. At the reference to murder she looked up, frightened silly at the thought of the noose and the slow throttling death on the public gallows as the trap let her down with a slither rather than a drop.

  'I'll tell you!' she screamed. 'I swear it's all! Charley made me write! He told me every word to put! I could never have wrote a letter without it! I pray I may be blasted if I know a word more than that!'

  Samson stood close by her, stroking the back of Elaine's thigh gently.

  'You don't care about being blasted or suffering the pains of hell, Elaine. You care more about Mrs Rouncewell being fetched in here. That's what you need.'

  'Fetch her!' said the girl with sudden firmness. "There's no more I can tell, a-cos there isn't more to tell. A tanning ain't going to alter that.'

  Verity gave a quick glance at Samson and shook his head slightly.

  'Then there ain't more for you to do, miss,' he said gently, 'than serve out your time here. You may escape if you try, but I ain't got to tell you how Mrs Rouncewell welcomes back them that's taken again.'

  He opened a door and called the proprietress in.

  Ten minutes later, Verity and Samson walked away across the cobbled yard, leaving the new washer-girl to her apprenticeship. Samson, evidently giving expression to feelings which had greatly preoccupied him, said,

  'You was unfortunate, Mr Verity, you was most unfortunate to 'ave mentioned any suggestion of Lord 'enry being murdered to Miss Elaine. You saw how it shut her up. You scared her so she wouldn't say another word.'

  Verity flushed slightly.

  'Mr Samson,' he said firmly, 'I ain't so stoopid as not to know what I'm about. Course I scared 'er. If I'd done otherwise, she'd have said nothing in the first place. You'd make a better detective officer, Mr Samson, if you wasn't so quick to judge by the first appearance of a thing!'

  Arms swinging a little, the two sergeants marched side by side out of the gates of Mrs Rouncewell's Hygienic Steam Laundry in a silence born of mutual reproach.

  Sergeant William Clarence Verity presents his compliments to Mr Richard Jervis and has the honour to submit
the results of the investigation which he was hired to undertake.

  Sergeant Verity has examined Mr Rumer, the keeper, and others who witnessed the death of Lord Henry Jervis at Bole Warren, who avouch for His Lordship stumbling and firing his rifle in what appeared an accidental manner. There was, at the time, no other person within thirty yards of Lord Henry.

  Mr Somerville, gunmaker of the Strand, has sworn to Sergeant Verity that the bullet which killed Lord Henry must have been fired by the rifle His Lordship was carrying. This can be told by each rifled barrel making its unique mark on a bullet as fired.

  Dr Jamieson of Burlington Street has confirmed to Sergeant Verity that the medical facts are consistent only with Lord Henry having shot himself on stumbling.

  Sergeant Verity is possessed of no evidence from any of these witnesses to suggest that Lord Henry died other than an accidental tragic death.

  In accordance with instructions, Sergeant Verity has also examined the personal effects of the late Lord Henry. Consequent on this, he is obliged to mention certain items which may be distressful to His Lordships family but which his duty requires him to specify. There are three photographic plates of a grossly indecent nature, the figure of a naked man appearing in each, though the section of the plate depicting the head has been broken away. The man is identified by marks of wounds upon the body and rings worn as Lord Henry Jervis. Two of the young persons in the plates are known to Sergeant Verity as associates of the late Carlo Aldino, on whose premises the acts photographed appear to have taken place.

  Sergeant Verity is also in possession of a letter written to Lord Henry by a young person in an endeavour to extort money. A young person has been found who admits to writing such words at the dictation of Aldino but does not know the intent or purport of same.

  With great regret, Sergeant Verity is obliged to conclude that a blackmail conspiracy was attempted against Lord Henry. Sergeant Verity will not go so far as to suggest that His Lordship was induced by this to take his own life. However, he must advise that no pains be spared to keep this in confidence. Once the evidence of extortion is known, there will be no lack of ill-disposed persons ready to attribute self-destruction to Lord Henry.

  Verity read through his report and thought for several minutes. Then he dipped his quill in the little china well and added a final paragraph.

  Sergeant Verity can only say how extremely sorry he is that he has not been able to serve Mr Jervis more to Mr Jervis' wishes. He is also conscious of the grief which the late Lord Henry's death must cause and hopes he may offer sincere condolence.

  Sergeant Verity begs to remain Mr Jervis' obedient humble servant.

  Verity signed and dated the report. With a deep sigh of disappointment for himself and sympathy for the Jervis household, he took a cylindrical wooden ruler in his large fist, holding it like a truncheon, and drew the final neat line at the bottom of the page. Leaning forward over the little table again, his tongue protruding slightly through his teeth with the effort of intellectual concentration, he addressed an envelope to Richard Jervis, Esq., Upper Berkeley Street, Portman Square. Since it was the very house in which he was writing, the report was unlikely to go astray.

  The room was unexpectedly bright and cheerful, overcrowded by ornaments and bric-a-brac which exemplified the wealth of the Jervis family. A Turkey carpet in red, blue and yellow adorned the floor. A gilded clock beneath a glass bell ticked the seconds away softly. The gold-framed looking-glass reflected a carefully landscaped and sunny rear garden through the open window. Richard Jervis looked up from his chair, his open hand smashed down on the inlaid table with a power which seemed beyond his emaciated frame.

  'You blackguard!' he gasped, throwing down the pages of Verity's report. 'You damned scoundrel!'

  'Sir?' said Verity, relaxing from his rigid posture of attention in dismay.

  "This!' shouted Jervis, threshing the air with the pages of the report. 'Is this what I have paid you to do?'

  'Sir?' The bewilderment grew on Verity's plump face.

  'Did I hire you that you might malign my brother's character? Have I paid you to traduce him and insult me in this manner?'

  'I never. . . .'

  'Indecent photographic plates! Letters from a whore! My brother was a man of more virtue than you could ever imagine, more worthy, more righteous. ..."

  Jervis beat his palm on the table in light, rapid strokes.

  'It ain't no pleasure to me, sir. . . .'

  'Be silent!'

  Captain Ransome, at his usual place behind Richard Jervis' chair, stood with eyes lowered, as though from shame on Verity's behalf. Jervis rapped the table and said nothing. Verity paused a moment as the young man's eyes flashed in excited fury at him and then looked down again. The portly sergeant, with an air of injured dignity, drew out his notecase and took from it a single sheet of paper. He placed it on the table before Richard Jervis, who picked it up, unfolded it and read it.

  'That,' said Verity sternly, 'was what come from Lord Henry's bureau. And I think, sir, if Captain Ransome ain't no objection to withdraw, you and me had best have a private word.'

  'I think, Captain Ransome, you may find matters to occupy you,' said Jervis shortly. Ransome nodded, half bowed to his master, and withdrew.

  'First off," said Verity as soon as the door had closed,

  'there's things not said in that report. Such as who the gentleman may have been that Captain Ransome was representing when he went to see Charley Wag. Could a-bin Lord Henry, sir. Could a-bin you.'

  Richard Jervis said nothing for a moment. When he spoke again his voice was unsteady.

  'How much have they paid you?’

  'Paid, sir? Don't follow, with respect, sir.'

  'How much have my brother's enemies, his murderers, paid you? How much did they give you to fabricate this tale of blackmail?'

  'There's no murderers, sir, only in your imagination. I ain't got to tell you, sir, how bitterly sorry I am things should come to this. But facts is facts, Mr Jervis, and evidence is evidence, like it or not.'

  'Evidence!' said Jervis with a sneer. There was another long silence.

  'Sir,' said Verity carefully, 'I also got to say that there's reason to think the blackmail mayn't be over. They must a-got hooks into this family and whoever inherits Charley Wag's place may bleed you for Lord Henry's reputation.'

  'You fool!' said Jervis with contempt.

  'Sir,' Verity persisted, 'I gotta say this. If I was working on this case official, for Mr Croaker, first thing I'd ask now is about Captain Ransome. He ain't always had a good reputation, sir, though he went as Honest Jack, 'im and Charley Wag quarrelled, and fought. What I gotta ask is, could it a-bin thieves falling out?'

  Jervis looked up, the triangle of fair beard seeming sharper, the grey eyes bright with fury.

  'How dare youl' he shouted in a voice that half rose to a scream, 'how dare you impugn Jack Ransome! That man has been my legs, my eyes and ears. That man has brought me to life again!'

  'Very sorry, sir,' Verity mumbled, and he began to feel that he really had behaved badly towards Ransome and Richard Jervis, that he deserved at least some of the wrath.

  It was at this point that Ransome returned. He handed several slips of paper to Richard Jervis and Verity recognized them as the tracings of Elaine's blackmail note which he had made so that Samson might identify the writing. There was also a copy in his own hand of the entire note.

  'Found in the fellow's room, sir,' said Ransome. 'His practice attempts for the final draft.'

  "ere!' said Verity in a purple fury, 'by what right is my belongings searched?'

  'Unfortunate for you, Sergeant Verity,' said Jervis bitterly.

  'Sir,' said Verity, hanging on to the truth like a terrier to the neck of a rat, 'I got proof that I never fabricated such a note. The girl Elaine admitted writing it, yesterday.' And he told the full story of the day's events.

  Richard Jervis sniffed derisively.

  'So,' he said, '
you seize your Elaine, a fifteen-year-old slut. You take her to a private place where she first refuses to have any part in your plan. Then your female accomplice strips her. She thrashes Elaine's backside for half an hour. And then, of course, the girl agrees to say that she wrote the letter. Might that not be it, sergeant?'