Peg nodded. “I understand. So how can I be of help?”
Nurse Riley said, “I’m sure you know that two young men were brought in about eleven-thirty last night, very badly beaten and with head wounds—”
“Oh yes, I heard. Is the problem to do with them?” Peg cut in.
“Not a problem, really. One of them has finally awakened, and that’s important for Mr. Perdue to know and also the policemen.”
Peg frowned. “Are they still here? It’s three in the morning.”
“They are. They wouldn’t leave. Nurse Clapton told me that. Mostly because they need to know who those boys are. They didn’t have any identification on them.”
Peg groaned and threw the young nurse a pained look. “Naturally. I will come and speak to him, find out who he is. Where is Mr. Frayne? I believe I would like to have a surgeon with me when I see the young man.”
“I don’t know. But I can go and find him for you, Nurse Nolan.”
“Take me to the young man first, and then scoot around and seek out Mr. Frayne … I really would feel happier with a doctor in the room.”
Nurse Riley led Peg to the other end of the corridor, opened a door, and ushered her into one of the small emergency rooms. Peg thanked her, sent her off to find the surgeon, and then walked over to see the patient.
The young man stretched out on the bed stared at her through the brightest blue eye she had ever seen. The other eye was covered by heavy bandaging which went across part of his forehead and around his entire head. One arm was in a splint, resting on top of the sheet.
He said in a tired voice, “I’m alive then?”
“You certainly are. Thankfully. A junior nurse came to fetch me because the senior nurse who has been attending to you is in the operating room with your surgeon at the moment.”
“I understand. I just woke up. Is my friend all right? He got beaten up with me.”
Peg couldn’t help thinking what a lovely voice the young man had, so cultured, a fine voice indeed. An actor’s voice. She said, “I don’t know about your friend, but I will find out for you shortly.”
“Thank you, Nurse. Could I have a drink, please?”
Peg walked over to the bed, reached out for the glass of water on the nightstand, and suddenly drew back, staring at him intently. She knew him. She simply couldn’t remember his name.
“I’m Nurse Peg Nolan,” she said. “You look familiar to me. What is your name?”
“James Falconer, and I recognize you. Isn’t your aunt Mavis Greenwood?”
A smile spread across her face. She nodded and the smile grew wider. “She is indeed, and she’s known you since you were a little boy. In fact, she lives near your parents in Camden.”
She leaned over him and helped him to take long swallows of the water, and then put the glass back on the nightstand.
“How are you feeling, James?” she asked, her eyes sweeping over him.
“Not great. Sore. All over. A broken arm, as you can see, and there’s something wrong with my left leg. Otherwise I’m fine.” He tried to grin, with no success.
Peg nodded and laughed. “At least you’re not dead.”
“About my friend. Can you find out, please?”
“I will indeed. And I will get a message to Mr. Perdue that you are awake, and I will also tell the two policemen who brought you in. I believe they’ve waited to find out your identity, and what state you’re in.”
“Thank you very much,” James said as she hurried toward the door.
“No problem. I’m just happy you’re alive.”
* * *
The two policemen arrived before the surgeon. Peg showed them into the room and departed, leaving them to do their job.
It was Constable Tony Roy who spoke first, introducing himself and Sergeant Mick Owen. “We were the ones who found you, Mr. Falconer, and got you both here to the hospital as fast as we could.”
“Thank you very much, and I believe you came along just at the right time,” James responded. “How’s my friend Denny doing? The nurse didn’t know anything.”
“He is still in a coma, I’m afraid,” Constable Roy said, “and he has other injuries. He’s been looked after very well.”
“Will he be all right?”
“We think so … we hope so,” the constable answered. “The doctors will give you the best information. What’s his full name, by the way?”
“Dennis Holden. We all call him Denny. His father is Jack Holden, and he has stalls at the Malvern, like my father, Matt Falconer.”
Sergeant Mick Owen said, “Is Philip Falconer a relation of yours, by any chance?”
“He’s my grandfather,” James replied. “I think someone has to be in touch with my parents in Camden, let them know I’m in hospital. They’ll be worried when they discover I didn’t go home last night. And Denny’s father needs to be informed.”
“We’ll deal with it immediately,” the sergeant said, and added, “I know your grandparents, Mr. Falconer.”
“We need to ask you a few questions,” Constable Roy interjected. “Did you know the attackers? Why do you think you were assaulted in this manner? With such violence.”
“I didn’t know them, and neither did Denny, I’m sure of that. I don’t have the slightest idea why we were attacked, all I can add is that from the glimpse I got of them they were rough types, bruisers, my father would call them. English, not foreigners, up from the docks. And they were brutal, as you just said.” James grimaced. “I can’t imagine why they beat us up, because we didn’t have much money on us. And when you check around, you’ll discover Denny and I are law abiding, have never been in trouble.”
“We’ve no doubts about you and your friend. As for robbery, that was certainly not the reason. They didn’t take what bit of money you had between you. No, this was a hit. Very deliberate. And they aimed to do a lot of damage, even kill you.” Constable Roy shook his head. “Why? Do you have any enemies? Is there anyone you’ve quarreled with? Offended?”
“No, none of those things. I’m baffled, and I know Denny will tell you the same thing when he wakes up.”
“Where were you coming from last night?” Sergeant Owen asked. “Had you been out on the town? Drinking? In any bars?”
James said, “Can I begin at the beginning?”
“Please do.”
The sergeant went and brought a small chair from across the room, and then fetched another one. The two police officers sat down, and the sergeant nodded. “Please, tell us everything, Mr. Falconer.”
“In the summer, on Saturday nights, my father likes to have a family supper. That’s when my grandparents can join us because the Honorable Mister and Lady Agatha are in France. My father’s brothers usually come too, and last night I invited Denny.”
James reached for the glass, took several swallows of water, and continued. “After supper was over, at about eight, my grandparents were ready to leave. My uncles also decided it was time to go, and we went along with them. Uncle Harry has a café on Marylebone High Street, and he invited us to join him there for coffee and cakes. We did.”
“What about your grandparents and your other uncle? Did they go with you to the café?” the constable inquired.
“No, they didn’t. My grandparents went home to the Montague house near Regent’s Park, and Uncle George accompanied them. He’s a journalist and works on The Chronicle.”
“What time did you leave your uncle’s café?” Sergeant Owen asked.
“About ten o’clock. Denny and I headed straight for Camden. But we never got there because we were jumped by the three men. You know the rest, sir. It’s a mystery to me.”
“And to us. But we’ll get to the bottom of it, don’t you worry. We’re going to leave you in peace for now. Let you get some rest. And we’ll make sure your parents and Mr. Holden are informed where you and Denny are. And I personally will go and see your grandfather later this morning.”
“Thank you, Sergeant Owen.”
> Fourteen
Matthew Falconer paid their local “knocker-upper” two pennies a month to be awakened every morning at five o’clock, seven days a week. The man walked along the street carrying a lamp and a long stick, with which he tapped the upstairs windows of his customers.
When Matt heard the tapping this morning he was out of bed at once, moving quietly, not wanting to disturb Maude, who was sound asleep. He took off his nightshirt, dressed quickly, and went to the washstand to shave, comb his hair, and clean his teeth.
Once he was downstairs he found the Swan Vestas and began to light the gas lamps. He then added paper and wood chips to the low fire which had burned all night, and filled the kettle with water, put it on the stove.
He was taking a cup out of the cupboard when there was a light knocking on the front door. He set the cup down on the table, frowning, wondering who it could be calling on him so early on a Sunday morning.
Matt unlocked the door and stiffened when he saw the two policemen on his doorstep, and swallowed hard, wondering what they wanted. For Matt, two coppers visiting him was not a normal sight.
Before he could say a word, Constable Roy said, “Good morning, Mr. Falconer. I’m Constable Tony Roy and this is my partner, Sergeant Mick Owen. We need to speak with you.”
“What about? Has something happened?” Matt asked, his voice rising.
Constable Roy nodded. “Your son has been injured, Mr. Falconer. Can we come in, please?”
Matt felt a tightening in his chest, and he paled as he opened the door, allowed the policemen to enter the small hall. Finally he managed to say, “Jimmy’s not home?” He glanced at the staircase. “I thought he came in late, after we’d gone to bed. I was just about to wake him up.”
“He didn’t get home, I’m afraid.” Sergeant Owen said in a low voice. “Let’s go into the kitchen, shall we? And we’ll tell you everything we know.”
Matt nodded, now unable to speak. His mouth was dry as bone. The cold chill that swept through him seemed to flow out of his body to fill the room. He shivered as he pointed to the chairs around the long oak table, and sat down; the policemen followed suit. He felt as if he’d just been hit in the chest.
He pushed the words out when he asked, in a shaking voice, “Where is Jimmy now? How badly is he injured?”
“He’s at King’s Hospital, and he has some serious wounds. We found him and his friend unconscious on the Chalk Farm Road last night. But I’m happy to inform you that he is now awake. We’ve spoken to him. He appears to be lucid.”
Matt gaped at the police officer. “Lucid? That tells me Jimmy has head injuries. Whatever happened to him?” He was afraid for his son, shaking inside.
“He does have minor head injuries, but the surgeon, Mr. Perdue, told us he will be all right. Let me reassure you he will recover, be his old self in time. As for what happened, he and his friend Dennis Holden were attacked and beaten up by some men. Your son said you would call them bruisers. We were doing our rounds at eleven-thirty when we saw them passed out.”
“My God! I can’t believe this! Who would want to harm them? It doesn’t make sense. How is Denny?”
“His wounds are a little more severe. He was still in a coma when we left the hospital to come here.”
Matt closed his eyes, shook his head. After a moment he opened his eyes. “Have you been to tell Denny’s father?”
“Not yet. We will see Mr. Holden after we leave here,” the sergeant explained.
Constable Roy, leaning closer to Matt, said quietly, “We don’t know who did this, Mr. Falconer. Your son told us he didn’t recognize them. There were three men who apparently appeared from nowhere and assaulted them on Chalk Farm Road.” The constable paused before adding, “We’ve no lead, no witnesses, nothing to go on.”
The sergeant now asked, “Do you know anyone at all who would want to hurt your son and his friend?”
“No. Jimmy’s a good lad, works hard with me on our stalls at the Malvern Market. He’s a lovely lad, very popular, and Denny’s the same. He works with Jack on their stalls. Could it have been a robbery?”
“No. They both had a bit of money on them, and it wasn’t taken,” Constable Roy answered.
“What time do you think this happened?” Matt’s voice was still shaky.
“Around ten-thirty.” Tony Roy sat back, and continued, “Your son told us he and Denny went to your brother Harry’s café. Your parents and your brother George continued back to the Montague house near Regent’s Park.”
“That sounds right. Harry mentioned to me he was going to invite Jimmy and Denny to have coffee and cakes—” Matt broke off. After a moment, he exclaimed, “This was obviously planned, wasn’t it?”
“That’s what we think,” Tony Roy agreed. “And if it was planned, what was the reason for the attack? Can you think of anyone at all who might want to get even with you? Want revenge?”
Matt shook his head vehemently. “I can’t. Because we haven’t done anything to anyone. Nor has Jack Holden, for that matter, I’m sure. He’s a good chap.”
“To say it’s a mystery is the understatement of the year,” Mick Owen muttered. “Beating up two young men for no reason whatsoever doesn’t seem right to me. There has to be more to this. Something we’re not seeing.”
“I agree, but I can’t hazard a guess.” Constable Roy looked at Matt. “Is there anything from the past? Something that happened years ago, maybe?”
“Absolutely not.” Matt rubbed his eyes with one hand, and then suddenly sat up straighter. “I wonder if someone holds a grudge against my father, Philip Falconer.”
“I doubt it,” Mick Owen exclaimed. “I’ve met your parents and they’re fine people. I can’t imagine anyone being set against them.”
Matt nodded. “I agree. There is one thing I do remember, though, not about the past, but more recently. Harry told me that Jimmy and Denny have been going to a bar near the Thames … Tango Rose. I think that’s the name. Harry warned them off last night, told them it was a bad place, full of bad people.”
“That’s a start. We’ll go and see the owner. He may remember the lads, and more importantly, anyone whom they might have been with, or mingled with,” Mick Owen replied.
“What’s happened?” Maude, fully dressed, walked into the kitchen, a look of immense apprehension flooding her face when she saw the police.
Matt jumped up and brought her to the table, introduced the policemen. It was Constable Roy who told her why they were there and what had happened. She collapsed against Matt’s chest and began to weep. But eventually, she controlled herself and sat up, wiping her wet cheeks with her hands.
Maude looked at Constable Roy. “When can we go and see our son?” She stood up. “I want to go now. At once. Seeing him will make me feel better and it will help Jimmy too. Perhaps we should take Jack Holden with us. What do you think, Matt?”
“Yes, we must go to King’s Hospital, and take Jack with us. I’d better rouse Rossi and Eddie, hurry them on, so they can come with us. And you’d better make a bit of breakfast. Then we’ll go.”
“And we’ll take a hansom cab, or a brougham, if Jack’s with us,” Maude answered, in a voice that told everyone at the table there would be no argument about that.
Fifteen
Sebastian Trevalian stood at the soaring window in his library, staring out at Grosvenor Square. It was filled with bright sunlight on this Sunday morning, but he knew it wasn’t a warm day.
When he had been dressing earlier, his valet, Maxwell, had told him looks were deceiving. “Funny weather this summer,” Sebastian muttered to himself, as he turned away and walked over to his desk.
He was a little edgy and nervous today, but the moment he sat down and stared at the papers on his desk, he felt a sense of calm overtaking him. He loved his work, took his responsibilities as head of the family bank seriously, and finally he relaxed as he read some of the documents.
Half an hour later, he glanced up when there was a knoc
k at the door, and Claudia came into the room. She had a broad smile on her face. As she glided across the floor, she announced, “Alexis has accepted to come to tea this afternoon, Papa. I for one am very pleased, and I’m sure you are.”
“I’m delighted,” he responded, and, rising, he walked toward her and put an arm around her. “Let’s sit in front of the fire, shall we? Much cozier.”
Every large mansion in London had fires burning in all of the main rooms, without exception. These vast, very grand houses were elegant and impressive, but not the warmest places to live in at any time of year. Because he could afford it, Sebastian even kept the fires alight in the bedrooms as well, year round.
Once seated in front of the hearth, he looked at his daughter, a questioning expression on his face. “How did it all come about?”
“I wrote Alexis a note, inviting her to tea, because you wished to know more about her charity. I said you would like to give a donation. I told her in the note to simply say she would come or would not come, and that Gerald would relay the message to me verbally.”
“And he returned here and the answer was yes?”
She nodded. “I like Gerald, by the way, Papa. He’s a good footman, very diligent.”
“How much should I give to the charity, do you think?”
“That’s really up to you, Papa, but I know her father gave her a check for a thousand pounds. Delia’s husband gave five hundred, Delia’s father five hundred.”
“I think a thousand pounds sounds right to me. I don’t want to upstage her father. So what time is she arriving?”
“Around four o’clock. Is that all right with you?”
“Of course it is.” A smile flickered. “I can hardly wait.”
She laughed, and then stared at him intently, her face solemn. “Papa, there is something I must discuss with you, if I’m not interrupting your work.”
“The papers are not important; they’re only small things I’m dealing with. Anyway, it’s Sunday, a day of rest. Supposedly. You sound serious, Claudia. What is this about?” He looked at her curiously, his eyes narrowing slightly.
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