by Sam Gafford
Dr. Williams quickly left the room, obviously feeling that he had said too much. For my part, I could not shake the image of William in his leather apron and his unhealthy appetite for blood.
I finished my hasty meal and dragged myself off to bed. As I passed Ann’s room, I could hear her and Mrs. Hutchins rifling through her wardrobe, looking for something appropriate to wear. “None of these will do! I’ll simply have to get a new outfit.”
“Now, Miss Ann, be reasonable. There’s no way for you to get an outfit sized in time for tomorrow. We’ll have to find something here.”
Leaving them to their hunt, I went to my room and collapsed on my bed. I didn’t even bother to take off my clothes but instantly fell into a deep sleep. The day had been exhausting and, had I know what the next day would bring, I would never have left that bed at all.
Chapter 16
The man who can dominate a London dinner-table can dominate the world.
—Oscar Wilde
Sunday, September 2, 1888
When I awoke the next morning, the house was in turmoil. I could hear Ann and Mrs. Hutchins rushing about, excitedly chattering to each other. I sat up in bed, and my head instantly protested. It ached terribly and I wanted nothing more than simply to lie back down and sleep. But I knew that I would have to face the wrath of Ann if I didn’t get up and get moving.
Before I could even begin to think about the party that night, I had to go talk to Wendell. Today was Sunday, my one day off, but I knew that Wendell would be at the shop, waiting anxiously to hear what had happened. That was my first priority.
I quickly dressed and walked down to Ann’s room. I could hear them inside and wondered if they had even been to sleep yet. I knocked quietly on the door, and Mrs. Hutchins quickly opened it.
“Ah, Mrs. Hutchins, I just wanted to let you both know that I have to go see Wendell at the shop. I shouldn’t be gone long.”
The door flew open and Ann was suddenly there.
“Going? Now? Can’t it wait?” Her hair was a mess, and I could see a pile of dresses on her bed.
“No, it can’t. I have to tell him what happened yesterday. He’s waiting to hear from me.”
Ann sighed. “Yes, of course, I’m sorry. I’m just a little panicked right now.”
“Why? You’ll look fine!”
Mrs. Hutchins and Ann both looked at me, and I instantly knew that I had said something wrong.
“Why don’t you run along, Mr. Albert? But don’t be too long, right?”
“Ah, no, I’ll be back as soon as I can.”
“Then we’ll have a look through your closet while you’re gone; pick out something nice for you to wear tonight.”
“Yes, that will be fine. I’ll be back soon.”
I went downstairs and out the door, wondering what I had gotten myself into. There were a lot of things that I seemed to be ignorant about.
As I walked towards the shop, I tried to think about how I would explain everything to Wendell. So much had happened, and yet I had nothing concrete to show for my pain. I felt that I had let Wendell down and was more determined than ever to find that diary.
When I got to the shop, it looked dark inside. I tried the door and was surprised to find that it was unlocked.
“Hello?” I said, walking inside. “Anyone here?”
I saw a head pop up from behind a pile of books. “Who is it? Who’s there?” Wendell said. There was a strong taste of fear in his voice.
“It’s just me, Albert. Why are you sitting here in the dark?”
Wendell bound up and came running towards me. “Albert! Thank heaven! I was so worried about you. What happened? Did you find anything? Did you get the book?”
He could tell by the look on my face that I had nothing to give him, and his enthusiasm instantly fell.
“I’m sorry, Wendell, but I don’t have it. Not yet, but I will!”
I could see the disappointment in his face and a tinge of fear as well.
“Well, come on then, tell me all about it.”
We went to the back of the store, where Wendell gave me a cup of very strong black coffee, and I told him about my adventures. I gave him all the details of my conversation with Edwards, leaving out my side trip to the inquest with Arthur but including my trip to Cohen’s room, being knocked out and waking up to Gaffer and my subsequent escape. Wendell barely spoke a word as he took it all in.
“It’s as I feared. Whoever hired this Cohen knew exactly what to look for. Someone found out that we had those books. No doubt he stole them for a dark purpose. You did well, Albert, more than I could have asked.”
“But I didn’t get the diary!” I protested.
“No, but we know more than we did before. Cohen was working for someone else whom, in turn, Cohen tried to double-cross. It is vital that we find him. Given the way he’s been treated, I’m sure he would eagerly sell the books back to us and give up his employer’s name.”
“I have an idea how to find Cohen.”
“Indeed? How?”
“I think that Edwards knows more about this than he’s saying. I’d almost venture to guess that he may have been the one to bring Cohen to this mysterious employer. We need to know what Edwards knows.”
Wendell shook his head. “Edwards is not to be taken lightly. No, he is too dangerous for you, Albert. I can’t allow it.”
“It has to be done. Right now, Cohen is digging himself a hole and Gaffer is trying to run him to ground. Without Edwards, we may never get the books back.”
Wendell thought for a moment. “Are you going to try to bribe him?”
“No. Edwards made it fairly plain that he is disdainful of me and any money I might bring him. What Edwards does value is information. That is how I will get him.”
“What information? Not to be rude, Albert, but what could you trade him?”
I stood up, looking more confident than I felt. “You’d be surprised what I know, Wendell. I will get the information. I’ll go back to the Ringers tomorrow morning and confront Edwards. I’ll get him to tell me what he knows, but I will be late for work.”
Wendell smiled. “Oh, don’t worry about that. I’ll make some excuse to Robert. He’s too caught up in this burglary business right now.”
“Is he trying to do something about it?”
Wendell cleared his throat. “Robert has engaged the services of a private enquiry agent. He thinks that this fellow will be able to recover the books.”
“But you don’t?”
“I think that the most this fellow will do is to reduce our bank accounts. Still, stranger things have happened, I suppose.”
As I left, I looked at Wendell closely. His face was drained and much of the fire had gone out of his eyes. “Wendell,” I asked, “are you quite well?”
He sighed. “I fear that this whole business has taken its toll on me. Were I still a young man, I would be out there myself, tracking our books down. But my health has not been well lately and I cannot endure much stress or activity. That is why Robert thinks he is helping me by trying to handle everything himself. But he is going about it all the wrong way. That is why I need you, Albert. You can be my eyes, ears, and fists if need be. Bet you never thought that the life of a bookseller would be this dangerous, hey?”
He laughed softly, but it was not the laugh of the man who had hired me. That had been strong and vibrant. This laugh was thin and weak, bordering on a cough.
“I will not let you down, Wendell.”
“I know you won’t, Albert—you’ve already proven that! Now, off with you, try and enjoy some of this day.”
As I was walking out the door, however, a coach pulled up in front of the store and I heard Wendell mutter, “Blast!” The door of the coach opened and Robert climbed out, followed by another tall man whom I had never seen before. He was immaculately dressed in a fine, long tan coat with a shiny bowler atop his head. His hair was dark black and impeccably trimmed. His eyes were cold and grey, and he had a strong
, unyielding jaw. For some reason, I had the image of a bulldog when I looked at him.
“Ah! Albert!” Robert said. “Splendid! Just the man we wanted to see. Albert, this is Mr. Charles Mason. He is a private detective whom I have hired to regain our property. Mr. Mason, this is our valued employee, Albert Besame, who tried so valiantly to capture the thief.”
“Very good,” Mr. Mason said. “I was hoping to have a word with you today. Shall we talk for a moment?” His voice was smooth but hard, like a piece of well-polished steel. He offered a gloved hand which I shook while I winced at the strength of his grip.
“Of course. I am in a bit of a hurry, though.”
“Certainly, certainly, this won’t take but a moment. Mr. Carslake, may we use your office for some privacy?”
“By all means,” Robert answered.
I walked back inside and saw Wendell’s face full of worry. For myself, I was worried at the prospect of facing two impatient women back home!
We went inside their office, and Mr. Mason immediately sat behind Robert’s desk, which was of course the largest. I sat down in one of the visitors’ chairs after taking a pile of books off it and putting them on the floor. I was not so foolish as to be unaware that Mr. Mason had chosen his seat to begin our ‘talk’ in a position of authority. He felt it necessary to show that he was the one in charge.
“Now then, Mr. Besame, could you tell me everything that happened to you?”
I told him the whole story of how I had arrived at work to find the shop dark and Mr. Robson coming later. Then I spoke of the discovery of the burglar inside, Wendell going to get the constable, and our attempt to capture him in the alleys. I told him about my brief struggle and defeat at the thief’s hands and of waking up back in the store.
“And that’s absolutely everything?” Mr. Mason asked.
“Yes, I believe so.”
“And you didn’t see the man’s face or any identifying features?”
I squirmed a bit in my seat. “No, it all happened so quickly. I didn’t get a good look at his face.”
“Could you recognise his voice again?”
“I think so. He had a very distinctive voice. Very guttural.”
“And what about smells?”
“Beg pardon?” I had no idea where that question was coming from.
“The man. Did he smell unusual?”
“Oh. Not that I recall. I don’t think he had bathed in a while, because he smelled rather ‘earthy,’ but nothing unusual. Not as if he smelled of fish or meat or anything.”
“I see, I see.” Mr. Mason sat back in the chair and glared at me. “Mr. Besame, you’re a fairly new hire here, aren’t you?”
I was starting to get a bad feeling from this fellow.
“Yes, just a bit over a week or so.”
“What did you do before this?”
“Ah, nothing, really. I didn’t have a position. I was trying to make a living as a writer.”
“Oh? Like that Conan Doyle chap? The one who writes about that detective, Sherlock Holmes?”
“I only wish. Unfortunately, my writing was not been particularly appreciated.”
“So you’ve sold nothing, then?”
“No, nothing.”
“I imagine you were quite desperate for a job, then?”
“Very much. If it hadn’t been for Arthur, I don’t know what I would have done.”
“Ah, yes, Mr. Machen. I need to speak to him as well. He recommended you for this job, didn’t he?”
“Yes, he did. I am forever indebted to him.”
“Known him for a long time, then, have you?”
“Um, actually, we only met a short time ago.”
“Really? How interesting. How short a time ago?”
I was beginning to feel uncomfortable. As if I were being accused of something but only in the most indirect manner.
“A few weeks ago.”
“That soon? What an impression you must have made upon him for him to recommend you for his old job. Didn’t he also find you a place to live nearby?”
Now I was getting nervous. I had nothing to feel guilty about, but I did anyway.
“Yes, yes, he did. Arthur’s been very generous. I owe him a great deal.”
Mr. Mason was shaking his head. “Yes, I daresay you do. So you’d probably do anything he asked of you, wouldn’t you?”
“Of course. He’s my friend.”
Mason leaned forward, the chair creaking from his bulk. “And, as his friend, you’d help him if he asked you?”
“Certainly. Anything that I could do for Arthur, I would be happy to do.”
“Anything?”
I hesitated. “Just what are you implying, sir? That Arthur and I had something to do with this theft?”
Mason smiled a half-smile. “No, of course not. Just trying to understand the people who are involved in the case. I mean, Mr. Machen did show up awfully quickly after your fight in the alley, didn’t he?”
Flustered, I said, “That was only because he was already on his way to see me! Look here, Arthur had nothing to do with any of this and I’m not going to sit here and listen to you insult him.”
“Is it Mr. Machen I’m insulting now or is it you, Mr. Besame?”
“What do you mean?”
“I’m just saying that it is very interesting that this bookstore has never been robbed before, and yet, a few short days after your employment begins, it is broken into and some very valuable books stolen. Don’t you think that is a very interesting coincidence, Mr. Besame?”
“I suppose it is, but I swear to you that I had nothing to do with the theft of those books.”
“I should hope not, Mr. Besame. It would be a shame if I were to search your room and find them, wouldn’t it?”
I stood up defiantly. “You may search anything of mine you like, Mr. Mason, and you will not find anything because there is nothing to find.”
“That’s good to know. All right, you may leave now, I don’t feel like talking to you anymore.”
Stunned, I walked back into the store where Robert and Wendell were talking.
“Everything all right, Albert?” Wendell asked.
“No,” I answered as I walked by, “it isn’t. Your detective, Mr. Ronson, seems to think that Arthur and I are in cahoots together to pull off that robbery.”
Both of them were taken aback.
“I’m sure that’s not true,” Robert said. “He just wants to get all the facts in the case.”
“Well,” I said as I went out the door, “perhaps you should tell him that Arthur and I had nothing to do with any of this and remind him that of my skull hitting that wall is proof! Good day.”
I burst through the shop door and ran full into a cabman brushing his mare. I nearly knocked him over, but I could feel the stockiness of the man.
“Whoa, there, sir!” he said good-naturedly, but I could sense an air of anger beneath his guarded words. “Street’s not for flailing about like that.”
I steadied myself against the cab that Robert and that contemptible detective had arrived in. “My apologies,” I said, “I was in a bit of a rush.”
“I can see that. You need to be more careful, sir, the street can be a dangerous place. Name’s Netley, John Netley.” He offered his hand and smiled out of the corner of his mouth. He was a fairly compact man who made an attempt to look clean and professional but couldn’t quite make it. I shook his hand and noticed that it was strong and callused.
“Besame, Albert Besame.”
“Well, now, Mr. Besame. You look like a man in a hurry, am I right?”
“Yes, I suppose I am.”
“Any other time I would be pleased to take you where you’re going, but as it is, I have to wait for my current fare.”
“Your cab is for hire then?”
“Indeed it is, Mr. Besame, and you will not find a finer coach in all London. I am proud to say that I have had the honour of ferrying some of the highest names in London society
and”—he leaned closer to me—”even some of royal nature.”
“Really? Royal, you say?”
Netley made a false show of ignorance as he stepped back. “Please, sir, I can say no more. Might you be looking to hire a coach? Perhaps to impress a special lady?”
Suddenly I made the connexion. Netley was trying to line up a new fare. I looked at the coach: it certainly looked well maintained and clean. Ann might enjoy riding in a coach to Arthur’s party. Perhaps that would make her overlook my giving her such short notice.
“I might, I might.” I moved over to the windows and looked inside. The seats were plush and tidy and the floor was surprisingly neat and clean. “Would you be available tonight?” I asked.
Netley’s head leaned back slightly, and he looked at me through the bottom of his eyes. I could tell that he was sizing me up and calculating how much he could get away charging. “Normally, no, not on such short notice. But, as it so happens, I did have someone cancel on me this evening, so I am free. Where would we be going?”
“I live on Highland Street and we’d be going to a party on Great Russell Street.”
“Great Russell Street, you say? How interesting.”
“In what way?”
Netley shrugged. “Nothing, just saying. Well, Mr. Besame, that’s not a very far trip, is it? I’m thinking that you’re looking more to impress than to save shoe leather, am I right?” He smirked. “Say no more. All right. One-way is a three shillings trip. If you wish me to stay until you leave, that’s a pound. Sound good to you?”
I actually had no idea. I didn’t know what such things should cost, so Netley could have given me any figure and I still wouldn’t have known if he was gypping me.
“Yes, that should be fine. Be at 65 Highland Street at five p.m.”
“Certainly, Mr. Besame. You see? You never know who you’ll bump into on a London street.”
“I seem to be learning that more and more lately.”
With a more hopeful spring in my step, I headed homeward. For the moment, everything else faded away as I thought about the coming evening. I was incredibly nervous. I’d never been to a party before and certainly nothing like this, so I had no idea what to expect. What I did know, however, was that I would have Ann beside me and that was the greatest thing that I could ever hope for.