by Sam Gafford
“Do you,” Wendell began, possibly already knowing my answer, “have anyone in particular in mind?”
“I do.” I said triumphantly. It was a goal that I had unconsciously been working towards without even knowing it, and now that it was here I was quite pleased with myself for being smarter than I realised. And yet, with the next four words, I was damning not only myself but also four other people who could have been saved at this point if I had stayed silent. I had no way of knowing the hell I was unleashing by simply saying, “I need Arthur Machen.”
I might as well have said that I needed Queen Victoria.
“Arthur?” Wendell asked. “Why Arthur?”
“For two reasons,” I explained. “One, Arthur is a man you can trust with these secrets. I believe that he would never divulge them nor seek to use them against you.”
The Brothers nodded in agreement.
“Two, Arthur knows the East End. He has a near-encyclopaedic knowledge of the area and the people. More to the point, he knows the people and they know and trust him. We will be able to find more with a friendly face than the scowls that would greet Ronson.”
Wendell looked at Robert. “What do you think?” he said.
“I think we have little choice in the matter. ‘In for a penny, in for a pound,’ as they say. Very well, Albert. You may ask Arthur for help but,” he paused, “do you think he will?”
“Beyond a doubt.”
“Well, then,” Robert concluded, “you had best be on your way.”
“What? Now? What about my work here?”
Wendell sighed. “I think that this matter obviously takes precedence, Albert. Your other work can wait.”
“Although,” Robert added, “it is my fervent hope that someday we shall actually get you to do the work that we actually hired you for!” He chuckled slightly, but there was not much mirth in that voice.
“Fine. I’ll go see Arthur now and we’ll follow up on this lead. As quickly and as much as I am able, I will keep you both informed.”
I gathered my coat and made for the door as Wendell followed me. “You know,” he whispered to me, “if I didn’t know any better, Albert, I’d think you were enjoying living the life of a ‘book detective’ a bit too much!”
I laughed. “In truth, Wendell, I would much rather be home asleep right now.”
As I walked through the streets towards Arthur’s home, sleep seemed to be the last thing I would ever get again. It was hard for me to believe it had only been the night before that I was at Arthur’s party. I so dearly longed to take the time to stop by my own home, change my clothes, eat one of Mrs. Hutchins’ bountiful breakfasts, and chat with Ann. Surely, I thought, I could take the time to at least freshen myself and let them know that I was well.
No sooner had I thought of it than my feet turned down the street away from Arthur’s and to my own home. In the space of about ten minutes, I rounded the corner and could see Mrs. Hutchins’ house halfway down the block. The trip had invigorated me. In truth, I felt refreshed and able to handle anything else the world threw at me. I would be able to patch things up with Ann and Arthur, and I would find the book. All the unpleasantness of the past few days would disappear and life would become the joyful experience it was meant to be.
But as I walked closer, I felt that something was wrong. There was a coach parked in front of Mrs. Hutchins’ house, and it was one that I had never seen before. It was a handsome coach, no doubt, and it bespoke money and affluence. Who on earth, I wondered, could be visiting my home and could afford such a coach pulled by two beautiful and strong black horses? Instinctively, my gait slowed. I found myself not wanting to know who that coach belonged to and what it meant.
Suddenly, the door to Mrs. Hutchins’ house burst open and Ann bounded down the steps. She was full of energy and, even from a distance, her face was happier than I had ever seen it. The sound of her laughter drifted down the street to me, and I instantly felt pained by it. The door of the coach opened and I could see another woman inside it who was welcoming her. But, try as I might, I could not tell who that was. The door closed and the coach started to come towards me as the coachman snapped the reins. For some reason I could not explain, I hid behind a large tree on the sidewalk and watched them go by. I still could not see the other woman closely, as her back was to me, but I could see Ann very clearly and hear the sound of her laughter. She was seated next to someone else and I strained to make out their features.
As the coach roared by, I was able to see into the window for a split second and got a full glimpse of the other occupant. With a feeling of falling from a vast height, I saw that it was none other than Richard Mansfield, the man who had attempted to woo Ann just the night before.
All the brightness that had filled my step a mere moment before fled from me like a rabbit from a lion. My confidence had fled as surely as if it had leaked out of my body into the sewer. With leaden steps, I made my way down to Mrs. Hutchins’ house and went inside.
Everything was as I remembered it. After all, I had only been gone a day, even though I felt as if I’d been away for years.
“Mrs. Hutchins?” I called, feeling the exhaustion overtake me. “Mrs. Hutchins, are you here?”
Faster than I could speak, she bounded out of the kitchen towards me.
“Mr. Albert!” Her voice was near a scream, and she looked so happy to see me that I thought she was going to cry. In fact, as she hugged me and held me tight, I thought I could see some tears on her face. “Oh, thank the good Lord you’re all right! I was so worried! First you didn’t come back with Miss Ann, and then you were out all night, and then this police urchin gives me a note! I was sick with fear, I was!”
She stepped back and slapped me hard on the face.
“That,” she exclaimed, “is for worrying your poor landlady so! Would you have worried your mother like that?”
“No, I would not have.”
“I should hope not! And look at you. What a mess you are! My word. This is the same coat and pants you left in last night, but this is not your shirt! What on God’s green earth have you been doing?”
“It’s a long story, Mrs. Hutchins. Involving pirates and hidden treasure and secret coves and sinister Chinamen.”
She huffed. “Fine. Be that way then. But perhaps Miss Ann and I need to rethink our opinion of you.”
“Speaking of Miss Ann, wasn’t that her I just saw leaving? Where was she going?”
“Oh, yes, that. We’ll talk of that in a bit. You must be hungry. Here, sit down and I’ll bring you some breakfast.”
I more or less fell into a chair and started falling asleep when Mrs. Hutchins came back in with a plate of food large enough to feed half of the East End. With a start, I noticed that her son loomed behind her. He had on his perpetual scowl and an old coat that looked as if it had been new in Cromwell’s time. I clearly noticed that he was wearing an apron that was stained with blood. I also noticed that the apron was leather.
“Oh, you remember my son, William, don’t you, Mr. Albert?”
“Yes, yes, of course. How are you, William?”
He grunted at me. If Circe had made a man from a wild hog, it would have been William.
“I’ll be getting on then, shall I, Mum?”
“Oh, yes, dear. You will remember to stop and see Dr. Williams, won’t you?”
“Yeh, yeh,” he muttered as he walked out the door.
Mrs. Hutchins looked troubled, so I ventured to ask if she was all right.
“Hmm? Oh, yes, yes. I just worry about my son sometimes. It’s what mothers do, you know. I’m sure your mother worries about you too!”
In truth, I hadn’t even thought about my mother since this whole whirlwind had started.
“He doesn’t look particularly happy,” I said as I went about eating my breakfast.
“No, he isn’t. He’s had . . . some rough patches, my William has. I pray for him, but sometimes I fear that won’t be enough.”
“H
e’s a butcher, then? Seems a good trade to have.”
“Oh, yes, it is. He works for one of the slaughterhouses in the East End. I never can remember the name. He knows I don’t like to hear about such things. When I think about what happens in those places . . .” An actual shudder ran down her at the thought.
“But enough about me, Mr. Albert!” She slapped me on the shoulder again. “Where the devil have you been?”
I choked down my mouthful of ham with a hearty gulp of coffee and looked for the right words to say.
“When I returned here last night with Miss Ann, I was about to come inside when the cabman gave me a message relating to a business matter with my employer. It required that I act immediately, so I had to leave instantly.”
“‘Business matter,’ eh? And what kind of business matter does a bookseller have at such a late hour of the night?”
“I, ah, had just received information about an item they were very eager to obtain. They had given me carte blanche to act on their behalf if this item ever became available, so I had no choice but to act.”
“Hmm. I’m an old woman, Mr. Albert, but I’m not a foolish one. I think there’s more that you’re not telling me, but it is not my place to ask for anything you’re not willing to give.”
I leaned forward conspiratorially. “In truth, Mrs. Hutchins, I believe that this may be a test that The Brothers are giving me. If I pass, I may be given more responsibility and work my way upward in the business. If Ann and I are to build a life together, I will need a trade!”
Now it was her turn to be uncomfortable.
“Is there something wrong?” I asked.
“Oh, it’s probably nothing. I’ve lived a long time, Mr. Albert, and I’ve had many boarders. I’ve seen young women come to London with stars in their eyes and dreams of fame or wealthy husbands. I can tell when it’s about to happen, when they are about to take that final step down the wrong path—and, Mr. Albert, it’s about to happen to Miss Ann.”
“What do you mean?”
“Last night, after she came home, she paced around her room for about fifteen minutes. I swear that she was going to wear a hole through the floor, she was pacing so much. I could tell that something was bothering her and I wondered if I should say anything.
“I was in the kitchen, brewing us some tea and getting ready to take it up to her, when there was a knock on the front door. Well, of course I wasn’t about to allow anyone in the house at that hour of the day and was going to tell them just that; but then I worried that something might have happened to you and it was the police coming to tell us. Before I could get to the door, Miss Ann was already there. She was looking out the side window.
“‘It’s all right, Mrs. Hutchins, I know who this is. She’s a friend. You can go back to bed.’
“Well, I didn’t want to leave, but she obviously didn’t want me to stay, so I went back to the kitchen.”
“But you looked through the door, didn’t you?”
She blushed. “Well, yes, I had to. This is my house, after all, and I don’t usually allow visitors after midnight. But when I saw that the person at the door was a young lady, well, I thought it would be all right.”
“A woman? Did you know who it was?”
“No, I’d never seen her before. She looked about your age or so, I suppose. I can never tell anymore. Everyone looks so young to me these days. They went up to her room and I could hear them talking and laughing, so I assumed that she was feeling better. After that, I went to bed myself.”
“And then what happened?”
She looked down at her hands which she was wringing.
“Well, I got up this morning at my usual time and I could hear Miss Ann up and moving about. Let me tell you, I was very surprised at that. So I got breakfast started and went upstairs, and that’s when I found that you hadn’t been home last night. I went to tell Miss Ann. She was busy doing her face and hair as if she had a long day planned. I told her you hadn’t come back yet and thought she would throw a fit of worry—which, I have to say, I was doing. But she didn’t. She was very calm and cool.”
I paused. I hadn’t expected that.
“No reaction at all?” I asked.
“All she said was, ‘oh?’ So I asked her if we should contact Mr. Arthur or the police, and she kept on brushing her hair. ‘I’m quite sure that Mr. Besame can take care of himself,’ she said. So I asked her if the party had not gone well, and that was the first sign of life I saw in her. She went on and on about how wonderful the party was and all the famous people she had met, and then she told me that a famous actor and his lady friend were coming soon to pick her up to take her on auditions. She was very excited about it all, Mr. Albert, and that’s when I knew she was heading down that path. You have to do something about it, if you don’t want to lose her.”
“Perhaps I already have lost her.”
“Oh, don’t be saying that, Mr. Albert.”
“But if I could be replaced so easily, Mrs. Hutchins, perhaps I never meant anything at all.”
To my shock, Mrs. Hutchins slapped me hard in the face for the second time that day.
“Shame on you, Mr. Albert. I thought you to be of stronger stock than that. If you love her, if you want her in your life, then you’re going to have to get off your backside and do something about it! Forgive me for speaking so plainly, but I’m a plain woman.”
“No, you are right, Mrs. Hutchins. I’ve been feeling too sorry for myself. It’s time to do something about it. I’m just not sure what.”
Mrs. Hutchins sighed. “If you don’t know, Mr. Albert, then I really can’t tell you. I can say that any woman likes to know how much she matters to her man.”
I thought for a moment. “Are you saying that I should challenge this actor to a duel?”
She shook her head. “For a man who has read so much, you really don’t know anything, do you? Woo her. Show her how much she means to you. Let her know that you think about her every minute of the day . . . even if you don’t.”
“Would that work with Ann?”
“It’s not a dodge, Mr. Albert. If that’s all it is to you, she’ll see through that right away. You’ve got to mean it or there’s no point.”
Mrs. Hutchins got up from the table, idly wiping it. “No point at all,” she said as she walked out.
I knew what she meant. The problem was that I truly didn’t have the time for this right now. I had to get moving on finding the book; once that was done, I could turn all my attention to Ann. Unfortunately, Mansfield didn’t seem to have anything distracting him. Ann was lost for the day. I had the suspicion that Mansfield was just toying with her and would probably not take her to any auditions; but in any event I did not expect her to come back soon, nor did I have any way to find out where she had gone.
One day. I was going to give myself the rest of this day to make some progress on finding the diary, and then it would be time to concentrate on Ann.
“Mrs. Hutchins,” I called, “I need to go out again as soon as I wash up. Could I have a basin of fresh water, please?”
She came back into the room with a ceramic bowl of fresh wash water but didn’t say a word. It pained me to see that she had become very sad, and I didn’t know if it was because of her son or Ann and myself. I took the water upstairs and cleaned the dust and dirt of the night before as well as I could without bathing. My face was stubbled, but I didn’t have the time for a proper shave. Besides, the shadow on my face might help me blend into the East End better.
After I changed my clothes, I went back downstairs. Although I looked for her, I could not find Mrs. Hutchins anywhere in the house. As I walked down the front steps I thought I heard the sound of a woman sobbing, but I could not be sure or place its origin.
So far, it seemed that the only thing I had been able to do was to disappoint people who put their faith in trust in me. I hoped that I would be able to reverse that trend, and so I put my steps towards Arthur’s home.
Chapter 23
The City is a world within itself. Centred in the heart of the metropolis, with its innumerable capacities for commercial pursuits, it presents at first sight, to a stranger, a most mysterious and unfathomable labyrinth of lanes and alleys, streets and courts, of lanes thronged with bustling multitude whose various occupations, though uniting in one grand whole, seem to have no direct association with each other.
—D. Morrier Evans
It was a good morning for a walk. The air was crisp and clear, with just the right amount of brisk cool to add an edge to my stride. There was a light mist rising from some of the streets, and the world that was London was awake and bustling.
As I moved through the crowd, my mind cleared up. I felt sure that Arthur was the man to turn my slim clue into success. Until that moment, I had not truly realised how much faith I was putting in my friend. I knew, however, that there was no better man to take up the chase than Arthur. I was also happy that I would no longer have to hide my mission from my friend. In truth, that deceit had bothered me more than I cared to admit. I didn’t like having to keep the secret from the man who had helped me so much. Now, together, there was nothing that we could not accomplish.
Or so I thought until I saw Arthur.
Rose opened the door nearly immediately after my knock, and I could tell that something was wrong. Her face wore a look of concern, but her training would not allow her to express it. I decided not to put her in an uncomfortable position and did not ask what was bothering her.
“Good morning, Rose,” I said as she took my coat. “Is Mr. Machen available?”
“Yessir,” she mumbled, “he’s in his library.”
On guard for the unexpected, I walked down the hall and knocked on the door.
“Who is it?” came Arthur’s voice, but it was tired and weak.
“It is I, Albert. Can I talk to you?”
The door flung open, and I was face to face with a madman.
Arthur’s hair was askew and he was still in his nightclothes. A sleeping jacket hung loosely from his frame, and I could tell that he had not gotten any more sleep than I had the previous night.