‘How could I listen to the small voice of conscience that told me I should not? How could I turn my back on the pieces of silver the tempter offered?’
‘You could not, Mr Jinkinson.’
‘I could not,’ the enquiry agent agreed. ‘I have always been a man whom the gods of chance and fortune have shunned, Mr Carver. There’s something about me like a stone round a drowning man’s neck. It keeps me from rising. And yet here was a gentleman offering me money — good money — to do no more than follow certain other gentlemen.’
‘And these gentlemen Creech wanted followed, they were both MPs? Sir Willoughby Oughtred and Lewis Garland?’
‘And another member of our honourable legislature, Mr James Abercrombie. I tailed all three of them, yes.’
‘Why did Creech want them followed?’
‘That, sir, was not information that was ever vouchsafed to me.’
‘Was he blackmailing these gentlemen?’
‘I decided that it was in my best interests not to ask such questions, Mr Carver.’
‘But you did follow them? The record in Creech’s notebook seems to indicate that.’
‘Oh, I followed them. On particular occasions. When Mr Creech — God rest his soul — asked me to do so.’
‘And did you discover what Creech wanted to know? You could not have followed them anywhere but on the public streets. There must have been any number of places where you could not pursue them.’
Jinkinson shrugged. He returned to patting his pockets and this time he found the object for which he was looking. He extracted a silver snuffbox from the inner recesses of his jacket. He opened it and offered it to Adam, who shook his head. The enquiry agent took a pinch of snuff between thumb and forefinger and inhaled it forcefully up his right nostril. He was immediately seized by a furious coughing fit which threatened to send the rest of the contents of his snuffbox flying around the interior of the cab. Somehow he managed to wrestle the box shut, replace it in his pocket and take out the polka-dotted handkerchief again. This time he blew his nose on it several times.
‘Excuse me, Mr Carver. Nothing like a pinch of snuff to clear the passages.’ He seemed to have entirely recovered his self-possession.
‘Did you discover what Creech wanted to know?’ Adam asked again.
‘I discovered a number of things. I discovered that Sir Willoughby Oughtred possesses more sidewhiskers than he does brains.’ Jinkinson continued to dab at his nose with the handkerchief. ‘I discovered that business at Westminster doesn’t preclude a bit of further business in St John’s Wood. For one MP, at least, if you catch my meaning, Mr Carver.’
‘One of the men was visiting St John’s Wood?’
‘Lewis Garland. A particular house in St John’s Wood. A particular person in St John’s Wood. A very accomplished young nymph who kept him busier than he is ever kept by the affairs of the nation.’
‘Aha, an arbour in the woods.’ Adam recalled the words Quint had heard in the pub yard. ‘I see. All very discreet, no doubt.’
‘Oh, very discreet. There’s a kind of covered walkway from the road to the front door.’ Jinkinson gave a sudden snort of laughter. ‘Convenient, wouldn’t you say? A gentleman in a top hat gets out of the cab. One step and he’s hidden from view. It could be anybody visiting. It could be the Archbishop of Canterbury or Mr Gladstone going to see the lady in question.’
‘Was Creech interested in these visits?’
‘You’d think he would be, wouldn’t you? Supposing he was intending to extort money from him. A parliamentary gentleman who can’t keep the member for Cockshire quiet, if you’ll pardon the vulgarism.’
‘But he wasn’t?’
‘He didn’t seem to be. It was difficult to decide what Mr Creech was interested in. But he kept on handing me those pieces of silver. So I kept on following those gentlemen he wanted following.’
‘As I have been following you.’
‘I had no notion that you were following me.’ Jinkinson looked surprised.
Adam was puzzled. ‘But, that very first day I was in pursuit of you, you dodged down the alleyway by the tobacconists and doubled back on yourself in Fleet Street. I felt sure you must have seen me.’
‘Merely my usual method of perambulating the city streets, Mr Carver. Turn and turn about. I find that a man in my line of business cannot be too careful.’ Jinkinson paused and looked suddenly crestfallen. ‘Although, in this instance, my precautions proved futile.’
Adam took pity on the downcast enquiry agent. ‘Had it not been for a child begging in the alleyway on that first day, I should have lost you. The child had seen you and pointed me in the right direction.’
Jinkinson’s face brightened. ‘I am an old fox, am I not? I have my wiles and wits about me still.’
‘You do, indeed. And I do believe that you have been employing them in an attempt to extract money from others.’
‘That is possible, sir,’ Jinkinson acknowledged. ‘In this great city of ours, many of us have nothing but our wiles and wits to rely upon. To gain the wherewithal to live, I mean.’
‘Not to beat about the bush, Mr Jinkinson, I believe that Creech may or may not have been attempting to blackmail the two gentlemen we have already mentioned. But that you certainly have been. Using the information you acquired when Mr Creech employed you.’
‘I would not choose to use the word “blackmail”, Mr Carver. Such an ugly, uncompromising word.’
‘What word would you choose, Mr Jinkinson?’
‘I would prefer to say that I have been striving to persuade the gentlemen that their interests would best be served if trifling sums of money passed from their possession into mine.’
Adam smiled and bowed his head in mock acknowledgement of Jinkinson’s artful use of euphemism. ‘And have you been successful in your efforts?’
‘Alas, not yet. But I do have high hopes that the gentlemen in question will come to see reason.’
‘You don’t think that, perhaps, you are playing a rather dangerous game?’
‘Dangerous?’ Jinkinson looked genuinely puzzled.
‘Gentlemen as powerful as Oughtred and Garland are not to be trifled with, you know. Not in any circumstances. And there is always the possibility that one of them might know more of Creech’s death than he should.’
‘No, no, no, Mr Carver.’ Jinkinson waved a hand to dismiss the notion. He shifted about on the cab’s leather seat, as if in preparation for leaving. ‘You are barking up the wrong tree entirely with such a suggestion. Whoever killed the unfortunate Creech, it was not any of the gentlemen I have been meeting. A member of the House of Commons committing murder?’ The enquiry agent was amused by the idea. ‘In the past perhaps, but not in this enlightened era of ours. Probably some rogue entered his house with larcenous intent and did the poor man to death when he confronted him.’
‘You have no certain way of knowing this. If Creech was a blackmailer, he may well have been killed by one of the people he was blackmailing. You take risks, Mr Jinkinson, if you take up where Creech left off.’
‘The world is full of risks, Mr Carver. There is no possibility of avoiding them.’ Jinkinson began to struggle to his feet in the confines of the cab. ‘But I regret to say I can stay no longer to discuss them. I must say my farewell to you.’
Bent almost double to avoid striking his hat from his head as he exited, Jinkinson climbed out. He stood on the pavement, brushing snuff from his clothes, and then raised his battered black bowler to Adam.
‘I do hope you won’t feel obliged to let that police inspector you mentioned know about our conversation. If the gentlemen from Westminster do not care to involve Scotland Yard’s finest in their business, then why should we?’