“ ’E’s connected with nothin’,” the old man snapped. “ ’E’s a fool of a boy ’oo’s got ’isself into something ’e don’t understand.” He pressed his lips together, obviously having said more than he intended.
“I suppose you mean,” Murray said in a speculative tone, “that he’s fallen in with bad companions-the Americans, I assume. Of course, I wouldn’t know the truth of it,” he added, “but there’s talk that Pinkie will take over the stables here, upon your retirement. It is supposed that he would then adopt the Americans’ method of-”
“Rot!” the old man shouted, jumping to his feet. “If ye ’ear that kind of talk, Mr. Murray, ye can bloody well tell ’em to shove it up their arse. There’s going to be no American methods ’ere, not so long as I’m alive and kickin’! English way’s best. Allus ’as been, allus will be.”
“Admirable, sir, admirable!” Murray exclaimed. He added, humbly, “Then I suppose it must be true, as others have told me, that Pinkie will be moving to the Red House Stables and training with Clark and Wishard.”
The old man looked at him, struck silent. He sank back down in his chair. “It’s them damned Americans,” he whispered. “They’re the devil incarnate, and they’ve tempted Pinkie past ’is limits.” He dropped his face in his hands. “But it’s only dopin’, that’s all,” he whispered. “Not murder, not Pinkie. I swear it. Just dopin’.”
For the old man’s sake, Murray wished he could believe that.
CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX
A well-known peer who, having lost a great deal of money racing, thought he saw an easy way to settle his debts. He mustered the family diamonds and carried them off to one of the most respectable Bond Street jewellers, [asking] the man to take out the diamonds and replace them with paste.
“I need the money,” he said, “and her ladyship will never know.”
The jeweler’s eyes twinkled. “I am very sorry, my lord, but I have already done so at her ladyship’s request.”
The jewels stolen from me comprised the following pieces: a large tiara; a riviere of immense sapphires and diamonds in a Tiffany setting; a tiara, necklace, and bracelets, en suite, of rubies and diamonds; a parure of large emeralds and diamonds, which had formed part of the Empress Eugénie’s collection…”
both selections from The Days I Knew: The Autobiography of Lillie Langtry Lillie Langtry, 1925
After he left Mrs. Hardaway’s house with Kate’s note in his pocket, Charles had even more to think about and yet another stop to make. On his way at last, and very late, to the Devil’s Dike, he decided to proceed exactly as if he had not had that conversation with Owen North earlier in the morning-in fact, he would not even mention it. For one thing, he did not intend to turn the investigation over to the chief constable without some further assurance that the principle of due process would be respected. For another, he now had to consider whether Owen North himself-a man who collected photographs of spiders-might be the pseudonymous friend of Lillie Langtry. It was an unwelcome and unpleasant consideration, for he had known North for some time and had rather liked the man. But justice demanded that he entertain it.
The men gathered around a table in a dark and quiet corner of the half-deserted pub. Over their food, Bradford and Murray reported on their various morning’s activities.
“Well, gentlemen,” Charles said, sitting back from his empty plate, “it would seem that the three of us have had a most productive few hours.” He nodded at Bradford. “Marsden has learned from Dr. Polter what kind of dope was used on Gladiator, and has even fetched us a sample.”
“I’m not sure what good it does to know what it is,” Bradford muttered, pushing the last of his steak-and-kidney pudding around on his plate. “These people are going to keep using it just the same, all the while swearing that it does no harm. And winning pots of money thereby,” he added darkly.
“Perhaps his lordship intends,” Jack Murray said in a respectful tone, “to suggest to the stewards the development of a scientific test that will make it impossible to use the stuff without detection.” He finished his boiled beef and dumplings and sat back with a sigh of satisfaction.
“That’s the hope, Jack,” Charles agreed, “although I’m afraid the test may be a long time coming.” He did not offer his opinion that, judging from Owen North’s response that morning, the stewards had no interest in any sort of test, nor in pursuing the matter of the doping either, no matter how much evidence might be summoned.
Bradford refilled his mug from the pitcher of ale in the middle of the table. “But it seems to me that Murray ’s discoveries are far more to the point of the murder investigation.” He took a cigar out of his pocket. “He’s found a possible lead to Eddie Baggs.”
“As well as confirming the threat that Alfred Day posed to the Americans,” Charles said. “And when Pinkie gets back from his visit to London, I suspect he’ll find his uncle in a less yielding mood when it comes to doping. You might have done some good there, Jack.”
Jack Murray chewed reflectively. “I’m only sorry that Jesse Clark got away before we could question him,” he said. “When I was at the Yard, we were continually frustrated by people leaving for the Continent, or for points unknown, just as we were ready to nab them.”
“I suspect that Clark will be back,” Charles said. “And certainly Pinkie intends to return. But wherever they are, both Clark and Pinkie are still on our suspect list, as is Baggs.” He said this firmly. Owen North might wish to limit the investigation and to conclude it as quickly as possible, but Charles refused to allow North to tie his hands. As long as he had any say in the matter, justice would be served here, regardless of who was involved or what their social connections might be.
Bradford took out a cigarette and lit it. “I wish I could go with the two of you to run Baggs to earth,” he remarked, leaning back in his chair. “Perhaps I can convince Edith that we should go up to London tomorrow afternoon, instead of today.”
“But you have tickets for the opera tonight,” Charles reminded him. He smiled. “And no bride wants to postpone the ordering of her wedding ring. Take Edith to Bond Street, Bradford. The poor girl would be devastated if you suggested delaying your visit to the jewelers. She would think you didn’t love her.”
“Oh, I doubt that,” Bradford said with an answering grin. “Edith is a confident young woman. But I’d rather not risk her displeasure.” He breathed out a wreath of blue smoke. “I don’t recall your telling us how you spent your morning, Sheridan.”
“Ah, yes,” Charles said. He reached into his pocket and took out a small envelope. “Since we have been speaking of jewelers, perhaps you should have a look at this.”
He opened the envelope and spilled out a heavy gold ring, a sparkling diamond of immoderate size flanked by four large emeralds and set in an extravagantly ornate gold mounting. It was a ring fit for a queen-of some decades past.
Bradford picked up the ring to examine it closely. “I hope you’re not suggesting that I buy something like that for Edith. She would much prefer a modern setting to something ornate and old-fashioned, like this. But it is rather unique. I don’t think I’ve seen anything quite like it before.”
Jack Murray took the ring from Bradford, turned it in his fingers, and put it back on the table. “I have,” he said shortly. “Seen it before, that is.”
Charles raised both eyebrows. “Have you, now?” he remarked with satisfaction. “I thought as much. Perhaps you would be so good as to tell us what you remember about it.”