‘Bugger off!’ he shouted, waving a fist. ‘Take that lousy cur of yours away or I’ll be after the pair of you with my cleaver!’
Other people felt obliged to add their own threats and some of the worst insults came from women. Tallis’s voice rose above the hubbub.
‘What’s going on?’ he asked, the authority in his tone imposing an instant silence. ‘What is this fellow supposed to have done?’
‘Just look at him, sir,’ replied the butcher. ‘You can see that he’s a miserable good-for-nothing. I caught him sleeping in the yard at the rear of my shop. These people are my neighbours. We don’t want him here but he just won’t leave.’
‘You’re not giving him any chance to leave,’ argued Tallis. ‘How can he move when you’ve got him trapped here? If you all disappear, I’m sure that he’ll take the opportunity to be on his way.’ When they hesitated, his voice became peremptory. ‘Go home,’ he ordered. ‘I’m a detective superintendent in the Metropolitan Police. I’ll deal with this situation.’
Deprived of the pleasure of baiting the man, some complained and others rid themselves of a few expletives but they all drifted away under Tallis’s stern gaze. With a dark scowl, the angry butcher withdrew into his shop and slammed the door behind him. Tallis was at last able to take a proper look at the person who had been at the centre of the rumpus. Tall, skinny and dishevelled, he was of indeterminate age. The lank hair that hung down from under his battered hat merged with his ragged beard. His clothing was tattered, his boots falling apart. What had enraged the crowd was his sinister appearance. One eye was closed shut and there was a livid scar down his cheek. Cowering behind him was a small, bedraggled dog with its tongue hanging out. The animal had been frightened by the crowd but the man had shown no fear, taking their invective on the chin as if used to such contempt.
‘What’s your name?’ asked Tallis.
‘Joel Anstey, sir.’
‘I fancy that you’ve been in the army.’
‘Yes, sir,’ said Anstey, saluting. ‘I was proud to serve Queen and Country.’
‘I feel the same.’ He stepped forward to examine the man’s face. ‘Where did you get those injuries?’
‘It was in the Crimea. A few weeks after we arrived there, I had my cheek sliced open by a Russian sabre. A year later, I lost my eye. But I don’t regret my days in the army, sir,’ he went on. ‘I spent the happiest years of my life in uniform.’ He gave a dry laugh. ‘Would it surprise you to know that I was considered handsome at one time? What woman would look twice at me now?’
‘And did you sleep in the butcher’s yard?’
‘No, sir — I merely climbed in there to see if he’d thrown out any old bones.’ He indicated the dog. ‘Sam is hungry.’
‘You look as if you both are.’
‘When the butcher found us, he threw a bucket of water over Sam.’
‘Well, you were trespassing.’
‘We did no harm, sir.’
Tallis sized him up. The man was articulate and respectful. There was no trace of self-pity. Evidently, he cared more for the dog than for his own welfare.
‘You sound as if you were born here in London,’ observed Tallis.
‘I was, sir — in the parish of St Martin-in-the Fields.’
‘There’s a workhouse just behind the National Gallery.’
‘I’m not so desperate as to go there,’ said Anstey with a flash of indignation. ‘Besides, they’d turn me away. I’m able-bodied and far too young. I’m still well short of forty.’
Tallis was taken aback because the man looked considerably older.
‘What was your trade, Anstey?’
‘Before I went in the army,’ replied the other, ‘I was a saddler but you need two good eyes to handle leather and, in any case, I’ve lost the trick of it. I’m not asking for money, sir,’ he insisted. ‘I just want work so that I can earn my keep and feed Sam properly. We need a helping hand, that’s all.’
Tallis was moved by his plea. Poverty and homelessness were ever-present in the nation’s capital. Untold thousands lived on the streets and scratched out a bare existence as best they could. Joel Anstey’s story was a familiar one but it somehow touched the superintendent at a deep level.
‘I’ll see what I can do,’ he said.
‘I’m surprised at the superintendent,’ said Madeleine. ‘I don’t wish to be unkind but he never struck me as a compassionate man.’
‘Tallis has the occasional impulse to help someone,’ said Colbeck with a smile, ‘and he’s a good Christian. Something about this person obviously spoke to him. When he asked me if we could find him a few days’ work, I said that we could.’
‘Why can’t this man tend the superintendent’s garden?’
‘He doesn’t have one, Madeleine. He lives alone in a set of rooms. And as you know, Victor’s little house has no garden at all. That’s why Tallis turned to me.’ He put affectionate hands on her shoulders. ‘I didn’t think that you’d mind.’
‘I don’t, Robert,’ she said, ‘but I suspect that Draycott will.’
Colbeck groaned. ‘Ah, I was forgetting him.’
‘He likes to rule the roost in the garden.’
‘I’ll warn Anstey not to tread on his toes.’
‘Draycott can be very touchy.’
‘We’re not having him throwing his weight around, Madeleine. When all’s said and done, we pay Draycott’s wages. If we choose to let someone else work in the garden,’ said Colbeck, reasonably, ‘then nobody is in a position to stop us.’
‘I still foresee trouble.’
‘Keep the two of them apart — that’s the secret.’
When Anstey reported for work on the following day, he snatched off his hat and stood in front of Madeleine with his head bowed. Forewarned about his rather menacing appearance, she pretended not to notice his face and took him around to the garden with his dog. Long and fairly narrow, it featured a series of small, rectangular lawns edged with flower beds.
‘My husband likes a formal garden,’ she explained.
‘I can see that, Mrs Colbeck. It’s well looked after.’
‘The gardener pops in two or three times a week. His name is Draycott. There’s no telling if he’ll turn up today. What I’d suggest you do is to weed the patch at the far end. It’s hidden behind the trellis and is badly overgrown.’
‘What about a rake and such like?’
‘I’ll unlock the shed for you,’ she said, holding up the key. ‘Then I’ll see if I can’t find a bone for the dog as well as a bowl of water.’
‘His name is Sam,’ said Anstey, ‘and he’s as thankful as I am.’
‘That’s good to hear.’
‘I’m not afraid of hard work, Mrs Colbeck. I’ll soon prove that.’
Madeleine warmed to him. Though his facial injuries were unsightly, his voice and manner suggested a decent, honest man who’d fallen on hard times. Like Tallis, she was ready to offer a helping hand.
‘It’s never happened before,’ he said.
‘What hasn’t?’
‘Having a favour done by the police. Between you and me, I usually steer clear of them. Police don’t like the look of me. They’re always moving me on.’
Madeleine unlocked the shed and showed him the range of garden implements inside. After selecting a hoe and a rake, he walked to the end of the garden with the dog trotting after him. Coat off and sleeves rolled up, Anstey was soon at work. It was time for Madeleine to go up to her studio and she was soon absorbed in putting the finishing touches to her latest painting. With a brush in her hand, she lost all track of time and her concentration was only broken when she heard the sound of a raised voice in the garden. Rushing to the window, she looked down to see Nathaniel Draycott, brandishing a sickle and berating his new assistant. Madeleine rushed off to separate them before the argument got out of hand.
Robert Colbeck spent the morning in court, giving evidence against a man he’d caught stealing a substantial amount of money from the railway company employing him. When he got back to Scotland Yard, he went straight to the superintendent to give his report. Embezzlement had been going on for almost a year and had only been halted by Colbeck’s intervention. Tallis was pleased to hear that a guilty verdict was almost guaranteed and that the man in question would face a long prison sentence.