“Hi, Mr. Perkins,” I called, running to catch him up.
He turned, warily and swiftly — the man seemed to be always on his guard — and then, recognizing me, he relaxed and allowed himself to smile.
“Ah, Jeremy, it’s you, is it? I daresay we be goin’ in the same direction. Would you care to walk with me?”
“Certainly I would,” said I. “And how are you this good evening?”
“No better and no worse than I was the last — which is to say in no bad fettle at all.” We commenced a-pacing side by side. “And where was you so late in the day?”
“To deliver a letter for Sir John to the Lord Chief Justice, and then to wait near three hours on a reply.”
“Ah, well, one must always wait on such a man as that. He must live in a grand house, he must.”
“Oh, he does, grandest I’ve seen — in Bloomsbury Square.” Having said that, an idea struck me of a sudden. “Mr. Perkins, I’ve a question to ask.”
“Ask away, Jeremy.”
“Do you think I might be made one of the Bow Street Runners?”
“You mean sometime in the future?”
“No, I mean now — soon. You and I know, as do most, that Sir John has been given authority to enlist new men in the Runners.”
“True, or so I’ve heard.”
“Why could I not be one? I know the duties. I know Westminster and the City.”
“Well, you’re a bit young.”
“Constable Cowley was taken on when he was eighteen or nineteen, something thereabouts.”
“You’ve twice the brains he has, and that’s for certain sure. Still and all …”
He thought upon it, saying nothing for a space. And as he thought, he turned us onto Drury Lane, and so my plan to circle wide round Mariah had thus gone to naught.
“I thought you was for the law,” said Constable Perkins at last. “That’s some higher than walkin’ about with a club. I, for one, would hate to see you lose such a goal in life.”
“Well, I need not,” said I. “I could read the law in my spare time, perhaps. It might take a bit longer, but — ”
“In case you have not noticed, Jeremy, us Runners have precious little time to ourselves.” He threw me a sharp glance. “And let me be honest with you in this. I’m just not sure certain you’ve the taste for blood. You’re a plucky lad, no doubt of it, for I’ve seen you rise to the occasion. But on the streets at night you must be a bit angry at all times. Carry your anger and your suspicion with you, and let that be your shield. If you be challenged, you must be willing to break a head, even if the cause be slight. Only so can you win respect from the great band of blackguards who roam these precincts at night; only so can you keep it. You, I fear, would try to use reason with such.” He paused, as if considering some plan, some course of action. “But…”
We had turned down New Broad Court at its narrowest part, exactly where I had earlier spoken with Mariah. In spite of my intentions I found myself looking for her. She was nowhere to be seen.
“But what, Mr. Perkins? What was it you would say?”
“It was this, young Jeremy, if you was to come by, I could teach you a thing or two. Whether or not you continue with this notion of joining the Runners — which I do heartily advise against — it would do good for you to know how to handle yourself better. You’re sometimes called upon to go out of a night, and you ought — ”
‘^Murder! Foul murder!”’
The cry came from so close it seemed to have been shouted into our ears.
”Murder!”
Mr. Perkins and I whirled about as one, searching out the source of the alarum, but what we saw, rather, was a great swarm of people behind us pressing to get through a narrow passage. A few steps brought us to them. He led the way, throwing them right and left, pushing with his club, though not wielding it in a harmful way. While all the while he chanted: “One side, one side. I’m a constable. Make way for the law!” And for the most part, that was what they did, flattening against the rough brick of the passage, bowing to the authority of Mr. Perkins’s crested club. As we came to the end of the dark way, we found that it opened up into a small space, or perhaps an alley, where doors were visible, and stairs led up to floors above. From beneath the stairs two legs projected out of petticoats and a skirt. Could it be Mariah? No, the body was too corpulent, the skirt was of another color. A small man tugged and heaved at the ankles to pull the corpus out from the stairs while his female companion grabbed at the purse tied round the waist.
”Let go that purse,” snarled Mr. Perkins, “lest you take a clout from this club. And you” — to her partner — “drop her feet, or take one yourself. Both of you, stand over there, and don’t think to sneak away.”
They did as told, though most reluctant, as the crowd behind us murmured against them; “Vultures,” they were called, “Corpus robbers,” and so on.
“We was only thinkin’ to put a name on her,” said the woman who had been tugging at the purse. “We thought they might be a letter inside or such.”
“So you say,” said Mr. Perkins, “but we’ll let Sir John be the judge of that.”
“She could be alive,” said the man, a queer-looking rat-faced fellow. “She’s warm to the touch.”
“Then we must disturb the body thus much. Jeremy, pull her full out from the stairs.”
I leaped to the task, not in the least repelled by it so long as Constable Perkins was there watching me. I pulled hard.
“Now, which of you put out the cry of murder?” he asked.
One in the crowd, not by any means in the first rank, raised his hand. ” ‘Twas me,” he said, “I did it.”
“You come over here and stand by me.”
By then I had worked the body out from its resting place. It was true there was still warmth in her limbs, but there was death on her face. Her lips were pulled back in a grimace, and her eyes, open wide, stared up and saw nothing. Young she was and might, in a different circumstance, have been judged pretty. Her sallow cheeks were brightened with two large spots of rouge.
“What think you, Jeremy, alive or dead?”
“Dead, to all appearances, but I see no wound.”
“Marks on the throat from strangulation?”
“None.”
“Best take her wrist and feel for a heartbeat.”
That confused me quite proper. “A heartbeat in her wrist, Mr. Perkins?”
“Never mind.” He pointed his club at the ghoulish couple in a manner most threatening. “You’ll stay where you are, or suffer for it.”
He came over to the body, knelt and put down his club, then took the wrist in hand. “You see, Jeremy? Just here. Touch this spot with your thumb, and you can feel the blood flowing — //it’s flowing. It ain’t.”
Then, throwing a wary look at the two miscreants, he returned his attention to the body. He pulled down her blouse and bodice. Her breasts, freed, flopped of their own weight. Titters and giggles arose from the watching crowd. He threw a look of disgust at those straining to sec, then planted his hand over her heart. His palm came up bloody.
“There’s your wound,” he said, “a small one, just under the breastbone, up and into the heart. Not much blood. Death came just so.” He snapped his fingers.
He grabbed up his club and jumped to his feet. Then did he address the crowd: “Now, any of you thinks you may know this poor woman, you may view her face.” To me he said: “Tidy up her bubs, Jeremy. Make her decent.”
I managed that as well as I might and noticed, touching her skin, that it had grown just a bit colder.
“The rest of you,” continued Constable Perkins to those still crowding the passage, “I advise to leave. Sir John Fielding will be here soon, and there will be many more Runners with him. They will not take kindly to gawkers. All but those who remain for purposes of identification or to give evidence, / order to disperse.”
Though they seemed reluctant, most began to turn away and start back down the passage.
“You’ve frightened them off,” said I.
“And now,” said Mr. Perkins, “I must send you away as well. Go fetch Sir John, Jeremy. Tell him what has happened, and when you return with him, bring some lanterns. We soon may not be able to see hereabouts without them.”