I set off then, pushing through the passage, chanting something about the importance of my mission, just as Mr. Perkins had but a few minutes earlier. I squirmed past the last of them and set off down Broad Court at a run. It seemed to me that at some point along the way I caught a glimpse of Mariah, but I had neither time nor desire to make certain of that. I must to Bow Street!
TWO
Leaving in haste and in some confusion, Sir John Fielding delegated Constable Baker as messenger to inform Lady Fielding that the magistrate had been called away on urgent matters of his office.
Mr. Baker, starting away, hesitated. “Shall I give out that the matter is murder?” he asked.
“No,” said his chief, “that would only upset her. Ah, but do tell her also that Jeremy is with me and will return with me. She should not, in any case, wait supper upon us.” He punctuated that with a nod, and Mr. Baker hastened toward the stairs. Then, addressing the rest of us: “Now then, let us be on our way.”
We were four in number. Besides Sir John and myself. Mr. Benjamin Bailey, captain of the Bow Street Runners, and young Constable Cowley accompanied us as we set off in the direction of Broad Court Street. Mr. Bailey took the lead, clearing a path for us through the pedestrians as we went; Mr. Cowley followed, and we. Sir John and I, went last of all.
Mr. Cowley turned and pointed ahead. “Here’s a bit of luck, sir. There’s the Raker just ahead with his wagon.” I looked ahead, and there indeed he was. The Raker, a man of ill omen and ugly countenance, was the appointed collector of the indigent dead this side the river. How the citizenry did avoid him! Nor could I blame them, for with the crudely painted skull and crossbones on his wagon which was pulled by two nags quite moribund in appearance, he must have seemed the very embodiment of the death that awaits us all. Frightening tales were told of him. Even to view him was considered by some to be bad luck of the worst sort. Which explained why our side of Bow Street was so crowded and his so empty.
”Shall I tell him to wait. Sir John?” asked Mr. Cowley. “Save him a trip, it would.”
“You may as well.”
The young constable hied off to intercept him. By the time that he rejoined us we had started down New Broad Court and were in sight of the passage where Mr. Perkins awaited us.
“The Raker said he’d come to pick up old Josh, the beggar,” said Mr. Cowley. “He keeled over dead just down from us at Russell Street.”
“The old fellow with the penny whistle?” said Sir John.
“That’s the one.”
“Well, you know,” put in Mr. Bailey, “1 can’t say as I’m surprised. He ain’t looked good these months past.”
“That does sadden me,” said Sir John. “He always had a warm greeting and made a heartfelt thank-you.” Then, with a sigh: “He died swift, and that was a blessing.”
We gave old Josh a respectful moment of silence as we moved on. It fell upon me to break it.
“That is it just ahead, Mr. Bailey,” I called out to him. “The passage there leads back to a yard.”
“Yes,” said he, “I know it well enough — and from that yard back to an alley that leads to Duke’s Court.”
That I had not known. I avoided such dark, narrow places whenever possible.
Constable Perkins’s threats to the gawking crowd had done their work. We found the passage empty, and entering the yard, we found with him but four, apart from the dead woman. He prodded two of them forward to meet Sir John. I recognized them instantly.
“Beg pardon, Sir John,” said Mr. Perkins, “but I thought you might wish to dispose of these two immediate.”
“Who are they?”
“Give him your names.”
“Bert Talley, sir.”
“Esther Jack, your Lordship. But we was just — ”
”Quietr” roared Mr. Perkins. “Lll tell Sir John what I saw. Only then may you speak.”
“Proceed, Mr. Perkins.”
“As to what I saw, that’s quickly said. When Jeremy and I pushed our way through the passage, there was then a great bunch of gapers since sent off and I found these two. He was hauling the victim out from under stairs just above where she now lies. And she — she was tugging away at the purse which is tied about the victim’s waist. Now, it was my opinion, and it is my opinion still, that they were caught in the act of theft; that they meant to take that purse and do a scamper down the alley. Therefore I detained them to await your judgment in the matter.”
“Well presented, Mr. Perkins,” said Sir John. “Now, madam, you may have your say.”
“We was thinkin’ only to help identify her by lookin’ in her purse — a letter or somethin’.”
“Was it necessary to move the corpus to do so?”
“It was, m’Lord,” said the rat-faced Bert Talley. “Only her feet was sticking out from under the stairs. We heard the cry of murder, and we come running. That’s how we found her. So I pulled, and by God, she was warm to the touch.”
“Is that so, Mr. Perkins?”
“It is. Sir John, and so he did inform us. It was then necessary to disturb the body further to be certain the victim was not still alive.”
“So they did endeavor to give some help to you in the matter?”
“In a manner of speaking, yes, sir.”
“And the woman had not opened the purse?”
“No, sir, she had not, just trying to pull it free.”
“Then I fear that since it is a question of intention, and that alone, we must accept their word in this. Mr. Talley and Madam Jack, you may go, but I must tell you that if either of you appear before me in the Bow Street Court, I shall remember this incident and hold it against you. Consider this fair warning.”
With much nodding and hand-wringing, the two gave copious thanks and took their leave down the passage.
A conversation followed between Sir John and Constable Perkins, wherein the description of the scene, the condition of the body, and the nature of the victim’s wound were discussed. Mr. Perkins gave it as his guess that the womem had not been long dead, perhaps only minutes when he and I came upon the scene of the crime.
“Is there any way to ascertain whereabouts in this yard the wound was inflicted?” asked Sir John. “She could not, I assume, have been stabbed where she was found.”
“Not likely, sir. Is it important?”
“It may be. Indeed it may. Mr. Bailey? Mr. Cowley?”
The two came quickly to his side. Mr. Bailey asked Sir John’s pleasure.
“Would you two examine the ground hereabouts and look for signs of a struggle? We are assuming the woman — the victim, if you will — was stabbed elsewhere. Mr. Perkins informs me she is quite corpulent, near twelve stone, so she must have been dragged to that place beneath the stairs. The yard has been tracked up a bit, I fear, but the marks of dragging a body of that size should stand out.”
Mr. Cowley seemed troubled by Sir John’s request. “But, sir,” said he, “it’s gone mighty dark. The moon’s past the point where it’s much help.”
“Then I would advise you to use that lantern I instructed you to bring with you. I trust you did bring it along.”
“Uh, yes. Sir John.”
“Then light it up and get on with it. Mr. Perkins? I should like to speak with him who gave the alarum. Bring the fellow to me, would you?”
As Constable Perkins went to fetch him. Sir John leaned close to me and spoke in a low tone: “Jeremy, describe him to me, would you?”
“Certainly,” said I. “He is a small man, a bit over five feet tall, though not much — less than ten stone, nearer nine — and reasonably well-dressed.”
“Mmm,” he grunted. “That will do. Thank you.”
A moment later the man was before us. I marveled that one of his diminutive proportions could have set up such a roar.