This large head with its impatient, alienated nose was attached to a small, thin, short-legged body not more than five feet one inch in height. However, seated as he was with the cloth of his breeches pulled tight at the front, Hannah's practised eye observed that he carried the bulge of a surprisingly large engine for so small a man.
Sir Jasper was dressed in a dark cutaway coat above pale trousers and elegant boots, the heels of which were higher by a good two inches than might be normally supposed to be correct for the fashion of the day. A white silk choker finished off what Hannah knew to be the street uniform mostly favoured by men of the upper classes. Finally, Sir Jasper's very tall top hat had been placed with its brim uppermost on the small table between Hannah and himself, so that to observe the Upper Marshal she was forced to slightly crane her neck and look past the black hat's brim.
'So, madam, you are the spouse of the notorious criminal, Ikey Solomons?'
'Solomon, sir, it don't 'ave an "s",' Hannah corrected him, her heart fluttering at the presumption. Then she looked slightly bemused. 'Married yes, but as to criminal, not that I knows of, sir.' She drew a breath and then continued, 'Me 'usband, Ikey, 'as served 'is time, one year in Newgate and then on a hulk at Chatham. After six years 'e received the King's pardon.' Hannah paused again. 'Since then one or two small offences in the petty sessions, but nuffink what you might call notorious or criminal, if ya knows what I mean, sir?'
The officer sighed, 'Mrs Solomons, do not treat me like a simple-minded Bow Street runner or you could find yourself implicated in this unfortunate business.'
'And what unfortunate business is that?' Hannah asked politely, maintaining her calm.
'Forgery, madam! Defrauding the Bank of England by the printing of large denomination counterfeit notes of astonishing artistry to be passed through European banks and exchanged for foreign currency, and then reconverted to English currency again, though this time as the absolutely genuine article!'
'Me 'usband can do that?' Hannah asked, incredulously. 'Me 'usband can make money out o' scraps o' paper?' She shook her head. 'You 'ave the wrong man, sir, me 'usband is but a poor jeweller what makes a small and 'onest profit from sellin' o' betrothal and weddin' rings and bright little brooches for servant girls, shop assistants, country folks and the likes!'
'Ha! And how, pray tell, does he come to own the salubrious premises in Bell Alley?'
'Salubrious? 'Ardly that, sir, modest 'ouse to say the least. An uncle in Chatham, a slops dealer by trade, who passed away, Gawd rest 'is soul, a good man, sir, who left me 'usband a small legacy what we used to buy the 'ouse for rentin' purposes to decent folk. Our own little nest egg against 'ard times.'
'A modest house? Decent folk? A bawdy house in partnership with a well-known madam. A high-class establishment fitted out at great cost and with a printing press of the latest design in the basement, a nest all right, a nest of vipers!'
He pointed his unlit cigar at Hannah. 'Mark you carefully, we have arrested… ' He hesitated and then removed and unfolded a small slip of paper from a pocket in his waistcoat. 'Damned silly names these Froggies… ah yes, Van Esselyn… Abraham Van Esselyn, a notorious forger whose services do not come cheaply, and who is not paid in the currency his nimble hands create, but with the real thing!'
The nose on Sir Jasper's face looked at Hannah in a decidedly smug manner. Then, without so much as a moment's warning, Sir Jasper pushed back his chair, rose and banged his fist down on the table, causing the top hat upon it to jump and wobble, then fall to its side.
'Damn you, woman! Do you take me for a complete fool? I will have the truth, do you hear me!'
At first Hannah thought it must all be a mistake. They had somehow confused her own brothels with an imaginary one in Bell Alley. After all, Bob Marley, whom she had commissioned to report on the aftermath of the raid, had said nothing of a brothel at Bell Alley. But the information on Abraham Van Esselyn was perfectly correct. And who was the woman who ran the fashionable brothel which now seemed to exist at the Bell Alley premises?
Hannah needed time to gather her wits and to conceal her surprise at Sir Jasper's astonishing news. There was more going on at Bell Alley than she knew about. She told herself that if some other woman, with an eye to her husband's considerable fortune, was trying to gain his good favour, both this whore and Ikey would be made to suffer a consequence far worse than the noose at Tyburn.
'Yes, sir, no, sir, but I dunno what it is ya want me to say, sir,' Hannah blustered as she set about gathering her inward composure. 'You seems to want me to say me 'usband's guilty, is that it? A wife turnin' against 'er innocent 'usband and the law makin' up all sorts o' lies about brothels and mistresses to make 'er do so. Me a faithful wife and lovin' mother what cannot tell a lie without blushin' summink awful.'
'Mrs Solomons, I'm sure you are aware that a wife cannot testify against her husband. Only those frightful frogs across the Channel have such a damned stupid law, which, I'm led to believe, leads to all manner of female revenge, not at all in the interest of male justice! Sanctity of marriage, my dear, it's the foundation of British justice!'
Hannah's lips started to tremble and a muscle on her left cheek to twitch. She brought her hands up to cover her eyes so that the absence of tears could not be seen, although, when needed, they would come soon enough.
'I dunno what it is ya want from me, sir. Me what's got four little mouths to feed, you wants to take me darlin'
'usband away! 'Im what's done no 'arm to no one! Where's the British justice in that?' Hannah choked out the words and then began to sob miserably. 'When I come 'ere it was to a promise o' reward! But when I gets 'ere, all I 'ears is talk o' brothels and mistresses and takin' away me poor 'usband what's done nuffink to deserve no punishment!' Hannah commenced to howl loudly for some time, real tears now running down her cheeks, judging the Upper Marshal's patience carefully.
'For God's sake woman, stop your damned caterwauling!' Sir Jasper demanded, banging his tiny fist once more down upon the table. 'I want your co-operation! I'm willing to pay a very handsome price for it!'
Perhaps it was the words 'pay' and 'very handsome price' that Hannah's ears, always alert to a matter of profit, picked up. Her distress died down to a whimper and her head lifted, her large, tearful eyes peeping through her fingers. '
'Ow much?' she asked in a broken, tiny voice, throwing in a loud sob for good measure.
Sir Jasper immediately relaxed and digging into the pocket of his coat produced a box of matches and commenced at last to light his cigar. Then he leaned back so that his chair rested against the wall balanced on its rear legs, the front ones being raised from the floor. Blowing a most satisfactory cloud of cigar smoke to the ceiling, he addressed Hannah in a calm voice.