“Nellie and I, and Adam Gould, saw you on the street outside the Old Bailey,” Lady Sheridan replied. “This morning, Lord Sheridan showed me the
At the mention of Adam, Lottie’s heart gave a little lurch. “Did Adam see what happened?”
“I don’t think so,” Lady Sheridan said. “He didn’t seem able to get through the crowd. Or perhaps he saw that Mr. London was with you and gave it up.”
Lottie felt suddenly anxious. “I hope you’re not planning to turn us in. I-”
“Don’t be silly, Lottie,” Nellie said. “Of course we’re not planning to turn you in. We came because I need to talk to you about Mr. London. I would have come sooner, if I had known you were here. It wasn’t until last night, when we saw the two of you together, that I realized that you must be staying with… him.”
Lottie colored. “Mr. London?” she asked defensively. “What do you want to talk about?”
“I’m sorry,” Nellie said with a sigh. “I don’t mean to embarrass you. But if you and he are… I mean, if he’s promised you… if you have…” She stopped, her cheeks glowing, her eyes suddenly brimming. Two enormous tears ran down her cheeks.
“What’s wrong, Nellie?” Lottie asked urgently. She took Nellie’s hands. They were very cold. “Why are you crying?”
“Oh, Lottie,” Nellie burst out, “I hope you haven’t let him make love to you. He’s… he’s
“I know that, Nellie,” Lottie said gently. “And I have
“Is that really true?” Nellie asked, searching her face. “You… didn’t?”
“Of course it’s true. I said so, didn’t I?” Lottie dropped Nellie’s hands, frowning. “But what does this have to do with you? Why-?”
And then an awful idea came to her, and she thought she understood why Nellie was crying. “I know that Jack took you to Earl’s Court, because he told me,” she whispered. “But did you allow him to-” She didn’t have to finish the question, because Nellie’s flaming face told her the truth.
“Nellie has had a difficult experience, Lottie,” Lady Sheridan said quietly. Her look was very straightfoward and direct. “Mr. London was not a gentleman. She has been concerned that he might have put you into a similar awkward and compromised position-perhaps even a precarious one.”
Lottie lowered her head. “He might well have,” she admitted. “But I found out that he was married and made it clear that I… wouldn’t.” She took a deep breath. “Since then, he’s been… restrained. And helpful, I must say.” She smiled crookedly. “He’s a first-rate dipper.”
“A dipper?” Lady Sheridan asked.
“A pickpocket,” Lottie said. “He learned it when he was in jail. He picked the guard’s pocket last night, while I was screaming Russian words at Ivan.” She frowned at Lady Sheridan. “When you say that he wasn’t a gentleman, do you mean-”
“He forced me, Lottie,” Nellie broke in. “I think I’m… pregnant.”
“Nellie isn’t sure about that,” Lady Sheridan said cautiously. “It’s really too early to-”
“He
“We’d both had quite a bit to drink,” Nellie said, shame-facedly. “Part of the fault is mine, I know.” She held out her hand in a pleading gesture. “But I tried to make him stop, honestly, I did, Lottie. I did! And then Lady Sheridan told me about his wife and child back in California. His wife is pregnant too.”
“Oh, Nellie, I am so very sorry,” Lottie cried, and opened her arms to her friend. How could Jack have done such a thing? But she did not doubt Nellie’s word. There was something about Jack that allowed him to use vulnerable people to suit his own ends-and of course, when men took their pleasure, it was the woman who paid.
After a few minutes, Lady Sheridan cleared her throat. “We must decide what to do,” she said. “Miss Conway, now that the trial is over, you are safe from the police. You may wish to return home to Brantwood Street, or you could come back to Bishop’s Keep with me.”
Nellie wiped her eyes. “You could come and stay with me, Lottie. I lost my place at the Strand, but I’m working again, and living at the Rehearsal Club. The other bed in my room is empty just now. You’d be welcome.”
Lottie squared her shoulders, thinking swiftly. If she left the City, she would not be able to help Ivan and Pierre, and her first obligation was to them. “I won’t stay here any longer,” she said at last. “That much is certain. Lady Sheridan, I’m grateful for your invitation, but I feel I had better remain in London. I’ve already made up my mind not to go back to Brantwood Street, so I’ll accept Nellie’s offer, at least for a few days.” One thing, at least, she had decided over the past several days: She was no longer willing to be tied to her mother. The lodgers’ rent ought to be enough to buy meat and potatoes, if not chocolates.
“I’m glad,” Nellie said simply.
“Do you have anything to pack?” Lady Sheridan asked, glancing around the room. “Perhaps we had better leave, before-”
But it was too late. The door opened and Jack London, wearing his grimy slum costume, his camera bag slung over his shoulder, came into the room. At the sight of the visitors, his mouth dropped open. “What-?” His eyes went to Nellie, his brow furrowed, and a flush came into his cheeks.
“Hello, Mr. London,” Nellie said, with a strained composure. “I-” She stopped, swallowing hard. “I think you should know-”
Lady Sheridan smiled and put her hand on Nellie’s arm. “Good morning, Mr. London. Miss Conway, I think it’s time we were going. Miss Lovelace and I will wait for you in the street.”
“Thank you,” Lottie replied, lifting her chin. “This won’t take long.” She gave Jack a pointed look. “Not long at all.”
Out on the street, Kate put her arm around Nellie’s shoulders. “You did very well, Nellie,” she said quietly. “I was afraid I was going to cry again,” Nellie said. She gave Kate a grateful look. “Thank you for coming here with me. If I’d been alone with Lottie when he came in, I might have told him. About me, I mean.” She flushed. “But it wouldn’t have been a good idea.”
Kate nodded, agreeing. A vendor’s wagon at the corner caught her eye. “Let’s have some hot tea while we’re waiting for Lottie,” she said. “It will make us both feel better.”
They had just finished their tea when Lottie came around the back of the Palmers’ house, carrying a paper bag. She was wearing a dark dress, with a shawl tied around her shoulders. Catching sight of Kate and Nellie, she waved and came toward them across the street.
“Well, then,” Kate said, “shall we get a cab and go to the Rehearsal Club?”
Lottie handed the bag to Nellie. “I must ask you to take this and go on without me,” she said. “I’ll come to the club later this evening, or perhaps tomorrow. I must do an errand right now.”
Nellie took the bag, which Kate saw was full of clothing. “Do you know where to come?”
“It’s in Leicester Square, isn’t it?” Lottie replied. “If you could leave my name at the desk, with a spare key, I could let myself in even if you aren’t there.” She paused, frowning. “No, don’t use my real name, Nellie. Leave the key for… for Hazel Lovelace. I’ll be your sister. And I have a little money. I can pay for my share of the room.”
Kate regarded her steadily. “This errand,” she said. “Does it have to do with the escaped men?”
A wagon filled with vegetables clattered past on the cobbled street. Down the way, a newspaper boy was crying the headlines. “Anarchists escape from prison van! Getcher news here!”
Lottie looked as if she did not want to answer, but after a moment, she said, in a guarded tone, “I suppose I owe you the truth, since you and Lord Sheridan have been so kind. Yes, my errand has to do with the escape. Getting the men out of the van was only the first step. They’re safe now, in a hiding place in the Russian area of the East End. I am meeting a comrade this morning to make arrangements for getting them out of the country.” She turned back to Nellie. “That’s why I can’t go with you now, Nellie. And if I’m caught, I don’t want you involved.”
Nellie shook her head. “Lottie, you are so brave.”
Lottie laughed. “Brave? Foolhardy is more like it. Smuggling them out won’t be easy, since the Yard is probably looking everywhere for them. But we have to try.”
Kate remembered the anger she had felt when the jury’s verdict was announced, and her feeling that justice had not been served.
“Yes,” she said firmly. “You have to try.” She bent forward and kissed Lottie’s cheek. “Good luck, Lottie. We’ll be thinking of you and wishing you well.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
There is no denying the aesthetic satisfaction, the sense of poetic justice, that pleasures us when evil-doers get the comeuppance they deserve… The satisfaction is heightened when it becomes possible to measure out punishment in exact proportion to the size and shape of the wrong that has been done.
Arthur Lelyvekl,
Former Inspector Ashcraft was in a mood as black as the coffee he was stirring. From his seat in the corner booth, he was keeping one eye on the entry to the Little Moscow Cafe, although he was not sure that his message had been received-or if it had, that his contact would respond.
Early that morning, Assistant Commissioner Henry had called both Ashcraft and Chief Inspector Mattingly into his office. He was obviously angered not only by the debacle of the trial but also by the Anarchists’ escape, the news of which had stunned Ashcraft into a bewildered disbelief. How had the wardens been so lax as to allow their keys to be stolen and the men to escape? The Anarchists were known to be dangerous-why had there not been a larger guard, more effective security procedures? Who was responsible for-
But the inspector had not been able to give voice to any of the questions and doubts that stirred like a storm within him. He was required to stand at attention and listen as the assistant commissioner made it plain that he had only two choices: He could resign his position and leave Special Branch quietly, without any fanfare; or he could stay and face an internal investigation and, quite possibly, a public trial. The decision had been wrenching, for Ashcraft had wanted to proclaim to the world that he had done what he did only because it was his
But there was something else, too, that had figured in Ashcraft’s decision, something that he feared might come to light if he were swept up in an investigation. He knew, in the deepest recesses of his heart, that it was Charlotte Conway who had been his undoing. Even now, and even to himself, he was not prepared to admit how desperately he had wanted the girl. The more he had watched her through that lighted bedroom window, or tripping down the street, or bending over her desk in the newspaper loft, the stronger his desire had grown. And since he could not have her, something inside him-some fiercely passionate part of him that he could barely recognize as himself-had determined that no other man would have her, either.
It was this determination that had led to his fundamental error, for when the raid had inadvertently netted Charlotte Conway’s lover along with Kopinski and Mouffetard, Ashcraft had decided to take advantage of the situation. He should, of course, have released Adam Gould and been done with it. There was no question of finding evidence against the man, since Ashcraft knew he was not involved with the Anarchists. But since he had determined to ensure the conviction of Kopinski and Mouffetard-and especially of Kopinski-it seemed a small matter to make up another bottle and put it under Gould’s bed. He could not have known that the young man was a friend of some overly-enthusiastic lord who thought he knew something about fingerprints and wanted to meddle in police
