the constable, with both his youth and length of reach on his side, was fast losing the battle.
Pitt went to his assistance and between them they overcame the man when he realized the futility of fighting against such odds. Quite suddenly they all stopped, the constable with his jacket pulled crooked, two buttons missing, and his helmet over one ear. Pitt had a pocket torn and dust over his trousers where the man had scraped his boots in his efforts to get free. He himself was in worse condition yet; his fine head of hair was on end, his jacket was hitched up under his armpits and wildly crooked, his shirt was torn, his collar had sprung loose from its studs and his tie looked in danger of strangling him. His trousers were twisted around his body and torn open at the top button at his waist.
“Are you all right, Constable?” Pitt asked as soberly as the ridiculousness of the situation allowed.
The constable pulled his uniform back to position with one hand, keeping the other firmly on his prisoner.
“Yes, thank you sir. I’m obliged to you.”
“How dare you,” the prisoner demanded furiously. “I don’t think you know who I am, sir. I am Horatio Osmar!” This last was addressed to Pitt, whom he had realized to be the senior officer and thus worthy of his attention.
It was a name Pitt recognized although it took him a moment to place it. Horatio Osmar had been a junior minister in the government until about two years before when he had retired.
“Indeed sir?” Pitt said with some surprise, looking over Osmar’s head at the discomfited constable.
“I am prepared to accept an apology and let the matter go,” Osmar said stiffly, adjusting his jacket to cover the disarray of clothes at his waist. His hands hesitated a moment as if to do up his trousers, then he changed his mind. His face was still very red from his exertion.
“I can’t do that, sir,” the constable said before Pitt had time to ask him. “I’ve got to charge you.”
“That’s preposterous,” Osmar exploded, yanking his arm away from the constable and glaring at Pitt. “You look like a reasonable fellow. For God’s sake explain to this-this overzealous young person who I am.”
Pitt looked at the constable, who was now pink faced and unhappy, but standing stiffly to attention, his eyes unwavering.
“What is the charge, Constable?”
“Behavior likely to cause an affront to public decency, sir.”
“Balderdash,” Osmar said loudly. “Complete balderdash. Nothing of the sort!”
“Are you quite sure, Constable?” Pitt said dubiously.
“Yes sir. Constable Crombie has the young lady.”
“What young lady?”
“The young lady with whom Mr. Osmar was-was sitting in the park, sir.” The constable looked straight ahead of him, his eyes unhappy, his face hot.
“That’s it,” Osmar shouted. “Sitting!” He was quivering with indignation. “It is not an offense, sir, for a gentleman and a young lady to sit together on a seat in the park and enjoy a summer day.” He yanked his jacket straighter. “It is an outrage when they are disturbed and insulted in their pleasure by two young jackanapes policemen.”
“Two?” Pitt raised his eyebrows.
“Indeed. Two sir! The other one arrested my friend, Miss Giles. What a fearful experience for a young lady of gentle birth.” The man’s face was highly expressive with round eyes and shapeless nose. “I am mortified it should happen to her in my company, where she must surely have considered herself safe from such assault. I shall not forgive it!”
“Where is Miss-Miss Giles, Constable?” Pitt said with some concern. This looked like being a serious mistake, and one which could become very ugly indeed if Horatio Osmar chose to press it.
“Right be’ind me, sir.” The constable kept his eyes on Pitt’s and in spite of his embarrassment, there was no flinching in him.
At that moment the door opened again and the second constable came in with a young woman held firmly by both hands. She was very handsome in a bold and buxom fashion. Her fair brown hair was falling forward uncoiled out if its pins and her dress was crooked and open at the top. It was not possible to tell if this had happened in her struggle with the constable, or whether he had found her in this disarray.
“Constable Crombie, I presume?” Pitt said dryly.
“Yes sir.” The constable was out of breath and out of countenance. He was not accustomed to having to struggle with young women of any birth or gentility, even of the most general sort, and the episode embarrassed him. It showed in his earnest young face.
“Is the lady under arrest?” Pitt asked.
“Yes sir. She was in the park with that gentleman.” He indicated Horatio Osmar, who was glaring ferociously at them and about to burst into indignant speech again. “They were be’aving in a manner likely to offend any decent people,” the constable went on suddenly. “Doin’ things best done in their own bedrooms, sir, or in their own sitting rooms at worst.”
“How dare you.” Osmar could contain himself no longer. “That’s a scandalous slander, sir.” He struggled to free himself and failed. “We were nothing of the kind. You insult Miss Giles, and I will not stand for it-be warned!”
“We saw what we saw, sir,” the constable said stolidly.
“You saw what you imagine you saw, sir.” Osmar’s voice was raised very considerably and by now the nearer occupants of the station were also aware of the commotion. One of the inner doors opened and a uniformed inspector came out into the room. He was a tall man, almost as tall as Pitt, fair haired with a strong, blunt face.
“What’s the problem, Constable?” He addressed Crombie directly, not immediately realizing that Pitt, not in uniform, was also an officer.
Crombie was visibly relieved.
“Oh Mr. Urban, sir; I’m glad as you’re ’ere. Allardyce and me arrested this lady and gentleman for improper be’avior in the park. They was bein’ indecently familiar with each other on one o’ the park benches, sir; disarrangin’ each other’s clothes, and ’ands where they shouldn’t ’a bin, ’cept in private.”
“That is untrue,” Osmar said angrily. “Quite untrue. You are apparently unaware who I am, sir.” He jerked his jacket down with both hands, now suddenly free. “I am Horatio Osmar, late a minister in Her Majesty’s government.”
Urban’s eyes opened only a fraction wider; the remainder of his expression did not change at all.
“Indeed sir. And the lady?”
The young woman opened her mouth to speak, but Osmar answered before she could.
“Miss Beulah Giles, a totally respectable young acquaintance of mine. A lady of irreproachable reputation and unquestioned virtue.”
Urban looked at Pitt. “And you, sir?”
“Thomas Pitt, inspector of detectives; but this case is nothing to do with me. I came to report an entirely different matter to Mr. Drummond.”
This time Urban’s expression did change. Politeness turned into undisguised interest. “So you’re Thomas Pitt. I’ve only just moved to Bow Street, but I’ve heard of you. Samuel Urban-” He held out his hand.
Pitt took it and was held in a firm, warm grip.
“I’ll leave you to sort this out,” he said with a smile. “It looks like a difficult affair.” And with that he turned and went past the duty desk and up the stairs to tell Drummond that he had still learned nothing to implicate, nor to clear, Lord Sholto Byam. It was not until he was at the top of the stairs that he stopped, almost tripping over the step, a cold chill inside him. Samuel Urban. That was the name on Weems’s list for a huge amount of money.
He went on along the wide corridor towards Drummond’s room.
Horatio Osmar and Beulah Giles were kept in police cells overnight and the next day taken before the police court. Micah Drummond did not attend, but he told Urban that he wished to be kept informed at all points. It was not a light thing to charge an ex-minister of the government with indecent behavior in a public place.
It was nearly noon when Urban knocked on his door.
“Come in,” he said quickly, looking up from his desk. He half hoped it would be Pitt to say he had learned something in the Weems case, but perhaps that was too optimistic.
