still see in the shadows and the thin gold of the evening light. She knew that he was afraid also. He was waving his hands now, jerky, angry movements, sharp denial. He shook his head.
“No! Leave it! I’m warning you!”
“I’ll find out,” Remus retaliated. “I’ll uncover every damned piece of it, and the world will know! We’ll not be lied to any longer … not by you, or anyone!”
The other man yanked his arm up angrily, then turned and strode away, back in the direction from which he had come.
Remus took a step after him, then changed his mind and walked very rapidly past Gracie towards the road. His face was set in tense, furious determination. He almost bumped into a couple who were walking arm in arm, taking a late stroll in the summer dusk. He muttered an apology and kept straight on.
Gracie ran after him. She had to keep running, he was going so rapidly. He crossed Hyde Park Terrace, continuing north over Grand Junction Road and up to Praed Street and straight into the station for the underground railway.
Gracie’s heart lurched. Where was he going? How far? What was this all about? Who was the man he had met in the park and accused … of what?
She followed him down the steep steps to the ticket window and bought a fourpenny ticket as he did, and went after him. She had been on an underground train before, and seen them coming roaring and screaming out of the tunnels and stop alongside the platform. She had been rigid with terror, and it had taken all the courage she possessed to climb inside that closed tube and be hurtled, in deafening noise, through the subterranean passages.
But she was not going to lose Remus. Wherever he was going, she was going too … to find whatever it was he was pursuing.
The train shot out of the black hole and ground to a stop. Remus got in. Gracie got in behind him.
The train lurched and roared forward. Gracie clenched her fists and kept her lips tightly closed so she would not cry out. Around her everyone else sat stolidly, as if perfectly accustomed to charging through holes under the ground, closed inside part of a train.
They came to the Edgware Road station. People got out, others got in. Remus did not even glance up to see where he was.
The train moved off again.
They passed Baker Street, Portland Road and Gower Street the same way. There was a long stretch to King’s Cross, then they seemed to lurch to the right and roar on, gathering speed.
Where was Remus going to now? What was it that connected Adinett’s trips to Cleveland Street; the girl Annie Crook, who lived there and had been taken away by force, and her lover as well? She had ended up in Guy’s Hospital attended by the Queen’s surgeon himself, who had said she was mad. What had happened to the young man? It seemed no one had heard of him again.
What were the coaches about in Spitalfields? Were they driven by the same man who had run down the little girl Alice Crook and then jumped into the river—after taking off his coat and boots?
The train stopped at Farringdon Street, then very quickly after that at Aldergate Street.
Remus shot to his feet.
Gracie almost fell in her surprise and haste to go after him. Remus got to the door, then changed his mind and sat down again.
Gracie collapsed onto the nearest bench, her heart pounding.
The train went on to Moorgate, and then Bishopsgate. It stopped at Aldgate, and Remus made for the door.
Gracie went also, and climbed up the steps, hurrying into the darkness where Aldgate Street changed into the Whitechapel High Street.
Which way was Remus going? She would have to keep close to him now. The lamps were lit, but they were dim, just pools of yellow here and there.
Was he going back to Whitechapel again, where he’d been before? He was nearly a mile from Buck’s Row, which was the other end of the Whitechapel Road, beyond the High Street. And Hanbury Street was a good half mile to the north, more if you took into account all the narrow, winding streets and alleys and dogleg corners.
But instead he turned right into Aldgate Street, back towards the City. Where was he going now? Did he expect to meet with someone further? She remembered the look on his face as he had walked away from the man in Hyde Park. He was angry, furiously angry, yet he was also excited and afraid. This was something of monstrous proportion … or he thought it was.
She was unprepared for it when he turned up Duke Street. It was narrower, darker. The eaves dripped in the gloom. The smells of rot and effluent hung in the air. She found herself shivering. The huge shadow of St. Botolph’s Church was just ahead. She was on the edge of Whitechapel.
Remus had been walking as if he knew exactly where he was going. Now he hesitated, looking to his left. The dim light gleamed for a moment on his pale skin. What did he expect to see? Beggars, destitutes huddled in doorways, trying to find a place to sleep, street women looking for chance custom?
She thought of the big black carriages he had asked about, the rumble of wheels on the cobbles growing louder and louder, black horses looming out of the night, the huge shape of the carriage, high, square, a door opening and a man asking … what? For a woman, a specific woman. Why? What gentleman in a carriage would come here at night when he could stay up west and find somebody cleaner, more fun, and with a room and a bed to go to rather than some doorway?
Remus was crossing the street into an alley beside the church.
It was pitch-dark. She stumbled as she followed him. Where in the devil’s name was he going? She knew he was still ahead of her because she could hear his feet on the cobbles. Then she saw him outlined against a shaft of light ahead. There was an opening. There must be a street lamp there, around the corner.
