his thick fingers as he presents it that has so far eluded me, no matter how often I try.
“I doubt that sincerely,” Parnell replied drily, looking at the card. “Barker. I’ve heard of you, but I assure you I don’t need to hire an enquiry agent.”
Barker would not be put off so easily. “I have a matter of great importance to discuss with you, sir, but I would not care to do so in this hall.”
Parnell shrugged and stepped back, opening the door wide. “Very well, come in. Half of London has been in here today already. I don’t recall your name being mentioned by Scotland Yard this morning.”
“You won’t,” Barker said, as we stepped into the room. “We are working
“It’s nice to know someone trusts me. I spent most of the night being questioned by Scotland Yard. The newspapers today are wild over this new outrage. I won’t be surprised if I’m burned in effigy at a rally tonight. Everyone seems to think I can wave my wand like Merlin and every faction will fall into line like so many ducks. I wish it were that easy.”
“I’m afraid the situation is worse than you’ve been led to believe. According to my sources, if a bill for Home Rule is not rushed through Parliament within the month, there will be a second series of outrages much larger than the first.”
“Good lord,” Parnell said, falling into an overstuffed leather chair and running a hand through his scant hair.
“Precisely. Should that occur, it will not be an effigy they shall hang. All your attempts at forming a legitimate coalition for Home Rule will have been set to naught. It is vital that you help me, you see. I am your only hope of containing the more militant factions of the Brotherhood.”
“If another series of bombings occurs, it could throw back the chances for Irish democracy thirty years or more,” Parnell agreed. “Believe me, gentlemen, I want to help you, but I know nothing about the bombings. I assure you, none of my associates had anything to do with them.”
“Somehow, a group of factionists from the more radical fringe were able to smuggle in dynamite from America. They prepared and delivered their bombs and got away without being detected. Obviously, that requires a high level of organization. Who has such an ability to command men and use strategy among your compatriots? Who is both ruthless and radical enough to threaten the government and the Royal Family?”
“I scarce can say,” Parnell said vaguely.
“You need assurances,” Barker said patiently. “I know there are dozens of factions out there, with a like number of ideologies. Some are militant, others philosophical, and some are merely formed to take in money. I have one mission and one mission alone: to find the faction that blew up Scotland Yard last night. I must find them, shut down their operation, and turn them over to the authorities, and I shall do so privately. This is not for the newspapers. You cannot use this as proof of your sincerity, not publicly, anyway. Give me names, Mr. Parnell, the names of the more militant leaders among the I.R.B., or Clan Na Gael, or whatever they are calling themselves this morning.”
“How do I know,” Parnell asked, “that what you uncover won’t go to the Special Irish Branch who’ve been kicking in doors and harassing innocent Irishmen?”
“I’ve trusted you just now with privileged information that could be passed on to the press or to other factions because I believe your efforts to help the Irish people are sincere.” Barker moved over to the window and looked out into the street, his arms crossed. “Now you shall have to trust me. I cannot put it any plainer than that. The names, sir. In your heart of hearts, who do you think it might have been?”
The Irishman picked up a silver case and lit a cigarette. His hand, I noticed, was not steady. Surreptitiously, I pulled my notebook out of my pocket.
“You do realize what the punishment among the factions is for informing, do you not, Mr. Barker?” Parnell asked.
“If you are referring to Peter Carey, who was assassinated for informing on the Invincibles last year, I do. They tracked him all the way to South Africa. But he had definite information and was one of the conspirators. I merely wish to be pointed in a direction.”
“Very well. I cannot give you a definite name, but I can give you a list of a half dozen capable enough. There is Peter Davitt, O’Donovan Rossa, Michael Cusack, Alfred Dunleavy, Henri Le Caron, and Seamus O’Muircheartaigh. Most have spent time in prison, and Dunleavy and Le Caron have commanded armies. If he isn’t among one of them, he is unknown to me, and I’d like to think that such a fellow would have been brought to my attention before now.”
“Have you got all that down, Llewelyn?” Barker asked.
“Almost, sir. I didn’t get the last fellow’s name.”
“I know him,” Barker said. “I shall spell his name for you later. That is all I need of you, Mr. Parnell. We won’t take up any more of your time. Come along, lad.”
Barker led me down the grand staircase to the lobby, where we evoked the scrutiny of the hotel manager. One cannot be faulted for leaving an establishment, however, and we left unhindered. Two thirds of detective work, I believe, is sheer brass.
Outside, my employer led me to the curb and stood for a moment, his walking stick on the pavement. I assumed he was awaiting a cab, but when one jingled up, he stepped back and offered it to a woman and her daughter leaving the hotel. He then led me down Brook Street a block or two. As we were passing a quiet tea shop, his strong fingers gripped my elbow in that way of his, and we entered. Without a pause on our way to the farthest booth in the room, he called for a pot of tea and three cups. Three cups? I wondered. It wasn’t until we arrived at the booth, and he sat on the same side as I, that the light dawned. We had a second assignation.
I took a sip of the tea, and as I set the cup down, a man slid silently into the booth across from us. He was a thin fellow, whose long coat and pants were so tight he appeared even thinner. His head was bulbous, the scanty black hair plastered across it, and his thin mustache was waxed into points.
“Barker,” he said, bowing his head respectfully, then took a delicate sip from his cup.
“Henri, may I present my assistant, Thomas Llewelyn? Thomas, Mr. Henri Le Caron. He was spying on us earlier from the second-floor rooms across the street from Claridge’s with the aid of a telescope.”
“Was I that obvious?”
“Not at all, but, then, I was looking. I suppose you could just as easily have been the Special Irish Branch.”
“They were in the attic above me, watching Parnell until last night, but they shut down their operation this morning. I do not believe they consider Parnell a suspect.”
“Do you?”
Le Caron took another sip of his tea to sum up his thoughts. “Probably not, as far as the bombings are concerned, but I’m throwing my net a bit wider. Anderson wants to know how capable he is, and whether he has any weaknesses that can be exploited, if necessary. I believe Parnell quite capable of persuading Gladstone to sponsor a bill for Home Rule, but he is not without flaws. He’s living above his means and has an English mistress, a married one, at that. If the Irish intend to throw all their eggs in his basket, I believe they shall find them dashed to the floor.”
“Have you spoken to Mr. Anderson since last night?”
“Yes, by telephone. He’s apprised me of the situation. I must say, I don’t envy you or the Special Irish Branch your deadline. It has taken me years to earn the trust of the Irish Brotherhood, and that is merely in a general way. The factions themselves are very close-knit.”
“How many groups would you estimate are functioning at the moment in Ireland and England?”
“I’d say two dozen or more, but some are merely Irish youths looking for a reputation. Less than half that are true terrorists, radical enough to bomb and kill, or to die in the attempt.”
“Parnell has given me a few names of possible candidates for leadership of the faction who planted last night’s bombs. One of them is a dangerous Frenchman named Le Caron.”
Le Caron laughed, revealing a space between his teeth. He seemed the total opposite of a successful spy, but then, I suppose, a ruddy-cheeked, solid fellow looking like an Eton and Cambridge graduate would have raised the Irish hackles in a heartbeat.
