“Do you think they will blackmail me?”
“Probably. Unless – ”
The telephone rang. “Excuse me,” said Harry. A voice quacked down the receiver from the other end. “I’ll be there as soon as I can,” said Harry.
“I am afraid,” he said to Peter, “that the photograph has gone to Lord Hadfield.”
“I am ruined,” said Peter, beginning to sob.
“I will make sure Lord Hadfield says nothing of this. But I must get that photograph and negative back.”
“But how can you?” wailed Peter. “I don’t know who they are.”
Harry thought of Berrow and Banks lurking in the square outside Rose’s house.
“I want you to go to your home. Speak to no one. Do not answer the door. I will call on you later. I will give three knocks and then two so that you know it is me.”
? Sick of Shadows ?
Seven
– OSCAR WILDE
Rose wondered what on earth was going on. Her father had put down his newspaper and had stared to look through the morning post. He slit open a square manila envelope. He drew out a photograph. He goggled at it, thrust it back in the envelope and shouted, “Get Cathcart. Now!”
Despite wondering frantically what had been in that photograph, Rose felt a surge of pleasure at the thought she might see Harry again.
“What on earth is going on?” she asked her mother.
“I am sure your father will cope with whatever it is. Eat your breakfast,” said Lady Polly.
“Pervert,” muttered the earl.
“What did you say?” demanded Rose.
“Hey, what? Oh, I said perishing newspapers.”
Rose had never seen her father look so upset. His face was scarlet. At last he said to his wife, “A word with you, dear.”
Rose and Daisy picked at their food. Then Rose heard her mother scream.
They ran to the office. The earl shouted at them, “Get out of here! Go to your rooms and don’t come out until I tell you.”
They went upstairs and stood by the window. At last they saw Harry arriving. Becket was not with him.
“Now what?” asked Rose.
Daisy gave a dismal little shrug. She had been expecting to see Becket.
Harry looked at the photograph. “Nasty,” he said. “Sir Peter was entrapped.”
“You can’t be entrapped unless you’re a… you’re a…”
“Quite,” said Harry. “Will you leave this with me? I think perhaps I might be able to get the negative and any prints. Petrey will go abroad for an extended period and it will all blow over.”
“Rose will need to cancel the engagement!”
“Not yet. I have a feeling that that was just what someone wanted her to do. Leave it to me.”
“Usual fee?” asked the earl glumly.
“No, you may have my researches as a present, for it will be my pleasure to deal with whoever did this.”
“What do we say to Rose?” asked Lady Polly.
“I think you will find out that your daughter knew of Peter’s tastes.”
“What?”
“I do not for a moment think she believed that men actually had sexual intercourse – ”
“Lady present,” growled the earl.
“But that she thought their love was platonic. She craved an arranged marriage.”
“Why?”
“Because she does not want to be shipped off to India. If you threaten her with that, she will find someone else.”
The earl mopped his brow.
“And I thought you were the worst thing that could have happened to her.”
“Thank you for the compliment. Now, leave this with me.”
Harry did not go back to his office but returned to Chelsea to ask Becket’s advice. He told his manservant about the incriminating photograph. “Do you know anything about the homosexual underworld, Becket?”
“There is that brothel in Westminster that no one is supposed to know about. Who do you suspect, sir?”
“I suspect Berrow and Banks.”
“Perhaps they hired a youth from there.”
“I am sure a place like that would give me no information whatsoever. I wonder why the police haven’t raided the place.”
“Possibly there are too many important people who visit there.”
“Where exactly is it?”
“Verney Street. I’ve heard servants gossiping about it.”
“I’ll go down tonight and watch who comes and goes. I’ll visit Petrey first.”
¦
Harry went to Petrey’s home and knocked as arranged. Petrey himself answered the door, looking haggard.
Harry followed him in. He sat down and removed his hat. “The situation is this. Your engagement to Lady Rose stands. You will invent a dying aunt in the south of France. You will write Lady Rose a letter saying you have the leave the country immediately. I think the purpose of your entrapment was to get Lady Rose to break off your engagement. We will not give them that satisfaction right away.
“Now, give me a full description of this Jonathan Wilks.”
“He is very beautiful – young, with golden hair and large green eyes with flecks of gold. He is quite tall with a slim body. His skin is clear and without blemish. Believe me, there cannot be very many young men as beautiful as he is in London.”
“Leave it to me.”
Harry walked to Westminster that evening after the lamps had been lit. To his relief, Verney Street was short. He found a dark doorway and settled down to watch.
At first it was hard to tell which of the dark houses could be a brothel, but then, as the evening drove on, he saw a house in the middle of the street was beginning to be visited by various men who looked nervously up and down before hurrying inside. To his amazement, he recognized a major-general and then a member of Parliament. Still, he waited patiently as the evening dragged on past midnight. There was a cold nip in the air and he wished he had worn a warmer coat. The old wound in his leg was beginning to throb, and as the time approached two in the morning he was just about to give up when he saw a young man emerging from the building. Before he crammed his hat on his curls, they shone gold in the lamplight.
He started to walk briskly and Harry followed him. The youth went as far as the seedier end of Westminster and turned in at a doorway and disappeared.
Harry went up and lit a match and studied the names beside the bell-pulls.
Jonathan Wilks lived on the top floor. Goodness, thought Harry, he even used his own name.
He took out a set of lock picks and got to work on the outside door until he was able to enter.
He walked silently up the stairs to the top. The name “Wilks” was there, pencilled on the peeling wall beside