response. I wished to be as truthful as I could be in this matter, yet at the same time I wished also to place myself in the best possible light.
“Well, he
“And I applaud him for that,” said she. “But you seem to feel that he had another, ulterior motive in sending you away.”
“I suppose I do.”
“And that is. .?”
“To be more candid than I would wish to be, I must say that he probably supposed he could get more out of Mr. Plummer if I were not present.”
I sighed, oddly glad to have come forth with it.
“You must have thought that yourself,” said she.
“Why do you say that?” I sounded a bit tetchy, even to myself.
“You took Mr. Deuteronomy Plummer to Sir John without telling him that his sister had sold her daughter, did you not? And neglecting also to mention to him that his niece was dead? And the only questions you put to him then were of a general nature, isn’t that also correct?”
Again I sighed. “All true,” said I. “You have made your point. Let us end the discussion right here and now.”
And that we did, for, after all, we were quite near Number 4 Bow Street, were we not? And whatever had been discussed between us would now be set aside as we adopted our domestic personae.
As we entered into the “backstage” area of the Bow Street Court, and were just then about to mount the stairs, the footsteps we had heard loud in our ears brought to us Mr. Deuteronomy Plummer. They, the footsteps, were unsteady. He walked as a drunken man, unable to keep a steady forward rhythm-though I was certain that he was sober. He seemed to push past without seeing us; and, indeed, his sight may have been impaired by the tears in his eyes. He spoke not a word as he went out the door to Bow Street.
I did not discover the substance of Sir John’s meeting with Mr. Plummer until after dinner that evening. He had invited me to come up and see him when I had finished the washing up. It took me a bit longer than I might have expected, for, as I washed pots, pans, and dishes, Clarissa took all the bits and pieces I had gathered from Katy Tiddle’s room and spread them out upon the kitchen table. As I had, she went first to the labels and similar oddments of paper. She picked up each one and studied it, then placed it back upon the table. Eventually, there were two separate piles of these bits of paper-labels and all others.
“Jeremy,” said she to me, “when you found all these, were they together, or in two separate groups, as I have them here?”
“Oh no, no, neither one,” said I, wringing out the cloth I had used on the dishes. “They were scattered all over her room. Some were on the floor. Three or four I found in the folds of the blankets on her bed, and a few were under the bed.”
“I see. Well, I fear I can’t make any immediate sense of this bunch, no matter how I divide them up.” She shrugged quite eloquently. “Sorry.”
“I hadn’t expected much from them. But what about those others?”
“What others?”
“Those with the numbers scrawled upon them. They were all together in a pile in the table next her bed.”
“You know what those are, don’t you? I certainly do.”
“Not really, no.”
“As near as I can tell,” said Clarissa, “these stubs, tickets, et cetera, are all from various pawn shops. Some of them are marked in just such a way on the back. Come here and I’ll show you, shall I?”
“No, Sir John has asked for me. Perhaps later.”
With that, I left her and jog-trotted up the stairs and down the hall to the little room he called his study. It was there that he went to consider and suppose. Dark and light were one to him, and so he sat most often in the dark as he thought. That, in any case, is how I found him on the evening in question.
“Is that you, Jeremy? Come, sit down. Light a candle, if you like.”
“No, I’ve no need,” said I, as I took a chair across the desk from him.
“I wanted to explain my dismissal of you earlier today.”
“I understood it, Sir John.”
“I hope you did. It was naught but my wish to get our friend Deuteronomy alone and get him talking that moved me to send you so roughly on your way.”
“Well,” said I, “you got him alone right enough. Did you get him talking?”
“Yes, and I did not like the sound of all I heard from him. I truly believe he would murder his sister if he were to come across her in his present state. I gave him a stern warning, yet, in truth, I’m not even sure he heard me, so overwhelmed was he by the news I had given him. He was certainly attached to that niece of his, wasn’t he?”
“He was indeed.”
“He’s claimed her body for burial at St. Paul’s, Covent Garden. I’d like you to attend the funeral service in case anything should turn up there. Find out when it will be held from those at the church, will you? Probably not until the day after tomorrow-tomorrow being Easter.”
“I will, Sir John.”
“You might even take Clarissa along to the funeral-with Lady Fielding’s approval, of course. Women seem to know how to behave on such occasions.” He sighed. “Let me see,” said he, “what else? I’d also like you to find out from Mr. Baker if Mr. Plummer is riding tomorrow. Baker often attends these meets, I believe. If Deuteronomy Plummer rides, I’d like you to attend and let yourself be seen by him. I want him to know that we are watching him, so that he does nothing foolish, nothing violent. You understand, I’m sure.”
“Indeed I do, sir.”
“And what, if anything, did you turn up in your search of that woman’s place-the one who got herself murdered? Katy Tiddle? Was that her name?”
“I found odds and ends. There are labels of one kind or another-nothing of interest there. But more promising is a pile of tickets and stubs, each one numbered-that is, they would be promising if I could figure out just what they are and what the numbers are for. Clarissa believes them to be pawn tickets.”
“Oh? Then no doubt she’s correct,” said he, pleasing me little. “When handling a case like this, Jeremy, it is important to keep at it diligently. Do something on it each day. It is only thus that we shall ever manage to solve it. And I assure you, lad, that indeed we shall solve it.” He hesitated, then added: “Why not proceed on the assumption that Clarissa is correct and see where that leads you?”
THREE
And so it came about that I went next day to Shepherd’s Bush in the company of Mr. Baker-or have I said that quite right? No, the way of it was that Mr. Baker-night jailer, armorer, and general keeper of quarters for the Bow Street Runners-told me the way there, even drew a rough map for me, and agreed to meet me there in midafternoon. Thus might he have the opportunity to take a few hours sleep before the first heat of the first race. He told me he had often done it so, for as I learned, he was quite passionately devoted to what was even then called by some “the sport of kings.” In all truth, I know not how George III, nor the late Louis of France, felt about the racing of horses round a specified course. I do know, however, that any man who gave to it the dedication and enthusiasm that Mr. Baker offered would surely have felt in his heart that he was king, if only for a day. Which day? Why, racing day, of course.
Because it was Easter, I felt obliged to renew my acquaintance with the faith in which I had been baptized. That done-the Easter anthems heard and the cries of “He is risen!” raised on high-I set forth on the long journey
