them comin’ in together. More like, Baggs wuz ’elping Badger organize the bookies. They been partners fer sev’ral years.”
“I’ve been trying to locate Mr. Baggs to clear up this point,” Murray said, “but his landlady says he’s left Newmarket. Unfortunately, I haven’t been able to find anyone with a notion as to where he might have gone. I don’t suppose you could help me?”
Duncan hesitated, pushing his lips in and out as if he were deciding whether or not to speak. At last, he said, “Well, ye might try ’is sister. She lives over Newnham way, in Cambridge. She’d know where ’e’s gone.”
“Thank you,” Murray said gratefully. He paused. “I’m sure it’s a great deal of trouble, but would you happen to know his sister’s name and where she might be found? I wouldn’t ask, but no one else seems to-”
“Thompson,” Duncan said. “Sally Thompson. She’s cook fer the Darwins, at Newnham Grange. She wuz married to my cousin, b’fore ’e died.”
“I’m very grateful, Mr. Duncan.” Murray half turned to go, then turned back. “Oh, there’s one thing more, if you wouldn’t mind. I wonder if there’s anything you can tell me about the connection between your nephew Pinkie Duncan and Mr. Clark.”
“Wot connection?” Duncan ’s seamy face darkened.
“I’m afraid I haven’t been able to discover that yet, Mr. Duncan,” Murray said contritely. “It seems that he was at the Great Horse with Mr. Clark and Mr. Baggs on Monday night, and that there was some sort of argument-a rather violent argument, or so it’s reported. He is said to have gone out with Clark and Baggs after Mr. Day left. There is some thought that he is connected with-”
“ ’E’s connected with nothin’,” the old man snapped. “ ’E’s a fool of a boy ’oo’s got ’isself into something ’e don’t understand.” He pressed his lips together, obviously having said more than he intended.
“I suppose you mean,” Murray said in a speculative tone, “that he’s fallen in with bad companions-the Americans, I assume. Of course, I wouldn’t know the truth of it,” he added, “but there’s talk that Pinkie will take over the stables here, upon your retirement. It is supposed that he would then adopt the Americans’ method of-”
“Rot!” the old man shouted, jumping to his feet. “If ye ’ear that kind of talk, Mr. Murray, ye can bloody well tell ’em to shove it up their arse. There’s going to be no American methods ’ere, not so long as I’m alive and kickin’! English way’s best. Allus ’as been, allus will be.”
“Admirable, sir, admirable!” Murray exclaimed. He added, humbly, “Then I suppose it must be true, as others have told me, that Pinkie will be moving to the Red House Stables and training with Clark and Wishard.”
The old man looked at him, struck silent. He sank back down in his chair. “It’s them damned Americans,” he whispered. “They’re the devil incarnate, and they’ve tempted Pinkie past ’is limits.” He dropped his face in his hands. “But it’s only dopin’, that’s all,” he whispered. “Not murder, not Pinkie. I swear it. Just dopin’.”
For the old man’s sake, Murray wished he could believe that.
CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX
A well-known peer who, having lost a great deal of money racing, thought he saw an easy way to settle his debts. He mustered the family diamonds and carried them off to one of the most respectable Bond Street jewellers, [asking] the man to take out the diamonds and replace them with paste.
“I need the money,” he said, “and her ladyship will never know.”
The jeweler’s eyes twinkled. “I am very sorry, my lord, but I have already done so at her ladyship’s request.”
The jewels stolen from me comprised the following pieces: a large tiara; a riviere of immense sapphires and diamonds in a Tiffany setting; a tiara, necklace, and bracelets, en suite,
both selections from The Days I Knew: The Autobiography of Lillie Langtry Lillie Langtry, 1925
After he left Mrs. Hardaway’s house with Kate’s note in his pocket, Charles had even more to think about and yet another stop to make. On his way at last, and very late, to the Devil’s Dike, he decided to proceed exactly as if he had not had that conversation with Owen North earlier in the morning-in fact, he would not even mention it. For one thing, he did not intend to turn the investigation over to the chief constable without some further assurance that the principle of due process would be respected. For another, he now had to consider whether Owen North himself-a man who collected photographs of spiders-might be the pseudonymous friend of Lillie Langtry. It was an unwelcome and unpleasant consideration, for he had known North for some time and had rather liked the man. But justice demanded that he entertain it.
The men gathered around a table in a dark and quiet corner of the half-deserted pub. Over their food, Bradford and Murray reported on their various morning’s activities.
“Well, gentlemen,” Charles said, sitting back from his empty plate, “it would seem that the three of us have had a most productive few hours.” He nodded at Bradford. “Marsden has learned from Dr. Polter what kind of dope was used on Gladiator, and has even fetched us a sample.”
“I’m not sure what good it does to know what it is,” Bradford muttered, pushing the last of his steak-and-kidney pudding around on his plate. “These people are going to keep using it just the same, all the while swearing that it does no harm. And winning pots of money thereby,” he added darkly.
“Perhaps his lordship intends,” Jack Murray said in a respectful tone, “to suggest to the stewards the development of a scientific test that will make it impossible to use the stuff without detection.” He finished his boiled beef and dumplings and sat back with a sigh of satisfaction.
“That’s the hope, Jack,” Charles agreed, “although I’m afraid the test may be a long time coming.” He did not offer his opinion that, judging from Owen North’s response that morning, the stewards had no interest in any sort of test, nor in pursuing the matter of the doping either, no matter how much evidence might be summoned.
Bradford refilled his mug from the pitcher of ale in the middle of the table. “But it seems to me that Murray ’s discoveries are far more to the point of the murder investigation.” He took a cigar out of his pocket. “He’s found a possible lead to Eddie Baggs.”
“As well as confirming the threat that Alfred Day posed to the Americans,” Charles said. “And when Pinkie gets back from his visit to London, I suspect he’ll find his uncle in a less yielding mood when it comes to doping. You might have done some good there, Jack.”
Jack Murray chewed reflectively. “I’m only sorry that Jesse Clark got away before we could question him,” he said. “When I was at the Yard, we were continually frustrated by people leaving for the Continent, or for points unknown, just as we were ready to nab them.”
“I suspect that Clark will be back,” Charles said. “And certainly Pinkie intends to return. But wherever they are, both Clark and Pinkie are still on our suspect list, as is Baggs.” He said this firmly. Owen North might wish to limit the investigation and to conclude it as quickly as possible, but Charles refused to allow North to tie his hands. As long as he had any say in the matter, justice would be served here, regardless of who was involved or what their social connections might be.
Bradford took out a cigarette and lit it. “I wish I could go with the two of you to run Baggs to
