protect his wife. He wants what’s best for her and reveres and admires her all of his days. The Carricks’ relationship was as twisted and unstable as Stephen’s mind.”
I recalled Barker’s earlier mention of marriage. I still could not quite believe he might have been married, but had he been so, I had no doubt he would have performed his duties with the steadiness he showed in all other ways. What of me? I wondered. Had I been all the husband I could have been?
“I think,” Barker went on, “that Carrick’s time at Oxford was worse than we have taken it to be. Consorting with a woman of the streets, even vowing never to give her up, is hardly a rare occurrence among undergraduates, but I believe Carrick committed his first murder there. The Carrick fortune was able to cover up the affair, but Stephen’s father saw the serious defects in his son’s character and gave him up, cutting him off without a penny. It was good that he did so. Can you imagine what deviltry he’d have gotten into with funds and plenty of leisure time?”
“How did you know it was not the Hellfire Club, sir?”
“I do not believe London so debased just yet that one could assemble a group of men together in one room willing to watch a young girl be murdered. It would be easy, on the other hand, to find a number of men like Palmister Clay, young hedonists willing to meet together, to drink and carouse in the name of an old and infamous group and to watch a young and almost naked girl being ‘sacrificed’ in a satanic ritual, providing they know it was a magician’s trick and that she was in no real danger. They weren’t men on Carrick’s level and did not know how corrupt he really was. At some point, he must have met Dashwood, using his former connections, and offered to provide not only some chilling entertainment but also the young girl to go with it. They had no idea what he did with the girls afterward and probably did not think to question him about it. I also believe he provided another service for them.”
“What is that?”
“When Rose Carrick ferried young girls into new homes or institutions, she told some that if they were not satisfied with their new surroundings, she could help set them up with young gentlemen as mistresses.”
“Clay,” I stated.
“Aye, Clay, and whoever occupies the other nests along Cambridge Road. I imagine Carrick got paid for brokering the little arrangements. He was in need of money constantly for his photographic emporium.”
“Very well,” I said. “I understand why you did not suspect the Hellfire Club, but why not Clay in particular?”
Barker gave a faint smile. “Clay was married, kept a mistress, and without doubt was a member with his father of the Hellfire Club. Do you think he still had enough stamina left to outrage a new girl every Friday? He’s leading a dissipated life. I doubt personally that he has the prowess.”
“Much as I would like to connect the murders to him, I suppose you are correct. I don’t believe Clay was involved…much.”
“I am glad to hear it. Is honor still not satisfied? You drubbed him well.”
“I don’t know. I don’t know that I can ever forgive him.”
“If revenge is what you seek, you need do nothing. I’m certain his wife suspects his dalliance. His way of life shall surely catch up with him in the fullness of time.”
“Of course you are right. But tell me, why did you not suspect Dr. Fitzhugh?”
“I did, for a time, but let us say you were a young physician in need of money as well as a malevolent killer of children. What would you have done to get rid of several perfectly good corpses? Would you have thrown them in the river?”
“No,” I said. “I would have sold them to London Hospital or St. Bart’s for vivisection.”
“Exactly. It was all over those false certificates of virginity and the health records he provided. Would Miacca have suffered guilt? Not according to those letters or the souvenirs he took. He was proud of what he did. When the Carricks sent the notes to us and to Scotland Yard, they were thumbing their noses at Carrick’s father and society in general. I have no doubt it was a delicious feeling until this evening when it all caught up with them.”
“And it couldn’t have been Stead because he was busy trying to force the bill through the House of Commons.”
“Yes, but I must say you gave me a turn when you informed me he had purchased a child. I was guilty, lad, of thinking that the Fabians were incapable of producing men as high-minded as Stead. I disapprove of his actions, but I misjudged his motives and am glad to learn otherwise. It is a good thing to find someone of better character than one believed.”
“What of Miss Hill, and Hesketh’s belief that the socialists were involved in a conspiracy?”
“It went up in smoke, but it was not completely unfounded. As it happened, Stead did steal a child and had her conveyed to France. Hesketh did not know Gwendolyn DeVere was a part of a larger scheme involving the murders of many children.”
“To what extent were the Masons tied up in all this?”
“Hesketh is a Freemason and I’m certain Dashwood is as well. It’s possible that they recruited members from the organization to join the Hellfire Club, but generally speaking the Masons attract high-minded individuals. Of course, there is rotten fruit in every barrel, and men like Hesketh join for the influence it gives them as well as for family tradition. I am certain he will sponsor his son in time. It is possible that Carrick himself may be a Mason. Joining would have been a good way to improve his business prospects. You would be surprised at how many members of the brotherhood there are in the British Empire. Aside from the police, there is the law and the military. Many towns have a lodge; but for the most part, they are benign, although I do not care for their theology.”
“So you yourself are not a member, then.”
Barker gave one of his wintry smiles, despite the sticking plaster on his face. “The question is moot. The first rule of any secret society is to deny being a member of one.”
That wasn’t an answer, I thought, but I let the matter rest. “Do you suppose Major DeVere will consider the case settled? That is, will he pay us? You did capture his daughter’s killer, but she is dead and so is his wife.”
“That is for DeVere to decide. We can but abide by whatever decision he makes.”
“Speaking of services,” I said, “I had better go to the C.O.S. and inform Miss Potter that hers are no longer required.” I paused. “Wait. What about Joseph Chamberlain? How was he mixed up in all this? Was he a member of the Hellfire Club? As you pointed out, he, like the original founder, is a member of Parliament.”
“To be truthful, lad, I’m not certain. He’s not a libertine, so I doubt he was a Hellfire member. He’s leader of the radical party, but not a socialist. I sent word to Pollock Forbes, asking if he would tell me whether the man was a Freemason, and he was not. He is a politician, of course, and shall have something to say about the new bill raising the age of consent, but he was not highborn, so I doubt he is one of Hesketh’s cronies. The only connection he seems to have at all with the case is Miss Potter herself. Perhaps he is smitten with her. She is an attractive young lady and he a notable bachelor in town.”
“But he must be twice her age.”
“Some do not think that a liability. He is well established and popular. He may be prime minister one day. She could do worse.”
I shivered. Just the thought of her married to the man with his gimlet stare, monocle, and sharp manner made my flesh crawl. It seemed like a sentence of death.
Just then there was a sound on the stair and a streak of black shot into the room. Barker’s dog, Harm, had returned from his sojourn in the north of England. He ran circles about the room, between and around table legs and stuffed chairs, his black fur rippling. When he had gained enough momentum, he launched himself onto the high bed, walking up his master’s limbs until he sat on the Guv’s chest, sniffing at the iodine and plaster on his face.
“Nee hau, Da Mo.” He greeted the creature in Mandarin, the language in which the dog had been trained, and roughly patted him on the head with his bandaged fingers. The dog, like Barker himself, generally eschewed displays of affection, but had no trouble displaying them now. He rolled over onto his back in Barker’s lap and began kicking his paws and gurgling like a baby.
The big man with his little dog looked about the room with its books stacked in piles and its furnishings and the red walls bristling with all manner of weapons and spoke. “It is good to be home, Thomas.”
