him, I think. He cultivates a flippant exterior, but behind it lies one of the best brains in London. His father does not understand, poor fellow-keeps trying to order him back-but he will not go, not until the very end. I imagine that seeing what he shall miss must be far too painful.”
“It is abominable, sir.”
“Yes, well, we can merely play the hand we are given, lad. Cursing the Dealer is a waste of breath.”
“So, how do you work together, if one of you moves among the upper class and the other among the lower?”
“Cases are not so simple, lad. They overlap and when they do, we help each other. Do you recall the case I had you dictate on the day you were hired? The one involving William Koehler?”
I thought back to that day almost a year before. “It was a blackmailing case, was it not?”
“Aye. Koehler was a petty blackmailer living beyond his means in the Albany, where Forbes has chambers. He dealt in letters of a revealing nature and was quite successful. In lieu of payments, sometimes he would demand letters of introduction or invitations to balls and soirees, which in turn led to opportunities to find more letters. Forbes kept an eye on him until his rise was getting too high. He was a good-looking scoundrel and had begun to woo a certain aristocrat’s daughter. Forbes decided to act, particularly when Koehler began to threaten an MP. We thought it best that the letter warning him off came from me, and I supplied the services of James Briggs, a retired prizefighter, to act as protection. Briggs is awfully good at frightening people away.”
I thought Barker not so bad at it himself. Were I a criminal, I would not like to receive one of those icily polite letters informing me that I had come under the private enquiry agent’s scrutiny.
A hansom cab arrived and we climbed into it.
“One final thing, lad,” Barker said.
“Yes, sir?”
“Dummolard’s restaurant is only a few streets away. There is a rivalry between our chef and the Royal. You know how Etienne gets when he is slighted. You would do well not to mention our little visit here.”
8
I am going out after dinner, lad,”Barker said to me over the coffee and cheese that evening.
“Are you going to see Miss Winter, sir?” I asked, knowing I was breaking a rule: do not ask Barker where he goes during his free time.
The Guv cleared his throat in disapproval. “Yes, as a matter of fact, I am.”
“Might I go with you, sir? I’d like to apologize to her for tossing her maid into Limehouse Reach and for chasing her away.”
My employer considered the request for a moment, stroking his chin in thought, but then he shook his head decisively. “I had better go alone. She keeps a high temper, and brooks no assaults on her dignity. It is in your best interest to let her cool a bit before you speak to her.”
Barker slid off in that way of his, and the next I knew, the front door was shutting behind him. Mac disappeared into his sanctum factotum, closing his door with equal finality. Harm was sleeping off a bowl of braised chicken livers he’d eaten, awaiting his master’s return while perhaps dreaming of his recent adventures in Limehouse. That left me alone, bored, and uncomfortable in the cast. I was convinced it was an instrument of torture from the malignant mind of Dr. Quong. A gentleman certainly couldn’t go anywhere in it, not to the theater or even the music halls. I looked ridiculous in my cut sleeve and plaster cast. Even going down the street to the Elephant and Castle for a pint, I’d have to endure remarks at my own expense. It was not worth the effort. Perhaps, I thought, there was something in the library I could read.
I went in, circumambulating the chair by the back window that overlooked the miniature pond, and went in search of entertainment. The choices were few, I fear. Barker preferred heavy tomes with impossibly long titles and eschewed the sort of frivolous novels that I came in search of. I sat down and looked about. It was a case of books, books everywhere, and not a thing to read.
The thought occurred to me that in most of our cases, the Guv had provided me with materials to study, but he had neglected to do so in this one. Since he had not, I thought I might collect some of my own. Surely there was not a better place in London for such materials than in the personal library of an Orientalist.
The first book I came across concerned Chinese pottery. Somehow, I didn’t think that would play a major part in this investigation. Eventually, I discovered a series of small books privately printed in Shanghai that were translations of the analects of Confucius, the Tao-te Ching, and something by a fellow named Mencius. It looked like enough material to keep me occupied until bedtime.
A few pages into the analects, I found something interesting. Barker’s personal copy had found its way into the downstairs library, complete with his favorite passages underlined. The publication date was 1877. Had he bought the book in China, or had he purchased it more recently in London? For a moment, I considered whether to read it or to give it to Barker in the morning. Then I decided the library was fair game and sat down again to try to make sense of the book and possibly the man who had read it before me.
The first thing I learned was that Confucius was a Latinized version of the word for “Master.” The second was that he was not a sage living in a cave somewhere as I had thought, but an inspector of police in China during the sixth century B.C. who was concerned with bettering society in his district. The third was that he was not interested in creating a religion but in practical solutions to problems for the here and now or, rather, the there and then.
Confucius saw contemporary society in his time as divided into two groups, a gentleman class and a peasant class. He believed that if gentlemen studied rigorously and committed themselves to ruling with compassion and wisdom, society would run more smoothly. I noted that Barker had underlined all the analects that had to do with how a gentleman behaves, such as:
“The gentleman must be slow in speech but quick in action.”
“In his dealings with the world the gentleman is neither for or against anything. Rather, he is on the side of what is moral.”
“The gentleman is easy of mind, but the small man is always anxious.”
What I had before me appeared to be a plan for how Barker was conducting his life, at least since he came to England. That left me scratching my head. Wasn’t Barker a Christian? Was he influenced by both? Even as I was getting closer to the core of the man, I was coming up with more questions than answers.
Having got through most of the analects, for the book is short, I turned to Lao-tzu and got mired right away. The words were translated into English, but the meanings were almost gibberish. With my clouded Western mind, I could not make head or tail of it. How does one make sense of statements like: “Though the uncarved block is small, no one in the world dare claim its allegiance”?
As for Mencius, he was one of Confucius’s students. I might have understood him better had I begun with him first. Instead, I found myself reading a phrase once, going on to the next, not making sense of it, and going back to the first. I was tired and my brain could not hold any more Oriental philosophy. Like a man of wisdom, I went to bed.
The next I knew, I was awakened by a loud report from the room below. I opened my eyes and tried to focus. It sounded as though there was a fight going on. I heard a cry and threw back my covers, yanked open my door, ran down the steps not two feet ahead of Barker, who had come down from the upper floor in a nightshirt and dressing gown. When we reached the ground floor, we found the back door wide open and Harm disporting himself in the dark of the garden, running in circles and barking as if to say, “What larks!”
We hurried into the study and found Mac on the floor, clutching his leg and moaning. The smell of gunpowder hung in the air. His trusty shotgun lay beside him, and it took but a moment to deduce what had happened. Barker’s butler had interrupted a burglary attempt and had been shot in the leg in the course of it.
Harm came bounding in, all energy and excitement, and went so far as to bark at us as if we were complete strangers. Barker bent and put his hand on Mac’s shoulder.
“Do not try to get up. Thomas, bring a towel.”
I dashed into the kitchen and seized the first cloth I could find. The Guv used it to make a tourniquet around Mac’s leg to stem the flow of blood. When he was done, he said, “Tell me what happened.”
Mac lay on the wooden floor, propped up on his elbows. He was pale and grimacing from the pain. “A sound
