Moriarty

‘Well, we have more pressing matters at hand. First, our friend Perry. We have now learned that he entered Scotland Yard at twenty minutes to three and claimed to be carrying a package for me, a large box wrapped in brown paper. He was directed to my office on the third floor.’

‘Why didn’t he leave it in your office?’

‘He could not have done so. I was behind my desk and would have been sure to recognise him. Instead, he placed it as near as he could, which was on the other side of the wall in the telegraph office. They are used to seeing messenger boys, apprentices and cadets coming in and going out and one more would have made no difference.’

‘But you left.’

‘I left to meet you, as we had arranged. Perry must have been just a minute or two ahead of me. That’s how close it was! You saw him enter the carriage. Have you had any further thoughts as to the identity of his companion?’

‘I have no idea.’

‘No matter. Our adversaries may have made their first serious error, Chase. Had they chosen a hansom for their adventure, it might have been impossible to find them. The streets of London are littered with hansoms, licensed and unlicensed, and the driver might never have come forward. The brougham is an altogether rarer beast and its driver is even now in our hands.’

‘How did you find him?’

‘We have had three divisions on the streets, almost a hundred men. Did you really think that we would allow such an outrage as took place yesterday to go unpunished? Not an inn, not an alley, not a coach house or stable has been overlooked. All night they have been out and now, finally, we have a man who remembers carrying a fare to Whitehall, who picked up a second passenger moments before the explosion.’

‘And where did they go?’

‘I have yet to speak to the driver. But if he can tell us where he took them, or where this man came from, then our task will have been accomplished and Devereux may yet fall into our hands.’

Jones had arrived in a cab, which was still waiting for us, and we travelled across London, battling our way through the interminable traffic, without speaking. I was grateful for the silence. It allowed me to reflect on what Elspeth Jones had said to me the night before and to wonder if she had some intuition about what lay ahead. For his part, Jones had not referred to the dinner, although he must have been aware that his wife had arranged things so as to speak privately with me for half an hour. Did he know that we had entered his study? In retrospect, I had found the encounter strangely disturbing. I wished that she and I had spoken a little more … or perhaps less.

We finally drew in to a cabstand near Piccadilly Circus, the very heart of the western end of the city, the equivalent, if you like, of Times Square. I saw at once a well-maintained, brightly polished brougham parked with a uniformed police constable standing beside it. The driver, a huge man in a topcoat that seemed to billow out like a tent, was sitting in his place with the reins across his knees and a scowl on his face.

We climbed down. ‘Mr Guthrie?’ Jones asked, striding forward.

‘Aye, that’s me,’ the driver responded. ‘And I bin ’ere an hour or more. What’s it to be when a honest man is kept from ’is livelihood like this?’

He had not moved, staring down at us as if he were as firmly tied into his seat as the horse in its harness. He really was a vast man, with rolling cheeks, side whiskers and crimson-coloured skin that had come either from long exposure to the air in all weathers or, more likely, from sclerosis.

‘I am sure we can recompense you for your time,’ Jones remarked.

‘I don’t want your recompents, guv’nor. I want to be paid!’

‘You will receive all the money that is due to you — but you must first tell me everything I wish to know. Yesterday you picked up a man.’

‘Yesterday I picked up several men.’

‘But one of them you took to Whitehall, close to Scotland Yard. It was about three o’clock in the afternoon.’

‘I know nothing of the hour. What’s an hour to me?’ He shook his huge head before Jones could interrupt and it seemed to me that the horse, in sympathy, did the same. ‘All right, all right. I know what man you speak of. A tall gentleman. I can tell you that because ’e ’ad to fold ’imself over to get in. Queer customer — that’s what I thought.’

‘What age?’

‘Thirty or forty.’ He thought for a minute. ‘Or maybe fifty. I can’t say. Older than he was young — that’s all. Nasty eyes. Not the sort of eyes you’d want to have looking your way.’

‘And where did you pick him up?’

‘At the Strand.’

Jones turned to me. ‘That is of no help to us,’ he said, quietly. ‘The Strand is one of the busiest cabstands in London. It is close to one of the main railway stations and all the drivers use it because it is clear of many of the omnibus routes.’

‘So our mysterious passenger could have arrived from anywhere.’

‘Precisely. Tell me, Mr Guthrie. You took him directly to Whitehall?’

‘I took him as direct as the traffic would allow.’

‘He was alone?’