Stone's Fall

Which was not right. Everybody accumulates something. Even an old bus ticket. But in this place there was not a single scrap. Which made me wonder. It had probably been the police, of course; I would have to check, but I had never come across a police investigation where they had taken everything away like that.

'Have you found it?'

'What?'

'The umbrella. Have you found it?' It was Philpot, poking his head reluctantly round the door.

'Oh. No, I'm afraid not. It's gone. I'm sorry to have been so long, but I found this room very oppressive. I think I looked everywhere twice because I couldn't keep my mind on things.'

Philpot found this sensitivity unbecoming and said nothing. I followed him down the stairs and into the street. 'Gloomy place,' I said. 'But it will be perfectly pleasant once it's cleaned up. Why not get a rag-and-bone man to come and take everything away? Open the windows for a week. Get in a painter. Everyone will forget soon enough about all this.'

Philpot was grateful for the reassurance, but shook his head. 'Not yet,' he said. 'I can't think of it yet. I'll take your advice soon enough, though.'

'And no news of the girl? What was her name?'

'Mary. No. Vanished, she has. I think I was more shocked to learn what she was than anything . . .' He lowered his voice and eyes as he thought about her.

'You never knew where she came from?'

'The police asked me. "Did she tell you where she lived?" No, she didn't. Of course, I knew where she came from, but they weren't interested. "Facts, Mr Philpot," they said. "Just keep to the facts."'

'So how do you know?'

'The way she talked, of course. She was brought up in Shoreditch. Now, I'm not saying she lived there . . .'

CHAPTER 20

It was time to summon the runners. I went back to the newspaper offices for the first time since I had resigned, and asked at the reception desk if the boys were about. Some of them were in Dragon Court, a mouldy, dank little square just over the road which was surrounded by seemingly abandoned buildings. Few of them had any glass left in the windows; the boys had broken most of it playing football or cricket, which is what they did when they were waiting for a job. Three of them were there; one was hopeless, a mournful character of small intelligence and no initiative whatsoever. Pale and pimply with an air of being underfed and neglected. Wearing clothes two sizes too big for him. One, Derrick, was reliable, and the cleverest grew up to become a highly successful cat-burglar.

'Listen, boys,' I said. 'I've got a job for you. Twice the usual rates, and a bonus of a guinea for the one who succeeds.' I had learned from Elizabeth that if you want instant obedience with no argument, you pay, and pay so handsomely it takes the breath away. None of these boys, I suspected, had ever even seen a guinea before. The very idea of one made them go quiet and reverential.

I told them what I wanted; told them the girl's name, told them she came from Shoreditch, told them about her occupation – these were not innocent little angels – and repeated the description I had got from the police. About twenty years of age, with light brown hair, blue eyes and of middling height. It wasn't much good, but at least it eliminated all the six-foot tall, orange-haired and red-eyed prostitutes in Shoreditch.

'Now, pay attention,' I said. 'This is important. If you come across this woman, don't frighten her. Let her know that no one means her any harm. There is no question of the police being involved in this. I might even be able to help her, if she needs it. But I want to talk to her, and will pay her a guinea as well. Got that?'

The urchins nodded. I told them to find me either at home or in the pub or at the Ravenscliff house if they came up with anything. That done, I went back to the King & Keys to find Hozwicki once more. This was a long shot – not finding Hozwicki, as I knew he'd be there, but the possibility of his knowing or telling me anything.

'What do you want? You haven't paid for the last bit of information I gave you.'

'True enough, but I would have thought an old comrade in arms . . .' I gave up. Normally in such circumstances all you have to do is stand a round or two of drinks and all is well, but this tactic I knew wouldn't work either.

'Believe me,' I said with as much sincerity as I could muster, 'if I could tell you something, I would. But I don't want to put you in danger.'

Hozwicki looked sceptical, but at least started paying attention. 'It is all far more complicated than you can imagine. I thought I was writing a biography for a grieving widow. Now, it seems, I am being pursued by a bunch of anarchist murderers. I don't want you to get into the same position.'

He looked at me. 'What are you talking about?'

'The Brotherhood of Socialists. Ever heard of them?'

Hozwicki glared at me. 'You think that just because I am Polish I know every revolutionary in the East End?'