The Devil's Workshop

“I don’t mean to worry you,” he said, “but we’re on the trail of dangerous fugitives. And you are the most important witness we’ve got.”

“I am?” Day could practically hear her drawing herself up to her full height, enjoying the sudden authority she’d been given. “Well, I’m not surprised. They didn’t act at all civilized.”

“What did they do?”

“Why are you looking at that tree when I’m speaking to you?”

“My apologies, mother. I don’t mean to offend you.”

“You’re a good boy, but I’m far too old to be offended easy.”

She had already proved herself to be easily offended, but Day glanced cautiously up at her. She was leaning farther out the window now, and he was surprised to see that she was fully dressed, her hair up and her face powdered. It occurred to him that she had been expecting him, or someone like him.

“Mother, what did the other men do?”

“This is ridiculous,” March said. “We’re going to wake the entire street. She doesn’t know anything.”

“I do so know anything,” the old lady said. “They come from up the field there and got into a row right under my window. I wasn’t sleeping. Haven’t slept good in years. It’s my back. Hurts most awful at night when I’m laying down. I should ought to get another mattress, but those ain’t cheap, you know?”

“A good mattress can be quite pricey indeed.”

She nodded, clearly happy he was in agreement. “So I was awake anyhow and I looked down on them, but not too close. I didn’t want them to see me looking and come round on me.”

“If they were the men we’re looking for, they were dangerous fellows.”

“I thought they were. The one dressed half like a policeman did something to the other one and they went away up the street there and then the other one fell down.”

“One was dressed as a policeman?” Day was confused. “Like me, you mean?”

“No, only half. And more like him.” The old lady pointed and Day looked around the tree trunk where Hammersmith was just jogging up even with March.

“One of the men was dressed like him?” Day pulled Hammersmith forward and the sergeant smiled and took off his hat, then looked away at the same tree Day had been staring at.

“Not just like him, no. But very like him, I suppose. His top didn’t match his trousers, though.”

“So he had a jacket,” Day said. “A blue jacket, like this.” He tugged at Hammersmith’s sleeve.

“Precisely what I’m saying, yes.”

“And they went off in that direction?” Day pointed down the lane. There was a small green building there, a few yards away, butted right up against the curb.

“Yes. Then the man who was half a copper went off again and I never seen him no more tonight.”

Day felt a raindrop hit his cheek and roll down. A moment later another drop hit his hand. More rain wasn’t what he needed.

“And the other man?” he said.

“Well, he’s still here, isn’t he?”

“Still where, mother?”

“Why, there.” And the old lady pointed directly at the tiny green tea shop.

19

They lingered in the shelter of a copse of trees until a man passed by. He was tall and thin and carried a heavy attaché case. His hair was dark, going grey at the temples. His shoes were shiny black. The rain had abated, but his umbrella was still open. He was a busy man, hurrying along with no interest in the bald man and the half-naked bogeyman that trailed after him down the road.

They followed him along Old St Pancras Road to Aldenham and then up Ossulston to Phoenix Street, which Jack felt was entirely too appropriate at the dawn of his rebirth. The man turned in at the gate of a small tidy whitewashed terrace house, unlocked two bolts on the red front door, and stepped inside. Jack took the black medical bag from Cinderhouse, and the bald man trotted across the street. He pushed through the gate as it was swinging shut and put out his hand just before the businessman closed the door. Jack came along after him and they forced their way inside before the man could do more than furrow his brow and open his mouth to complain.