Avery & Blake 02 - The Infidel Stain (4 page)

‘It would seem that both crimes have been all but forgotten already. I have been informed that in the immediate streets about, the stories have gained local notoriety. There has been a renewed interest in foolish superstitions, talk of Spring-Heeled Jack and such. But there is also a reluctance to speak about the crimes themselves.’

‘May I ask how you came to hear of the murders?’ said Blake.

‘They were brought to my attention by a member of one of our societies who runs what is commonly called a “ragged school” in the vicinity. He was dismayed that so little attention had been devoted to these crimes.’

‘And the police have given up on the murders?’

‘They say with no murder implement, no apparent motive and no further evidence, there is no basis upon which to continue an investigation.’

‘But you do not believe this,’ said Blake.

‘I do not.’

There was a silence.

‘I imagine, Your Lordship,’ said Blake, the gentleness of his tone surprising me, ‘that sometimes the work you do must lead you into conflict with established and respected authorities you never thought that in your position you would have to question. That must be difficult for you.’

Lord Allington, who had been staring deep into the table again as if seeking some great truth in its surface, looked up at Blake almost gratefully, his eyes wide again.

‘I must ask you for your discretion given what I am about to say. Please understand I have the highest respect for the London police. But it is a not uncommon story: difficult cases in the poorest, grimmest parts of the capital, where the inhabitants are, let us say, less than welcoming to the police, are neglected. It is also the case that
the senior figures in the Metropolitan Police are preoccupied with the Chartist threat almost to the exclusion of all else. The Police Commissioner, Sir Richard Mayne, is quite obsessed by it. He may not be entirely incorrect to be so.’ He lowered his voice. ‘There are suggestions the fire at the Tower might not have been the accident we have been led to believe it was but a deliberate act of arson.’

My first reaction to this extraordinary news was to look to Blake; his expression was quite inscrutable.

‘It is also the case that since the Bow Street Runners were disbanded in ’39, there has been no detecting unit within the Metropolitan Police, and so such cases have not been dealt with as well as they might. Nor have the police or the parish chosen to offer a reward for information.

‘To be blunt, gentlemen, from what I can gather, since the murders have not caught the public’s attention, and took place in some of the most degenerate regions of London, the police have chosen to neglect them. I regard this as both a terrible mistake and an injustice.’

The statement seemed to require another question. Blake remained silent, so I obliged, though I was not sure what precisely I was supposed to ask.

‘Sir?’

Lord Allington lowered his shoulders as if settling himself to deliver a speech. Or a sermon.

‘As you may know, I am no stranger to the poorest parts of London. I have become aware of what the city – and its new modes of work – does to the poorest and most desperate: how it robs them of dignity, of the community and customs of the village. How it crowds them into places where ignorance, profligacy and drunkenness reign, where cleanliness is impossible, disease is rife, and misery, depression and discontent abound.’

As he spoke, his voice grew rich and fervent, and he seemed transported by his own words.

‘Moral degradation surrounds them, religion eludes them and salvation is denied them. The children of these places come of age without decency, without comfort, without hope, without God.
The city is the sump of degradation of human traffic. The old bonds have been broken, godlessness is rife. There is terrible want: such poverty and ignorance and hardship that make it near impossible for those who suffer them to do more than struggle to exist, and which encourage many to fall into sin, degradation and corruption. Only by improving the conditions of life and work of the poorest can we encourage them to look higher, to consider their immortal souls, to love God and find the way to salvation.’ His blue eyes brimmed, and his voice took on an incantatory quality. Next to him Threlfall gave a small emphatic nod from time to time.

‘Another effect of the great changes that have taken place in manufacturing in the last forty years has been to transform us into a country inhabited by two nations, between whom there is less and less intercourse and no sympathy. Two nations who are ordered by different manners and governed by different laws: I mean the rich and the poor. We might as well be inhabitants of different planets. There are those among the poorest who have come to believe – not altogether without reason – that their rulers, or at least their masters, do not care as much for their welfare as they should. I wish to show this is not true.’

The words had clearly been spoken before, though this did not detract from their power.

‘It has been a hard year. The poor are hungry. They find little relief, and so they are driven to extremes. They talk of universal suffrage, democracy, republicanism as answers to their problems. They look to Chartism and the Chartists. I see the Chartists as the great and looming danger of the age. I believe that if we do not take care we will be in danger of surrendering the working classes to them and their dangerous ideas. We would be ruled by the mob. There are those, like the Police Commissioner, who believe such threats can be quelled with police truncheons. I believe we must win hearts and minds by showing the labouring classes that we can and do govern in their interests and care about their welfare.’

‘I do not share your opinion, Lord Allington,’ said Blake abruptly. ‘I do not think the Chartists want revolution: I think they simply want the vote. I agree with them: it should be the right of every
man. Can you find no common ground with them, given your desire to bring your “two nations” together, and their desire for better pay and conditions?’

‘Mr Blake,’ Lord Allington said in a kindly voice, deliberately ignoring his impertinent tone, ‘as I understand it you are a man of singular intellect who has triumphed over very modest circumstances. I can quite see why you should believe this to be true. But you must agree that the multitude is not ready for the vote. They are not sufficiently educated for the responsibility. They may one day be, but not yet.’

Blake bristled; His Lordship was oblivious. ‘As for the Chartists, I did at one stage believe it might be possible to find what you call “common ground” with them, but I was disappointed. And they are dangerous: they have the power to rally a whole class, and for all their peaceful claims, their true aims are revolution, the death of property rights, anarchy. I know that in the eyes of some, the governing class – I mean the aristocracy – may sometimes seem to enjoy its privileges and do little enough in return for them. But we are the best hope for the stability and greatness of this country, though I admit we must do more to demonstrate our concern for every soul.’

‘So,’ Blake said, ‘you believe that by sending us to investigate these murders and even solving them, you will restore the downtrodden multitudes of Drury Lane’s faith in their betters and draw them away from Chartism?’

‘As Shakespeare says, Mr Blake,’ said Lord Allington, smiling reprovingly, ‘one good deed shines in a naughty world. Every good act makes a difference. Many good acts can make a great difference. “Let us not be weary in well doing: for in due season we shall reap, if we faint not.” Galatians six, verse nine.’

‘I see,’ Blake said, as if he did not. There was a silence.

‘I do have another reason,’ His Lordship said at last, in a tone more personal, more anxious, than the confident tone of his sermon, ‘for engaging in this case, one more prompted by sentiment perhaps than reason. I am haunted – how could one not be? – by the thought that there is in this city some monster, or monsters,
conceiving of these murders and then carrying them out, killing with impunity because it has silently been decreed that these victims are not worthy of concern. Two murders the same. I think it entirely possible that there may be more to come. Perhaps even others before. The police have chosen not to act. I have the resources to do something, therefore I have a duty to act.’

Blake paused. ‘It will not be easy,’ he said at last. ‘The locals will likely be wary of us, and the sites of the murders are likely to give us nothing after all this time.’

Lord Allington looked pleased. His eyes drifted heavenwards. ‘I do not believe that you will be deterred by such trifles, Mr Blake. If we – if you – catch this man, the inhabitants of these streets can rest a little easier and feel a little safer. And they will have trust in their rulers.’

Blake muttered something I could not hear.

His Lordship, half hearing, said, ‘Mr Blake, may I ask you something?’

‘Sir?’

‘I recollect now that Sir Theo intimated that you might perhaps be an atheist. Is this true?’

‘Mr Blake,’ I broke in nervously.

‘I can answer the question, Captain Avery,’ said Blake. ‘I’m not a believer. I lost my faith a long time ago. If you’d rather find a godly inquirer, so be it. I won’t lie about it.’

‘I see,’ His Lordship said. ‘You are at least honest. Faith is not a prerequisite for the task. I asked for honest and undeflectable, not devout. Besides, I believe that God works through everyone – even you, Mr Blake.’

‘And I that the institution of religion exists only to keep mankind in order.’

‘I beg your pardon?’ said Lord Allington, bemused.

‘I believe Mr Blake is quoting Montaigne,’ I said, recalling his predilection for such things.

‘Voltaire,’ said Blake. ‘I was quoting Voltaire.’

‘The French infidel?’ said His Lordship.

‘Not a word I’ve heard in a while,’ Blake observed. ‘But no, I should have said he was a sceptic, not a non-believer, Your Lordship.’

Lord Allington stared at him for a moment, genuinely perplexed, and then, almost to himself, ‘Well, Sir Theo did say you had your enthusiasms.’ He coughed. ‘Captain Avery, may I ask, are you observant?’

‘I am a churchgoer, Your Lordship, though I cannot swear that I am saved,’ I said, grinning. His Lordship did not return it. ‘But I must be honest too. I am not familiar with this kind of investigation – even if Mr Blake is. And I do not know London at all.’

‘But I must have you both,’ said His Lordship, ‘Blake and Avery – it is what I discussed with Sir Theo.’ I saw the thought of dealing with Blake alone alarmed him. If nothing else I might be a polite bridge between them both.

‘Will you do it, gentlemen?’ Allington said.

We turned to Blake. I had no idea what he would say. He caught my eye and raised his brows just a little. I stared back at him hopefully.

‘I – we will look into it,’ he said, ‘and determine what use we can be.’

‘I thank you. I will pray for a fruitful outcome. Mr Threlfall has all the papers. He will make terms and discuss remuneration.’ He picked up his gloves and turned away; the matter of money was clearly distasteful to him. ‘And now I must depart. I wish I could linger and ask you about India, but I fear I have other pressing engagements. I should like you to call on me in the next few days at my Charles Street residence in Mayfair to report on your findings. I hope to have more time then. Good day, sirs. And thank you. Ah yes, if the families of the dead men are in want, I should like to do something for them. Let us know.’

With his master gone, Mr Threlfall the diffident servant swiftly became Mr Threlfall the pompous steward.

‘Do you have cards?’ he said haughtily, his chest swelling like a farmyard cockerel. I informed him of where I was staying and was greeted with a small nod of approval which I found mildly insulting. Blake produced from his ragged pockets a small purse from which he extracted a bent card. Mr Threlfall took hold of it with the tips of his fingers as if it might be contagious.

He handed the leather portfolio to me. ‘Here are the documents, including the papers provided by the new police. There are also letters of introduction from Lord Allington with his seal. I suggest you do not come tomorrow. His Lordship has a very full day and is dining with the Earl of Aberdeen.’

‘Is the name of the man who brought the murders to Lord Allington’s attention in there?’ said Blake.

Mr Threlfall nodded, his mouth a moue of distaste. I suppressed a smile. I knew Blake cared nothing for his disapproval.

‘As for your … wages?’

‘I assume Collinson has already named a figure,’ said Blake.

‘He has.’

Blake sighed. ‘We’ll take it, but we shall need in addition some money for expenses. For bribes and payments and so on.’

Threlfall looked alarmed. ‘Is information to be obtained by payment?’ he said.

I suspected Blake was amusing himself. ‘The lower classes have so little to sell, we shall have to pay for information.’

‘Well, I suppose you may sign for it and account for it later,’ said Threlfall dubiously.

Blake wandered off towards the door.

Threlfall caught hold of my arm. He muttered, but not so quietly that Blake could not hear, ‘Captain Avery, can you please ensure that Mr Blake is more appropriately dressed next time he meets His Lordship?’

‘I’ll do my best, Mr Threlfall,’ Blake called over his shoulder, almost cheerily. ‘I sense, sir, that this has been a trying day for you. You would rather have been dispensing charity elsewhere.’

‘I am devoted to His Lordship and his sister,’ Threlfall said. ‘Personally I believe charity is better expended upon our own deserving poor, rather than those who have irresponsibly washed up on our shores. And Hindoos at that. As the Bible says, “if any provide not for his own, and specially for those of his own house, he hath denied the faith, and is worse than an infidel.”’

‘Didn’t stop you dipping one of your fat fingers into one of those big pans of Hindoo curry though, did it, Mr Threlfall?’

‘I do not know what you mean.’

‘It’s all over your sleeve, Mr Threlfall. It’s in your fingernails and on your coat,’ said Blake drily. ‘Tasty, wouldn’t you say?’