The Color of Death (26 page)

“Indeed,” said he, “but there must be hundreds of Dutchmen in London, perhaps over a thousand.”

“Well …” said I, grasping for inspiration, “it may interest you to know that what little you have told me has already suggested to me one who fits it in a number of ways.”

“Excellent! I had hoped that it might, and that is why I chose to venture as far as I did in this matter.”

With that, he clapped his hands together in a gesture which I took to mean my time with him had ended. I could, I suppose, have wheedled and begged, but I was sure that it would have done no good and would have reduced me considerably in his eyes. Having thus made my decision, I thanked Mr. Moses Martinez politely and took my leave of him.

So elated was I at what I had learned from Mr. Martinez (or what I thought I had learned), that upon delivering the letter to the office of the provost marshal at the Tower of London, I charted a course for my return to Bow Street which would take me by Lloyd’s Coffee House.

As I had hoped, Mr. Alfred Humber was there at his usual table, sipping the usual strong blend of coffees served there. He was alone, which is to say, his young assistant was absent — off, no doubt, on some errand ordered by his chief. Lloyd’s was, as it always was at that time, humming with quiet conversation, with occasional interruptions from the brokers to the clerk at the chalkboard. He saw me enter and immediately signaled the nearest server. Thus the coffee was poured just as I reached the table. Though I was eager to be off to Bow Street, I could hardly decline the steaming cup that awaited me. I was, however, ungracious enough to say to Mr. Humber, as I sat down beside him, that I could not stay long.

“Ah well,” said he to me, “I’ve never known you to turn down a cup of coffee.”

“Right enough, sir,” I admitted, “and I thank you for it.” Then did I add: “I was wondering, sir, if you had any information for Sir John as might pertain to the robberies of the past week.”

“Well and good,” said he. “Indeed I do have information of a kind that may be helpful to the investigation.” He reached deep down into the interior of his coat and into a pocket hidden from plain sight and brought forth a letter of a kind quite like the one I had delivered to the Lord Chief Justice; only the color of the sealing wax differed. “It is all in here.”

Thus did he catch me unawares, taking my first gulp of the coffee that he had kindly provided. I swallowed it quickly — too quickly, I fear, for I fell immediately into a fit of coughing.

“You all right?”

I assured him that I was quite well as soon as I had my voice back. Only then did I venture to take a bit more coffee — just a sip this time. After clearing my throat once again, I asked Mr. Humber: “Might I know what information you’re offering to Sir John?”

He leaned toward me then and, lowering his voice, he said: “I’m afraid not. There are a bit too many about who would be interested in anything I might have to say on this matter.”

Looking about, I saw that what he said was no doubt true. Conversation had stopped at a number of tables around us. Two men at the closest were openly staring in our direction.

“I quite understand, sir,” said I, concealing my disappointment with another gulp of coffee. “That being the case, I fear that I must be off. Do forgive me, Mr. Humber.” I took another swallow of that sublime brew and stood. “Sir John will be eager to have the information you’ve provided. With your permission, then?” I bowed rather formally and, seeing one last sip left in the cup, I took my leave and that last sip, as well.

Well, of course I ajjumed Sir John would be eager to know what was inside Mr. Humber’s letter, but I knew I was myself more than eager. Therefore, I hurried the distance to Bow Street that I might have time to give Sir John my report and deliver the letter before his court session. Presumably, of course, I should be the one to read it aloud to him.

Upon my arrival, I saw just ahead of me that a most impressive (and familiar) coach-and-four had pulled up at the door to Number 4. It was unmistakably that of Lord Mansfield, the Lord Chief Justice, to whom I had earlier delivered the letter. Had he come to respond to that message which had disturbed him so in some more personal way?

No, evidently not, for when the footman came round to open the coach door, it was not Lord Mansfield who stepped down, but rather two young ladies of obvious quality. Both were well dressed; neither looked to be any older than I. The only difference I could discern between them (and, oddly, it struck me then as being of little moment) was in their complexion; the second of the two to emerge had face and hands of a rich chocolate hue. I had come to an abrupt halt, expecting Lord Mansfield to emerge and not wishing to get into his path; so I saw the young ladies at a slight remove, and they wasted no time in getting inside. I was nevertheless certain of what I had seen. With them inside, the footman leaned against the coach door, and the driver began his descent. It was evident they meant to stay a good, long while. I saw that it was time to follow those two young ladies inside.

They had not gotten far — no farther, indeed, than the strongroom. There they had taken their places. While the darker of the two posted herself at the bars and talked in earnest whispers to Mr. Burnham, her companion had taken a place behind them. Watchful as a sentry, she guarded them both.

I walked swiftly past them, yet not so swiftly that I failed to notice a few things. Though voices were so hushed I could not make out a word that was whispered, I did see that the darker of the two was standing so close to the prisoner that they were able to clasp hands between the bars; I saw, too, that in spite of her tears, she was quite beautiful. Her skin was a rich, lustrous brown, not quite so dark as Mr. Burnham s. Her facial features seemed also a mixture: She had full lips in the Negro manner, but her nose was as long and narrow as any in the city of London.

Her companion, blond and distinctly pink in complexion, regarded me in a somewhat hostile manner as I passed her by. Nevertheless, I thought her quite comely. Though not as striking as her companion, she was, in a way, prettier, and would, no doubt, be widely regarded as beautiful.

All this I took in with a few furtive glances as I went past. Then, once beyond, the gawking faces of Mr. Fuller and Mr. Marsden took me somewhat by surprise. Yet they, in turn, were surprised, indeed more than surprised, by the two female visitors. It was as if they had never seen such before — and perhaps they never had.

I went quickly to Sir John’s chambers. There I found him standing at his desk, his attention fastened upon the open door, whereon I knocked.

“Who is there? Is it you, Jeremy?”

“It is, Sir John.”

Proceeding inside, I discovered Clarissa in a far corner applying Sir John’s official seal to a letter — apparently one just given her by Sir John. I was shocked. Had she now usurped my position as the magistrate’s amanuensis?

“Ah,” said she, looking in my direction, “the postman has arrived!” Was that to be my sole function? I thought not!

“Yes, Jeremy, I’ve just dictated a letter to Clarissa which must be delivered as swiftly as possible. I realize you’ve just returned from one such errand, but it is really most important to get this into the hands of Mr. Trezavant.”

“But Sir John,” said I, “Mr. Martinez has told me something which I feel I must convey to you.”

“It can wait, can’t it?”

“Well …” said I, most reluctant, “I suppose so. But I also have a letter for you from Mr. Humber.”

“Oh, give it here. We’ll get to it later.”

I had no choice, of course. I surrendered the letter. Just then, however, a despairing wail sounded from down the long corridor.

“What id that?” Sir John asked in a most peevish manner. “Just before you came in, Jeremy, I thought I heard the sound of female weeping. Now th’u.”

“You did hear a female weeping,” said I.

“Oh?”

“Indeed, sir. You recall that you postulated the purpose of Mr. Burn-ham’s long rides? ‘Two or three times a week and always on Sunday’?”

“Why, yes,” said he. “I do recall hazarding a guess of some sort.”

“Well, your guess has proven out, sir. She and a friend arrived in Lord Mansfield’s coach-and-four.”

“Ah, truly, you say? Why not invite them here into my chambers? I should like to meet the young lady who so turned the head of Mr. Burnham that he seems willing to go to the gallows rather than divulge her identity.”

“That will not be necessary, Sir John Fielding.”

All in the room turned to the sound of that voice — unmistakably female. It was, as I anticipated, the voice of the lighter of the two young ladies. She spoke for them both. Her partner was, at least for the moment, too distraught to express herself with ease; she sniffled into her kerchief and dabbed at her eyes.

“You have the advantage of me,” said Sir John. “You know who I am, yet I know not who you are.”

“That is easily remedied,” said she. “I am Lady Elizabeth Murray, and this is my cousin, Dido Elizabeth Belle.”

“Why, if I may ask, have you two young ladies decided to come here? Surely not simply to cheer our prisoner.”

“No sir,” said Dido, now recovered and speaking for the first time to Sir John.

“Oh?” said he. “What then?”

“My cousin and I are both wards of the Earl of Mansfield, who is the Lord Chief Justice. I believe you know him well.”

“Professionally acquainted, let us say, rather.”

“As you will,” said she. “I meant only to suggest that through him we know something of the law. We are here to make a formal statement.”

“One statement for the two of you?”

The two cousins regarded each other, frowning. Then did Lady Murray clear her throat and speak forth: “Two statements, I suppose, would be the proper thing, one from each of us. They will speak in support of Mr. Burnham. We just want them done correctly and according to the rules of law so that they will stand up in court.”

“I assure you, young ladies, I shall do my part.” Then did he turn away from them and toward us, Clarissa and me. “Will you summon Mr. Marsden, Clarissa? Tell him to bring pen and paper. And Jeremy, are you still here?”

“I am, sir.”

“Whatever for? Did I not tell you that the letter to Mr. Trezavant must be delivered quickly?”

“Uh, yes, Sir John.”

“Then off with you, lad. Take a hackney coach, if that will get you there faster. You’ll be reimbursed.”

I left the room at a jog-trot with Clarissa behind.

“Here, Jeremy,” she called after me. “You’ll need this, won’t you?”

I halted, turned, and saw that she waved at me the letter for Mr. Trezavant she had taken in dictation from Sir John. This was most embarrassing! “Yes, of course I’ll need it.” And I snatched it from her quite rudely.

“Here now,” said she. “I’ve saved you from making a fool of yourself, you must at least answer a few questions for me.”

“Oh, all right, but quickly. You heard what Sir John said.”

“What was this mysterious matter between you and him that had to do with Mr. Burnham’s long rides?”

I thought about that a moment. There was really no reason why Clarissa should not know. “Well,” said I to her, “Sir John guessed at the very beginning that the most likely explanation for Mr. Burnham’s frequent rides to the country was that he was courting some woman.”

“And you think it was one of those two, do you?”

“Of course — the more beautiful, the darker of the two.”

“Oh, but this is terrible!”

“Terrible? Why should it be terrible? She will make a statement which will prove Mr. Burnham’s alibi. He will be set free.”

“I know,” said Clarissa, “but just think of poor Annie! What will she do?”

“What will she do? Why, get on with her life, just as I must now get on to Mr. Trezavant.” And with that, I left her where she stood.

A few minutes later, sitting in the back of a hackney, I considered the fatuousness of women. Certainly Clarissa, and perhaps even Annie, would prefer that Mr. Burnham be punished for a crime of which he was innocent so that they might keep alive their foolish fancies. But was Mr. Burnham any less foolish? Had he not put himself in a most perilous position, all because he felt it necessary to protect the good name of a young woman? What romantic rubbish!

Though politely worded and nicely phrased, the letter to Mr. Trezavant was nothing more or less than a summons. Sir John had gone to some pains to explain that, while most impressive, the accusation he had made against Mr. Burnham was of no legal worth unless it were made in court. Therefore, much as Sir John hated to ask, it would be necessary for Mr. Trezavant to come to the magistrate’s court at noon that very day and repeat the accusation. Otherwise, Sir John would have to release the prisoner.

Mr. Trezavant made no attempt to hide his displeasure at this turn of events. Indeed quite the opposite was true. He railed against rules and procedures which allowed countless malefactors to go free and commit further crimes. This and other complaints were directed at me, as if I were at fault and had the power to change the situation. But in the end he left off such carping and agreed to do as Sir John had asked. Satisfied, I bade him good day and took my leave of him.

As Arthur had done before him, Mr. Collier accompanied me to the street door. He was, however, far more talkative than his predecessor had been — and far more inquisitive.

“Mossman tells me that you were with Mr. Robb when he died there in St. Bart’s,” said he to me. “What did he have to say?”

“Oh, nothing of value.”

“Surely he said
something.
”

Hastily, I attempted to explain that while it was true that I had been with Arthur during the last hours of his life, for most of that time I had been dozing peacefully in the chair beside his bed. The few things he had said before that proved quite worthless.

But still he pressed: “Such as … what?”

We stood at the door to Little Jermyn Street; I wished to be through it and away from his prying questions. With that and only that in mind, I said, “Oh, there was something about Crocker, and …” And there I halted when about to mention the King’s Carabineers. It had suddenly occurred to me that he had no right to know any of this. An alarm sounded within me.