The Shadow and the Star (8 page)

Leda crossed the stark room and busied herself with the kettle and the fire. From the corner of her eye, she saw the female figure in the cell roll over and shift about on the floor, as if trying to make herself more comfortable. The woman made a low moan. As she turned over onto her back, her swollen shape made it obvious that she was very much… ah… in a condition of imminent fructation, as Miss Myrtle would have put it, speaking in a whisper behind her hand.

"Oh, dear," Leda said, straightening up from the little stove, "Are you quite well, ma'am?"

The woman made no answer. She was breathing heavily, arching her back. Behind Leda, Inspector Ruby gave an inquiring grunt. "Mac? What have we here?"

"Book says disorderly, sir." Sergeant MacDonald cleared his throat. "They took her up on the afternoon beat. Turned away from Oxslip's in the Island, she was. Made a row. Scratched Frying Pan Sally's face."

Leda turned round in surprise, in time to catch the men exchange glances. "Oxslip's?" she asked. "In my street? That's where they take in the orphan children."

Inspector Ruby gave her a queer frown. He chewed his upper lip, pulling at his mustache with his teeth. Sergeant MacDonald looked nonplussed.

"Orphanage," Inspector Ruby said roughly. "Yes, that's right, miss."

She watched the prisoner clutch at her back and groan. When Leda looked closely, it was easy to see that the woman really was little more than a clear-skinned girl, barely out of her middle teens. "Perhaps—Inspector Ruby—I believe—" Leda hesitated to put forward an opinion, knowing nothing of midwifery, but the girl was making some very significant noises now. "Should a doctor be called?"

"A doctor, miss?" The inspector peered at the girl. "You don't mean—Lord help us—she's not about to—"

The prostrate figure in the cell interrupted him with a moan on a rising note, then broke off suddenly into a whispered torrent of profane words.

"MacDonald," the inspector snapped, "send to find if the medical officer is still abroad. She won't have money enough for any doctor."

"Yessir. I'll see to it right away, sir." MacDonald sprang into a quick salute and disappeared out the wicket door with admirable haste.

"MacDonald!" the inspector bawled after him. "
Send, I
say—you're not to go! There, the great stupid lump of a fellow; a pox on him, he heard me plain as day. Frightened of female things, he is." Inspector Ruby grinned at her. "Sweet on you, miss. Asks after you every day. Hardly could contain himself that you spoke to him last evening." He took off his jacket with the bright buttons and began to roll up his sleeves. "And what d'you think of this poor girl, then? I suppose we shall have to take a closer look at her."

Leda backed up against the wall, hesitating as he opened the cell and motioned her in. "I'm afraid I don't know much about it," she admitted. "She seemed to be in affliction, and I thought perhaps a professional man ought to be brought in."

"Bless you, miss, we don't see professional men down here, you know. Not for this sort. Perhaps the medical officer will send a midwife… perhaps not." He went into the cell and knelt beside the girl. "Here now, what's to be done, little lady? Are you having your birth pains? How long you been hurting?"

Leda couldn't hear the girl's mumbled answer, but the inspector shook his head at the answer. "All day, is it? Silly child—why'd you not speak up?"

"I don' want it," the girl panted. "I don' want it comin' yet."

"Well, it's coming, for all that. Your first?"

The girl made a whimper of assent.

"Why'd you go to Oxslip's? You wasn't hopin' to be brought to bed there?"

"Me girlfriend… she asked around for me… give me to expect they'd take the babe." The girl swallowed and rolled her head to the side. "I'd pay for its keep. I swear I would."

The inspector shook his head. "You shelter your own babe, my girl," he said. "You give it over to them baby-minders, you've as good as murdered it, take my word. A maidservant, was you? Got a young man in the city?"

"I… can't find him."

"That's bad luck. But they don't want an infant at Oxslip's, you understand me? Your friend sent you fair and far wrong when she sent you there."

The girl began to breathe rapidly. Her face contorted.

The inspector held her by the hand. Leda moved closer, biting her lip. "Can I do anything?" she whispered.

The squeak of the wicket door made them both look around. Leda expected to see Sergeant MacDonald, but it was an unknown officer who burst through the door, color high in his cheeks and his collar tight from exertion. Inspector Ruby shoved himself to his feet.

"Don't leave me," the girl cried. "It hurts so!"

Leda stepped into the cell. "I'll stay with her," she said, lowering herself onto her knees on the hard floor. She took the girl's hand and patted it as the frantic fingers closed over hers.

"Thank you, miss." The inspector was already out and addressing the newcomer. "Good evening to you, Superintendent. Something amiss?"

The other man gave a bark of harsh laughter. "Amiss! Aye! Why don't we have a telegraph in this office, I ask you? I've a flock of reporters ten steps behind me and the Home Office breathing hot on my neck, if you call that bloody amiss! Bring yourself along, Ruby, and look lively."

"My reserve—"

"MacDonald? I met him in the street. Sent him ahead. The papers, man, the papers! If you think I want to be caught flat-footed in front of a bloody pack of reporters, you may think again." The man never even looked toward Leda or the woman in the cell, but kept his hand on the open door as Inspector Ruby quickly gathered his hat and coat. "It's some sort of swindle, I'll be bound, but this fellow's advertised his work from Whitehall to the
Times
and back again, and we've got to look as if we're on top of it. I judge we've got a quarter hour before the press is on the scene." He wiped at his forehead with his handkerchief. "There's been a robbery at the Alexandra Hotel, from some damned Oriental prince or other, Siamese I think it is, but that's not our job—what we've got is a bloody note from the bloody fellow what pinched it, says this bloody stolen irreplaceable prick of a Siamese jeweled crown—to be presented to the Queen herself, mind you�this thief comes right out and says it can bloody well be recovered from Oxslip's in Jacob's Island!"

"
Oxslip's
!" Inspector Ruby ejaculated.

"Well you may gape! You've only got the half of it. Do you know what the bloody devil this maniac left in place of the crown at the hotel? Some filthy little statuette right out of a nasty house, Ruby! A
truly
nasty house—and I'm not talking of some Haymarket pub full of dollymops, either. Can you fathom it? Home Office is hysterical; Foreign Office gone mad—monstrous insult to these Orientals' bloody sensibilities—international incident—trade treaties—diplomats—I'll tell you, Ruby, I'm not going to be caught looking the fool in front of a parcel of damned diplomats—"

His words were lost as the door closed behind them. Leda stared after them in bewilderment, and then down into the terrified eyes of the girl.

"It's quite all right," she said, trying to sound stout. "The midwife's coming."

"Something's happening," the girl exclaimed, with a wild motion of her head. "I'm all wet—I'm bleeding!"

Leda looked down, and indeed, there was a dark stain creeping up the girl's skirt. It seemed a massive amount of fluid, spreading out over the floor. "No—it isn't blood, dear," she said. "It's quite transparent. Your water." Leda had heard of that—that a woman's waters broke, whatever that meant. She was very much afraid it indicated that birth was imminent. "Just be calm. The midwife is on her way."

The girl cried out, her body straining. Her fingernails dug into Leda's palm.

Leda stroked her forehead. Her skin was soft and moist, with a healthy color unlike the pallor of poverty that had begun to seem familiar to Leda. She must have had decent food and lodging, at least. Her body seemed sturdy and well-formed, not delicate, but that was little comfort while Leda had to listen to the terrible sounds of effort and pain the girl was making.

"It's a-comin'," she panted. "Oh, no—it's going to come!"

"That's all right," Leda said, wanting only to soothe the panic in the girl. "Everything is all right. What is your name, dear?"

"Pammy—Hodgkins. Oh, ma'am—is you the midwife?"

"No. But I will stay right here with you."

"Is the midwife a-comin'?"

"Yes. Sergeant MacDonald went for help."

"But he said—t'other man said—he sent 'im off somewheres else."

"The midwife is coming," Leda said firmly, refusing to believe anything else. "Only think of how nice it will be to hold your baby in your arms."

Pammy's throat arched. She lifted her knees and rolled from side to side. "It hurts, it hurts so!" She took a deep breath and exploded it through her lips. "Oh, I'd kill that Jamie could I lay hands on 'im. I want to die!"

The wicker door clanged open. Leda looked up and murmured, "Thank heaven."

Two women descended upon them. "I am Mrs. Layton, the maternity nurse. This is Mrs. Fullerton-Smith of the Ladies' Sanitary Association. How frequent are the pains?"

This question was addressed with piercing abruptness at Leda. She opened her mouth, closed it, and then said helplessly, "I really don't know. A considerable amount of water has come."

"See to the kettle," the nurse said to Leda. "Mrs. Fullerton-Smith, would you be so kind as to spread the hygienic sheet here on the floor for me?"

The two women set to work with an alacrity and competence that relieved Leda enormously. The nurse, brisk and zealous, had no patience with Pammy's whimpers, but began to insist that she "Bear down—and no nonsense, my girl," while Mrs. Fullerton-Smith thrust a sheaf of pamphlets into Leda's hand. "Familiarize yourself with those, if you please. She must not return to any employment for four weeks at the earliest. We implore you to encourage her to feed the baby at the breast. You may refer to the tract entitled
The Evils of Bottle-Feeding
. Also, opiates such as Godfrey's Cordial, poppy tea, or quieteners are to be eschewed. Cleanliness is paramount—all food should be covered, cow's milk boiled, hands washed after any visit to the privy, bodily waste removed promptly. Where do you live?"

"I live at Mrs. Dawkins', ma'am, but Pammy—"

"We will arrange for post-parturation visits. What is her name?"

"Pammy Hodgkins, but—"

"Just allow me to make a note. The Ladies' Sanitary Association is here to help and educate."

Pammy screamed, and Mrs. Fullerton-Smith turned, moving into the cell. Leda sat down on the bench outside, the tracts on
How to Manage a Baby, Health of Mothers, Measles
, and
How to Rear Healthy Children
clutched in her hands.

It must have taken several hours, but it seemed to be forever that Pammy cried and groaned and made animal noises of effort. The gaslight poured down in a circle over the empty podium, while the cell lay in shadows, the source of echoing pants and firm instructions. Pammy gave a harsh shriek and subsided. For a minute the silence seemed to grow and grow as Leda peered at the huddle of figures, and then suddenly the nurse sat up and said, "Boy," in a matter-of-fact tone as she lifted a pale shape and dangled it.

A thin sound, like the long-drawn squeal of a rat, reverberated from the cell.

"Direct a light here, if you please," the nurse demanded.

Leda jumped up and lit the policeman's coal-oil lantern, opening the door and shining it into the cell. The nurse was mopping at a terrible tiny limp rag of a shape, her white apron covered with blood. Pammy muttered and heaved again. Mrs. Fullerton-Smith said, "That's done it," and attended to Pammy, clearing away the soiled sheet and placing clean padding beneath the feeble girl.

The squealing began to rise to a series of infantile wails, bouncing off the walls. Outside, men's voices echoed in the street, and the wicket door flew open. The inspector held it for his supervisor, who marched in followed by
Sergeant MacDonald bearing some teapot-sized object wrapped in a paisley shawl, and then the others poured in after; suddenly the police office was full of men, all talking, all trying to shout questions above the sound of the baby's screaming. Leda was herded back against the wall until Sergeant MacDonald squeezed next to her and gave her his hand, boosting her up to stand on the bench.

"
Gentlemen
!" the inspector's voice roared. "Order, if you please!"

The crowd fell silent, leaving only the howls of the baby. Inspector Ruby ignored the infant, conferring briefly with his superior and then stepping up to his podium.

"We'll make a statement," he said, speaking in a loud singsong above the baby's cries. "At quarter past eight P.M., officers of this division proceeded to the house known as Oxslip's in Jacob's Island. We found there what we expected to find, that is, a crown of foreign manufacture, believed to be Siamese and stolen from the premises of the Alexandra Hotel. The crown is secure and undamaged and will be returned to the party what owns it directly. That is all, gentlemen."

"Any arrests?" someone demanded.

"Mr. Ellis Oxslip and a woman known as Frying Pan Sally have been taken for questioning."

"Where to?"

"Headquarters at Scotland Yard, sir."

A general groaning broke out. "Why there? Why'nt you bring 'em here?"

"As you may have observed, gentlemen, we have a certain amount of disturbance in this office tonight."

"The note!" someone yelled above the grumbling and wails. "Read us the note, Inspector! What did the note say?"

"I am not authorized to read any note."

"Did it say Oxslip's is a house of resort for perverts?"

"I am not authorized to give any information in that regard."

Another man pushed forward. "Is it true the statue came from Oxslip's—the statue left in place of the crown at the hotel?"

Inspector Ruby glanced at his superintendent. The other officer nodded slightly. "We believe that to be the case, yes."

The pads and pencils rustled madly. "So it
is
a flagellation parlor! Is that right, Inspector Ruby?"