Moriarty

‘Alone as alone can be. He kept ’imself to ’imself, wrapped up in the corner with ’is ’at over ’is eyes and ’is eyes turned down to ’is collar. He coughed a few times but not one word did he say to me.’

‘He must have informed you of the destination.’

‘ “Whitehall,” he said when he got in. And “Stop!” when he wanted to get out. Well, there’s two words for you. But nothing else. Not so much as a please or a thank you.’

‘You took him to Whitehall. What then?’

‘He told me to wait.’ The driver sniffed, realising his error. ‘A third word, guv’nor. That was all it was. “Wait!” I’ve ’ad more communication from the ’orse.’

‘What happened?’

‘You know what ’appened! All London knows what ’appened. There was a bang as loud as a Japanese mortar in Vauxhall Gardens. What in ’eaven’s name is that, thinks I. But the cove, ’e don’t give a jot. ’Im and the boy just sit there as we drive off. They don’t want to stop. They don’t even look round. A toff and a messenger boy and me and I’m just glad to be out of there, I can tell you.’

‘Did they speak to each other, the man and the boy?’

‘They spoke. But I didn’t ’ear them. Not with me up front and the doors and the windows closed.’

‘Where did you take them?’ I asked.

‘Not so very far. Through Parliament Square and over to Victoria.’

‘To a private house?’

‘I don’t know what it was. But I can tell you the number. I wouldn’t normally remember. I’ve got no ’ead for numbers. My ’ead is full of numbers so why should I remember one above another? But this one was as easy as one two three. It was one two three. One hundred and twenty-three Victoria Street and if there’s nothing else, guv’nor, I’ve got some more numbers for you. Sixpence the quarter hour waiting time and I’ve been here two hours at the least. What do you say to that?’

Jones gave the man some money and we hurried away together, striding along the pavement past Fortnum & Mason and up to Green Park. We hailed another cab and Jones gave the driver the address. ‘We have them!’ he said to me. ‘Even if they do not actually reside in Victoria Street, the house will lead us to them.’

‘The man in the brougham,’ I muttered. ‘He could not have been Clarence Devereux. He would never have ventured out in a coach without first covering the windows.’

‘The driver said that he was withdrawn, his face buried in his collar.’

‘Not enough, I think, for someone suffering as he does from agoraphobia. There is something else, Jones. It is very strange but I feel that the address, 123 Victoria Street, is known to me.’

‘How can that be?’

‘I cannot say. I have seen it somewhere, read it … I don’t know.’ I broke off and once again we travelled in silence until we finally arrived in Victoria Street, a wide and well-populated thoroughfare with the crowds drifting in and out of the elegant shops and arcades. We found the house we were looking for, a solid, not very handsome building, recently constructed and clearly too large to be a private home. It immediately put me in mind of Bladeston House and I saw that it had the same sense of impregnability, with barred windows, a gate, and a narrow path leading to an imposing front door. I noticed Jones looking upwards and followed his eyes to the American flag that fluttered on the roof, then down to the plaque set beside the main gate.

‘It is the legation of the United States of America!’ I exclaimed. ‘Of course. We have had many communications with the envoy’s staff and Robert Pinkerton stayed here when he was in London. That’s how I know the address.’

‘The legation …’ Jones repeated the word in a voice that was suddenly strained. He paused for a moment, allowing its significance to sink in, and I understood that our coachman might as well have taken his two passengers to the moon for all the good it would do us. ‘It is prohibited to us. No officer of the law can enter a legation.’

‘But this is where they came,’ I exclaimed, ‘Perry and his associate. Can it be possible?’ I reached out and grabbed hold of the railing as if I could prise it apart. ‘Has Clarence Devereux taken sanctuary within his own country’s legation? We must go in!’

‘It is not possible, I tell you,’ Jones insisted. ‘We will have to address ourselves to the department of the Foreign Secretary—’

‘Then that is what we must do!’

‘I do not believe we have enough evidence to support such a request. We have only the word of Mr Guthrie that he brought his passengers here and we cannot be sure that they even entered. It’s exactly what happened at Highgate. I followed the boy to Bladeston House but we still cannot say with any certainty that he ever went into the place.’

‘Bladeston House! You may remember — Scotchy Lavelle boasted that he enjoyed the protection of the legation.’

‘It was my first thought, Chase. At the time, it struck me as very singular.’

‘And there was an invitation in his desk. He and that woman had been summoned to this very place.’