Whitechapel Conspiracy

“When did he have time to look?” Charlotte reasoned. “If Martin had them out, then Adinett must have put them away again, and then got them out when he returned. You said he didn’t have a case of any sort, just a stick. How did he carry loose papers, or do you suppose it was all written as entries in one book?”

Juno was staring around the walls. “I don’t know. I don’t really know what we’re looking for, or how much, except from what we know—there were lots more plans. They intended to do something positive. They were not just dreamers, meeting to talk over ideas. And if you mean to achieve something, you need to have very precise actions in mind.”

“Then surely as a royalist bent on preventing their plans from being acted upon, Adinett would have wanted to destroy them?” Charlotte said thoughtfully. She gazed around at the book-lined shelves. “I wonder where he looked?”

“Nothing seems out of place,” Juno replied. “Except the three books that were on the floor, of course. But we always assumed they were there to make it look as if Martin pulled them off when he fell from the ladder.”

“I imagine the police would have searched pretty thoroughly anyway.” Charlotte felt hope slip away again. “If there’d been anything on the shelves behind the books, it would have been found pretty easily.”

“We could always take all the books down,” Juno suggested. “We haven’t anything better to do. Well, I haven’t anyway.”

“Neither have I,” Charlotte agreed quickly, turning around one way then the other to gaze at the shelves. “It wouldn’t be behind books he took out regularly,” she said aloud. “Otherwise it would be seen too easily. Someone would observe it by chance. Do any of the maids take out the books to clean or dust?”

“I don’t know.” Juno shook her head. “I shouldn’t think so, but I suppose they could. You are right. It would be somewhere that no one would pull out. That is if it is behind books at all.”

Charlotte felt disappointment fill her again. “I suppose it isn’t a very good place. And inside a book would make it fat enough it would be noticed immediately. We’re not looking for one or two sheets of paper, I don’t think.”

“What about …” Juno looked up at the top shelves, where there were large reference volumes.

“Yes? What?” Charlotte said quickly.

Juno pushed her hair back off her brow in a gesture of weariness.

“What about really inside a book … one hollowed out and replaced? I know it sounds like terrible vandalism, but it might be as safe as it could be. Who else is going to look inside some of those?” Juno gestured up at the top shelf towards the window where there was a row of obscure memoirs of eighteenth-century politicians and half a dozen volumes of statistics on export and shipping.

Charlotte went over to the steps and wheeled them around. Then, holding the pole firmly in one hand, and picking up her skirt in the other, she climbed up. “Careful!” Juno warned, stepping forward, her voice harsh.

Charlotte stopped, balanced precariously. She turned to smile at Juno, who stood pale-faced, drained by the dead black she wore.

“I’m sorry,” Juno apologized, moving back again. “I …”

“I know,” Charlotte said quickly. The steps were quite steady, but she could not help thinking of Martin Fetters, and the way he was first supposed to have died, falling from exactly this position. If she lost her balance from here she would end almost where he had been found, only her head would lie the other way.

She dismissed it quickly. That simple, almost private death was a world away from what they faced now. She reached up and pulled out the first volume, a wide, yellow book on shipping routes, hopelessly out of date. Why on earth would anyone have kept such a thing, except as an oversight, forgetting it was there? It was heavy. She passed it to Juno.

Juno riffled through it.

“Exactly what it says,” she said with an effort to mask disappointment. “Martin must have bought it twenty years ago.” She put it on the floor and waited for the next one.

Charlotte went through them one by one, and each was examined and then placed on the floor in ever-increasing piles. They kept on because neither of them could think of anything better to try.

It was almost into the third hour and they were both smeared with dust, arms aching, when Juno finally conceded defeat.

“They’re all just what they say.” The misery in her voice was so sharp Charlotte ached for her. Had nothing more been at stake than the desire to know, she might have encouraged her to abandon the effort. There comes a time when grief must end the struggle to understand, and allow healing to begin.

But she needed to prove to the world that Pitt had been right about John Adinett. She steeled herself to continue.

“Sit down for a while,” she suggested. “Perhaps a cup of tea?” She climbed down the steps, and Juno held out a hand to steady her. Her fingers were cool and strong, but her arm shook a little and there was a pallor of strain in her face. She looked away from Charlotte’s eyes.