Neither of them was prepared for the welcome they received in Liverpool docks. It was overwhelming. The pier was thronged with relatives and friends of those who’d survived the sinking, their numbers swelled by well-wishers. But it was the number of newspaper reporters that surprised Irene. There were dozens of them. She was ambushed the moment she stepped off the ship. Irene tried to pretend that she had nothing to do with the Lusitania but her uniform gave her away. She was still wearing the distinctive garb of a stewardess that she’d had on when she jumped into the sea. The seemingly endless questions were both painful and intrusive. Irene wanted to forget the tragedy, not be forced to reconstruct it for the benefit of an article in a newspaper. She was glad to escape from the harassment.
Ernie Gill, by contrast, had enjoyed all the attention.
‘They even took my photograph,’ he boasted. ‘Well, I’ll see you around, Irene. Will you be staying here for a while?’
‘I don’t know, Ernie.’
‘I will. The only trouble is that I’ve got here too late.’
She was puzzled. ‘Too late for what?’
‘Too late for the fun,’ he explained. ‘I wanted to help them chase every bleeding Hun out of Liverpool. There was a pork butcher from Lubeck at the end of our street. If I’d been here, I’d have sliced the ugly bugger up with his own meat cleaver.’
Irene let him give her a farewell kiss then she went off to catch her tram. Gill’s violent streak disturbed her. She was happy with the thought that she’d probably never see him again. She would certainly never be part of a crew with him. That phase of her life was decidedly over. When she reached the house where she rented a couple of upstairs rooms, the first thing she had to do was to calm her tearful landlady down and assure her that she felt no ill effects. Then she filled the boiler so that she could heat enough water to have a bath. Once that was done, she put on fresh clothes and threw her uniform into the bin. Her break with the past was complete.
Next morning, Irene caught the early train to London.
When the commissioner faced Herbert Stone across his desk in Scotland Yard, both of them were wearing Jacob Stein suits. It was the morning after the crimes in Jermyn Street and his visitor’s ire had increased rather than subsided. Sir Edward Henry kept a respectful silence while Stone ranted on about the shortcomings of the police and the fire brigade. It was only when he began to criticise Harvey Marmion that the commissioner interrupted him.
‘You’re being too censorious, Mr Stone,’ he said. ‘Inspector Marmion is one of my best detectives.’
‘That’s not the impression I got.’
‘Then you’ve been badly misled.’
‘The inspector doesn’t inspire me,’ complained Stone.
‘He’s not paid to give inspiration, sir. He’s there to catch criminals. I like to make a prompt start to the working day,’ said Sir Edward, ‘but when I got here first thing, Inspector Marmion was already in his office, preparing a report on last night’s tragic events. If you knew his background, you might have more faith in him.’
‘I have little enough at the moment, Sir Edward.’
‘Then let me tell you something about him. Harvey Marmion started his career in the civil service, which is exactly what I did, albeit in India. Marmion’s father was a policeman who was shot dead in the line of duty. I don’t need to tell you what it feels like to be closely related to a murder victim.’
‘No,’ said Stone, grimly, ‘you certainly don’t.’
‘The killer fled abroad to France and two detectives went after him. He kept eluding them. Marmion couldn’t bear the thought of the man getting away with it so he gave up his job, raised money from friends and family then used it to fund his own search.’
‘What happened?’
‘It took him less than a week to find the man and hand him over. In short, he showed far more skill and tenacity than the two detectives assigned to the case. The very fact that he went in pursuit of an armed villain says much about his character.’
‘What he did was admirable,’ conceded Stone.
‘There’s more to it than that, sir,’ said Sir Edward. ‘When he got back home, he sold his story to a newspaper and used his fee to reimburse every person who’d contributed to his fund. They all got their money back and had the deep satisfaction of seeing the killer convicted and hanged. Harvey Marmion is an exceptional man.’
‘I’ll have to take your word for it.’
Stone was impressed by what he’d heard about the inspector but could still not warm to him. His dislike of Marmion arose partly from the fact that — in Stone’s view — he showed insufficient deference. As a successful businessman, Stone employed a large number of people and was accustomed to having his orders instantly obeyed. Clearly, that would not happen with the inspector. He was his own man. No matter how much Stone railed against him, Marmion would not be taken off the investigation. He was in charge. Stone realised that he had to accept that.
As if on cue, there was a tap on the door and it opened to reveal Harvey Marmion. The commissioner beckoned him in. Marmion exchanged a greeting with Stone then took a seat beside him.
‘I was just telling Mr Stone how you came to join the police force,’ said Sir Edward. ‘You followed in your father’s footsteps.’
‘It was against his wishes, Sir Edward,’ said Marmion. ‘He always wanted me to choose a less dangerous occupation.’
‘You thrive on danger.’
‘I suppose that I do.’
‘It’s not only policemen who face danger,’ argued Stone. ‘Look at my brother. You’d have thought that being a gentlemen’s outfitter would keep him out of harm’s way. Then there’s me. When the war broke out, I immediately changed my name to hide the fact that our parents emigrated from Germany. That didn’t stop someone from burning down one of my warehouses. I regret to say,’ he added, pointedly, ‘that the police never caught the man responsible.’
‘I’ll find the arsonist from last night,’ said Marmion, confidently.
‘How?’
‘We’ll do it by a variety of means, sir. I think I told you that two of those involved were in custody. Three other members of that mob will be arrested and questioned this morning. I’ve no doubt that we’ll be able to squeeze other names out of them.’
‘All that will take time, Inspector.’
‘An investigation like this can’t be rushed,’ said Sir Edward.
‘I want results.’
‘We all share that desire, sir.’
‘We have to separate out the different elements in the case,’ said Marmion. ‘Several people were guilty of wilful destruction of property and looting but there are also individuals responsible for arson and murder. The perpetrators of all those crimes will be brought to book.’
Stone fell silent. His head lowered and his shoulders sagged. He seemed at once hurt and embarrassed. He ran his tongue across dry lips. Marmion and the commissioner put the sudden change of manner down to his grief at the death of his brother but that was not the case. Stone was thinking about Ruth Stein. It needed a conscious effort to force the words out.
‘There’s another crime to add to your list, Inspector,’ he said.
‘Oh?’ Marmion’s ears pricked up.
‘At the time when the shop was starting to burn down …’ He paused, gritted his teeth then blurted out the information. ‘My niece was being raped in the alley at the rear of the property.’