Fiona found the scissors just as Rupert Winthrop entered the room behind her. She turned around and saw him staring at the bloody coverlet on the table behind her.
“Took up some water and things,” he said.
“Good.”
“He didn’t say much, the doctor didn’t. Do you think she’s all right?”
“Mrs Day, you mean?”
“Yes.”
“My father’s an excellent doctor. I have every confidence that she’ll be just fine.”
“I do hope so. That don’t look good, though.”
“The coverlet?”
“I mean, is that blood on it?”
“Yes.”
“Is she supposed to bleed?”
“I think a little blood’s okay.” But she didn’t feel at all certain, despite her father’s assurances.
“Your dad’s gonna take care of her?”
“There’s nobody better.”
“Wanted to help her somehow, but didn’t want to intrude during this time, you know. Didn’t know what to do.”
“I’m sure she understands that.”
“I feel useless just sitting there in the hall.”
“Well, you’ve made us all feel safe and protected. So no time wasted.”
“Good of you to say.”
It was good of her to say. In fact, she had nearly forgotten he was in the house. She certainly didn’t need him underfoot. She wanted to get the coverlet cleaned and hung up to dry as quickly as possible so she would be able to stitch Claire’s baby’s name in along the edge of it and present it to her as a gift. Claire would be so pleased.
“I put some more water on to boil,” Rupert said. “And I’ve found all the basins there is in the house, as far as I can tell, miss. It’s really not much. Is there anything I can help you do?”
Fiona looked down at the scissors in her hand and smiled. “As a matter of fact,” she said, “would you be a dear and look through this basket? I need a spool of thread.”
“There’s one right there on the table.”
“That’s white thread, which I do need. But I also need red thread.”
“Are you sure there’s any in that basket?”
“Not at all. But there might be, and I’d like to find it if it’s there.”
“Well, I’ll take a look.”
“That would be wonderful.”
He smiled. “Happy to do it, if it helps.”
“It does. Now I can go clean this up before it sets.”
“Will the blood come out?”
“I certainly hope so.”
“Me, too.”
Fiona picked up the spool of white thread and the coverlet, careful not to perforate it with the tip of the scissors, and went to the door. She peeked back over her shoulder just in time to see the constable pick up the basket and scatter its contents over the tabletop. She sighed and hurried away down the hall to the kitchen.
55
Jack heard someone rush past in the hallway behind him and turned around too late. All he saw was the blue-uniformed back of a policeman. Then the front door banged shut.
“What do we do with these when we get ’em off of here?” one of the constables said.
Jack contemplated the tongues, sagging from their iron nails, dried and no longer vital. He felt a lack of connection to them that surprised him. His trophies had always meant so much.
“Take them back to Scotland Yard,” he said. “Leave them on the desk of Detective Inspector Walter Day. Do you know who that is?”
“Sure,” the other constable said. “I know him. He’ll know what to do with them?”
“Tell him they’re a gift from a new friend.”
The older of the two constables sniffed and rubbed his nose with his thumb. He squinted at Jack, trying to determine whether he was the butt of a joke, whether he ought to laugh.
“The inspector’s probably not at his desk right now,” the younger one said. “Out looking for the escaped prisoners, same as everybody else.”
“Oh, I imagine he’s busy escaping, too. He should be returning to the Yard soon, if he doesn’t lose his leg.”
“Lose his leg?”
“Well, it was dark and I’m not completely sure about the depth of that incision. Still, I’m reasonably confident he’ll be back and in one piece. Please tender my apologies and tell him I hope these offerings will cement our friendship.”
Jack turned and walked away, out of the parlor and out of the house. He heard the constables behind him yelling questions, but paid no attention to them. They were simpletons. He ran his fingers over the bloodred surface of Elizabeth’s door one last time as he passed it. He knew he would not return, but felt little regret. He was done with this place.
There were two wagons in the lane and Jack lingered next to one of them, stroking the horse’s nose, as the old woman who lived next door hurried past and into her own house, leaving her front door standing open.
“How much to take me away from here?” Jack said to the young boy who sat up top, reading a magazine and chewing on the butt of a cigarette.
“Working for the police, mister. This’s their wagon. Can’t go nowhere but where they tell me to go.”
“I’ll give you a quid.”
The boy put down his magazine and squinted at Jack. He straightened the front of his jacket and tossed the cigarette butt into the street. “Where you wanna go, sir?”
“Just a moment, please.”
Jack went around behind the wagon and walked over to the children standing against the short black fence along the opposite side of the street.
“You had a bicycle,” he said to the boy. “Where did it go?”
“Some copper just stole it away from me.”
“He did?”
“Just took it right out of me hands. Didn’t ask or nuffin’.”
“Oh, my. How dreadful.”
“You don’t know how much. That bicycle’s dear. Can’t afford a new one.”
“I’m sure he’ll give it back. He’s a policeman, after all. What was his name?”
“Said it was Hammersmith. Like the place.”
“You don’t say.”
“I do say! Never heard of anybody with that name before.”
“I have. Earlier this very day. It’s a small world, isn’t it?”
“Looks big enough to me.”
“Sergeant Hammersmith didn’t happen to tell you where he was going, did he?”
The boy looked Jack up and down. “He said to tell it to the police, not to any doctors.”
“Oh, but I’m a police doctor.”
“That’s different, then. He said he was going to an inspector’s house. Walter somebody. Walter Dew, maybe.”
“Could it have been Walter Day?”
“Yeah, that’s the name. In Primrose Hill.”
“Oh, my, but it is a very small world indeed. Thank you, young man.”
“You’re gonna get my bike back?”
“I doubt very much that I shall remember you by the end of the day. You should look after yourself and get your own bike back. How else will you learn self-reliance?”