Sir Robert Peel was waiting for him. Even now Dodger didn’t trust him – he looked like a swell, but had a street gleam in his eye. The head of the peelers regarded him over his desk and said, ‘Have you ever heard of the Outlander, my friend?’
‘No,’ lied Dodger, on the basis that you always lied to a policeman if at all possible.
Sir Robert gave him a blank look and said that the police forces of Europe would very much like to see the Outlander behind bars or, for preference, swinging from the gallows. ‘The Outlander is an assassin. He is a sharp man, Mister Dodger, and so are his knives. We presume from as much information as we can glean that he is very much interested in the whereabouts of Miss Simplicity. And, by association, you. We both know the facts of the matter, and I must assume that someone somewhere is getting extremely impatient, as evinced by the murder of Sharp Bob and his employee. We appear to be running out of time, Mister Dodger. You must understand that the British government would be doing nothing wrong in the eyes of many people if a runaway wife was sent back to her legal husband.’ He sniffed. ‘Distasteful as that would seem to many of us who are cognizant of the circumstances of this whole sordid matter. The clock is ticking, my friend. People in power do not like to be continually thwarted, and can I at this stage also draw to your attention the fact that I am one of them.’
There was a tapping noise and Dodger glanced down at Sir Robert Peel’s left hand, the fingers of which were drumming on a pile of documents which seemed rather familiar.
Sir Robert looked at his face and said, ‘I know, because it is my job to know these things, that a certain embassy was broken into two nights ago, with a great deal of documentation and miscellaneous jewellery stolen. Subsequently it appears that the miscreant, who we are under some pressure to bring to justice, then saw fit to set fire to a coach house.’
Dodger’s face was all innocent interest as Sir Robert continued, ‘Of course, my men had to go to check upon the details of this theft and this wilful vandalism and it seemed that even before the fire one wheel of this coach was damaged, but the perpetrator appeared to have scratched across the crest of this coach the name “Mr Punch”. I must assume that of course you know nothing about any of this?’
‘Well, sir,’ said Dodger brightly, ‘as you know, we were at a jolly dinner party that night. I went home with Solomon, who I am sure will testify should you require it.’ And he thought, I wonder if Solomon would lie for me to a policeman? Swiftly the thought came back: Solomon must have lied to policemen all over Europe, and with God on his side, and would be very unlikely in the presence of a peeler to know if the sky was blue.
Sir Robert smiled, but the smile had no warmth in it and the drumming of his fingers became a little more insistent. ‘Mister Dodger, I am absolutely certain that Mister Cohen would say exactly that. And since we are on the subject, would you know anything about a Jewish gentleman who called in at our front desk this morning with a little package of documents for me? The sergeant in charge said he placed them on the desk and scuttled off at some speed and most certainly without leaving his name.’ There was the unfunny smile again, and Sir Robert went on, ‘Of course, generally speaking, all elderly Jewish gentlemen in their black clothing look very similar to everyone except their nearest and dearest.’
At this point Dodger piped up and said, ‘Indeed, I never really thought of it.’ He was enjoying this and so, in some twisted way, was at least part of Sir Robert.
‘So you know nothing,’ said Sir Robert. ‘You know nothing, you heard nothing and you weren’t there, of course.’ He added, ‘These are very interesting documents, very interesting. Especially in the light of the current discussions taking place. Which is why the embassy want them back. Of course, I don’t know where they are. Surely Solomon must have pointed out to you the worth of what you brought home?’
‘What, sir, sorry, sir. Solomon ain’t mentioned to me anything about any documents and I ain’t seen them,’ said Dodger, thinking, What’s he think I am? A little baby?
‘Ye-e-s,’ said Sir Robert. ‘Mister Dodger, have you heard the phrase, You are so sharp that you might cut yourself?’
‘Yes, sir, very careful with knives, sir, you can be sure of that.’
‘I’m so glad to hear it. You may go now.’ And as Dodger had his hand on the door knob, Sir Robert said, ‘Don’t do it again, young man.’
Dodger said, ‘Can’t, sir, haven’t done it once.’ He didn’t shake his head, except in the privacy of his brain. Yes, they always wait until you think you are out of trouble and then they fly one on you. Honestly, I could teach them a few tricks.
He left Scotland Yard, calling out cheerfully as he did so, ‘Told yuz! You’ll never find anything on me, my lads.’ But he thought, So there are clocks ticking. A government’s clock. The Outlander’s clock. And mine. It will be best for Simplicity if mine chimes first.
As for the Outlander? Here he paused. A man whose only description was that he never seemed to be the same man twice? How could you ever find a man like that? But he comforted himself as he thought, We are so close now, and he’s got to learn all about me and find out where I am. That’s going to be very difficult for him. This didn’t entirely satisfy him, because the thought that came after was that the Outlander was a professional killer, apparently of important people, so exactly how hard would it be for him to wipe a snotty-nosed tosher off of the world?
He considered this and then said aloud, ‘I’m Dodger! It will be very hard indeed!’
1 Sights like this were commonplace. Henry Mayhew’s research is full of details of this level of poverty, nowadays unimaginable in cities such as London.
CHAPTER 15
In the hands of the Lady
AS SEVEN O’CLOCK neared, Dodger went over all his precautions and preparations and came up out of the sewer a little way away, in order to be seen cheerfully walking to The Lion public house.
He was not surprised to find Mister Bazalgette sitting on a bench outside, wearing what might be called serviceable clothes for someone who is going to perambulate underneath the streets of London. The young man looked like a kid waiting for the Punch and Judy show to begin, and had festooned himself with various instruments and a large notebook, and had also very thoughtfully come with his own lantern, although Dodger had made certain to borrow three of these already. It meant calling in a few little favours, but that was surely what favours were for.
The young engineer was primly nursing a pint of ginger beer, and right there and then he struck up a conversation with Dodger about the nature of the sewers, with reference to the amount of water that Dodger had seen in them, the prevalence of rats, the dangers of being underground and other things of interest to a gentleman as enthusiastic as Bazalgette.
‘Looking forward to seeing your Lady, Mister Dodger?’ he asked.
Dodger thought, Yes, both of them, but smiled and said, ‘I ain’t never seen her, ne’er even once. But sometimes, you know when you are by yourself, you get a feeling that someone’s just walked past, and there is a change in the air, and then you look down and all the rats are running very fast, all in the same direction; and then sometimes, as it might be, you look at a bit of rotted old sewer wall and something tells you that it might just be worth fumbling around in the crumbling bricks. So you take a look, and glory be, there’s a gold ring with two diamonds on it. That’s what happened to me one time.’ He added, ‘Some toshers say they’ve seen her, but that’s supposed to be when they are dying, and I ain’t intending to do that right now. Mind you, sir, I’ll be happy to see her right now if she points me to a tosheroon.’