“Get on with you,” ordered Daisy. “We’ve got the money.”
She lowered the trap in the roof and sank back next to Rose. “You have got the money, I hope,” said Daisy.
“Yes, I came prepared. Oh, wait. Look at that poor woman. I don’t think she’s had a meal in ages.” Rose rapped on the roof with her parasol and the cab came to a halt.
“Give her the groceries,” said Rose.
Daisy got out of the cab and handed the woman the paper bags full of groceries and then quickly got back in again. “Drive on,” she shouted.
♦
Meanwhile, Harry and Becket had spent a weary time looking for the witnesses, George and Sarah Briggs. No one seemed to have heard of them. But people regarded them with suspicion.
At last, Becket cleared his throat and said cautiously, “You might try offering money for information, sir. If I were you, I would start with one shilling and a bright child.”
“I think we’re attracting too much attention with this motor. Drive off and park it somewhere up in the City – then we’ll take a cab and when we get back here, we’ll walk about on foot.”
When they returned to Sordey Street, Harry spotted a child who could have posed for an illustration of the Artful Dodger. He was lounging against a lamp post, his hands in his pockets.
“Would you like to earn some money?” asked Harry.
“What for?”
“Information. I’m trying to find a Mr George Briggs, a driver.”
The boy took off his battered hat and stared thoughtfully inside as if consulting the oracle. “How much, guv?”
“One shilling.”
“Garn.”
“Oh, all right. Half a crown.”
“Let’s see the money.”
Harry took out half a crown and handed it to him. The boy crammed his hat on his head. He put the half crown in his jacket pocket. Then he grinned at them.
“Dunno,” he said and ran off as fast as his legs could carry him.
But two other boys had witnessed the transaction. One stepped forward. “We can find old Briggs for you. But it’ll be half a crown each.”
“No tricks,” said Harry. “You don’t get a penny until you take us to him.”
The boys set off and Harry and Becket followed. They walked through one miserable street after another. The weather had turned warm and humid. The air was redolent with all the smells of dirt and poverty.
“We must set up a charitable trust for these sort of people now that we are in funds,” said Harry. All the money he had earned he had invested shrewdly.
“If I may be so bold, sir,” said Becket crossly, “charity begins at home.”
“Meaning?”
“Meaning me and Daisy would like that little apartment.”
“You are quite a nag, Becket. I’ll see to it.”
“Up there,” said one of the boys, coming to a halt. He pointed up at a tenement.
“No money until I know he’s there. Which floor?”
“Up the top.”
“Then follow us.”
Harry climbed the stairs to the top of the ramshackle building. “That door,” said the other boy, pointing.
Harry knocked. He heard the sound of slow, shuffling footsteps and then the door opened.
A stooped, grey-haired man opened the door. “Mr George Briggs?” asked Harry.
“Yes, who wants ter know?”
Harry gave a crown to the boys and said, “Run along with you.”
Then he faced George Briggs. “May we come in?”
“You’re not from the police?”
“No.”
“Come in, then.”
The flat consisted of one room with a bed set into a recess. Briggs sank into a battered armchair. “What’s this about?”
“Do you remember Betty Biles?”
“Course I do. Prettiest thing to ever grow out o’ this muck heap.”
“You and your wife witnessed a will she wrote.”
“I’d forgot about that. She come round here with her brother and she was black and blue. Old Biles had taken ‘is belt to her cos she wouldn’t marry Tim Jones. She said she was running away and she was going to be rich and she wanted to make sure anything she got would go to the brother, Jeffrey.”
Harry told him the story of Dolores’s murder. “Poor soul,” said Briggs. “I ‘eard about that. Fancy her brother doing it! They were that close.”
“Jeffrey has hanged himself,” said Harry. “If there is a chance he did not do the murder, who would?”
“Blessed if I know. The only nasty piece o’ work in that girl’s life was her father.”
“What about this Tim Jones?”
“Oh, him. He got a haberdashery down the Mile End Road. But I heard he’d sold it and moved uptown.”
“You don’t know where?”
“Haven’t a clue.”
“What about your wife? Would she know?”
“My Sarah’s been dead this past five years. But you could try round Breem Lane, where he used to live. Maybe someone there would know.”
♦
The fat woman in Breem Lane shouted down to Harry and Becket, “Everyone wants to find Jones today. There was two young ladies asking. Come in a cab.”
“What were they like?” asked Harry.
“There was a cheeky Cockney one and the other was pretty but didn’t say a word. I told ‘em Jones had moved up to Notting Hill – Chepstow Mansions.”
“That must be Rose and Daisy,” said Harry. “We’ll need to hurry.” He called back up to the woman, “When was this?”
“Must ha’ been a couple o’ hours ago.”
“Let’s go,” said Harry urgently. “They could be in danger.”
∨ Our Lady of Pain ∧
Ten
Come away; poverty’s catching
– Aphra Behn
Rose and Daisy located Chepstow Mansions. It was new building of redbrick off the Portobello Road.
“He must have done well out of the sale of his shop to move all the way here,” said Rose.
Inside the hall of the flats, a porter was on duty. Rose asked for Mr Jones. “He won’t be in at the moment, ladies,” said the porter. “You’ll find him at his shop. You can’t miss it. It’s right on the cross.”
They paid off the cabbie and walked up to the cross and there it was: Jones Haberdashery, a double-fronted shop.
“Looks prosperous,” said Rose. “Let’s go in.”
“I’m hungry,” complained Daisy.
“We’ll eat as soon as we’ve seen him.”
Rose pushed open the door of the shop and Daisy followed her in. A stout women in a black dress approached them. “We are just about to close.”
“We’ve come to see Mr Jones. Here is my card.”
The woman took Rose’s card and retreated into the back shop. She returned after a few moments, looking flustered. “I am afraid Mr Jones has left for the night.”
“I’m sure he’s in there,” said Rose when they walked outside.
“You went the wrong way about it. We should have asked about ribbons or something.”
“If he’s an innocent man, the sight of my name wouldn’t frighten him. Oh, look, there’s a tea room across the road. We can have something to eat and drink, and watch and see if he leaves.”
They ordered tea and buttered muffins and sat at a table in the bay of the window. A boy came out and started to put shutters up over the windows. After some time, the woman who had spoken to them left with two other women.
They waited and waited. “I wonder if there’s a back door,” said Rose uneasily.
“Come on,” said Daisy. “We’d better go and look. Can’t sit here all night.”
A narrow lane ran up the side of the shop. This led to another lane along the back of the shops.
“He must have left from the back,” sighed Rose. “Let’s go back to Chepstow Mansions and try him there.”