When they got there he excused himself and went straight to the desk sergeant. “Do you know where Inspector Tellman is?” he asked, trying to keep the panic out of his voice.
“Yes sir,” the man replied immediately. It was clear in his face that he had seen the newspapers and his concern was genuine, and more than that, sympathetic. He had known Pitt many years, and he believed what he knew, not what he read. “’E said as ’e were goin’ ter see some o’ that spirit medium’s other clients. ’E said as if yer was ter come by for any reason an’ ask, sir, as I was ter tell yer where ’e wos.” He regarded Pitt anxiously and produced a list of addresses written on a sheet torn from a notebook.
Pitt gave a prayer of thanks for Tellman’s intelligence, then thanked the desk sergeant so sincerely the man colored with pleasure.
Back in the carriage, weak with mounting relief, he showed the paper to Vespasia and asked her if she would rather be taken home before he began to follow the trail.
“Certainly not!” she said briskly. “Please get on with it!”
Tellman had already checked on Lena Forrest’s story of visiting her friend in Newington and found that she had indeed been there, although Mrs. Lightfoot had only the vaguest ideas of time. Now he was retracing his steps with Maude Lamont’s other clients simply in the vague hope of learning something more about her methods which might lead him to Cartouche. He had little expectation of success, but he must appear to Wetron to be following it with urgency. Previously he had regarded Wetron as no more than the man who had replaced Pitt, by chance more than design. He resented him for it, but knew that it was not Wetron’s fault. Someone had to take the position. He did not like Wetron; his personality seemed to be calculating and too remote from the emotions of anger and pity that Tellman was used to in Pitt. But then whoever it had been would not have pleased him.
Now he suddenly perceived Wetron in an entirely different way. He was not a colorless career officer; he was a dangerous enemy to be regarded in an acutely personal light. Any man who could rise to leadership in the Inner Circle was brave, ruthless and extremely ambitious. He was also clever enough to have outwitted even Voisey, or he would be no threat to him. Only a fool would leave any act or word unguarded.
Therefore, Tellman set about appearing to pursue Cartouche, after having left a list of the places he would be with the desk sergeant, in case Pitt should want him for anything to do with the real issues that mattered.
He was listening to a Mrs. Drayton recounting her last séance, which had produced manifestations so dramatic as to astound Maude Lamont herself, when the butler interrupted them to say that a Mr. Pitt had called to see Mr. Tellman and the matter was so urgent that he regretted it could not await their convenience.
“Send him in,” Mrs. Drayton said before Tellman could excuse himself to leave.
The butler naturally obeyed, and a moment later Pitt was in the room looking white-faced and hardly able to keep still.
“Really completely remarkable, Mr. Tellman,” Mrs. Drayton said enthusiastically. “I mean, Miss Lamont had not expected such a display herself! I could see the amazement in her face, even fear.” Her voice rose with excitement. “It was at that moment that I absolutely, truly knew she had the power. I confess I had wondered once or twice before if it could have been faked, but this wasn’t. The look in her eyes was proof to me.”
“Yes, thank you, Mrs. Drayton,” Tellman said rather abruptly. It all seemed terribly unimportant now. They had found the lever on the table, a simple mechanical trick. He stared at Pitt, knowing that something of great and terrible urgency had happened.
“Excuse me, Mrs. Drayton,” Pitt said, his voice husky. “I am afraid I require Inspector Tellman to undertake something else . . . now.”
“Oh . . . but . . .” she began.
Pitt probably had no intention of dismissing her, but he was beyond the point of patience. “Thank you, Mrs. Drayton. Good day.”
Tellman followed him outside and saw Vespasia’s carriage at the curb, and the glimpse of her profile inside.
“Voisey knows where Charlotte and the family are.” Pitt could contain himself no longer. “He named the village.”
Tellman felt the sweat break out on his body and his chest tighten until he could hardly breathe. He cared about Charlotte, of course he did, but if Voisey sent anyone after Charlotte it would mean Gracie would be hurt as well, and it was the thought of that which filled his mind and drenched him with horror. The idea of Gracie hurt, crushed . . . the specter of a world without her was so terrible he could not bear it. It was as if happiness would never again be possible.
He heard Pitt’s voice as if from miles away. He was holding out something in his hand.
“I wish you to go down to Devon, today, now, and take them somewhere safe.”
Tellman blinked. It was money Pitt was giving him. “Yes!” he said, grasping it. “But I don’t know where they are!”
“Harford,” Pitt replied. “Take the Great Western as far as Ivybridge. From there it’s only a couple of miles to Harford. It’s a small village. Ask and you’ll find them. You’d better take them to one of the nearby towns, where you’ll be anonymous. Find lodgings where there are lots of other people. And . . . stay with them, at least until after the election results for Voisey. It won’t be very long.” He knew what he was asking, and what it might cost Tellman when Wetron found out, and he asked anyway.
“Right,” Tellman agreed. It did not even occur to him to question it. He took the money, then climbed into the carriage beside Vespasia, and as soon as Pitt was in also, they drove to the railway terminus for the Great Western. With the briefest farewell, Tellman was on his way to purchase his ticket and get onto the next train.
It was a nightmare journey simply because it seemed to take forever. Mile after mile of countryside rattled past the windows of the carriage. The sun began to sink in the west and the late-afternoon light deepened, and still they were nowhere near their destination.
Tellman stood up and stretched his cramped legs, but there was nothing to do except sway, adjusting his weight and balance, watch the hills and valleys steepen and then flatten out again, then sit down and wait longer.
He had not stopped to pack clean shirts or socks or linen. In fact, he did not even have a razor, a comb, or a toothbrush. None of that mattered; it was just easier to think of the small things than of the larger ones. How would he defend them if Voisey sent someone to attack them? What if when he got there they were already gone? How would he find them? That was too terrible to bear, and yet he could not drive it from his thoughts.
He stared out of the window. Surely they were in Devon by now? They had been traveling for hours! He noticed how red the earth was, quite unlike the soil around London that he was used to. The land looked vast, and in the distance ahead, even in high summer, there was something forbidding about it. The tracks stretched over the graceful span of a viaduct. For a moment the sheer daring of having built such a thing amazed him. Then he realized the train was slowing, they were reaching a station.
Ivybridge! This was it. At last! He threw the door open and almost tripped in his haste to reach the platform. The evening light was long, shadows stretching two and three times the length of the objects that cast them. The horizon to the west burned in a blaze of color so brilliant it hurt his eyes to look at it. When he turned away he was blinded.
“Can I help you, sir?”
He blinked and swiveled around. He was facing a man in the extremely smart uniform of a stationmaster, and who obviously took his position with great seriousness.
“Yes!” Tellman said urgently. “I have to get to Harford as soon as possible. Within the next half hour. It is an emergency. I must hire a vehicle of some sort, and have the use of it for a day at least. Where can I begin?”