“Yes, oh yes, what is it, Jeremy?”
“It also occurred to me that if we could find the booty, we could also very likely find those who had stolen it. But beyond looking at those known to be fences up in Field Lane, I know not where to inquire, nor to whom.”
“Yes, well, to search in Field Lane you would need someone who knew the stolen items by sight — the butler would do if you can locate him again. Didn’t he make up some sort of list of stolen items?”
“I believe he did.”
“But in truth,” he continued, “I am not sure that you are likely to turn up anything in Field Lane. A theft of such enormity could hardly be handled by any one of the fences there — nor even perhaps all of them together. They are at best rather small enterprises. Disposing of Lady Lilley’s jewels, for instance, would be quite beyond them. Jewels are rather special.”
With that he paused a goodly pause, leaned his head back on the pillow, and gave prolonged thought to the matter. Only thereafter did he resume.
“This may surprise you, Jeremy, but regarding the jewels, you might best talk with Mr. Moses Martinez.”
“The accountant?”
“Ah well, he is that among other things — sometimes an investor and sometimes a banker, and sometimes a financial adviser. But with all else, he is a Jew, and the Jews do largely control the market for precious stones in Amsterdam. I mean in no wise to implicate Mr. Martinez in the theft, nor in the fencing of what was stolen, but he has contacts there in the diamond district and if he were to make some discreet inquiries …”
“I see. Indeed I shall do that, sir.”
“And as for the rest of the goods taken the other night, why not go to Lloyd’s Coffee House and ask Mr. Humber about them?”
“Mr. Alfred Humber? Truly? What would he know about such matters as this?”
“Mr. Humber knows a good deal about many things,” said Sir John somewhat mysteriously. “Just try him and see if he has anything to offer. That should keep you busy, eh, lad?”
I agreed that it would and rose from my chair to depart.
“Just one more matter,” said he, holding me there at his bedside. “Are you absolutely certain that the man who shot at me there in St. James Street was black?”
“Well,” said I, somewhat at a loss, “as sure as I can be about most things. That is to say, we were beneath the streetlamp, and he was not. And when he appeared I was greatly distracted, trying to push you out of the way while also attempting to get a shot off at him. Nevertheless, in spite of all that, I retain a picture of him, and that picture is of a black man — an African.”
“All right,” said he, “I accept what you say — I must. Yet I cannot think for the life of me what black man I might so have offended that he would wish to kill me.” He sighed; the matter did truly trouble him. “But on your way now. Report to me when you have something to report. And not before.”
Thus the day passed rather quickly. In no more than a few minutes, I had been given much to do: at least a day’s work, and more likely two or three. I liked it well that he had left the execution of the tasks to me. As soon as Annie returned at mid-morning, I set off at quick march to the office of Moses Martinez in Leadenhall Street in the City of London. The only difficulty I experienced there was that which I had foreseen, and Sir John had more or less foretold. I well recall the incredulous and hurt expression Mr. Martinez wore upon his face as I told him that Sir John hoped he might be of some aid in tracing jewels of Lady Lilley ‘s, stolen from the Lilley residence the night before last.
“Surely he does not believe that I had something — anything at all — to do with that monstrous robbery!”
“Indeed he does not,” said I, in what I meant to be a most reassuring tone. “He values your friendship highly, and I myself have heard him commend you to others as the most honest of men.”
At that, Mr. Martinez seemed appropriately relieved. “Very well then,” said he. “What might I do for you?”
“Sir John thought only that perhaps through your contacts with those in the gem trade in Amsterdam, you might be of some help in this matter.”
“Ah, indeed, perhaps I might. What is the value of these jewels?”
“Upwards to ten thousand pounds.”
“Indeed? Well, in that case, they would almost have to be sold off in Amsterdam. Give me a few days, young man — enough time to make some inquiries — and perhaps I shall have some information for you and good Sir John.” With that, I said a polite goodbye and ran toward the river for Lloyd’s Coffee House.
My business there with Mr. Alfred Humber was even more quickly executed. I found him seated at his usual table in the room, which even at that early hour was dense with tobacco smoke. His hands were folded over his protuberant middle, and his eyes were heavy-lidded in such a way that he seemed to be napping as a fat old tabby would do. George, his ever-present assistant, sat at the table with him; he had grown from the rag-tag errand boy I had first met to a sleek young underwriter who showed only disdain for lads like me. No matter; we ignored one another as I sat down and sought Mr. Humber’s attention.
“Well,” said he to me, rousing himself from his somnolent pose, “what will you with me today, young Mr. Proctor?”
“Information, Mr. Humber. Sir John suggested that I come to you in this matter of a great theft which occurred night before last. All manner of valuables were taken: paintings, silver settings, plates, even jewels. There is some question of where these goods might be disposed of. He suggested you might have some idea.”
“He did! I wonder how he might have come by such a notion as that!” Then light did flicker in those sleepy eyes and a smile spread cross those hanging jowls. “But wait,” said he, “perhaps I do have an idea or two about that — something I discussed some time ago with Jack. Dear God, he does have a long memory.”
I leaned forward eagerly, wishing to miss none of what was to follow. Yet, there was nothing to miss.
“Yes, indeed,” said he, “but I fear you’ll have to wait. It will take a day or two at least to talk with everyone. And to be sure, I must talk to them all. Come tomorrow — or perhaps the day after would be better.”
I sighed. “Whatever you say, sir.” With which I rose, offered my thanks, and took my leave. Only then did I receive so much as a glance from George. I replied with a sneer.
And so I managed to return to Number 4 Bow Street, just in time to strap on the brace of pistols and take my place at the courtroom door as Sir John rapped upon the table and called his magistrate’s court to order. Again, what followed was more or less uneventful, and I praised God for that. The session did, however, go on a bit longer than the usual; by the end of it he was visibly depleted, his face pale with exhaustion. He waited until the last of the spectators had left. I shut the door on them and barred it, and then did I come forward to assist Mr. Marsden in bringing the magistrate to his feet. He rose easily enough and kept his feet solid beneath him, but when he walked toward the door and on to the stairs, he moved at a slow plodding pace. Joined there at the stairway by Mr. Fuller, we undertook to move him to the quarters up above in the same manner we had employed the day before: I moving ahead of Sir John, who trailed me with his hand on my shoulder; Mr. Marsden and Mr. Fuller brought up the rear, ready to catch him should he fall.
Thus we brought him as far as his bedroom, where we sat him upon his bed and helped him out of his coat. Kicking off his shoes, he threw his feet upon the bed and, in breeches and waistcoat, eased himself back upon the two pillows that I had prepared for him. I nodded at the two men who had helped bring him to his bed, and they backed silently out the door. There, a moment later, Annie appeared.
“Can I bring you something, Sir John?” she asked. “Anything at all?”
“Annie? Why yes, child. A nice, hot cup of tea would suit me well.”