‘I’m going to take a look around,’ I said to Philip. ‘I shan’t be long. Wait here for me.’
‘Fuck that,’ he retorted cheerfully. ‘If you’re goin’ in, I’m comin’, too. Though why in God’s name you ’ave to go pokin’ around a dirty, smelly old warehouse what’s been left to the rats and mice, I don’t know.’
I didn’t enlighten him and he was just drunk enough not to care about the answer. He followed me inside, tripping noisily over his own two feet and giggling like an idiot as he did so. When he had picked himself up I pressed a hand on his shoulder.
‘Hold hard a bit, while our eyes get accustomed to the darkness.’
He did as he was bid, standing docilely at my side until the gloom began to assume form and shape, revealing the beams overhead and what looked like a ladder for mounting to the second storey in one corner. A couple of barrels stood in the middle of the floor, while a bundle of some sort lay against the farthest wall.
‘Nothin’ ’ere,’ Philip whispered, the quiet of the empty warehouse beginning to affect him.
I, too, felt that it would be desecration to raise my voice and whispered in return, ‘Nevertheless I’ll just look around and make sure.’
I moved forward slowly, the musty smell of damp and disuse strong in my nostrils. Now and then I heard the scurry of a rat or a mouse as it ran for the safety of its hole. In the middle of the room I paused. Philip was right, there was nothing to be found down here and I was just considering whether, without a light, it would be wise to venture up the ladder when the sound of a groan lifted the hairs on the nape of my neck. I spun round and saw that the bundle against the wall was moving. In two strides I had reached it, ignoring Philip’s startled cry of fear, and fallen on my knees. What I had thought to be some abandoned rubbish was in truth the body of a man, and of a man still living.
But not for long. Even as, with trembling hands, I lifted him in my arms, he gave one last, gasping cry and his head lolled backwards. Thaddeus Morgan – for I had not the smallest doubt of his identity – was dead.
I turned my head and looked up to see Philip, his hand over his mouth, the whites of his horrified eyes clearly visible in the gloom, standing beside me. At the same time I realized that my right hand, which was pressed against Thaddeus Morgan’s breast, was growing warm and sticky with what could only be blood. Whoever had killed him had stabbed him and I wondered if the murderer’s weapon might still be lying around somewhere, although it was far more likely that he had taken it with him.
‘For God’s sake come away!’ Philip was urging. ‘Leave the poor devil for the Watch to find. ’S none of our business.’
‘I think I know who he is,’ I said. ‘I want you to do something for me. Go back to the Three Tuns and look for those men who were sitting in the corner. If by some mischance they’ve already gone, search the surrounding streets in the direction of Baynard’s Castle. Tell them Roger the chapman sent you and that it’s urgent they come at once, but make no noise about it. If they show any reluctance, whisper – and I mean whisper – the name of Thaddeus Morgan.’
Philip sniffed. ‘I should’ve remembered you was mixed up in something fishy the last time we met,’ he remarked bitterly. ‘But I didn’ suppose as ’ow you made an ’abit of it. All right! All right! I’ll go. But ’ow c’n I be sure I got the right villains? I didn’ mark ’em all that well, though I could see you was intrigued by ’em.’
‘They’re not villains,’ I said. ‘One’s about your own age, the second’s a youth of seventeen or so and the third, well, you can’t mistake him. His right arm’s in a sling and his left foot is bandaged. He’s using a crutch.’
Philip, despite the fact that he was shaking with fright, gave a crack of laughter. ‘A bit careless like, ain’t ’e? Must be blind, too, I reck’n.’
A moment later, he was gone. I laid down my burden, crossed the floor in his wake and pushed the door nearly shut, leaving myself only the merest crack of light. I wanted no one else attracted to the warehouse. In any case, my eyes were by now so used to the darkness that I was able to move about more or less at my ease. I returned to Thaddeus Morgan and my probing fingers immediately located the wound which had killed him. The knife had entered just below the heart and the fact that he had not died immediately suggested that the blow had been delivered with less force than intended, leaving him to bleed to death.
I laid his body down again and began to prowl around the room, but there was no sign of any weapon. I acknowledged that it had been too much to hope for, but I did find, high on the ledge of one of the shuttered windows, a stump of candle in a holder and a tinder-box. How long they had lain there I did not know, but as the flint was old and the tinder damp, I suspected it must have been for some time; since, probably, the warehouse was abandoned. However, I finally managed to get the candle lit and by its pale radiance was able to inspect my surroundings more closely.
The first thing I noticed was that the dust on the floor was a great deal more disturbed than could be accounted for simply by the presence of Philip and myself. Indeed, in the middle of the room it was badly scuffed, as though there had been a struggle which, I considered, might well have been the case. Thaddeus Morgan, mortally wounded but not yet dead, must have tried to grapple with his attacker as long as he had the strength to do so. This theory was borne out when I took another look at the corpse and noted a contusion on the dead man’s chin where someone had hit him. Knocked unconscious, he had then been dragged back against the wall; and by the flickering light of the candle-flame I could see, here and there, the two lines made by the heels of his boots, now obliterated in places by my own and Philip’s footprints.
Further examination of the body showed me blood on the front right-hand corner of Thaddeus’s jerkin and the material was creased, as though the blade of a knife or dagger had been wiped clean in its folds. Had I been able to see this earlier, it would have saved me a fruitless search. Obviously the killer had taken the murder weapon away with him.
The door creaked open behind me. I at once snuffed the candle and reached for my cudgel, which I had earlier dropped on the floor when making my grisly discovery. But almost immediately I recognized the shapes of the two men who stood framed in the doorway against the fading daylight outside.
‘Come in, Philip,’ I said softly, ‘and bring Timothy Plummer with you. Master Plummer, I think the death of Thaddeus Morgan will be of concern to you.’ The Duke’s man trod across the boards to my side. ‘I see you came alone. Where are your companions?’
‘I’ve instructed Matthew Wardroper to return with his cousin to Baynard’s Castle. Lionel’s in no fit state to endure any more tonight. You note,’ he added sardonically, ‘that I am naming names on the assumption that they are quite likely already known to you. How you come by your knowledge I have no idea, but I certainly intend to find out.’ He knelt down and peered through the gloom at the dead man’s face. ‘Yes. This is indeed Thaddeus Morgan.’ He straightened up and turned to me. ‘You will accompany me to Baynard’s Castle. Now!’
‘And if I refuse?’
‘Then within a few hours you will be arrested and brought there under guard. But I would much rather that that didn’t happen and I’m sure you would prefer it too.’ Timothy Plummer jerked his head in Philip’s direction. ‘Who’s this man? And how much does he know?’
‘I don’ know nothin’!’ Philip exclaimed in terror.
‘He’s telling the truth,’ I affirmed. ‘He has no knowledge of anything beyond the name of this man, and that I had to disclose in case he was unable to persuade you to come with him. If you let him go he’ll not breathe a word to anyone, will you, Philip?’