‘I would prefer to see your face,’ said the disembodied voice suddenly. ‘Why have you sought me out?’
‘I believe that you are the only man who can undertake that which I most desire,’ she replied, ignoring his request to lift her veil.
‘And what is that?’ he enquired, in a voice which she thought sounded both harsh and distracted.
‘To gain my revenge on those who have caused hurt to my family.’
‘A noble sentiment, my dear lady — and why do you think that it is only I who can assist you?’
‘I have learnt much about your activities since your arrival in the city.’ She paused, not knowing whether she had been foolish to disclose so much.
‘Then you must know that I could kill you right now, in this room tonight, and that your body would never be found in the lower depths of the river that runs through this festering city!’
She sensed the anger in his voice, but feeling her own inner pain, quickly replied, ‘But you would be foolish to do so, when you could gain so much.’
He said nothing and she grew anxious. All she could do was to wait, watching the candle flickering in the cold air, casting fleeting shadows on the walls of the room.
‘I have money,’ she said, breaking the unbearable silence.
‘It always comes down to money,’ he sneered.
Quickly reaching into her purse, she took out the small pouch and placed it carefully down upon the table. ‘Ten sovereigns’ she said. ‘And there will be a further twenty when you have carried out what I desire of you.’
‘And what is it exactly that you so desire so much?’
She hesitated for a moment, affronted by the contempt in his voice, but then, leaning forward in her chair, she removed a small piece of folded paper from her purse, which she then placed upon the table. ‘This paper contains the name and address of a certain person’ — she hesitated for a moment — ‘whom I would desire you to kill.’
‘You think I am a common murderer!’ he shouted suddenly.
‘I am sorry. I have made a mistake. I should not have come,’ she said quickly rising from her seat. ‘Please forgive me. It is foolish to proceed.’
‘I have not declined your request,’ said the other reassuringly, and with firmness.
‘But-’ she protested, unsure of whether her mission had succeeded.
‘Twenty sovereigns you said?’
‘Yes’ she replied, regaining her seat.
‘Very well.’
A hand appeared from out of the darkness and took the paper from off the table. He unfolded the sheet and, as he leaned towards the flame to read its words, she thought she caught a brief reflection of the light across his eyes. He gave a grunt of recognition, before tossing the paper down upon the table.
‘You know of her?’ she asked, recovering her composure.
‘I have heard stories, gossip no more. They say she is a common whore. Why would you seek to rid yourself of this person?’
‘There are to be no questions asked,’ she replied, gaining in confidence. ‘You are to be given no further information, you must make no enquiries regarding myself and you must forget that I ever came here tonight. I will return here at the same time next week. If I have read in the newspapers that you have carried out the deed, then you will receive your payment. If I learn that you have failed me, you will see no more of me,’ she said, standing up, indicating that their meeting was at an end.
‘Wait. How do I know that you will not betray me to the authorities?’
‘Because we have need of each other — and because, there will be further work to be undertaken, for which you will be more than amply rewarded.’
‘There will be others?’ he enquired.
‘Yes. There will be others.’
She walked quickly across the room, anxious to quit the darkened space as soon as possible, now that he had accepted her payment.
He watched her close the door behind her and listened to the sound of her boots on the steps as she made her way down the flight. Then he opened the paper once more and looked down at the name he saw there-
MARY ANN NICHOLS. WHITE HOUSE. FLOWER AND DEAN STREET.
— then, bringing it towards the candle, he allowed himself a brief smile as the flame quickly consumed the words.
CHAPTER ONE
WORCESTER — SEPTEMBER 1888
The church clock struck the hour of eleven as Nicholas Evelyn made his way between the rows of old houses that formed the area known as the Shambles in the city of Worcester, drawing his long coat closer around himself despite the late warmth of the summer evening.
He had known this street all his life, and in those sixty-two years it had seemed to change very little. By day the traders spread out their wares before their premises and the place was alive with the sounds of argument, transaction and vulgarity. In the evenings there seemed little alteration, for although the shopkeepers closed up their places of work and retired to their living quarters on the floors above, the area took on a more aggressive, unsure aspect with its late night revellers, and women of dubious certainty who called out to their prospective clients from dimmed doorways. Nicholas had long learnt to avoid the former, whilst the latter had long since learnt to ignore him.
Nicholas continued on his way, down the narrow passageway that opened up into a wider road, passing the music shop on his left and the old inn on his right, before the cathedral came into view. He paused momentarily to look upwards at the great building, as he had done so in the same place for the past forty-five years, and felt humbled once more by its magnificence and its mystery. A few minutes ago he had sat writing in his rooms near the old Cornmarket, straining to see the letters in the dim light, and taking sips from his tankard of ale as if trying to give himself the courage that he knew would shortly be required of him.
He made his way across the grass towards the building, but instead of entering by the door immediately in front of him, he slipped quietly to the side, letting the darkness conceal his presence. It was important that tonight — above all others — that he should not be seen by anyone either entering or leaving such a place.
Eventually he reached the side door of the cathedral and, after glancing over his shoulder to see that he had not been followed, he pushed gently on the wooden panels. For a moment the door failed to yield, and the sudden realization that he would perhaps be unable to carry out his mission made his heart beat faster — but then he applied more pressure and was relieved to see that the ancient woodwork move slowly inwards, creaking as it did so.
He stepped inside, and stood silent for a moment, listening for any sound that might indicate that his arrival had been observed, and so that his eyes could adjust to the dim lights on the wall in the distance. Reassured that all was well, he turned around and closed the door behind him.
Keeping to the areas of darkness at the side of the building, he made his way step by step towards the small side chapel, his ears straining to hear the words of prayer. He knew that Brother Jonus would be offering up his words of penitence, as he did every night at this same hour and, as he came nearer he was almost relieved to learn that the familiar ritual had not been broken. There was the solitary monk kneeling before the altar, his hands clasped before him, a single candle casting light on the gold cross that stood on the table.
Nicholas pulled his hat closer over his forehead and slipped past the chapel, keeping his eyes in the other’s direction, listening for any indication that he had been detected, but the monk continued with his prayers, and he knew that all was well and he could proceed with his undertaking.
Reaching the end of the building, he paused beneath the hissing gas lamp on the wall. Knowing that he would need light to make his way upwards, he took one of the candles from the offertory table and lit it from another that had almost burnt its course. Then, turning the corner, he found the door to the staircase he was looking for and began to make his way up the stone steps, holding the candle before him to light his way lest he stumble in the darkness. Although he knew that he would have almost another hour before the monks would enter the cathedral to conduct the midnight mass, he was anxious to proceed as quickly as possible.