Hammersmith moved away into the darkness of the cave and Day followed him. He felt about until he encountered what seemed to be a leg. He grabbed it and pulled. Hammersmith had the other leg and together they dragged the unconscious man across the dirt floor until they had him under the trapdoor above. A minute later, an end of the makeshift linen rope was tossed back down and they tied it under the injured man’s arms.
“Well, if your dancing man can’t handle the weight, better he should drop this load than either of us,” Hammersmith said. “I wouldn’t mind seeing this one take a bit more punishment after what he put that boy through.”
“Who is he?”
“I think he’s the tailor’s coachman. Regardless, he’s good with a knife.”
Day glanced at Hammersmith’s wounded arm. “Kingsley’s up there, too.”
“You brought nearly everyone.”
“We do seem to have converged. Good thing. Although we’ve misplaced Mr Blacker.”
“I’m afraid I have no idea where he went. I fell asleep and he was gone when I woke up.”
“He’ll turn up or I’ll find him when I find the tailor. Time’s of the essence, so I’m afraid I need to leave you here. The doctor’ll wrap you up and I’ll have a carriage take you to hospital.”
The coachman’s inert body jerked, then rose smoothly up and away. The two men watched the soles of his shoes until they were reeled through the bottom of the cabinet.
“This arm isn’t going to kill me,” Hammersmith said. “I’m not done until we find the man who put this all in motion.”
“Rest assured, I won’t fail to catch him.”
“I have no doubt of that. But it’s a bit personal for me now. If you don’t mind, I’ll stick it out.”
The end of the rope hit the ground in front of them again. Day picked it up and pulled it around Hammersmith’s waist.
“First, Kingsley takes a look at that arm,” Day said. “If he says it’s all right, then I’ll be glad of your company.”
Hammersmith nodded. He rose into the air and disappeared from view the same way the other two had gone. Day looked around him at the empty black cave and shook his head. It was amazing what they’d all gone through in the past three days.
He stepped back as the end of the rope descended once more.
98
Kingsley talked to Day while he wrapped Hammersmith’s arm.
“The marks on the shears match the marks on the sewing machine,” he said. “I’m confident that the tailor’s your man.”
“But how to find him?” Day said. “He’s not here, we don’t know where he lives, and he knows now that we’re on to him. We have no idea where he’s gone to ground.”
“I know where he lives.”
The three men turned at the sound of Fenn’s voice. The boy was standing at the door of the shop, hiding behind one of Henry Mayhew’s massive legs.
“Will you write his address for us?” Day said.
“I don’t know his address,” Fenn said. “But I can show you where he lives.”
“We wouldn’t ask that of you,” Hammersmith said.
Day looked at him, eyes wide, but Hammersmith shook his head.
“You never have to see that man again,” he said.
“I don’t have to see him to show you his house,” Fenn said. “I don’t mind. Really. Just don’t let him take me again.”
“There is no chance of that,” Day said. “If you’re sure you’re up for it, we’ll go for a carriage ride.”
“What should we do with him?” Kingsley pointed at the unconscious coachman.
“We’ll tie him up and send someone round for him,” Day said. “We don’t want him near the boy if he wakes.”
“Fenn stays in the carriage at all times,” Hammersmith said.
“We’ll do even better than that. Once he points the place out, you and I go after Cinderhouse and Dr Kingsley takes the boy away. We won’t put him in danger for even a moment.”
“I’ll take him to my laboratory,” Kingsley said. “It will be safe there, and my daughter would be delighted to entertain him until you can catch this fellow and take the boy home.”
Hammersmith looked at Fenn. The boy nodded and Hammersmith smiled at him.
“You’re a brave lad,” he said.
99
Day and Hammersmith stood on the curb and watched until the carriage had rolled out of sight. Once they were sure that Kingsley, Fenn, and Henry Mayhew were safely away, they turned and approached the big house. It was a tidy two-story home, well looked after, nothing ominous about it at all. Day imagined it rented for upward of forty pounds a year, more than his own house in Kentish Town.
The front door was locked, but Hammersmith found a window at the side of the house that had been jimmied.
“When do you think that was done?” Day asked.
“Looks fresh to me.”
“That’s what I was thinking as well. Pried open some time after the rain.”
Hammersmith nodded and drew his club from its belt loop. His injured arm hung useless at his side, but he looked determined and Day was glad to have him there. Day held up a hand and, with his Colt drawn, he sat on the sill and maneuvered himself through the window and into the house. He crept through a dark drawing room to the front door and opened it. Hammersmith was waiting on the other side. He stepped through, quietly closing the door behind him, and the two men made their way through the rooms at the front of the house without finding a sign of the tailor.
They split up at the staircase. Hammersmith slid through an open arch, headed toward the rooms at the back of the house, while Day edged up the stairs to the next floor. He poked cautiously through every doorway until he was certain he was alone upstairs. Then he put his gun away and went back through the rooms, more carefully this time, hoping to find some evidence.
At the end of a hallway, near the water closet, there was a small bedroom. The window had been barred. He approached it and looked out. The top of a retaining wall was directly under the windowsill, and beyond that, a tall tree. Day put his cheek to the bars. There was nothing in the yard except an old carriage house that looked like it might fall down the next time it rained. He sniffed and pulled his head back. The iron bars cast a long shadow across the bed. There were leather straps on both sides of the bed and a coil of rope hung loose at the foot of it. Day tested one of the straps and it came loose. The strap looked new, and Day guessed that it had been purchased to replace the rope, but had not yet been installed or used.
He looked around. A straight-backed wooden chair sat in the corner. He approached the chair and squinted at the dark shape lying across the seat. He went to the door and shouted out into the hall.
“Hammersmith, have you found anything?”
Hammersmith’s voice came back, surprisingly close to the staircase. “Nothing. You?”
“Up here.”
Day stepped back into the room. Hammersmith’s footsteps clattered up the stairs, and Day heard him checking the rooms along the hall.
“Back here.”
A moment later Hammersmith joined him. “What is it? Not the tailor.”
“No, he seems to be out. But look at this.” He pointed at the chair.
“A riding crop?” Hammersmith said.
“What is a riding crop doing in a bedroom?” Day said.
“I shudder to think.”
“Yes, but where might you be more likely to find a riding crop?”
“I don’t follow you.”
Day pointed to the window and Hammersmith looked out into the yard. He turned back to Day.
“A carriage house.”
“Let’s go.”
100
There was a thump-thump-thump on the stairs, and Mrs Flanders put aside her book. She hurried to the door and stepped into the hall in time to see one of the disguised policemen, the one with the bushy black beard, struggling through the downstairs door to the street. He was carrying something bulky wrapped up in a blanket. She scurried down the stairs and caught the door before it closed.