Chapter 7 #3
I could only guess at part of it. That part Brodie and I had uncovered at the residence at St. John’s Wood. Unfortunately, not uncommon. Even my friend Templeton had her relationships and affairs that she had proclaimed in a somewhat heated moment.
‘I am not proud, but these things are necessary for some of us who are not born to wealth...’ She had stopped and looked at me and apologized. She did realize that my own situation, in spite of what I had been born to, had been quite precarious, if not for Aunt Antonia.
And now? Someone not so unlike Templeton, who was obviously in danger.
Completely unexpected, she produced a thick brown envelope and thrust it at me.
“He said that if anything happened, I was to see that this reached you.”
The sound of a coach approached. I heard the sharp breath she took as she cringed back into the seat of our coach, then slowly relaxed as it passed by.
“What is this?” I asked.
“Papers. There are drawings as well. I don’t understand them, but I know they are important. They spoke of it many times.”
They. Men she had entertained and now hoped to escape?
“Do not open it now. Perhaps Mr. Brodie will understand what they are. There is a letter as well, in German. I do not know what it says, but it is all very secret, and the reason they chose the house at St. John’s Wood.”
Where these people might come and go and not cause any suspicion? That seemed obvious.
I tucked the envelope into my bag.
“What will you do now?” I asked.
“I cannot return to the inn. There was a man who came and asked for me—he is German.
Was it Steiner?
I thought of the man who was seen at the Old Bell the night Burke was killed, and then again when Brodie was attacked.
“I had seen the man before,” Adele continued. “At the house at St. John’s Wood. I did not care for him. He was very...dangerous.
“The owner at the inn told him that I had left,” she continued. One of the customers spoke of an attack at the pub.
“I had gone to purchase a newspaper, hoping to learn something, as I had not heard from Mr. Burke. When I learned that the one with the thick German accent had asked about me, I knew that I had to leave.”
She had entertained these men, perhaps including Steiner, and in the process had learned something that terrified her. Something revealed in that thick package.
I reached across the aisle of the coach and squeezed her hand.
“You went to Mr. Burke.”
She nodded. “He could be very difficult, but I knew his reputation. That he had exposed certain things.”
Difficult didn’t begin to describe him.
“He said that he had worked with you. That you knew people you could tell this to, and that if anything happened...”
He had arranged for her to stay at the George and had paid for it, another surprise.
Then, when she heard the rumors that he had been attacked, she was afraid that it was only a matter of time until the same people found her, and she left.
“Where will you go now?”
“There are rooms near the Adelphi where those in the plays stay. I will stay there until I can find a way to leave.”
I was familiar with the apartments and flats near the Adelphi Theatre from a previous inquiry.
If Steiner had managed to find her at the George, it would be easy enough to find her in a flat near the theatre—a new face, the French accent, and then...
“You cannot go there,” I replied, certain of it. “You will stay here for the night and then we will figure out what is to be done next.”
“I cannot! They will find me! Steiner...!”
There was one thing I could assure her.
“You will be safe for the night,” I repeated. “Mr. Brodie was once with the Metropolitan Police and has lived on the street. He will be returning soon, and he is the one person I would trust with my own life.” And had, more than once.
“There is also the hound. His name is Rupert. He doesn’t like strangers and can be quite fierce.” He was also quite fond of sponge cake, but I did not go into that either.
“You will be far safer here than in a room near the theatre.” Where her location would undoubtedly be revealed by anyone for a bit of small change.
At least there was someone here to protect her.
I was eventually able to persuade her, and we stepped down from the coach. I paid the driver and sent him on his way.
The traffic was thin on the Strand. The hound bounded across toward the alcove on the opposite side. I slipped that bound package into my bag and retrieved the revolver.
In the glow of light from a nearby streetlamp, I saw the surprise in the expression on Adele DeMille’s face with the obvious question.
“I do know how to use it,” I assured her and we crossed the Strand together.
As we reached the other side, I simply explained to Mr. Cavendish that Adele was a client.
“Has there been any word from Mr. Brodie?”
“Not as yet, miss,” he replied with a curious glance at her. Yet he made no comment. Not that he wasn’t quite used to various people we worked with arriving at the office.
“Please keep watch,” I replied. “And do make it known if anyone arrives.”
He glanced at the revolver that I held at my side and nodded his understanding.
“You might keep Rupert with you,” I said in parting.
He had an uncanny instinct about people and would be the first to sound the alarm. With that, Adele and I climbed the stairs to the office on the second floor.
Once there, I locked and bolted the door and drew the shades down over the windows. I then took a chair from the side table where we met with clients and braced it under the handle.
I then laid the revolver on Brodie’s desk. It sat across from the entrance, and if necessary, provided the best angle, as he had explained when I had suggested that we move it across from mine to accommodate other furnishings.
‘It is best where it is, between myself and the other room, if there should be a need. And it provides a look through the window at anyone who might not be invited.’
I did see his point. It was that particular aspect of his inquiry business—it could be dangerous.
“You live here?” Adele asked as she glimpsed the adjacent bedchamber through the doorway.
“For now,” I replied and did not go into details about the loss of the townhouse to fire in another case. That might have been unnerving under the circumstances.
I had her remove her coat and hat, then went to the coal stove. I added several pieces of coal, lit it, then returned to Brodie’s desk.
The package lay there as well. It was tempting, but she had asked that I not open it. I respected her request. For now.
When coffee had bubbled and simmered sufficiently, I poured two cups. It did smell quite bracing. I handed one to Adele.
She wrapped her hands around the cup and took a sip. “It is good, as I like it. And hot. I am very cold.”
Adele DeMille was either a very convincing liar, or...
“Who are these people?” I inquired after some time had passed and I had filled both our cups once more.
She provided a physical description of three gentlemen who were the most frequent ‘guests.’ Hosts she described them, for their meetings. When others arrived, she was sent upstairs and not allowed to leave until everyone had gone.
The three who were there most often appeared to all be well educated. The others, one in particular, had a foreign accent. He was German.
And then there was Steiner.
“He was very cruel.” She had set her cup down at the edge of the desk. “He came to my room. He wanted what the others took. He said that since he worked for them, it was a business arrangement.”
There was no need for her to go into details. It was there in the anger and defiance in the expression at her face.
“And when he was through, he beat me. And then did this.” She eased the neck at the bodice of her gown aside and revealed a gruesome scar of a wound barely healed.
It was the mark of a wolf’s head! She'd been branded!
“He wears it on a ring on his hand,” she added as tears slipped down her cheek. “It excites him to use it.” She looked at me then.
“Is it a sin? What I have done with these men? And now Mr. Burke is dead.” Her hands were clenched tight, folded before her.
How to answer that? There were so many things people did to one another. Part of the harsh reality I had learned in the inquiry cases Brodie and I took. And now a question from a young woman, perhaps not so very different from myself.
Had I sinned when I had shot a woman in that first case? I thought not, considering what she had done.
I reached out and squeezed her hands.
“I think it is not a sin, when one is trying to survive. And you are not responsible for Burke’s death. That belongs to another.”
And Burke’s own ambitions? Perhaps.
I rose and went to the safe Brodie had purchased and had brought to the office. For confidential papers that related to our inquiries, and money that he insisted we keep there, rather than at the bank.
Along with a handful of documents that included the title to the building, the signed registry certificate from when we married. And perhaps the thing that meant most to him—the plain bronze ring of his mother’s that she always wore and had given to him before she died.
“It is most precious to me, this simple bit of paper,” he said at the time, holding aloft the certificate. “A memory that I will always carry. It is wot it means, and the words ye spoke with me.”
For a man who rarely showed any emotion or shared his thoughts, I was completely undone in the moment.
I had learned to handle myself with his stubbornness, that Scots temper, and his criticism over something that he was usually maddeningly correct about. But that moment...
I went to the safe, opened it, and retrieved the envelope with that gold button. I showed it to her, with that emblem identical to the mark on her shoulder.
“Where did you find this?”
“In your room at the house at St. John’s Wood. I found it on the floor.”
She slowly nodded as she held it.
“The one man lost it the last time...”
There was no need for her to say more—a man who had treated her as what he had paid for. A hostess for his friends, an actress to play a role and ask no questions, and of course...the rest of it.
“What are their names?” I asked.
How powerful were these men? And what were the meetings that were held there with them? And of course, the man known as Steiner.
She shook her head. “I never knew their real names. They called each other by other names—Sir Torch, Mr. Hammer, and Sir Saber. As if it were some child’s game.”
We were both startled by the sound of the bell at the landing. It ended abruptly followed by the sound of heavy steps on the stairs, and then someone at the door.
I reached for the small Webley revolver, held it with both hands, steady as I took aim at the door.
“Go into the other room,” I told Adele. “Do it now!”
A key in the lock, a curse...and that thick Scots accent.
I pulled the chair back, and the door abruptly opened.
Brodie stared at the revolver in my hands.
“Bloody hell! Put the thing down before ye shoot someone.”
That was the idea—however, not the irate Scot who stood in the doorway.
Mr. Conner grinned as he came up behind Brodie. “Always good to be prepared. Is that coffee I smell?”