Chapter 41
Early the next morning, Sebastian sent for his tiger. “Any luck with the gray-coated man from the Rising Sun?” he asked the boy.
“Yes and no,” said Tom. “Turns out ’e’s a real piece o’ work, that Castle.
That’s ’is name, ye know: John Castle. From what I’m hearing, ’e’s a bigamist what was mixed up wit some brothel over in Soho before ’e and a friend started runnin’ a nasty scheme where they’d pretend t’ help French prisoners of war escape, only to then turn ’em in for the reward. ”
“Lovely,” said Sebastian. “Any indication he might be working for the Home Office?”
“Well, I’ve found some coves who think he might be a spy, but I can’t say for certain yet that ’e is.
They’ve had enough of their mates sent t’ prison an’ worse because o’ government spies that they’re a suspicious lot—leastwise, the smart ones are.
” He paused. “Ye want I should keep workin’ on it? ”
Sebastian nodded. “See if you can find out more. But remember to be careful. This Castle sounds more dangerous than I’d realized.”
“I assume you’ve heard the results of Lord Wilcox’s autopsy?” said Sir Henry Lovejoy a short time later as he and Sebastian wandered the rows of stalls in Covent Garden Market.
“I have, yes,” said Sebastian, looking over at him. “No surprises.”
“No; none.” Lovejoy fell silent, his gaze on the raucous, bustling crowd around them, his features troubled.
Sebastian said, “The Chief Magistrate is still determined to pin these killings on the Spenceans?”
Lovejoy nodded grimly. “He is, yes; now more than ever. And this is despite our having received new information to the effect that Toole and his friends were involved in an angry confrontation near the Rotunda down in Southwark just days before Keebles’s death.
There may be nothing to it, of course. But I would prefer to ascertain the particulars of the incident before we move against someone else. ”
“An angry confrontation with whom?” said Sebastian, more sharply than he’d intended.
“We don’t know precisely. The costermonger who told us of the incident was inclined to believe the man involved was some sort of foreigner, but who knows? The truth is, anyone with a heavy Welsh or Lancashire accent is likely to sound like a foreigner to a Cockney.”
“Have you asked Theo Bridgewood about it?”
“We have. He claims not to remember the incident. But to be honest, I’m not convinced we should believe him.” He looked over at Sebastian. “You haven’t heard of such an episode?”
“No,” said Sebastian evenly. “No, I have not.”
Sebastian found Herr Friedrich Accum at the Gas Light and Coke Company plant off Great Peter Street in Westminster.
The German was deep in conversation with a tall, gangly engineer in an oil-smeared smock, with both men shouting to be heard over the clanging of the surrounding machinery.
Then Accum nodded to his workman and walked over to where Sebastian stood watching the operation of the plant.
“My apologies for keeping you vaiting, my lord,” said the German with a precise bow. “This is an honor; a great honor, indeed. Have you seen a gasvorks before?”
“I have not,” said Sebastian, letting his gaze drift over the array of cylinders and pipes. “It’s fascinating.”
“Come, you must allow me to give you a brief tour.”
They walked along rows of roaring furnaces with red-hot cast-iron cylinders and vats of lime while Accum talked of retorts and water traps and hydrogen gas.
“Did you know that ze first pipes vere made from ze barrels of old muskets?” he said, smiling.
“It’s not exactly beating our swords into plowshares, but very similar, yes? ”
“No, I didn’t know. It’s all quite extraordinary,” said Sebastian.
Accum’s smile widened. “Soon there vill be thousands of such plants all across Britain. Not only does gas produce brighter light than oil lamps or candles, but it does so at a quarter of ze cost. Ze theaters are planning to begin converting to gaslight soon. Someday, not only our streets and factories but even our houses vill be illuminated by gas. More people will be able to read at night, vhich is a good thing, yes? And ve vill be able to use it to cook and heat our homes as vell.”
When Sebastian remained silent, Accum huffed a soft laugh and said, “You don’t believe so?”
“Frankly, I don’t know enough about it to have an informed opinion. But I must admit that the potential for deadly explosions gives me pause.”
“Ze potential is real, yes. But you must remember that gas uses no vick, creates no smoke, and gives off no dangerous sparks, so in some vays it is safer. And ve vill get better at controlling it.”
“Hopefully.”
The German laughed. Then he shook his head, his amusement fading as they turned to walk along the river. “But I assume you did not come to see me today to discuss ze future of gas, did you, my lord? It is because of vhat has been happening to those nasty young men, yes?”
“I’m afraid it is, yes. I’m hearing you had another run-in with them. In Southwark, this time.”
Accum made no attempt to deny it. “Yah, they came to one of my lectures at ze Rotunda. I suspect their aim vas to disrupt things, but fortunately I saw them vhile they were still outside and recognized them.”
“What did you do?”
“I vent out and confronted them.”
“Impressive,” said Sebastian.
Accum looked at him in surprise. “You think so?”
“One against five? Yes.”
Accum shrugged. “I told them I had instructed ze ushers not to admit them.” He paused. “They did not take that vell.”
“No, I wouldn’t imagine they did.”
“Ze most obnoxious one—Bridgewood—laughed, knocked off my hat, and informed me they did vhat they vanted, vhen they vanted.”
“So what did you do?”
“I pulled my pistol on him.”
Whatever Sebastian had been expecting, it wasn’t that. “You what?”
Accum nodded. “It has long been my practice to carry a small flintlock pistol in my coat pocket, ever since I vas set upon by thieves one evening vhen I vas valking home from ze gasvorks. I pointed it at Bridgewood’s face and told them they had exhausted my patience and it vas time for them to leave. ”
“And?”
“Bridgewood laughed again—less heartily this time—and said, ‘You crazy old man, you vouldn’t shoot me.’ ” Accum muttered something under his breath in German, then said, “So I pulled back ze hammer and said, ‘I should perhaps vorn you that I vas considered something of a marksman back home in Hanover.’ ” Accum paused.
“And?” prompted Sebastian again.
“And then he said ze strangest thing. He vas no longer laughing, of course. And he says—he says, ‘You know vhat ve used to do vit people like you two thousand years ago? Ve used them as offerings to our gods. Vould you prefer to be burned, drowned, or hung from a tree like a gutted buck? Because ve can arrange that.’ ”
Sebastian stared at him. “Theo Bridgewood said that?”
“He did, yes. I remember it because it struck me as such a strange thing to say. Don’t you think so?”
“Have you ever read Lucan?”
The scientist looked puzzled. “The Roman poet? No. Vhy?”
Sebastian shook his head. “It doesn’t matter. What happened after that?”
“They left.”
“And when did this happen?”
“Some time ago now. Three or four veeks, perhaps?”
“Was it before or after the first meeting at Spa Fields?”
“It vas before. I remember because I had picked up a broadsheet about ze meeting that very afternoon from a pleasant young man handing them out near ze church of St. George ze Martyr vhen I vas on my way to ze Rotunda.” Accum was silent for a moment, his frown drawing deep lines between his eyes.
“Do I need to vorry? That Bow Street might come to think I’m ze man behind these murders?
Because I once pulled a gun on those little shites? ”
“I honestly don’t know. Theo Bridgewood claims not to remember the incident, probably because it makes him look weak. But that’s not to say he won’t change his mind. Is there anything else—anything at all—about your various interactions with those men that you haven’t told me about?”
“No, nothing! I swear it.” Accum stared at Sebastian with wide, earnest eyes, then said it again. “I swear it.”
“Do you believe him?” said Hero later.
“About there being nothing else?” Sebastian shook his head. “At this point, I don’t know. But about the particulars of that incident? Probably.”
“At least it explains what Toole and the others were doing in Southwark the day they went after Sasha and Pitcairn. They were there to disrupt Accum’s lecture, only he ruined their fun—and humiliated them on top of it.
They must have been spoiling for a fight when they spotted Sasha, and decided to take out their frustrations on her. ”
“It does sound like it, doesn’t it?” said Sebastian.
Hero looked over at him. “Do you think Accum is in danger—that Sir Nathaniel Conant might seize upon him as a likely scapegoat for hanging?”
“If he were some random immigrant, then I’d say yes, he might need to worry. But a lot of powerful, wealthy people have money invested in the gasworks, and Accum is too important to the success of their project. As long as nothing else turns up, I’d say he’s safe.”
“What a sad comment on our society.”
“Yes,” said Sebastian, his gaze on the fire beside them.
“But the thing I find truly extraordinary is what Accum claims Theo Bridgewood said to him that day. If it’s true—if it’s true—then for someone who claims to know nothing about the ancient Celts, Theo sounds extraordinarily well-versed in their favorite methods of human sacrifice.
And I find it difficult to believe it’s simply a coincidence that he was talking about those methods just days before his first friend was killed. ”
“But…why would he do that? I mean, even if he did decide for some reason to kill his friends, why murder them in the most gruesome ways and then stage their deaths to look like ancient human sacrifices?”
“That I can’t even begin to guess.” He paused. “Although there is an alternative explanation.”
“There is? What?”
“That Accum made up that part of the exchange in order to deliberately throw suspicion onto Bridgewood.”
Hero frowned. “Have the papers made the connection between that verse in Lucan and the various ways the bodies have been staged?”
“Not yet.”
“You can’t think Accum is doing this!”
“Why not? Because he seems so earnest and erudite? Whoever’s doing this is erudite.”
“Or self-taught.”
He looked over at her and nodded grimly. “Or self-taught.”