The Gang of St Bride's, page 14
part #9 of Penny Green Series
“You couldn’t resist visiting to remind yourself of your former workplace?”
“No indeed, but I’ve also come to see the head librarian. I’m interested to hear whether any vacancies have come up.”
“Would you consider working here again?” I whispered excitedly. “That would be wonderful!” I noticed the dough-faced Mr Retchford approaching. “Look out,” I whispered. “Here comes your replacement.”
“Miss Green!” hissed Mr Retchford. “Yet again I find myself having to remind you not to talk inside the reading room!”
“Hello, Mr Retchford. This is Mr Francis Edwards,” I replied with a smile. “Your predecessor.”
The library clerk blinked a few times, then quietly cleared his throat, as if a little ashamed of his rudeness.
“Oh, I see. Mr Edwards, is it? Yes, I know the name, and it’s a pleasure to meet you. I began working here after you left for… Amazonia, wasn’t it?”
“It was indeed. It’s a pleasure to meet you, Mr Retchford. I’m off to meet with the head librarian now. It’ll be interesting to hear how things have been ticking over here since I went away.”
I returned to my work once they had both gone and, when I grew tired of it, I turned to the riddle once again. There appeared to be five main clues: the Order of Preachers, the Lapis Milliaris, the Galtans, the Earl of Pembroke and Hamlet. Could each clue relate to a location?
I began to write down the topics I could read up on while I was in the reading room. The Earl of Pembroke’s residence was one of them, so I made a note to look the earl up in Burke’s Peerage.
I paid a visit to the newspaper reading room and looked through the listings for any Shakespeare plays which had recently been performed in London. The most useful publication was a weekly periodical called The London Stage. From reading through its listings, I learned that Macbeth had been performed at the Olympic Theatre and Richard III had been performed at the Lyceum. However, I could find no reference to a recent performance of Hamlet. It occurred to me then that the riddle might have been written some time ago, which meant there was no knowing how recent the performance of Hamlet might have been.
Disheartened by this thought, I returned to the reading room and considered the mysterious Lapis Milliaris which Francis had believed to be a milestone. And not just any milestone; a Roman milestone. What was the significance of that? I called to mind the milestones I often saw at the side of the road, many of which were worn and grimy. Often the letters and numbers were barely discernible. But I couldn’t recall seeing a Roman milestone. I decided to seek out a London guidebook.
I climbed the iron staircase to the galleries above and found the relevant section. London in 1880 by Mr Herbert Fry caught my eye. I knew it to be a guide written for travellers who were unfamiliar with the capital. The subtitle was ‘Illustrated with Bird’s-Eye Views of the Principal Streets’, giving me another reason to select this particular book. If I couldn’t find what I was looking for in the text, the illustrations would perhaps hold some clues.
I took the book back to my desk and began to leaf through it. I looked up the reference to Blackfriars but found no clues to enlighten me after the walk Eliza and I had taken over the bridge. I read on for a few more pages, which covered various other locations including the Old Bailey and St Paul’s Cathedral. I reached Cannon Street Railway Station and was just about to turn to the table of contents when two words caught my eye at the bottom of the page: ‘London Stone’.
I was immediately able to picture it, having often passed by the ancient block of stone encased in a cupola affixed to the front of St Swithin’s church on Cannon Street. The book’s author, Mr Fry, explained that the stone was Roman in origin and described it as a ‘Milliarium’: a central milestone from which all other milestones marked their distances in the City of London.
It had to be the Lapis Milliaris.
My heart began to pound with anticipation. I checked the clock on the wall and realised I had a little time available to visit the stone. I returned the book to its shelf, packed my papers away into my bag and stood to my feet.
Just as I did so, Francis reappeared.
“Have you finished here for the day?” he whispered.
“London Stone!” I hissed excitedly. “I think it could be the Lapis Milliaris from the riddle!”
His eyes widened. “What an interesting thought!”
“Shush!” scolded a man working close by.
Francis and I exchanged a glance, then strode out of the reading room without another word. Once we were outside, I told Francis what I had learned from the London guidebook.
“It sounds very likely to me that Lapis Milliaris and London Stone in Cannon Street are one and the same,” he replied. “I can accompany you if you wish.”
We hailed a cab on Great Russell Street.
“I hope we see something obvious while we’re there,” I said as we travelled down to Holborn. “Eliza and I made no progress during our visit to Blackfriars Bridge. We must have missed something, but I can’t think what.”
“Maybe it’ll become evident once you’ve visited all the other places. Can you be sure that investigating this riddle is completely safe?”
“We’ll be all right so long as we keep quiet about what we’re doing.”
“Only a prospective gang member should attempt it, isn’t that right?”
“Yes, I suppose so. But no one knows we’re trying to solve it, do they?”
“Sarah knows.”
“Only because she asked for my help. She’s not about to tell the other gang members what I’m doing, is she?”
“How can you be sure of that?”
“Because she’d find herself in a great deal of trouble if they discovered she’d given me the riddle!”
“I see.” Francis sat back in his seat, appearing to accept this explanation. “Just so long as there’s no danger involved.”
“Nowhere near as much danger as you faced in Colombia.”
He smiled. “To be honest with you, Penny, I never felt as though I was in great danger from the people there. The fever was the most perilous part, I suppose. For a time I wasn’t sure whether I would recover from it.”
“You must have been frightened.”
“For brief moments I was, but when you’re that unwell your mind is too muddled to realise how ill you really are. The days and nights drift into one another. I spent much of my time feeling quite disorientated. There wasn’t much conscious thought on my part. I felt as though I was merely existing, and that my fate lay in the hands of a superior being.”
“Thank goodness the outcome was a happy one.”
“Yes indeed. It was a bit of luck, really. Had I not recovered it would have been a good while longer for your father to be found!” He laughed.
“How did he seem to you?”
He turned to me, his brow slightly furrowed. “What do you mean?”
“Did he seem troubled or was he content? Is he really happy out there, do you think?”
Francis looked ahead at the horse pulling our cab. “He seemed fairly content. There was something rather restless and distracted about him, but perhaps he’s always been like that.”
“Not really. Can you tell me more?”
“He struggled to sit still for long periods, and he was quite fidgety. He also made a lot of jokes, and I’m sorry to say that very few of them were particularly funny.”
“Jokes?” I stated in surprise.
He gave me a bemused glance. “Yes. Do you recall him telling jokes?”
“Not at all! Are you quite sure you found the right man?”
“Perfectly sure,” he replied. “You saw the photograph yourself, did you not?”
“Yes, of course. Although he looks quite different now, it is unmistakably him. I suppose all those years in the jungle have taken their toll on his mind. The environment out there is so different, I don’t suppose we could expect him to be the same man today. I imagine it’s equivalent to being at sea, as you pointed out once before. Some people completely lose their minds at sea.”
“They can do.”
“At least it sounds as though he’s happy, even if he does seem rather restless and is suddenly prone to telling terrible jokes.”
“He appeared to adore his family. Oh dear, I am sorry. I spoke without thinking. That was rather tactless of me, I do apologise.”
“There’s no need to apologise, Francis. The facts are as they are, and there’s very little we can do about them. I appreciate you being so honest with us. You could have lied about his circumstances to save our feelings, but I’m exceedingly grateful you didn’t.”
“I felt you and your family deserved to hear an honest account.”
We exchanged a smile.
“You’ve been sorely missed in the reading room,” I said. “Mr Retchford is hardly an adequate replacement. He’s incredibly rude and unhelpful.”
“I noticed.”
“I remember you being particularly helpful, Francis.”
“Was I?”
“You know you were! You helped me find that interesting map of Colombia and a wide range of books describing the places my father had visited. It was ever so useful.”
“I’m pleased it was.”
“In fact, you were helpful with a whole range of things now I come to think of it. Do you remember when you chased after that woman who had been following us in Russell Square?”
We both laughed.
“Yes, I do remember. I found myself in terrible trouble for restraining her once I’d caught up with her in the mews.”
“The people standing nearby had no idea what a troublemaker she was. I remember being extremely impressed by how quickly you could run.”
“Oh well,” he gave a bashful smile. “I won the hundred-yard dash on a few occasions during my youth, and I suppose one’s body simply recalls how to do these things when the need arises.”
We held each other’s gaze for a moment, and I suddenly remembered the affection he had once held for me. I looked away, feeling an unexpected warmth in my face. I had always been fond of Francis… just not quite fond enough to marry him.
“Eliza told me she enjoyed your company during the trip to Derbyshire,” I commented.
“Did she? Well, that’s good to hear. Your sister is a very pleasant lady indeed.”
“Did you enjoy her company?” I asked with a smile.
Despite his sun-darkened skin I noticed some colour had risen into his cheeks.
“Of course I did,” he replied. “Eliza is very good company indeed. Are we at Cannon Street yet?”
He peered past the horse in what I felt sure was a deliberate attempt to put an end to the conversation.
Chapter 28
Our cab stopped opposite Cannon Street Hotel, a stone edifice with two spires which fronted a train station. Francis and I climbed out of the cab and found the baroque-styled St Swithin’s church close by.
“It’s a beautiful place, isn’t it?” he said, pausing to admire the church. “It was designed by Sir Christopher Wren.” Its three tall arched windows were topped with stone embellishments, and a great clock was supported over our heads by a carved stone arm. Below the central arched window sat a small stone alcove, within which lay London Stone.
“Here it is,” I said. “The ancient milestone. According to Herbert Fry, it once stood on the opposite side of the road, where Cannon Street train station is now.”
“Herbert Fry?”
“The chap who wrote the guidebook I was telling you about. He also said the stone receives a mention in Shakespeare’s Henry VI. Jack Cade, the play’s rebel leader, strikes London Stone with his staff and then sits upon it, proclaiming himself Lord Mortimer and declaring that nothing but claret wine will run in the conduit for the first year of his reign.”
Francis gave an appreciative nod. “A great tale, and one that I believe is based on fact. It’s a shame he didn’t achieve his promise of running the Great Conduit with wine. He was killed a week later.”
“Where does this leave us in terms of solving the riddle?” I asked, glancing around. I took out my notebook and wrote down everything I could see around me. “Cannon Street Hotel is the most prominent building. And there is also the train station there. When Eliza and I crossed Blackfriars Bridge we found ourselves standing opposite another train station. I’m beginning to wonder if the stations might be a clue.”
“What else did you see at Blackfriars?”
“We visited a horrid public house, immediately wishing we hadn’t because it was rather intimidating. There’s a line in the riddle, if you remember, that says, ‘There’s a friendly hostelry on every corner’.”
“There just happens to be a hostelry opposite us now.”
“So there does.” I wrote down its name: The Three Feathers.
“And there’s another one behind us,” said Francis.
We both turned to look, and I wrote down the name of this smaller establishment: The King’s Arms.
“The problem we have is that London is home to countless public houses,” continued Francis. “You can walk along the street and find one at every twenty paces. That’s often a good thing, of course, but less so when you’re trying to solve a riddle like this one.”
“I wonder if any members of the Twelve Brides frequent the King’s Arms,” I said. “Shall we take a quick look inside?”
The interior of the public house was small and dingy. A few faces turned in our direction, but I saw no other women inside.
“Perhaps the men in there have something to do with the Twelve Brides,” I suggested to Francis once we were outside on the street again.
“Maybe, but I wasn’t tempted to ask them, were you?”
I laughed. “No! Shall we try The Three Feathers?”
This next public house was much the same as The King’s Arms, and we soon left feeling a deep sense of disappointment. Francis accompanied me on my fifteen-minute walk to the Morning Express offices on Fleet Street.
“Another unsatisfactory outing,” I said. “I can see some similarities between the two locations, given that both are close to train stations and public houses. Then again, most places in London are close to a public house, as we’ve already discussed.”
“Public houses are mentioned in the riddle, whereas I don’t recall seeing any reference to a railway station,” said Francis.
“You’re right, there isn’t one. The answer must therefore lie with the public houses, mustn’t it? I don’t see where that gets us, though. There’s nothing about the public houses we’ve visited so far to suggest a way the riddle can be solved. I’m beginning to think one would have to be part of a gang to solve the riddle. Perhaps there’s a code word they use in each of the public houses.”
“And perhaps the riddle supplies the code word.”
“Perhaps it does, though I can’t see how. In fact, I really cannot comprehend this riddle at all.”
“I think we’re on the right track with London Stone,” said Francis. “I think that must be the Lapis Milliaris.”
“Perhaps we’re supposed to go into one of the public houses and use the code words ‘London Stone’?”
“Perhaps. I wouldn’t want to try it right now though, would you?”
“No, it’s a little too risky. Perhaps we need to solve more of the riddle first, though I don’t know how. At the moment it seems like an impossibility.”
We paused our conversation as we passed the imposing southern section of St Paul’s Cathedral. Its great arched windows and columns made me feel rather small. I could see that Sir Christopher Wren had used the same carved stone decoration on St Swithin’s church. I recalled a book my father had once owned which contained etchings of London’s famous buildings, and the picture of St Paul’s had always enthralled me.
“What were the rest of the tribe Father lives with like?” I asked. “Were they friendly?”
“I didn’t see them. I only met his… common-law wife and his children. They occupy a small area of jungle, which they’ve made their own. They built their own house there and your father maintains the jungle around them. He grows food and has cultivated a good variety of orchids. He says it’s most rewarding to see orchids in their natural environment. It really is quite a beautiful place up on the hillside.”
“Does he have anything to do with the tribespeople who first captured him?”
“When he and his common-law wife fell in love there was a fair amount of disapproval; so much so that they decided to elope together one night.”
“Gosh, really?”
“Yes, and that was how they left the tribe. He told me that his, er… lady friend found being separated from them terribly difficult at first. Her tribe – her family – was all she had ever known. But peace was made with the tribe after the birth of their first son, and they now live close by. They’re still treated as outsiders because the tribespeople have struggled to accept a European as one of their own. But there is peace, and that has been of great reassurance to your father. Oh, and I meant to say that one other thing has occurred to me about him.”
“What is it?”
“He told me he suffers from headaches and has done since his fall down the ravine.”
“Oh dear. I don’t suppose there are many physicians nearby!”
“Some of the natives possess a little medical knowledge. Their own form of medical knowledge, I should add, which has been passed on through the generations. But when I mentioned his telling of jokes you felt it seemed rather unlike him.”
“Yes, he was never much of a joke-teller.”
“That got me thinking. Do you recall the case of Phineas Gage?”
“The American railroad worker who survived a dreadful accident?”
“Yes. As I remember it, an iron bar passed through his head while he was blasting rock. It was a miracle the chap survived, in fact. Do you recall the reports afterwards claiming his personality was quite changed?”
“Yes, I remember.”
“He became an object of curiosity, didn’t he? And for many years after his death the doctors were intrigued by his injuries and the effects they had on him.”
