The Gang of St Bride's, page 18
part #9 of Penny Green Series
“And that there was no excuse for his actions, presumably,” added Eliza.
“Exactly.”
“Does that mean our father is completely responsible for his actions and any supposed brain disease caused by his fall cannot be the cause?” she asked.
“Without being able to medically examine your father, Mrs Billington-Grieg, it’s quite impossible to say. There is no doubt that Arthur Watson’s head injury caused a change in his health, so the same may well be the case for your father. In the case of Mr Watson, it was decided that his crime was too heinous for his medical condition to excuse it.”
“At least Father hasn’t committed a murder,” I said. “Father’s deeds hardly seem dreadful at all when we consider what Mr Watson did!”
“Indeed,” agreed Eliza. “But to what extent might his actions have been influenced by a possible injury to his head?”
“I’m afraid that’s something you’ll have to form an opinion on yourselves,” said Dr Sherman.
“But you think there may be a possibility that a head injury could lead to brain disease, and therefore to actions that are inconsiderate or out of character?”
“That is certainly a possibility.”
“I suppose he may have some sort of excuse for his behaviour, in that case,” said Eliza.
“I don’t like to think of it as an excuse,” I said. “I think the word ‘explanation’ describes it more accurately.”
“I see. Then we have an explanation for his behaviour.”
“A partial explanation, perhaps,” said Dr Sherman. “But please don’t accept my words as a diagnosis. I’d need to examine your father properly in order to provide a more informed opinion. Does he have any plans to return to England?”
“Not that we know of,” my sister replied bitterly.
Chapter 34
Weigh out four pounds of flour and sift into a pan. Stir in a quart of milk and water, then add a pint of milk, in which an ounce of salt and one and three-fourth ounces of yeast has been dissolved. Place a cloth over the pan and leave for three-quarters of an hour.
“Good morning, Penny,” came a whisper at my shoulder.
I turned and smiled when I saw Francis standing there.
He peered down at my page. “Are you writing up some interesting news?”
“If only,” I replied. “It’s a recipe for Vienna bread to appear in the next ladies’ column. Congratulations on your return to the reading room, by the way!”
“Thank you.” He grinned. “A return to the ordinary routine is certainly welcome. How are you progressing with the riddle?”
I was about to reply when I noticed Mr Retchford glaring at us.
Francis followed my gaze. “I’ll be taking a break shortly,” he whispered. “Shall we talk outside then?”
I gave a nod.
Francis and I stood on the steps of the British Museum and I told him about the royal connection in the names of the public houses, then about my journey to Clerkenwell and how it appeared to have yielded nothing.
“The Earl of Pembroke has been bothering me,” I added.
“Has he indeed? How very inconsiderate of him.”
I laughed. “I’m quite tired of reading about his lineage. However, I found some time to do a little more research this morning before I had to get on with my Vienna bread recipe, and I think I may have identified a possible new location.”
“That sounds promising! Where?”
“The line in the riddle reads, ‘the Earl of Pembroke rests his head’, which suggests he is either asleep or dead.”
“That sounds reasonable.”
“I decided to consider deceased earls first because I couldn’t begin to work out where the current earl might like to sleep.”
“A matter that is presumably the man’s own business and no one else’s.”
“Indeed. So I studied all the earls in order, looking for one who might stand out.”
“And is there one?”
“Yes, there is. I read a little more about him and found he was described as one of the greatest knights who ever lived.”
“Really?”
“Yes. He was the first earl of the second creation of the Pembroke title in 1199. His name was William Marshal and he served five English kings. Of greatest interest to us, however, is his burial place.”
“Ah yes, I know him now! And I recall that he is buried in the church built by the Knights Templar. Temple Church, isn’t it?”
“That’s right. Conveniently, it’s just a stone’s throw from the Morning Express offices! I’ve been reading all about it in Mr Fry’s guide to London.”
“That sounds promising.”
“I hope so. And even if it’s a wasted journey at least I won’t have to travel far to get to work.”
I noticed a familiar figure in a bowler hat turning into the courtyard in front of us.
“That looks like James,” I said happily.
“I think you may be right. Perhaps he’ll visit Temple Church with you if he has the time.”
“James is growing tired of the riddle,” I said. “He’d rather arrest the girl who gave it to me than persevere with it.”
“That’s because he’s a police officer and prefers to get his job done quickly and efficiently,” said Francis. “This riddle is taking quite a while to solve, after all.”
James greeted us both with a smile as he climbed the steps.
“It sounds as though Penny has solved another line of the riddle,” replied Francis.
“I don’t know for sure that I have,” I added. “It’s just an idea.”
“Let’s hear it, then,” said James.
I told him about my latest research.
“There could be something in that,” he said with an appreciative nod once I had finished.
“It’s conveniently close to my work,” I said. “I’ll visit the church on my way back to the Morning Express offices. What brings you here, James?”
“Rosie Gold has been apprehended.”
“That’s excellent news!”
“It should be, but it’s not. She’s in St Thomas’s Hospital at the present time. She attended the Mondragon Hotel as Inspector Paget and his men anticipated but, before they had a chance to apprehend her, she was attacked.”
“Goodness, that’s awful!” I exclaimed. “Is she badly injured?”
“Yes, quite seriously. The nurses at St Thomas’s refused to let us speak to her. It seems we weren’t the only people who were tipped off about her being at The Mondragon.”
“Has the culprit been apprehended?”
“Not yet. It’s possible she knew her attacker and will be able to give us a description, but until we’re able to speak to her we’ll just have to continue with the investigation as best we can.”
“I suppose we should be pleased we finally know where she is.”
“Yes, I suppose there’s that.”
“Do you think a member of the Twelve Brides might have harmed her?”
He gave a shrug. “Either that or someone from a rival gang, such as the Bolsover Gang or the Portman Mob.”
“At least you can keep her in custody once she’s well enough to be detained,” I said. “Perhaps there will be no need to solve the riddle after all.”
“Even so, it still needs to be unpicked,” said Francis. “I can’t bear the thought of it remaining unsolved.”
“You’re more than welcome to take it on, Francis,” said James with a smile.
“I’m quite tempted to, and now that I’m employed in the reading room again I have all the knowledge I need at my disposal. What have you learned about the Galtans? They’re the most puzzling of all in the riddle, aren’t they? I’ve never heard of them.”
“My research has turned up nothing,” I replied. “It would be extremely helpful if you could find out something about them, Francis.”
“There was something about a letter, wasn’t there?”
“Yes. ‘A letter to the Galtans is widely read,’” I recited.
“Do you know the riddle off by heart now, Penny?” he asked.
“I’m afraid so.”
“Leave the Galtans with me for now. I can read up on them during any quieter moments we have at this fine institution.” He nodded in the direction of the building behind us. “Let me know how you get on with Temple Church, won’t you?”
“We will,” I replied. “Oh, and I’m looking forward to hearing more stories of bicycle rides in Hyde Park.”
Francis’ face coloured. “Eliza mentioned that, did she?”
“Of course.” I grinned.
“I’m thinking of buying one, you see, so I thought it prudent to ask your sister if she’d allow me to have a ride on hers just to test it out.”
“What an excellent idea,” I replied.
Chapter 35
James had offered to accompany me to Temple Church, so we travelled by cab to Fleet Street.
“It’s excellent news that Rosie Gold has been arrested, or at least it will be when she recovers.”
“If she recovers.”
“Oh dear, are her injuries that serious?”
“She was attacked by three women, one of whom had a knife, and if it hadn’t been for the swift actions of the hotel staff she could have been killed.”
“I wonder who might have wished to harm her so viciously.”
“Paget is doing what he can to find out, but I think it’s most likely to be a rival gang. The women fled before any of his men could get hold of them.”
“Have you seen her in person yet?”
“No, not yet. The nurses won’t allow us anywhere near her.”
“I wonder what she looks like.”
“According to Inspector Paget, she changes her appearance quite regularly.”
“I wonder if Mrs Worthers and Rosie Gold are one and the same.”
James turned to me. “Do you think that might be possible?”
“It might be. It would explain why she took such an interest in the street robberies, wouldn’t it? Perhaps she wasn’t helping you, as she claimed, but misleading you instead.”
“That’s an interesting thought.”
“You’ll find out soon enough once you’re able to speak to Rosie Gold. Or when you find that Mrs Worthers is mysteriously no longer around.”
We disembarked from the cab on Fleet Street.
“Temple Church is located within the Inner Temple,” I said.
“One of the four inns of court,” added James. “Home of the barristers, some of whom are extremely accomplished at their craft and others less so. While I think about it, I learned some news today that will please you. Have you read the family announcements in the Morning Express today?”
“Not yet.”
“When you have the chance to do so, you’ll be interested to see that an engagement between Charlotte Jenkins and some poor chap from the Pinner area has been announced.”
“And you’re quite sure it’s the Charlotte Jenkins?”
“Yes, her father’s name and address is listed.”
“Well, that is good news, is it not? Hopefully she’ll forget all about you now.”
I felt relieved that James’ former fiancée had found someone else to marry. Not only did it mean that she would bother us no more, but it also assuaged some guilt I felt at having played a part in putting an end to their engagement.
We entered the Inner Temple through an old stone archway on Fleet Street. The archway was set beneath an ancient building that was now home to a hairdresser’s shop. The sign, placed up high, read: ‘Formerly the Palace of Henry VIII and Cardinal Wolsey’.
The noise of Fleet Street was replaced by a calmer, more collegiate atmosphere as we walked. Two gentlemen in black barrister gowns and long white collars passed by. A narrow lane led us up to a church with a low, round tower, which was quite encroached upon by the surrounding buildings of the Inner Temple. The church’s cream stonework and Romanesque arched windows contrasted with the dark brick and uniform squares of the buildings around it.
“This place dates back to the twelfth century,” I said as we walked around the church to its entrance. “It was built by the Knights Templar as their English headquarters.”
James glanced around. “This area must have looked very different back then,” he commented. “When did the lawyers move in?”
“At about the same time, from what I’ve read. The earliest ones were legal advisers to the Knights Templar.”
James smiled. “You’re starting to sound almost as knowledgeable about these matters as Francis.”
“I’ve been reading almost as much as he does lately.”
We stepped into the quiet interior of the church, where the vaulted ceiling of the chancel rose high above our heads. It was decorated with an intricate design of red, blue and gold.
“Herbert Fry mentioned some carved stone effigies on the ground,” I said.
“Who is Herbert Fry?”
“He wrote a guidebook to London in 1880, which is proving extremely useful for my research. I think we should visit the tower section. It’s the oldest part of the church.”
We walked along the nave until we reached a number of stone figurines lying among the marble pillars.
“These look just about life-sized,” said James. Each man appeared to be a knight dressed in chainmail and holding a sword and shield.
“I think they must be,” I replied, counting them. “There are nine in total. Now, which one is William Marshal?” Some of the effigies were labelled with names, while others had no label at all.
“There’s a Gilbert Marshal here,” I said, pausing beside one of them. “I think he was another Earl of Pembroke.”
“Here,” said James, standing before one of the effigies. “This one says William Marshal.” I joined him and we examined the recumbent knight together.
“He’s been here an extremely long time,” I commented. “Almost seven hundred years.”
“And you think William Marshal is the one the riddle refers to, do you?”
“I can’t be completely sure, but there are two other earls of Pembroke here as well… descendants of his.” I glanced around at the other knights. “So we have three earls here altogether. I’m sure this has to be the right place.”
“What do we do now?”
“I think we should look for the nearest public house.”
“There isn’t likely to be one close by, is there? We’re standing in the middle of a church.”
“I realise that, but there must be one somewhere. I’m sure the lawyers would be rather put out if they didn’t have a local drinking hole to frequent.”
“Then I suppose we’d better get looking for one.”
I took one last glance around the round tower we were standing inside. The vaulted ceiling rose high above our heads and the daylight filtered through the stained-glass windows in varying streams of colour. I removed my glove and felt the cold of the heavy marble pillar next to me.
“It’s so peaceful in here,” I said. “It almost seems a shame to go back outside.”
“It certainly feels like a haven of some sort,” said James. “It’s quite astonishing to think it’s been here for so long. There’s something rather fascinating about the Knights Templar, isn’t there?”
“I hope this is the correct location,” I said as we turned to leave.
“But if not, it was still a nice place to visit.”
We stepped out of the church and began our search for a public house. James stopped a gentleman dressed in a black gown and asked where the nearest one might be.
“There are a great number on Fleet Street. It depends what sort of establishment you’re after. I tend to avoid the ones that are popular with the ink-scribblers.”
James gave a wry smile in response to this comment. “There’s no public house within the Inner Temple itself, then?” he asked.
“No, but I can recommend The Golden Lion on Temple Lane. It’s much quieter than some of those noisy establishments on the main street.”
“That wasn’t a great deal of help,” I said quietly as the barrister went on his way.
“I suppose we should return to Fleet Street,” said James. “That’s where all the public houses are.”
“I can’t recall seeing any there with a royal title.”
“Are you familiar with all the public houses on Fleet Street?”
“The only one I’ve ever visited is Ye Olde Cheshire Cheese.”
“Perhaps there are one or two you regularly pass without giving them any thought. Shall we take a look? One of the public houses has to be named after ‘our best-known mourner’, don’t you think?”
“Yes, but I don’t recall ever seeing a public house around here with ‘queen’ in its name.”
We walked back along Inner Temple Lane until the noise and bustle of Fleet Street assaulted our senses once again. We turned right and I pointed across the road to a site where a couple of buildings had recently been pulled down.
“The Cock Tavern used to stand there,” I said. “The Bank of England intends to erect a building there for its business with the law courts. It’s a shame the old pub was demolished, it was rather famous.”
“I’ve heard of it,” said James, “though it doesn’t have the right name for the purposes of our riddle, does it?” We walked on a short distance and came across a public house called The White Horse.
“This isn’t right,” I said. “I think we’ve strayed too far from Temple Church now. We should retrace our steps.”
“I agree. However, I can’t help but feel that this accursed riddle is sending us on a wild goose chase. Perhaps Temple Church is the wrong location again. Or perhaps we’re simply wasting an inordinate amount of our time on this.” We began to walk back in the direction from which we had come.
“All we need to do now is arrest Sarah,” continued James. “Together with Rosie Gold the pair should be able to give us some extremely useful information. We need to speak to people; that’s the way to piece all this together. Not following some convoluted, nonsensical riddle.”
