The Gang of St Bride's, page 23
part #9 of Penny Green Series
“I don’t suppose they’d care, just so long as I had nothing to do with their son!”
“You can’t possibly know what Francis’ family would think, Ellie. And besides, it shouldn’t matter. All that matters at the present time is that you’re able to proceed with the divorce you’d hoped for. And if Francis proposes marriage after that… well, that would be wonderful.”
Eliza’s face darkened to a deeper red. “I’m quite sure he never will. Anyway, it wouldn’t be proper to leap from one marriage straight into another.”
“You could become his common-law wife instead.”
“That’s quite enough! I intend to concentrate on the divorce for the time being while I work out how best to manage the situation.”
“Have you told Francis about George’s petition for divorce?”
“Not yet, but I shall.”
“I imagine he’ll be rather pleased.”
“Enough, Penelope!”
Chapter 45
I watched from across the street as three police constables in plain clothes sauntered into The Queen’s Head. About five minutes later James and another officer followed them in, they were dressed in rough woollen suits, heavy boots, collarless shirts and flat caps. James also wore a false beard to prevent the publican from recognising him. Despite my nerves, I couldn’t help but laugh a little at the sight of him.
This was the first time I had returned to the location since Sarah had pushed me into the road. I found myself carefully watching the people and traffic around me. I knew that it was very unlikely to happen again, but my heart pounded nevertheless. As I glanced over at the door to the public house, I recalled the moment when Sarah’s behaviour had suddenly changed. We had been conversing quite normally up to that point and I felt a shiver as I remembered how the odd change had come over her. I hoped never to experience anything like that again.
I waited a while longer, calmed myself with a deep breath and then crossed the road. I reassured myself that, with James and several police officers inside, no harm would come to me.
A cart trundled along the road and I watched as the heavy feet of the horse and the large wheels passed me by. Despite experiencing a few residual aches and pains on occasion, it was difficult to believe that I had been pushed beneath such a cart. I found it quite astonishing that I was still alive.
I pushed against the door to The Queen’s Head and stepped inside. I was dressed in simple clothing with an old bonnet and shawl. I had decided to leave my carpet bag at home, though I felt rather lost without it.
Tobacco smoke and lively chatter filled the bar. The smell of beer reminded me of the pints of porter Mrs Garnett had forced me to drink during my recuperation. A few heads turned in my direction as the men noticed an unaccompanied woman had stepped inside.
I avoided looking at James and his men as I approached the bar, where a man holding a grubby cloth fixed me with a cool stare.
How was I to introduce the five words? Was he even the correct person to recite them to?
I reminded myself that my clothes were shabby so I would need to adapt my accent and tone of voice to fit my attire. I cleared my throat.
The man at the bar opened his mouth slightly but said nothing, as if he were waiting for me to speak. I stepped closer to the bar, knowing that what I was about to say was not supposed to be overheard.
“Prince,” I said quietly. “Oak.”
“What’s that?” he asked, leaning in toward me.
I moved a little closer.
“Prince,” I said again. “Oak, arms, crown, ’ead.”
His eyes narrowed and he took a step back. Then he glanced quickly to his left and strode off in that direction.
As he hadn’t questioned, or appeared confused by, what I’d just said, I took this to mean that I should follow him. I walked along the bar then paused to watch as he stepped out from behind it and made his way over to a dingy area in the far corner. My stomach flipped with anticipation and worry. Although I felt relieved to have said the correct words in the right order, I was concerned about what I had let myself in for by doing so.
I gave a quick glance over my shoulder to see whether James was watching. Sure enough, he was. I didn’t want to risk anyone spotting our momentary exchange, so I turned back and hurried to catch up with the man, who was busy unlocking a black door.
He pulled it open and gestured for me to step through it. On a little shelf just inside the door sat three lanterns and a box of matches. I peeked into the corridor beyond and saw that it was in complete darkness.
I looked back at the man. Did he intend to enter the corridor with me? It didn’t appear so, given that his hand was still resting on the door handle as if he were about to close it again. He nodded at the lanterns, and I realised I was expected to light one. I chose the one with the largest candle remaining and, as soon as the wick was lit, he gave me a nod, closed the door and locked it again.
My heart pounded in my throat. Would the locked door prevent me from re-entering the bar area if I needed to?
I turned and examined the passageway in front of me. The brickwork was exposed and there were bare floorboards beneath my feet. I took only a few steps before arriving at another brick wall. I turned and scanned the area with my lantern. I appeared to be locked inside a large cupboard. Was this some sort of trap?
I raised my lantern, holding it high as I looked all around me. There appeared to be no other way out than the door I had just come through, which had been promptly locked. I couldn’t imagine the publican taking kindly to me knocking and asking to be let out again. With no other door visible I looked down at the floor and saw the only way out.
I was standing on top of a trapdoor.
A small iron ring was attached to one side. I bent down and pulled it up to reveal nothing but complete darkness beneath me. As I lowered my lantern, I saw a set of narrow stone steps leading down into the void. It seemed the riddle had led me to an underground tunnel. Where would it take me?
I looked down at the steps warily, not relishing the idea of climbing down them. But when I considered all the work we had put into solving the riddle, I knew it would be cowardly to turn back now. I wished I could fetch James and ask him to accompany me; however, that would certainly have raised the publican’s suspicions.
Holding the trapdoor up with one hand I descended the first few steps. With my other hand holding the lantern I moved slowly, taking care not to slip. Eventually I was low enough to bring the trapdoor down over my head. I felt a pang of nausea as it closed above me. The air below felt cold and dank.
I climbed down a few more steps and saw that I didn’t have to descend much further. Ahead of me was a roughly paved tunnel with brick walls forming an arch. The tunnel was barely wide enough for two people to pass one another in, and anyone taller than me would have had to lower their head and walk with a stoop. I tentatively began to creep along it with my lantern held out in front of me. I could hear the echoing sound of dripping water from somewhere. As the light of the lantern shone on the damp brick walls, I wondered who had built these tunnels. Perhaps they had been constructed to provide access to London’s new sewerage system around twenty years previously. I wondered how often these tunnels were used. This was presumably how the gang moved around London undetected.
A movement up ahead caught my eye. Startled, I froze where I was and held my breath, not daring to move. Another movement followed and I realised I was looking at the retreating form of a rat. I gave a shudder, sincerely hoping any other rats would run away before I reached them.
I had to remind myself to keep breathing, not least because it helped me remain calm. I must have been walking for five minutes or so by this time and I felt my steps becoming a little quicker as I grew impatient for some sort of resolution to my walk. The tunnel was mainly straight with just a slight bend here and there.
What would I say if I happened to meet someone down here? I decided I should introduce myself as Amelia.
Then I felt sure I could hear the sound of water once again. It wasn’t a dripping sound this time, but moving water, as if there happened to be an underground stream nearby. The sound grew louder as I walked, and before long it completely filled my ears. An unpleasant odour also reached my nose.
The lantern light picked out a dark archway ahead of me and, when I reached it, I saw a small slipway leading down into gushing brown water from right to left. I could only imagine that it ran down to the Thames. Was I expected to walk through it?
Looking around with my lantern I realised the tunnel I was following turned sharply to my right, appearing to run parallel with the underground stream. A stream which, judging by the stench, would more be accurately described as a sewer. I turned right and moved swiftly along the tunnel, hoping to leave the stink of the water behind me. Although it receded a little, the smell continued to hang heavily in the air.
A flight of stone steps came into view and I paused at the foot of them, looking above my head for a trapdoor, but I couldn’t see one. Instead, the tunnel turned left at the top of the steps. I wondered whether it was a bridge over the sewer. I walked up the steps, turned left, and sure enough found another flight of steps leading down again. I continued along the tunnel, which began to widen a little.
An even greater sense of impatience stirred within me as I wondered when I would ever reach the end of the tunnel. I felt a desperate need to be out of the damp, stinking air, and away from the rats, which scurried off ahead of me every few minutes.
All of a sudden, a figure stepped out in front of me and I had to silence the cry that leapt into my mouth.
I instinctively took a few steps back and gasped for air, desperately trying to calm my heartbeat, which was thudding almost audibly in my aching chest.
Chapter 46
A young woman holding a lantern stood before me. Her pale face and scruffy shawl made me think of Sarah.
“Hello?” I ventured nervously.
“Follow me,” she replied.
The girl turned right into what appeared to be a doorway in the wall of the tunnel. I followed and turned, as she had, into another short tunnel that led to another flight of steps.
The skirts of the young woman had almost disappeared from view at the top of the steps. As I followed, I wondered what I was about to face. I could think of no reason for the girl to have been waiting in the tunnel other than that she was expecting me. She hadn’t seemed particularly surprised by my appearance, nor had she bothered to ask who I was or what I was doing here.
The steps brought us to the foot of a stairwell which was lit with a gas lamp. From what I could see, we appeared to be standing in the basement of a building. Was this the headquarters of the Twelve Brides? The girl extinguished our lanterns and closed a trapdoor over the steps we had just ascended from the tunnel. I observed the girl in the flickering gaslight. She had pock-marked skin and looked no older than twenty, but she was much taller and broader than me.
There were countless questions I wished to ask, but I decided to remain silent for the time being. There was a risk that I would reveal my true identity and I didn’t want to volunteer any information that could put me in danger.
The staircase rose up to our right and turned a corner above my head. The walls were wood-panelled and I wondered whether we were now inside another public house. The girl proceeded up the wooden staircase and I followed closely. I listened intently for any sound that might tell me where we were, but heard nothing. There were no voices from any other rooms or noises from the streets close by.
The staircase curved round onto a small landing with three doors. The girl pushed one of them open and showed me into a room with a large sash window.
“Wait in here,” she commanded.
“Where are we?” I asked.
She gave no reply and the door was swiftly closed behind me. Six carved wooden chairs had been arranged around a well-polished table. The fire was as yet unlit but had been neatly laid. I walked over to the window, which overlooked a busy thoroughfare. As I peered out, I could see that I was at least two storeys above street level. The building I found myself in was positioned beside a busy set of crossroads with two distinctive stone obelisks in the centre. Opposite me, a building that appeared to be six or seven storeys high was emblazoned with the words: ‘Cook’s Tours to All Parts of the World.’
I felt a warm sensation of familiarity wash over me. I knew exactly where I was. I was looking down on Ludgate Circus, and I could see right down Fleet Street, almost as far as the Morning Express offices. Just to the left of Fleet Street rose the distinctive tower of St Bride’s Church. I felt sure I could remember seeing a public house on this corner of the junction, and that it was called The King Lud.
As I leaned on the windowsill it began to vibrate with a deep rumbling sound. I felt momentarily alarmed before realising the railway line into Ludgate Hill Station was just behind the building. As I peered to my left, I could see a train crossing the railway bridge over Ludgate Hill; the very same bridge Sarah and I had walked beneath the day she had tried to kill me. I realised the tunnel I had walked along followed the route of Ludgate Hill from St Paul’s to Ludgate Circus.
I surveyed the room and the closed door again, wondering what would happen next. I hadn’t heard the girl lock the door, and I considered whether I should try to leave the room and take a look around. I decided it would be best to follow the orders I had been given and wait where I was. I had no desire to antagonise anyone.
I sat down on one of the chairs and considered the girl’s response upon finding me in the tunnel. She had seemed prepared for my arrival. I wondered whether the publican from The Queen’s Head had sent word that I was on my way. I surmised there had been just enough time for an urgent telegram to be sent from The Queen’s Head to the King Lud. Alternatively, a running messenger could have made the journey along Ludgate Hill more swiftly than I had navigated my way beneath it.
There was a clock on the Cook’s Tours building, and I watched a full hour pass as I came and went from the window.
Did anyone intend to visit me? Was being shut up in this room part of an initiation process? Were they waiting for me to make the next move?
I opened the door a couple of times and peered out onto the quiet landing but saw no one there. The other occupants of the building were like ghosts. I had heard light footsteps on the stairs and on the floorboards of the room above me, but nothing more.
I wondered what James was doing at this moment. Were he and his colleagues still waiting for me to emerge from behind the door at The Queen’s Head?
I felt a snap of impatience as the clock passed the hour mark. Up to this point, I had bided my time and calmly waited but I wondered how much longer I would be detained.
I decided it was time to leave the room in search of someone I could speak to. I had only made it halfway across the room when the door opened and two women walked in: the young woman who had accompanied me and an equally tall and broad companion.
“Hello,” I said with false confidence.
Neither woman acknowledged me.
I was considering how I might go about striking up a conversation when a third person stepped into the room. This lady was much smaller in stature. Her brown hair was parted in the centre and neatly fastened at the nape of her neck. Her dark dress was clean and simple.
Standing before me was Mrs Sutherland.
Chapter 47
To my surprise, she gave me a broad smile.
“Miss Green!” she said. “How nice to see you again.”
Could this all be a strange coincidence? Or did Mrs Sutherland know about the riddle and the tunnel?
Countless questions ran through my head, but I decided to see how she would conduct herself before I posed any of them.
“Please,” she said, gesturing toward the chair closest to me, “do take a seat.”
She sat down at the table, but her two companions remained standing. They took up their positions on either side of the door, as if they were guarding it.
“I must apologise for keeping you waiting,” she continued. “I’ve just travelled here from Kensington. Have you been offered a drink yet?”
“No, I haven’t,” I replied, feeling rather confused.
Mrs Sutherland was conducting herself as if we had previously arranged to meet. She hadn’t questioned how I had come to find my way here or even commented on the style of my dress. I felt rather foolish wearing my shabby bonnet and shawl now.
“Could you call for some tea, please, Maria?” she called over her shoulder.
The woman I had met in the tunnel glanced over at me, then stepped outside.
Having initially felt disarmed by the appearance of Mrs Sutherland, the significance of her arrival was beginning to dawn on me. The riddle had led me to her. Sarah had said the riddle would lead to the gang’s headquarters.
Had Sarah been correct or was Mrs Sutherland here purely by chance and entirely innocent of any crime?
Her pleasant manner suggested the latter.
“I haven’t seen you since your terrible accident, Miss Green,” she said. “I hope you’re feeling quite recovered now.”
“I am, thank you. It’s just as well, given that I had to make such a long journey through the tunnel.”
I mentioned the tunnel to gauge her reaction but she didn’t acknowledge it.
“It was quite awful,” she said. “I don’t know what that girl was thinking.”
“Did you know her?” I asked.
“Not at all.” She gave a regretful smile.
“Someone has killed her,” I replied. “Do you know who?”
“No, I don’t.”
“She told me she was a member of the Twelve Brides Gang,” I said, “but it turned out she was part of the Bolsover Gang. She bore their tattoo. She was using me to help her find out more about the Twelve Brides.”
