was that was on his mind?’
‘No. I asked him, but he said it would be better for me if I didn’t get involved.’ Clegg’s eyes watered slightly. ‘I should have insisted,’ he continued, with a note of anguish in his voice. ‘I should have said that, as his best mate, I had a right—an’ a duty—to share his burden with him.’
And maybe if he had shared it with you, you’d be dead as well, Blackstone thought.
‘Did Tom ever mention smuggling to you?’ he asked.
‘Many a time. He said there was so much of it goin’ on in Afghanistan that you couldn’t move without trippin’ over it.’
‘But he never mentioned smuggling in Marston? ’
Walter Clegg giggled. ‘In Marston!’ he repeated. ‘Whatever would you smuggle out of Marston? Salt?’
It had been the reaction Blackstone had been expecting. The more he saw of the place himself, the more unsuitable it seemed as a centre of criminal activity. But Tom Yardley had been convinced that was just what it was.
And if he was wrong, then why was he now dead?
*
The two watchers stood at the head of the alley down which Blackstone and Walter Clegg had disappeared.
‘They’ve been in there for over half an hour now,’ said the shorter, more nervous one. ‘What can they be talking about?’
‘I’ve no idea,’ his taller companion replied. ‘And it doesn’t really matter, anyway.’
‘Are you sure about that?’
‘Of course I’m sure. Clegg doesn’t know anything.’
‘Isn’t it possible that Tom Yardley might have told him...?’
‘You’ve seen Walter Clegg for yourself. He’s the kind of man you get to run errands for you—the kind you give the dirty jobs you don’t feel like doing yourself. He’s certainly not a man you’d ever think of entrusting with your deepest darkest secrets.’
‘So if Clegg presents no danger, why are we here?’
‘Because Inspector Blackstone does present a danger—and I want to find out what his next move’s going to be.’
‘We should have him killed,’ the smaller watcher said, ‘right away. You said yourself that we could make it look like an accident, and nobody would ever know any different.’
The other watcher laughed contemptuously. ‘A few hours ago, even talking about the possibility of killing him had you trembling—and now you can’t wait to see him dead.’
‘A few hours ago, I wasn’t as frightened as I am now.’
‘It’s never occurred to you that we could use him, has it?’ the taller watcher asked, with a superior air.
‘Use him? For what?’
‘To find what we’re looking for, of course. Tom Yardley’s beyond helping us with that, but maybe—if we handle him properly—Blackstone can take Yardley’s place.’
‘You really think he’ll be able to find what we can’t?’
‘It’s certainly worth a try, isn’t it?’
‘And if he does find it, can we kill him then?’
‘Yes,’ the tall watcher agreed. ‘Then we can kill him.’
Six
Night was falling over the great city of London. The gas-lighters had completed their rounds, and all the gas lamps were burning brightly. The costermongers had locked away their barrows for the day and were heading for the nearest boozer at which they were not already seriously in debt. The music halls had just opened their doors and the respectable theatres were getting ready to open theirs. And in one of the better parts of town, a hansom cab was conveying a plump policeman—in disguise—to the destination he had never sought, but which the powers-that-be had decided it was necessary he should visit.
The frock coat didn’t feel right, Archie Patterson told himself as the hansom got ever closer to the end of its journey.
It wasn’t that the coat didn’t fit properly. Far from it!
This particular operation, having been instigated by the Home Secretary himself, had almost unlimited funds at its disposal, and the expensive tailor to whom Patterson had paid a visit had done an excellent job of
‘No. I asked him, but he said it would be better for me if I didn’t get involved.’ Clegg’s eyes watered slightly. ‘I should have insisted,’ he continued, with a note of anguish in his voice. ‘I should have said that, as his best mate, I had a right—an’ a duty—to share his burden with him.’
And maybe if he had shared it with you, you’d be dead as well, Blackstone thought.
‘Did Tom ever mention smuggling to you?’ he asked.
‘Many a time. He said there was so much of it goin’ on in Afghanistan that you couldn’t move without trippin’ over it.’
‘But he never mentioned smuggling in Marston? ’
Walter Clegg giggled. ‘In Marston!’ he repeated. ‘Whatever would you smuggle out of Marston? Salt?’
It had been the reaction Blackstone had been expecting. The more he saw of the place himself, the more unsuitable it seemed as a centre of criminal activity. But Tom Yardley had been convinced that was just what it was.
And if he was wrong, then why was he now dead?
*
The two watchers stood at the head of the alley down which Blackstone and Walter Clegg had disappeared.
‘They’ve been in there for over half an hour now,’ said the shorter, more nervous one. ‘What can they be talking about?’
‘I’ve no idea,’ his taller companion replied. ‘And it doesn’t really matter, anyway.’
‘Are you sure about that?’
‘Of course I’m sure. Clegg doesn’t know anything.’
‘Isn’t it possible that Tom Yardley might have told him...?’
‘You’ve seen Walter Clegg for yourself. He’s the kind of man you get to run errands for you—the kind you give the dirty jobs you don’t feel like doing yourself. He’s certainly not a man you’d ever think of entrusting with your deepest darkest secrets.’
‘So if Clegg presents no danger, why are we here?’
‘Because Inspector Blackstone does present a danger—and I want to find out what his next move’s going to be.’
‘We should have him killed,’ the smaller watcher said, ‘right away. You said yourself that we could make it look like an accident, and nobody would ever know any different.’
The other watcher laughed contemptuously. ‘A few hours ago, even talking about the possibility of killing him had you trembling—and now you can’t wait to see him dead.’
‘A few hours ago, I wasn’t as frightened as I am now.’
‘It’s never occurred to you that we could use him, has it?’ the taller watcher asked, with a superior air.
‘Use him? For what?’
‘To find what we’re looking for, of course. Tom Yardley’s beyond helping us with that, but maybe—if we handle him properly—Blackstone can take Yardley’s place.’
‘You really think he’ll be able to find what we can’t?’
‘It’s certainly worth a try, isn’t it?’
‘And if he does find it, can we kill him then?’
‘Yes,’ the tall watcher agreed. ‘Then we can kill him.’
Six
Night was falling over the great city of London. The gas-lighters had completed their rounds, and all the gas lamps were burning brightly. The costermongers had locked away their barrows for the day and were heading for the nearest boozer at which they were not already seriously in debt. The music halls had just opened their doors and the respectable theatres were getting ready to open theirs. And in one of the better parts of town, a hansom cab was conveying a plump policeman—in disguise—to the destination he had never sought, but which the powers-that-be had decided it was necessary he should visit.
The frock coat didn’t feel right, Archie Patterson told himself as the hansom got ever closer to the end of its journey.
It wasn’t that the coat didn’t fit properly. Far from it!
This particular operation, having been instigated by the Home Secretary himself, had almost unlimited funds at its disposal, and the expensive tailor to whom Patterson had paid a visit had done an excellent job of
Similar Books
