confidential air, ‘I don’t think a conversation with my clerk would be advisable. What we are discussing here is a little … outside the usual arrangements. The people I would be dealing with … well, perhaps I should say no more. However, payments will be necessary – in advance – and I would suggest the best way forward would be the creation of a … ah … small floating fund from which drawings could be made. Fully receipted, of course.’
Bulstrode’s lips were dry but the suggestion excited him: it gave him a daredevil feeling that was new to him – an opportunity to step beyond the constraining boundaries of the provincial city within which he normally worked, and to edge into the wider world with which I was obviously very familiar. He nodded, swallowing hard. ‘I’m sure an accommodation can be arrived at, Mr James.’
I tapped Bulstrode on the shoulder, almost affectionately. ‘The sooner the better, then, so we can move into play. I will take my leave from you now … but I will be hearing from you?’
‘At the earliest opportunity, Mr James.’
The solicitor bobbed his head, tugged at his gilt-buttoned waistcoat and proceeded up the lane towards the entrance into Fleet Street where he would be able to hail a cab. I watched his plump, self-important figure waddling away for a few moments, satisfied with myself. I sighed with relief. I could foresee I was now about to get rid of some burdensome financial obligations. I turned, humming a tune and made my way back to my chambers in the Inner Temple.
It was time to send a messenger to Ben Gully.
Chapter Two
1
I MET B EN G ULLY at the Blue Posts Inn. A man of the world yourself, you might have heard of the establishment … no?
The Blue Posts was down at the lower end of the Haymarket. During the day it served as an ordinary public house but after the closing of the theatres and the dancing halls in the evening it changed its character notably and became a regular adjournment place for those still seeking entertainment. At midnight the passage from the outside door and the large space in front of the bar was packed with pleasure-seekers, and men and women thronged the stairs leading to the upper rooms. There was always a roar and a din in the thick, confused atmosphere, reeking with spirits and tobacco, but the Scots couple who kept the inn maintained a tight control within the limits they set. During the day, it was quiet, and thinly frequented.
It was the reason why I arranged our meeting there.
My boy, I need to tell you about Ben Gully, who did much work for me in those days. A man of consequence. He wasn’t a tall man, perhaps five feet six in height and his overall build made him seem even shorter. He had a thick neck and broad shoulders, a chest like an
armoire
, a cicatriced forehead in a face that had been rearranged from time to time, and the kind of legs that wouldn’t stop a pig in a passage. He had fists like hams, and his knuckles were knobbled and scarred. There lurked in his eyes a cynical appreciation of the artifices of man, and it wasclear from his demeanour that he was one well experienced in the darker activities of the metropolis.
Ben Gully was a man of knowledge. The throbbing heart of the London underworld lay at Ben Gully’s fingertips. He knew all the larcenous families who flourished in Whitechapel, and those who carried out the acts of highway robbery, burglary and shop-breaking in Whitechapel, Southwark and Lambeth. He could explain how the parish of St James was notable for drunkenness , prostitution and vagrancy while Clerkenwell harboured the horse-stealers under the control of a ring led by a man from Smithfield. He could point out the centres for coining and uttering counterfeit coin, run by two Jewish brothers, in Covent Garden; he knew the embezzlers of Islington, the arsonists in Marylebone and could identify the thirty two illegal pawnshops in Mile End and Lambeth. He knew who frequented the fourpenny
Bulstrode’s lips were dry but the suggestion excited him: it gave him a daredevil feeling that was new to him – an opportunity to step beyond the constraining boundaries of the provincial city within which he normally worked, and to edge into the wider world with which I was obviously very familiar. He nodded, swallowing hard. ‘I’m sure an accommodation can be arrived at, Mr James.’
I tapped Bulstrode on the shoulder, almost affectionately. ‘The sooner the better, then, so we can move into play. I will take my leave from you now … but I will be hearing from you?’
‘At the earliest opportunity, Mr James.’
The solicitor bobbed his head, tugged at his gilt-buttoned waistcoat and proceeded up the lane towards the entrance into Fleet Street where he would be able to hail a cab. I watched his plump, self-important figure waddling away for a few moments, satisfied with myself. I sighed with relief. I could foresee I was now about to get rid of some burdensome financial obligations. I turned, humming a tune and made my way back to my chambers in the Inner Temple.
It was time to send a messenger to Ben Gully.
Chapter Two
1
I MET B EN G ULLY at the Blue Posts Inn. A man of the world yourself, you might have heard of the establishment … no?
The Blue Posts was down at the lower end of the Haymarket. During the day it served as an ordinary public house but after the closing of the theatres and the dancing halls in the evening it changed its character notably and became a regular adjournment place for those still seeking entertainment. At midnight the passage from the outside door and the large space in front of the bar was packed with pleasure-seekers, and men and women thronged the stairs leading to the upper rooms. There was always a roar and a din in the thick, confused atmosphere, reeking with spirits and tobacco, but the Scots couple who kept the inn maintained a tight control within the limits they set. During the day, it was quiet, and thinly frequented.
It was the reason why I arranged our meeting there.
My boy, I need to tell you about Ben Gully, who did much work for me in those days. A man of consequence. He wasn’t a tall man, perhaps five feet six in height and his overall build made him seem even shorter. He had a thick neck and broad shoulders, a chest like an
armoire
, a cicatriced forehead in a face that had been rearranged from time to time, and the kind of legs that wouldn’t stop a pig in a passage. He had fists like hams, and his knuckles were knobbled and scarred. There lurked in his eyes a cynical appreciation of the artifices of man, and it wasclear from his demeanour that he was one well experienced in the darker activities of the metropolis.
Ben Gully was a man of knowledge. The throbbing heart of the London underworld lay at Ben Gully’s fingertips. He knew all the larcenous families who flourished in Whitechapel, and those who carried out the acts of highway robbery, burglary and shop-breaking in Whitechapel, Southwark and Lambeth. He could explain how the parish of St James was notable for drunkenness , prostitution and vagrancy while Clerkenwell harboured the horse-stealers under the control of a ring led by a man from Smithfield. He could point out the centres for coining and uttering counterfeit coin, run by two Jewish brothers, in Covent Garden; he knew the embezzlers of Islington, the arsonists in Marylebone and could identify the thirty two illegal pawnshops in Mile End and Lambeth. He knew who frequented the fourpenny
Similar Books
