'That's all it was, Susan.'
It was the last call of the day and, though it involved a long walk to Cripplegate Ward, Jonathan Bale did not mind the exercise. On the trail of a murder suspect, he never complained about sore feet and aching legs. As he strolled up Wood Street, he was interested to see the changes that had been made. Like other wards in the city, Cripplegate had been devastated by the Great Fire of 1666. Robbed of its churches, its livery halls and its houses, it had also lost much of its earlier character. The rebuilding had started immediately and Bale was intrigued to see how many streets, lanes and alleyways had risen from the ashes.
The man he sought lived in Aldermanbury Street, a thoroughfare in which several fine residences had already been completed. He had come to the home of Erasmus Howlett, a leading brewer in the city, and it was evident from the size and position of the house that Howlett's business was an extremely profitable one. Bale was admitted at once and shown into the parlour. Howlett soon joined him.
'You've come from Baynard's Castle Ward, I hear,' he said.
'Yes, sir,' replied Bale.
'What brought you to the north of the city?'
'A murder inquiry, Mr Howlett.'
The other man gulped. 'Murder? Can this be so?'
Bale told him about the crime in Knightrider Street, and, being a friend of Francis Polegate, the brewer was visibly disturbed. Nearing fifty, Erasmus Howlett was a portly man of medium height with a chubby face and a voluminous paunch only partly concealed by a clever tailor. His podgy hands kept twitching involuntarily.
'These are sad tidings, Constable,' he said, 'but I don't understand why you felt the need to bring them to me.'
'I came on another errand, Mr Howlett.'
'Ah, I see. In that case, perhaps you should sit down.' 'Thank you,' said Bale, taking a chair. 'Yours was the last name on my list. That's why I'm here.'
'List?' repeated Howlett, sitting down.
'Of people who might be able to help me.'
'I'm more than ready to do that.'
'Thank you. I called on Mr Polegate first thing this morning, before he set off to Cambridge. What perplexed me from the start,' Bale went on, 'was how the killer knew that his victim would be in the house on that particular day. Mr Everett had never stayed in London before. The first time that he does, he is shot dead.'
'Quite horrifying!'
'I asked Mr Polegate to give me the name of anybody - anybody at all - to whom he may have mentioned that his brother-in-law would be coming to celebrate the opening of the business. At first, he could think of nobody until he remembered dining with some friends a week ago.'
'That's right,' said Howlett. 'I was one of them.'
'I've spoken to the other two gentlemen, sir. They all agree that Mr Everett's visit was mentioned in the course of the meal.'
'It was, constable. I recall it myself.' He laughed heartily. 'You surely do not think that any of us was responsible for the crime, do you?' He extended his trembling palms 'With these wretched hands of mine, I could not even hold a weapon, let alone pull the trigger.'
'I didn't come here to accuse you, Mr Howlett.'
'That's a relief.'
'And I'm sorry about your ailment.'
'Three physicians have tried to cure it and each one has failed.'
'It must be an inconvenience.'
'One learns to live with one's disabilities,' said Howlett, clasping his hands together. 'Most of the time, I hardly notice the problem. On the question of your errand,' he continued, why has it brought you to my door - if you've not come to arrest me, that is?'
'I wondered if you'd passed on the information to anyone else.'
'What - about the visit of Mr Everett?' 'Yes, sir.'
'I don't think so, Constable. To be honest, there's nobody in
It was the last call of the day and, though it involved a long walk to Cripplegate Ward, Jonathan Bale did not mind the exercise. On the trail of a murder suspect, he never complained about sore feet and aching legs. As he strolled up Wood Street, he was interested to see the changes that had been made. Like other wards in the city, Cripplegate had been devastated by the Great Fire of 1666. Robbed of its churches, its livery halls and its houses, it had also lost much of its earlier character. The rebuilding had started immediately and Bale was intrigued to see how many streets, lanes and alleyways had risen from the ashes.
The man he sought lived in Aldermanbury Street, a thoroughfare in which several fine residences had already been completed. He had come to the home of Erasmus Howlett, a leading brewer in the city, and it was evident from the size and position of the house that Howlett's business was an extremely profitable one. Bale was admitted at once and shown into the parlour. Howlett soon joined him.
'You've come from Baynard's Castle Ward, I hear,' he said.
'Yes, sir,' replied Bale.
'What brought you to the north of the city?'
'A murder inquiry, Mr Howlett.'
The other man gulped. 'Murder? Can this be so?'
Bale told him about the crime in Knightrider Street, and, being a friend of Francis Polegate, the brewer was visibly disturbed. Nearing fifty, Erasmus Howlett was a portly man of medium height with a chubby face and a voluminous paunch only partly concealed by a clever tailor. His podgy hands kept twitching involuntarily.
'These are sad tidings, Constable,' he said, 'but I don't understand why you felt the need to bring them to me.'
'I came on another errand, Mr Howlett.'
'Ah, I see. In that case, perhaps you should sit down.' 'Thank you,' said Bale, taking a chair. 'Yours was the last name on my list. That's why I'm here.'
'List?' repeated Howlett, sitting down.
'Of people who might be able to help me.'
'I'm more than ready to do that.'
'Thank you. I called on Mr Polegate first thing this morning, before he set off to Cambridge. What perplexed me from the start,' Bale went on, 'was how the killer knew that his victim would be in the house on that particular day. Mr Everett had never stayed in London before. The first time that he does, he is shot dead.'
'Quite horrifying!'
'I asked Mr Polegate to give me the name of anybody - anybody at all - to whom he may have mentioned that his brother-in-law would be coming to celebrate the opening of the business. At first, he could think of nobody until he remembered dining with some friends a week ago.'
'That's right,' said Howlett. 'I was one of them.'
'I've spoken to the other two gentlemen, sir. They all agree that Mr Everett's visit was mentioned in the course of the meal.'
'It was, constable. I recall it myself.' He laughed heartily. 'You surely do not think that any of us was responsible for the crime, do you?' He extended his trembling palms 'With these wretched hands of mine, I could not even hold a weapon, let alone pull the trigger.'
'I didn't come here to accuse you, Mr Howlett.'
'That's a relief.'
'And I'm sorry about your ailment.'
'Three physicians have tried to cure it and each one has failed.'
'It must be an inconvenience.'
'One learns to live with one's disabilities,' said Howlett, clasping his hands together. 'Most of the time, I hardly notice the problem. On the question of your errand,' he continued, why has it brought you to my door - if you've not come to arrest me, that is?'
'I wondered if you'd passed on the information to anyone else.'
'What - about the visit of Mr Everett?' 'Yes, sir.'
'I don't think so, Constable. To be honest, there's nobody in
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