Southampton Row (32 page)

“Certainly not!” she said briskly. “Please get on with it!”

Tellman had already checked on Lena Forrest’s story of visiting her friend in Newington and found that she had indeed been there, although Mrs. Lightfoot had only the vaguest ideas of time. Now he was retracing his steps with Maude Lamont’s other clients simply in the vague hope of learning something more about her methods which might lead him to Cartouche. He had little expectation of success, but he must appear to Wetron to be following it with urgency. Previously he had regarded Wetron as no more than the man who had replaced Pitt, by chance more than design. He resented him for it, but knew that it was not Wetron’s fault. Someone had to take the position. He did not like Wetron; his personality seemed to be calculating and too remote from the emotions of anger and pity that Tellman was used to in Pitt. But then whoever it had been would not have pleased him.

Now he suddenly perceived Wetron in an entirely different way. He was not a colorless career officer; he was a dangerous enemy to be regarded in an acutely personal light. Any man who could rise to leadership in the Inner Circle was brave, ruthless and extremely ambitious. He was also clever enough to have outwitted even Voisey, or he would be no threat to him. Only a fool would leave any act or word unguarded.

Therefore, Tellman set about appearing to pursue Cartouche, after having left a list of the places he would be with the desk sergeant, in case Pitt should want him for anything to do with the real issues that mattered.

He was listening to a Mrs. Drayton recounting her last séance, which had produced manifestations so dramatic as to astound Maude Lamont herself, when the butler interrupted them to say that a Mr. Pitt had called to see Mr. Tellman and the matter was so urgent that he regretted it could not await their convenience.

“Send him in,” Mrs. Drayton said before Tellman could excuse himself to leave.

The butler naturally obeyed, and a moment later Pitt was in the room looking white-faced and hardly able to keep still.

“Really completely remarkable, Mr. Tellman,” Mrs. Drayton said enthusiastically. “I mean, Miss Lamont had not expected such a display herself! I could see the amazement in her face, even fear.” Her voice rose with excitement. “It was at that moment that I absolutely, truly knew she had the power. I confess I had wondered once or twice before if it could have been faked, but this wasn’t. The look in her eyes was proof to me.”

“Yes, thank you, Mrs. Drayton,” Tellman said rather abruptly. It all seemed terribly unimportant now. They had found the lever on the table, a simple mechanical trick. He stared at Pitt, knowing that something of great and terrible urgency had happened.

“Excuse me, Mrs. Drayton,” Pitt said, his voice husky. “I am afraid I require Inspector Tellman to undertake something else . . . now.”

“Oh . . . but . . .” she began.

Pitt probably had no intention of dismissing her, but he was beyond the point of patience. “Thank you, Mrs. Drayton. Good day.”

Tellman followed him outside and saw Vespasia’s carriage at the curb, and the glimpse of her profile inside.

“Voisey knows where Charlotte and the family are.” Pitt could contain himself no longer. “He named the village.”

Tellman felt the sweat break out on his body and his chest tighten until he could hardly breathe. He cared about Charlotte, of course he did, but if Voisey sent anyone after Charlotte it would mean Gracie would be hurt as well, and it was the thought of that which filled his mind and drenched him with horror. The idea of Gracie hurt, crushed . . . the specter of a world without her was so terrible he could not bear it. It was as if happiness would never again be possible.

He heard Pitt’s voice as if from miles away. He was holding out something in his hand.

“I wish you to go down to Devon, today, now, and take them somewhere safe.”

Tellman blinked. It was money Pitt was giving him. “Yes!” he said, grasping it. “But I don’t know where they are!”

“Harford,” Pitt replied. “Take the Great Western as far as Ivybridge. From there it’s only a couple of miles to Harford. It’s a small village. Ask and you’ll find them. You’d better take them to one of the nearby towns, where you’ll be anonymous. Find lodgings where there are lots of other people. And . . . stay with them, at least until after the election results for Voisey. It won’t be very long.” He knew what he was asking, and what it might cost Tellman when Wetron found out, and he asked anyway.

“Right,” Tellman agreed. It did not even occur to him to question it. He took the money, then climbed into the carriage beside Vespasia, and as soon as Pitt was in also, they drove to the railway terminus for the Great Western. With the briefest farewell, Tellman was on his way to purchase his ticket and get onto the next train.

It was a nightmare journey simply because it seemed to take forever. Mile after mile of countryside rattled past the windows of the carriage. The sun began to sink in the west and the late-afternoon light deepened, and still they were nowhere near their destination.

Tellman stood up and stretched his cramped legs, but there was nothing to do except sway, adjusting his weight and balance, watch the hills and valleys steepen and then flatten out again, then sit down and wait longer.

He had not stopped to pack clean shirts or socks or linen. In fact, he did not even have a razor, a comb, or a toothbrush. None of that mattered; it was just easier to think of the small things than of the larger ones. How would he defend them if Voisey sent someone to attack them? What if when he got there they were already gone? How would he find them? That was too terrible to bear, and yet he could not drive it from his thoughts.

He stared out of the window. Surely they were in Devon by now? They had been traveling for hours! He noticed how red the earth was, quite unlike the soil around London that he was used to. The land looked vast, and in the distance ahead, even in high summer, there was something forbidding about it. The tracks stretched over the graceful span of a viaduct. For a moment the sheer daring of having built such a thing amazed him. Then he realized the train was slowing, they were reaching a station.

Ivybridge! This was it. At last! He threw the door open and almost tripped in his haste to reach the platform. The evening light was long, shadows stretching two and three times the length of the objects that cast them. The horizon to the west burned in a blaze of color so brilliant it hurt his eyes to look at it. When he turned away he was blinded.

“Can I help you, sir?”

He blinked and swiveled around. He was facing a man in the extremely smart uniform of a stationmaster, and who obviously took his position with great seriousness.

“Yes!” Tellman said urgently. “I have to get to Harford as soon as possible. Within the next half hour. It is an emergency. I must hire a vehicle of some sort, and have the use of it for a day at least. Where can I begin?”

“Ah!” The stationmaster scratched his head, setting his cap crooked. “What sort of a vehicle would you be wanting, sir?”

Tellman could barely contain his impatience. It took a monumental effort not to shout at the man. “Anything. It’s an emergency.”

The stationmaster seemed to remain unmoved. “In that case, sir, Mr. Callard down at the end of the road.” He pointed helpfully. “He might have something. Otherwise there’s old Mr. Drysdale up the other way, ‘bout a mile and a half. He has the odd dray, or the like, that he can sometimes spare.”

“Something faster than that would be better, and I haven’t time to walk in both directions to find it,” Tellman replied, trying to keep the panic and the temper out of his voice.

“Then you’d best walk to the left, down that way.” The stationmaster pointed again. “Ask Mr. Callard. If he doesn’t have anything, he’ll maybe know someone who does.”

“Thank you,” Tellman called over his shoulder as he already began moving away.

The road was downhill slightly, and he strode out as fast as he could, and kept up the pace. When he reached the yard it took him another five minutes to locate the proprietor, who seemed as unmoved by any sense of haste as the stationmaster had been. However, the sight of Vespasia’s money drew his attention, and he found he did have a fairly light cart, still capable of carrying half a dozen people, and a good enough horse to pull it. He took an exorbitant deposit, which Tellman resented, until he realized that he had no idea how or when he was going to return the vehicle, and that his skill at driving it was absolutely minimal. In fact, even climbing up onto the seat was awkward, and he heard Callard muttering under his breath as he turned away. Tellman very gingerly encouraged the horse to move, and then guided the cart out of the yard and along the road he had been told led to the village of Harford.

Half an hour later he was knocking on the door of Appletree Cottage. It was dark and he could see the lights on through the cracks in the curtains at the window. He had met no one else on the road except one man in a dray cart, from whom he had asked directions. Now he stood on the step, acutely aware of the intense darkness around him, the sharp smell of the wind off the open stretch of the moor he could no longer see away to the north. It was no more than a denser black against the occasional stars. It was a different world from the city, and he felt alien to it, at a loss to know what to do or how to cope. There was no one else to turn to. Pitt had entrusted him with rescuing the women and children. How on earth was he going to be equal to it? He had no idea what to do!

“Who is it?” a voice demanded from behind the door.

It was Gracie. His heart leaped.

“It’s me!” he shouted, then added self-consciously, “Tellman!”

He heard bolts withdrawn and the door open with a crash, showing a candlelit interior with Gracie standing in the doorway and Charlotte just behind her, the poker from the fireplace hanging loosely in her hand. Nothing could have told him more vividly that something had frightened them far more than the mere knocking on the door of a stranger.

He saw the fear and the question in Charlotte’s face.

“Mr. Pitt’s all right, ma’am,” he said in answer to it. “Things are hard, but he’s quite safe.” Should he tell her about Wray’s death and all that had happened? There was nothing she could do about it. It would only worry her when she should be concerned with herself, and escaping from here. And should he even tell them how urgent that was? Was it his job to protect them from fear, as well as actual physical danger?

Or would lying by omission make them act less urgently? He had thought about that on the train, and vacillated one way and then the other, making up his mind, and as quickly unmaking it.

“Why are yer ’ere, then?” Gracie’s voice cut across his thoughts. “If nothin’s wrong, why aren’t yer in the city doin’ yer job? ’Oo killed the ghosty woman? Yer get that all sorted?”

“No,” he answered, moving inside to allow her to close the door. He looked at her pale, set face and the rigidity of her body inside her hand-me-down country dress, and he had to fight to keep the emotion down, stop it from tightening his throat until he couldn’t get the words out. “Mr. Pitt’s working on it. There’s been another death he needs to prove isn’t suicide.”

“So why aren’t yer doin’ summink about it, too?” Gracie was far from satisfied. “Yer look like summink the cat drug in. Wot’s the matter wif yer?”

He could see she was going to fight him all the way. It was infuriating, and yet so characteristic of her he felt tears sting his eyes. This was ridiculous! He should not allow her to do this to him!

“Mr. Pitt isn’t satisfied this is a safe place for you,” he said tartly. “Mr. Voisey knows where you are, and I’m to take you somewhere else straightaway. There’s probably no danger, but best be safe.” He saw the fear in Charlotte’s face and knew that for all Gracie’s bravado, they were just as aware as Pitt that the danger was real. He swallowed. “So if you’ll get the children up and dressed we’ll go tonight, while it’s dark. Doesn’t stay long, this time of year. We need to be well out of the area in three or four hours, because it’ll be daylight by then.”

Charlotte stood motionless. “Are you sure Thomas is all right?” Her voice was sharp, edged with doubt, her eyes wide.

If he told her, it would relieve Pitt from having to try to find a way when they finally got back to London. And perhaps it would ease her physical fear for him. Voisey would never damage him now, he was too precious alive, to watch him suffer.

“Samuel!” Gracie demanded sharply.

“Well, he is and he isn’t,” he replied. “Voisey’s made it look like it was Mr. Pitt’s fault that this man committed suicide, and he was a churchman, very well liked. Of course it wasn’t, and we’ll get to prove it . . .” That was a pretty wild piece of optimism. “But for now the newspapers are giving him a hard time. But will you please go and get the children up, and put your things into cases, or whatever you brought them in. We haven’t got time to stand here and argue it out!”

Charlotte moved to obey.

“I suppose I’d better pack up the kitchen,” Gracie said, darting Tellman a fierce look. “Well, don’t just stand there! Yer look as starved as an alley cat! Come ’ave a slice o’ bread an’ jam while I pack up wot we got. No sense leaving it ’ere! An’ yer can carry it out ter wotever kind o’ cart yer got out there. Wot ’ave yer got, anyway?”

“It’ll do,” he answered. “Make me a slice, and I’ll eat it on the way.”

She shivered, and he noticed that her hands were clenched, knuckles white.

“I’m sorry!” he said with a wave of feeling so intense his voice was husky. “There’s no need to be afraid, Gracie. I’ll look after you!” He reached out to touch her, a stab of physical memory bringing back the moment he had kissed her when they were following after Remus in the Whitechapel affair. “I will!”

She looked away from him and sniffed. “I know yer will, yer daft ’aporth,” she said savagely. “An’ all of us! One-man army, y’are. Now do summink useful an’ get these things inter a box an’ take ’em out to yer cart, or wotever it is. An’ wait! Put that light out ’afore yer open the door!”

He froze. “Is someone watching you?”