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Authors: The Companion

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‘I say, there!’ he cried, turning in the direction the other had gone and waving his stick in the air. But the pickpocket had long made good his escape.
I obtained the silk thread with little difficulty and had turned to make my way homeward when I heard my name shouted above the hubbub.
I looked round in surprise and saw Inspector Ross dodging vehicles to cross the road and waving a hand to hail me as he did so.
‘Well, Inspector!’ I greeted him, as he avoided the last flashing hooves and rumbling wheels and arrived beside me, breathless but thankfully uninjured. ‘I’m surprised to see you here.’
He took off his hat and panted, ‘Good afternoon, Miss Martin.’ A bead of sweat trickled down his brow from his black hair.
‘You look,’ I observed, ‘as if you have been out and about.’
Not only perspiring but distinctly dishevelled and not merely from his dash across the thoroughfare. His boots and trousers below the knees were plentifully splattered with mud.
He glanced down at himself and I saw an expression of almost comical dismay spread across his features as if he had only now realised what a sight he presented.
‘I look a mess,’ he said ruefully and rubbed one jacket cuff ineffectually against the other. ‘I apologise for that. I have been out and about, as you say, and I’m only now returning to my office. I was first at the site in Agar Town and later in Limehouse
where it’s dirty underfoot and you don’t find any crossing sweepers. I’ve just been a second time to Agar Town although to call it that now is meaningless. There’s nothing left standing at all. The place is quite levelled and they hope to start building the new yards and terminus soon. I must say, things there progress at a tremendous rate. The board meetings of the railway company must be more cheerful affairs than they have been of late.’ He pulled a wry face.
This was somewhat at odds with the picture painted by Mr Fletcher during lunch the previous day. But I supposed that if they were ready to move on to the next stage of the construction of the new terminus, then it must be doubly annoying to have the police still poking about the place. Building materials needed to be delivered, foundations to be dug. The architects would be arriving with their plans. There would be feverish activity on all sides with Fletcher no doubt buzzing from one spot to another exhorting everyone to greater efforts.
‘How do things go at Scotland Yard?’ I asked. ‘Or shouldn’t I enquire?’
‘You, of all people, Miss Martin, have a right to enquire,’ he returned with a brief grin. He then grew serious again and shook his head. ‘They go very badly. I make little or no progress and sometimes feel I’m slipping backwards. There is a man called Adams, a foreman at the demolition site, with whom I was very anxious to speak, but he seems to have disappeared. I’ve been seeking him, in company with a man called Fletcher who is employed by the railway and whose chief goal in life seems to be to make mine a misery.’
‘I can believe it,’ I said. ‘I have met Mr Fletcher.’ Ross looked surprised so I hastened to explain that on my return to Dorset Square the day before, after leaving Scotland Yard, I had found Mr Fletcher at table with Mrs Parry.
‘Indeed?’ said Ross thoughtfully at this news. ‘I wonder what the devil – excuse me – he was doing there?’
‘Mrs Parry is apparently a shareholder in the company,’ I said. ‘She and Fletcher appeared old acquaintances. What with that and her having sold some houses in Agar Town to the company, she has a keen interest in what goes on there even without being poor Madeleine’s employer.’
I wondered how much I might reveal of the conversation at which I had assisted without betraying my employer’s confidences, or her subsequent gift. I thought of the thread I’d only just purchased to sew the alterations to the tussore gown and almost had an impulse to take it out and throw it away. The whole thing put me in an embarrassing position with regard to Inspector Ross. If I told him of Aunt Parry’s present he would probably see it, as I increasingly did, as a bribe to me to use my slender acquaintance with him to the advantage of my employer and her co-conspirator, Mr Fletcher. As if I’d meddle in his investigations! Taking him the valuable information given by Bessie and Wally Slater wasn’t meddling, of course. That had been my duty as a citizen. But how much more could I tell him? Aside from any embarrassment to myself in the matter of the tussore silk, I owed a loyalty of discretion to my employer, however much it irked me.
I owed nothing, however, to the Midland Railway Company and certainly not to its representative Mr Fletcher. I could quite fairly report his words. ‘He spoke of his frustration at the interruption to the work caused by your enquiries and also at the number of curious sightseers the place is now attracting. I must say, I find that quite horrible,’ I added honestly.
‘Horrible perhaps, but natural,’ was Ross’s blunt reply. ‘Have you never witnessed a carriage accident? Or seen some poor soul run down in the street by a cart, or a workman fall from a high place? Perhaps not, but believe me, all those things attract sightseers like wasps round a jam pot. If you had seen Fletcher and myself in Limehouse an hour or two ago, you would have learned that it doesn’t need disaster to attract them. Any kind of unusual sight will do it. Although I dare say in Limehouse they
had high hopes of witnessing me make an arrest. A chance would be a fine thing!’ he added forlornly.
‘You will do,’ I said encouragingly. ‘I am sure of it.’
Ross shook his head to dismiss his gloom. ‘You are very kind and I could only wish Superintendent Dunn had your confidence in me. Yes, I suppose Mrs Parry, as a shareholder, doesn’t want matters held up. She is torn two ways, eh? She wants us to find out who killed Miss Hexham and she wants us off the site so that her investment may be realised in good time. It’s quite a normal reaction. The public invariably wants the police to sort matters out but as quickly and with as little inconvenience to the law-abiding as possible. I suppose Fletcher was there to enlist her support? Don’t reply to that if you’d rather not!’
‘I won’t,’ I told him, ‘but I will warn you that she may try to enlist
my
support. I was obliged to tell her that my father was your benefactor.’
He took this information in his stride. ‘I’d supposed you had already done so, just as I had to tell Superintendent Dunn. It would have been unwise for either of us to keep it a secret.’
I was relieved to have told him. It had been weighing on my mind. ‘As a matter of fact,’ I found myself saying more frankly than I’d intended, ‘I am not altogether sure how anxious Mrs Parry is to see Madeleine’s murderer caught. She’s a law-abiding citizen, of course, though she’d certainly prefer enquiries over and done with. The notoriety is unpleasant to her. A trial would add to the general curiosity, wouldn’t it? The newspapers would be full of it. I’m not unsympathetic to her fears, even though to have her constantly putting herself first—’
I checked myself but I’d already said too much and had to continue. ‘My impression is, if anything, that she is annoyed and embarrassed by Madeleine’s disappearance and death rather than feeling any grief or desire for justice. We have had spectators in Dorset Square, too, just as at Agar Town, although not yet in such numbers. It would be that much worse with lurid details of a trial
filling the popular press daily. The address would be referred to and it would draw more people. Her name must be mentioned as Madeleine’s employer. She’d hate that.’
‘Indeed?’ Ross murmured. He eyed me sharply. ‘And what do others in Dorset Square think of Miss Hexham’s violent death?’
I realised that my imprudent tongue had again led me, in a conversational sense, down a dangerous path. ‘I’m not sure I should give an opinion,’ I said. ‘I hardly know any of them. I only arrived in London Tuesday last, after all.’
‘So you did,’ he said in wonder. ‘You’ve had a baptism of fire, all right. But you are bearing up well, if you’ll allow me to say so. I’d expect nothing less of Dr Martin’s daughter, of course. And I have a great respect for the opinions of the doctor’s daughter, whom I know to be sharp-eyed and sharp-witted.’
‘I don’t know that I quite care to be described like that,’ I told him ruefully. ‘I am beginning to think I am far too outspoken for my own good. But very well, for what it’s worth, my impression is that the domestic staff have mixed views. Bessie you have met. She was fond of Miss Hexham. I believe she is sincerely upset. Simms the butler feels the whole business reflects badly on the dignity of the household. The maids are enjoying themselves tremendously because they are no doubt the centre of attention in their own world. Mrs Simms is a dragon who lurks in her basement lair and I don’t know what she thinks but probably the same as her husband. Nugent, Mrs Parry’s maid, has expressed no opinion. I think looking after Aunt Parry is enough for Nugent without having to worry about anything else!’ I broke off and put my hand guiltily to my mouth. ‘I should not have said that. Anyway, Nugent is kindly helping me with some sewing. She is very busy, that is all I meant.’
‘So much for below stairs,’ said Ross. ‘And above stairs? You have told me what you think Mrs Parry’s attitude is. What of others?’
But this time he had put his question too bluntly. I was not,
after all, a witness to the events he was investigating. Nor had I been in London long enough to form any opinion based on knowledge, only on first impressions. First Mrs Parry and her ally Fletcher tried to recruit me to their cause; now Ross was doing so.
‘I think,’ I told him seriously, ‘that in some ways you are without scruple.You flatter me, artfully refer to my father, and then expect me to tell you things I ought to keep well to myself. You are as bad as Mrs Parry or Mr Fletcher in seeking to enlist my support.’
That was unfair and I knew it – too late – the moment the words had left my lips. If Ross was seeking to use my knowledge it was at least in the cause of discovering Madeleine’s murderer. But I was upset and too obstinate to apologise.
There was a silence. Ross made no reference to my last remark, though I didn’t doubt he’d made a mental note of it, just as he made written notes of everything else. Instead he said quietly, ‘Believe me, I am not without scruple. But I am a man investigating a murder and no one is disposed to help me. Whatever their reasons, they frustrate me at every turn. You are living in the house, Lizzie, and you do care for justice.’
It wasn’t the first time he had called me ‘Lizzie’ and it was becoming all too much of a habit. I supposed I ought to ask him not to, but I found I really didn’t mind, even though I was annoyed with him. If anything, however, the awareness that I didn’t mind his familiarity made me even more cross, this time with myself.
‘All I can tell you,’ I retorted, ‘is that I have already said more than enough about Mrs Parry and I won’t say a word more. Mrs Belling, on the other hand, is someone to whom I owe no loyalty. I find her an unpleasant woman and her only concern, as far as I can see, is that she shall not be blamed for bringing Madeleine to London in the first place.’
‘Is that her only concern?’ Ross asked unexpectedly. ‘She has a son.’
‘I know. I’ve met him only once, very briefly. He seemed a nice enough person and spoke decently of Madeleine. I’ve nothing
against him and nothing more I can say of him!’ I was even more feeling I was being quizzed unfairly. It was one thing to be asked about people with whom I shared a roof, but to expect me to be able to talk of the state of mind of strangers was ridiculous. I said something of this to Ross, who looked suitably abashed.
‘Don’t misunderstand me, please, Miss Martin. I don’t expect you to do anything but give me a general impression of what you’ve been able to observe and I’m sorry, really, if you feel I’m taking liberties.’
That made me even angrier because I felt he wasn’t really sorry.
‘There is nothing else I can tell you about anyone,’ I concluded.
‘But you have left out one very important person with whom you share a roof,’ Ross said gently but firmly.
I gave an exclamation of annoyance and glared at him. ‘You mean Frank,’ I said.
‘I mean Mr Carterton, indeed. Does he wish to see Miss Hexham’s killer caught?’
‘Of course he does! If only because he fears he is at the top of your list.’
‘At the top of my list?’ Ross asked with a quizzical twitch of his eyebrows.
I felt myself reddening. ‘That’s his expression, not mine.’
‘Ah, so you have been talking it over with Mr Carterton. Well, that’s not surprising. Does Mr Carterton know that your father sponsored my education?’
‘I haven’t told him,’ I said uneasily. ‘His aunt may do so, I suppose.’
I was by now wishing myself out of this conversation and was about to tell Ross I had to hurry home at once when the conversation was interrupted for me.
‘Miss Martin!’ boomed through the air, causing several passersby to stop and turn.
Both Ross and I turned, startled, in the direction of the voice.
I saw bearing down on us the imposing and extremely irate form of Dr Tibbett. Brow furrowed, silver hair flying and black coattails flapping, it was as if Jove had decided to quit Olympus for the day to give mankind the benefit of his opinions.
‘Who is this?’ whispered Ross, sounding incredulous.

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