SV - 03 - Sergeant Verity Presents His Compliments (21 page)

There was a nervous shifting among the well-heeled audience.

'And,' shouted Verity, 'in a moment more the lights is going up and the detective photographer is to take pictures of you all, in case you should have to be identified subsequent.'

He stepped back and ripped aside the hangings where he had seen movement. A small, spectacled man crouched down, cowering behind the wooden box-camera on its tripod.

'Stan
d where you are, the lot of you!
' Verity roared. 'There's two constables among you already and a wagonload more on its way. You'll be took for questioning and close search. Gentlemen to W
hitehall and ladies to St James!’

At this promise, the growing horror among the spectators gave way to panic. Those nearest the door turned and bolted, the less fortunate scrambling at their backs in an endeavour to hasten the stampede. On the stage there was pandemonium. Two of the naked men in goat-masks tried to jump Verity. The first he repelled with a fist like a hambone driven with a smash to the nose. The second he got 'in Chancery', swung him round by the head and shot him over the edge of the platform and into the retreating spectators. There was a shriek of terror from several women as the nude figure fell upon them.

The house bullies watched helplessly from beyond the crowd, unable to force their way through to reach the stage. Samson had joined Verity by this time and began to wreak havoc with immense enthusiasm. The priests and priestesses of Lord Lucifer fought the two detective officers and, in some cases, one another in their enthusiasm to get clear before the police wagon arrived. Samson tripped on a body, crashed into the altar, which proved to be flimsy enough under its velvet, and brought it clattering down. He picked himself from the ruins, almost embracing the nude slippery girl who had been lying on it. In her fury, she flew at him, long nails fencing for his face and eyes. Samson dodged, snatched up a length of double, looped sash-cord from the debris and administered a long-range blow to the slim golden-skinned legs. The demoness yelped, turned about and ran, as Samson delivered a parting stroke to Miss Jolly's rear.

During this encounter, Verity had struggled through the brawl to reach Lord Lucifer's throne, from which the Ruler of Hell was endeavouring to descend, gingerly since the entire edifice appeared far more precarious close to than it had done at a distance. Attacking the foundation, Verity knocked the orange boxes from under the chair which they supported and brought the whole structure toppling over. The Prince of Hell picked himself from the ruins, still wearing his mask.

"ere!' he said peevishly, 'wot's all the aggravation about?'

'You'll find out, my man!' said Verity sternly. He reached out for Lord Lucifer, but the man took to his heels, dodged and ran out through the curtains. Within a few minutes the two sergeants had the stage to themselves.

'This way!' gasped Samson. 'Out here!'

In the general scramble for safety, several windows on the premises had been forced open, wealthy young swells and their ladies scrambling through, dropping to the pavement and running for their lives like small boys who had robbed an orchard. As Verity and Samson reached the street by this route, a considerable number of those who had been packed into the building were still wrestling their way out through the doors. The display of 'Royal Arabian Soap', 'Favourite of the Harem's Bouquet', and 'Jordan Water, 10 guineas a bottle', had been wrecked. Tortoiseshell and la
c
quered fragments were all that remained of the expensive boxes, while the promise of 'Beautiful for Ever' hung at a precipitous angle.

'You done it now, my son,' said Samson apprehensively.

'We was detailed to see nothing indecorous 'appened here. Look at this set-to!'

'Yes,' said Verity, 'and if Lord Renfrew was to be kept out of there, not even be seen in there, 'e must be a very important sort o' cove. There wasn't another way. I ain't so soft I didn't recognize a face or two among all them silk 'ats. And if anyone should come on me for what 'appened, I shall name a few names!'

'Over 'ere,' said Samson, unimpressed. 'Sharply!'

Verity caught a glimpse of Lord William Jervis, his hat gone, being borne along in the rush like a cork bobbing in a stream. There was a fair-haired young man close to him and a dark-haired youth with round face and heavy mouth whose appearance seemed distantly familiar.

'Lord Renfrew!' said Samson. 'G
et 'im clear!
'

The t
wo burly sergeants made for the crowd, thrusting their way in resolutely and ignoring the angry cries of, 'Stand aside, fellow!' or 'Throw him back!' from the men and the squeals of 'My cloak, sir!' and 'Oh, the brute!' from the women. Samson reached the dark young man, there was a murmured exchange and they began to struggle out through the crowd followed by Lord William, the fair young man, and Verity bringing up the rear.

Once clear of the scrimmage, Verity stood at a slight, respectful distance while the others bent their heads together in earnest discussion. Presently they walked, with the two sergeants behind them, down Bond Street towards the house of Mr Poole, the tailor. Verity noticed that the dark young man's coat had been torn open at the seam of the right arm. While Samson and Verity waited outside, the three men were admitted.

'Still think it was a wasted dooty?' Samson inquired.

Verity puffed up his moustaches a little.

'Oh, no, Mr Samson, not for an observant officer!'

He was peering at the window of the tailor's shop.

"ere!' he said, 'there's a picture of Lord Renfrew in a gold frame!'

'Yes,' said Samson, 'I shouldn't concern yourself over that, however.'

'Only,' said Verity softly, 'it don't say anything about any Lord Renfrew 'ere. It says "God Bless His Royal Highness the Prince of Wales". Cor! 'ere! Wait till Mrs Verity and 'er old father 'ear of this! Bli
mey! I been within six feet of ’i
m! I near as anything spoke to 'im! Why, Mr Samson! Now I see why you was so desperate for 'im not to have 'is picture took or even be seen there, grinning
at Miss Jolly's bare what's-it!
'

'The less you say about it, my son, the better it may be for us all,' said Samson soberly. 'You stick to duties assigned you, that's my advice.'

'Much obliged, Mr Samson, and I ain't greatly in need o' your advice. I done a bit o' duty tonight, afore you came on the scene, that makes being escort to 'is 'ighness seem very small beer.'

'Oh?' said Samson sceptically.

'Yes,' said Verity. 'I recognized that place as where the fourth glass-plate in poor Lord Henry's bureau was done.' 'You was lucky, my son.'

'It ain't luck when a man keeps at his duties, Mr Samson. But that ain't the 'alf of it. I 'ad time in there to work out that when they came to do the plate, they must a-held it the wrong way round. What they got was a reverse image, like in a mirror. Having only seen the plate o' course, I never noticed anything amiss, thinking it was all the right way round. But seeing the place where it was took makes a difference.'

'Do it? How might that be?'

'Why, Mr Samson!' said Verity with a faint chuffing noise, 'fancy a detective officer like you having to ask! You got a bit to learn about constabulary deduction, ain't yer? When I didn't know it hadn't been reversed, o' course there was nothing wrong with that plate. But if it was reversed, then only think of that funny fork-shaped scar Lord Henry had. Don't yer see? In that one picture alone, he was wearing it on the wrong leg!'

9

The damp walls at the rear of the patched and stained
houses enclosed the square grassy plot of the little burial-ground. Here and there the low mounds of paupers' graves were interspersed with carved stones almost lost in tall grass. Elaine hitched up her skirt as she cut across the ground towards Shoreditch High Street, reached by a narrow cobbled tunnel between the buildings on one side. It was almost midnight and soon there would be an easy trade as the gin palaces and the beer shops began to empty.

Already the foul moisture, which the cooler night drew from the grimy warmth of the stones, glistened upon paving and wall. Even the grass, taller than the girl's knees, was wet, so that she hitched her skirt up almost to her waist to keep it dry. A more distant gas-lamp cast a pale light on Elaine's sturdy young legs and thighs.

Half-way across the plot, she heard a sound behind her and saw the man's shape following. She had no doubt that he was one of those who gloated over the sight of accidentally-revealed female limbs. Even at fifteen years old, Elaine had a proper sense of values. She made money by her body and a man who derived enjoyment from it without paying was as much a thief as the man who stole from a stall or a shop-window. He began to draw level, his eyes turning to keep her in view as she held up her skirts. Elaine tossed her fair hair and shouted angrily,

'Seen everything you want?'

The man strode ahead of her into the cobbled tunnel, then, as she entered, he turned to her and the light fell on his face. Elaine dropped her skirt and shrieked with a terror she had never known before. The man who stood before her was unmistakably Charley Wag.

The girl turned to run, but her limbs seemed deadened by shock. Then the Wag was upon her. He held her by the shoulders and shook her till her teeth rattled.

'Bitch!' he said savagely, striking her across the mouth. 'That for a cheating slut! That for a police-office whore! And that for good measure!'

Elaine staggered under the blows, falling in terror against the slime of the tunnel wall and slithering to a squat, gibbering with undiluted horror. It was Charley Wag in every detail, she knew that, risen from the grave to take his vengeance. He had drawn a cord from his pocket and was holding it taut between his two fists. In her paralysis of fear, the girl made no move to defend herself as the noose lay slack round her throat. She saw the Wag's features contort with rage, his hands seizing the cord. And then, as she fought for breath, there was a distant sound of footsteps. The air came freely and she was alone, vomiting with fright on the cobbles. One or two passers-by looked at her and saw a drunken slut, bedraggled and sick. Elaine stared wildly about, pulled herself together and then, still weeping with fright, began to run. She had no idea in which direction she was going. Her only desire was to run and run as far from Shoreditch, Charley Wag and London as her legs would carry her.

10

Marching side by side, their stout boots measuring the cobbled carriageway in equal strides, Verity and Samson entered the spacious piazza before London Bridge Station as the summer dusk began to gather. The first lights were showing in the bow-fronted little shops under the station colonnade and as the cabs waited outside, drivers nodding on their boxes, hats and whips askew, the warm tawny glow of the carriage-lamps glimmered like the riding-lights of distant ships.

'I got no business to be 'ere!
' Samson grumbled. 'I got a pension to think of and a poor little wife to keep.'

'Last I 'eard,' said Verity with scepticism, 'all you got was Fat Maudie with a voice like Billingsgate.'

Samson shrugged.

'Common-law wife,' he said defensively, 'and she don't that often raise her voice.' Verity beckoned a porter.

"ave the goodness to fetch two
half-a-crown
Lewes-and-back, my man, and look sharp about it.'

Making a mental note of the man's number, he watched him scurry away.

'Body-snatching!' said Samson with a shudder.

Verity glanced about him, as though to ensure he was not overheard.

'Look, Mr Samson. When I was able to save you from a deal of unpleasantness over 'is 'ighness, you was quick enough to say 'ow you wished to return the favour. But the minute I took you up on it, there's a different song being sung.'

'Body-snatching!' said Samson again. 'You got any idea, 'ave you, the sentences they pass for it? Not including dismissal from the force and loss of pension!'

Verity paused, took the tickets from the porter, tipped the man a penny and led the way to the Brighton train.

'Mr Samson,' he said quietly but firmly, 'there ain't going to be any snatching done. I only want to see that all is as it should be, just as any constabulary officer might. There ain't no call for you to be in the tomb-house. Why, you might even stand at the wall and not set foot on Lord William's land. But I do need a pair of eyes watching for me while I work.'

'What I'll be,' said Samson glumly, 'is a necessary after the fact.'

Verity's plump jowls quivered and his moustache fluffed up a little under the impulse of windy chortling. He opened the door of a second-class carriage. As the two men sat down in the empty wooden interior he said,