An Experiment in Treason Read online

  I assured him I did not.

  “Such a nice room,” said Carruthers, looking about. “It gets little use by Lord Hillsborough.” He paused. “Well now, what can I tell you that you and Sir John don’t already know?”

  “As much as possible about Albert Calder. For instance, you are the head of the household staff, I assume?”

  “Yes, oh yes.”

  “Then I take it you are in charge of hiring and firing,” said I. “When did you hire Mr. Calder? How long, in other words, had he worked here?”

  “Nearly five years, I should say. I have been with Lord Hillsborough for a bit more than that, and Albert was one of the first I hired — if not the first.”

  “You called him by his Christian name, I note. Was he so well known to you? Was he a friend?”

  “Oh,” said Carruthers, “I’m not sure what that means in a large staff as we have here. A friend? Possibly. He was certainly a fine fellow. He kept everyone round the kitchen table well-entertained. There was that about him which begged familiarity. You could not think of him as any sort of Mister.” Yet having said what he had said, the butler fell silent, as if for a moment reconsidering. “But I must say,” he resumed, “it was not quite so with him during the past few weeks.”

  “Would you say that he changed?”

  “I would say so, yes — but in a rather subtle way. He still joked and jollied with us, but it was as if he just tried to keep up appearances, as if he weren’t really behind it. I remember I caught him alone — why, in this very room! — and though he sat in its darkest corner, I perceived that he had been weeping. Now, it ain’t usual for a man to weep, especially one such as Calder.”

  “What do you mean by that? One such as Calder?”

  “Well, as I said, he was, in his way, a jolly sort, but more than that, he seemed ever the sort who could take care of himself. A great hulking fellow, he was. He feared none — or seemed not to till I found him so here in the drawing room.”

  “Did he account for this? Did he say what burdened him so?”

  “No,” said he with a judicious shake of his head. “He said naught but that it was money troubles.”

  “Money troubles?”

  “Yes, and no more than that. I sought to relieve him, cheer him a bit, saying that we all had those. But I did say that if ever he wanted to be more specific, I was there to listen, and maybe I could help. But he never did come to me. We never talked further of it.”

  He ended with a gesture — open hands raised into the air — as if to signify that he had told all there was to tell. Yet I was not to be put off quite so easily.

  “Why was it necessary for Lord Hillsborough to put the footmen on duty as guards? What was it of such value that it required that sort of protection?”

  “That,” said Carruthers, “I fear I cannot answer. Perhaps only Lord Hillsborough can.”

  “Or possibly Will Lambert?”

  “Possibly. But you would have to pose such questions direct to him.”

  “And may I do that now?”

  “Unfortunately not. He is not here, nor is he likely to be for some time yet. It is the duty of driver and coachman to wait with the coach until such time as it may be required by Lord Hillsborough.”

  “And where would they be waiting?” I asked.

  “Well, if you wish to seek him out,” said he, “you would best look among the coaches in line at Middle Scotland Yard, for that is where Lord Hillsborough keeps his office.”

  With that I rose and returned with him to the door which led to Craig’s Court without. There he paused and gave me more detailed instructions.

  “I can tell you this,” said the butler to me, “if he is there at all awaiting the master, the coach will be in the second space in line.”

  “How can you be certain?” I asked.

  “There is a distinct order of rank maintained there. Nothing is done by chance, nor will it ever be.”

  I bowed my thanks and took my leave of him.

  He had given most explicit directions, sending me to Charing Cross Road and to its end, where it widened considerably into Whitehall. Middle Scotland Yard, I was to remember, would be the second building on my left. I was grateful for all this, for in truth I was not well acquainted Math these grand buildings of government and could easily have lost my way.

  What went on there in Whitehall I had no exact idea, though had I been asked, I should have replied quickly enough that all matters pertaining to Britain and her colonies were handled there, in its many offices. Yes, but handled in what way? Could the price of bread be dictated from Whitehall? Were men such as Lord Hillsborough to preside over spaces and places which they had never even seen? It seemed to me that Sir John ruled his piece of London more truly and fairly than any such “secretary” or administrator who might happen to preside over this territory or that island. And he did so by virtue of his residence there in the heart of Covent Garden.

  Ah, but there was no denying that the buildings which comprised this seat of governance were indeed impressive. Tall they were and of great dimension. Yet, in a way, the spaces between were just as impressive, for they were of such size that they might accommodate whole troops of men and regiments of soldiers. The rest of London — or the most of it, in any case — seemed narrow, dark, and constricted by contrast. Here, in Whitehall, a man could see the sky and feel the sun.

  When I turned through the gate and into the great cobbled court of Middle Scotland Yard, I found all to be just as Carruthers the butler had described. To the right, just beyond the carriage entrance, was a line of coaches that seemed to stretch half the length of the great hall. There were more empty spaces in it, and so I assumed that the second coach in line must be that of Lord Hillsborough. I satisfied myself in that by approaching the two men who had taken places beside it and asking them which of them was Will Lambert.

  “That would be me,” said the younger of the two. “What can I do for you, young sir?”

  I explained who I was, where I had come from, and on whose authority I had been sent.

  “I have some questions for you,” said I to him.

  Lambert, who seemed increasingly concerned as I identified myself, wore a rather long face by the time I had done. He exchanged significant looks with the short, squat man whom I took to be the driver of the coach. In other words, reader, he took some time to respond.

  “What say you,” said he to me, “if we take a little walk that we might talk a little easier and in private?”

  I assented and saw most immediate that it was not away from his companion, the driver, that he wished to take me, but rather out of earshot of those coachmen and drivers round us who had moved perceptively closer to hear what might be said. Perhaps I had been a bit loud in pronouncing the Bow Street Court and the name of Sir John. I vowed to watch my tone.

  “I have come, ” said I, “to learn more of Albert Calder.”

  “Well, what is there to learn?” said he in little more than a whisper. “He was a footman, same as me. Not much to tell there.”

  “But he was also a house guard — just as you are.”

  “That’s right — but that hadn’t gone on long.”

  “How long?”

  “Oh … I don’t know, maybe a month.”

  “And what was it you were guarding?”

  “What were we guarding?” He became agitated. His voice rose. “Why, just like you said, we were guarding the house.”

  “Come now,” said I, “you were both going on short sleep. There must have been some special reason, something special you were guarding.”

  He hesitated, then blurted forth: “No, there wasn’t, least not what we were told about. All I can say is, we were to keep special watch on that one room.”

  “What room?”

  “You know what room, the one I found him in, the one where he met his end.”

  “Lord Hillsborough’s study?”

  “That’s right.”

  “But you were never
told what it was in that room you were guarding that was so important that you were to do without sleep to protect it from theft?”

  “No, we were never told that. All I can say is, whoever killed poor Albert must’ve got what he came for.”

  “Why do you say that?” I asked.

  “Because there’s no more of that house guarding. I got a fair night’s sleep the last few nights.”

  “What were your instructions regarding the use of your weapons?”

  “Try to capture the thief, if possible, and if not, shoot to kill. What I think happened was, Albert come upon the robber and pulled out his pistol and told him to cease and desist, not knowing there was another robber just behind him. He got whacked from behind, as anyone could plainly see. It must’ve been one hell of a blow put him down.”

  “It could’ve been you.”

  “Ain’t I told myself that a hundred times?”

  I waited then, allowing him to make it one hundred and one. He roused himself then and gave me an expectant look. It was as though he had something to tell, yet would offer me nothing gratis. He depended upon me to ask the right question. I perceived this, yet knew not what that question might be.

  “What sort of man was he?” I asked lamely.

  “What sort is any man? He was a fine fellow, was Albert. There’s little could be said against him, the way he could get everyone laughing and carrying on.”

  “Yes, I’ve heard he was quite a dinner-table entertainer.”

  “And so he was.”

  “But I’ve also heard that in the last few months he seemed secretly to be worried.”

  “You must have heard that from Carruthers,” said he, yet waited for no confirmation from me before plunging on: “About a month past he come to me and asked what was it wrong with poor Albert. I told him there was nothing wrong with him — just that he ran into a spot of trouble, as we all do from time to time.”

  “I was told that Albert Calder’s problems were money problems.”

  “Ain’t they always? By God, with money enough a man could solve all the problems life puts before him. Now, ain’t that true?”

  “It may well be,” said I, “but I would like to know what dort of money problems Calder was having.”

  He, who had become quite forthcoming, did all of a sudden fall sUent. Taking a step back, he gave me a hard, assessing look, as if to satisfy himself that I was worthy of the information he might or might not offer me.

  “What did you say it was you had to do with Bow Street? ” he asked.

  “I am Sir John Fielding’s assistant.”

  “You look pretty young for that.”

  “That’s as may be,” said I. “Nevertheless, that is who I am and what I am.”

  “You got any piece of paper says so?”

  “Could you read it if I did? Listen, you have something to tell. I want to hear it. You can either tell me now, so that I may pass it on to Sir John, or wait until tonight when one of the Bow Street Runners comes and hauls you out of bed and brings you to Sir John that he may hear it direct from you. Of course by then he may be asleep, in which case you shall have to wait in our strong room until morning when he wakes and has breakfasted. And, of course, by this time Lord Hillsborough may have missed you, at least to the extent that he will have noticed that there are not two up top his coach but only one. And having noticed that — “

  “Awright, awright,” said he, “you made your point right enough. What do you want from me?”

  “What you have to tell me. I asked you what sort of money problems Albert Calder was having. Answer that, and we’ll have made a good beginning.”

  He sighed and then nodded his assent. “Albert Calder was a gambler. He would as soon bet upon the fall of a penny as drink the ale the penny could buy. He’d bet upon anything, whether it be two mice made to race, or the time it would take for the shadow of the Admiralty to reach the Middle Yard. And if he’d stuck to those farthing and tuppence wagers and suchlike, he’d have been alright, but he didn’t. The worst thing that could happen to any gambling man happened to him.”

  “And what was that?” I asked.

  “He got lucky.”

  “How could that be bad?”

  “Oh, you know how it is. You win a bit, and then a bit more, and pretty soon, you’ve got a few pounds and maybe a sovereign or two, and with them you get the itch to try your luck at the games where winning would mean winning big — like dicing and twenty-one. Oh, and he used to visit the terrier pits, the big one down in Bedford Street. The funny thing is, his luck held up — for a while — and he was bringing five or ten pounds of an evening. Albert was getting rich, or would have been if he’d had the good sense to quit whilst he was ahead — but he never. He just looked at all the pounds, shillings, and pence he won as just so much to gamble with to get more.

  “Well, you know what happened. Just as quick as the luck had come to him, it went even quicker. It couldn’t have taken more than two or three nights to clean him out. And if that wasn’t bad enough, that last day of losing and maybe a day or two after, he played on credit at this one place. The man who ran the game took his notes and chits, and Albert woke up one morning to find himself in debt near a hundred pounds.”

  “And that, I suppose, was just about a month ago.”

  “So it was, ” he said, “so it was.”

  “Just about the same time you two started house-guarding.”

  “Well now, you got that right. Why didn’t I ever think of that?” And just in case I had not caught his attempt at irony, Will Lambert delivered to me a great wink of his eye.

  “I have but one question more for you, sir,” said I.

  “And what is that?”

  “What was the name of that fellow who ran the last game, the one wherein Albert Calder was allowed to play on credit?”

  “Can’t help you much there. Y’see he don’t have a name so much as he has a sort of nickname — and that is ‘Duke.’”

  “Duke? Is he a duke? One of nobility?”

  “No, not by much, he isn’t. It’s for the way he dresses, which, as I’ve heard, is in the manner of a gentleman.”

  “Ah,” said I, “then perhaps you can tell me where it is that he runs his game of chance and what sort of a game it be.”

  “You said there’d be no more questions after the last.”

  “Oh, did I, didn’t I? But then, that answer you gave wasn’t much, now, was it? No name but a nickname?”

  “Ah well, perhaps you’re right. No, I can’t tell you where the game might be, but I think it must surely be in or around Bedford Street, for ‘tis there that the Duke spends most of his time. And as for what sort of game it is, I don’t really know that, either, for I ain’t never been there. I’ve no doubt, though, that it is played with cards and could even make a poor man of the king.”

  I learned soon enough why Sir John had requested that I return to Bow Street for his court session. There was little time to discuss the matter beforehand, for he was on his way into the courtroom when I arrived.

  “It’s you, is it, Jeremy?”

  “Yes sir, and I’ve found out some things about Albert Calder that you’ll be interested in.”

  “I’ll be glad to hear them — but not now. I must get on with it, I fear. I’ve a full docket today.”

  “As you will. Sir John.”

  Mr. Marsden threw open the door to the courtroom and assisted the magistrate in his entrance. I held back, thinking it best to seat myself at the rear of the room. But Sir John would have none of that.

  “Come along, Jeremy,” said he. “I want you in the front row, for you’ve a role to play in this drama.”

  What role? What drama? Truly, at that moment I had no idea, yet as I was then as always Sir John’s faithful servant, I followed him in and, following the “all rise ” intoned by Mr. Marsden, took a place in the front row that had been held for me by Mr. Fuller, the day jailer.

  Sessions of the Bow Street Court are
usually well attended by the denizens of Covent Garden. And on this day it seemed that an especially large assembly of layabouts, whores, and pimps had come for their midday entertainment. They came to laugh at the predicaments of those who came before Sir John on such petty charges as public drunkenness and disturbing the peace; to jeer and cheer at those who brought their disputes to be settled in magistrate’s court; and, finally, to thrill to the tales told in their own defense by those charged with felonies, who would in a day or two face trial at Old Bailey. Whatever was brought before them, the crowd found diversion and even some excitement in these daily sessions. But lately, as Sir John oft complained, they had grown a bit unruly; and the boldest of them seemed to wish to influence him in his decisions with their catcalls and shouts.

  At that moment, there was a loud hum of anticipation, so loud, in fact, that Sir John found it necessary to beat upon the scarred table before him with his gavel, and call for order. They responded properly, and soon all had quieted down.

  “Mr. Marsden, call the first case.”

  “We summon Lady Marie-Helene Grenville before the bar.”

  There was an immediate response from the crowd, more in the nature of a roar than a hum. Any criminal charge to a member of the aristocracy or the nobility was of keen interest to those of the lower classes. Yet this one had been talked of for weeks for a number of reasons. First of all, Marie-Helene was (it was rumored, for none had seen her) a beautiful Frenchwoman. She was bold and brave and had undertaken to fight when challenged in the course of a smuggling expedition. And, finally, she was under the protection of Black Jack Bilbo, gambler and previously a privateer. Mr. Bilbo, long a favorite with the mob, was said also to be her lover.

  I turned and looked behind me, half-expecting to see them marching down the aisle in answer to Mr. Marsden’s loud summons. Yet only half, for well I recalled Clarissa’s clear-eyed prediction of their defection. Sir John, too, must have been of a like opinion.

  Nor was I the only one who turned to look for them. All round the courtroom people turned and stretched their necks that they might catch a glimpse of Marie-Helene or Mr. Bilbo. Where were they? The roar of the crowd rose to a hubbub. Sir John beat down savagely upon the table with his gavel.