Murder at the Bayswater Bicycle Club

by Linda Stratmann

  ‘Oh, I can see where this is going,’ groaned Sharrock. ‘All right, I’ll get Hambling to talk to him and you can make us all some more tea, but no interfering please.’

  ‘I don’t interfere, I help,’ said Frances indignantly, and marched indoors.

  Shorn of his steed, the boy huddled in a corner of the kitchen, looking frightened and pulling his green cap down about his ears. He was clad in a fraying shirt and rough trousers that were too long for him, rolled up at the hem to fit, exposing skinny ankles. Grubby feet were thrust into shoes that had broken open at the toe. He glanced about for a means of escape, but since the back-exit door had been locked and Pounder was between him and the entrance, there was little hope of that. Frances could not help thinking how well Tom looked after his ‘men’, even the humblest of them, and how his business had prospered since he had insisted that the boys were clean, decently clad and well fed. She filled the kettle and prepared a teapot.

  ‘Now then, my lad,’ said Hambling, producing a notebook and pencil. His manner was firm and official but not unkind, ‘you can start by giving us your name. The sooner you tell us what you know the sooner you can go home.’

  The boy wavered for a moment, then he said, ‘Joe.’

  ‘I see. Got a second name?’

  ‘Stibson.’

  ‘How old are you Joe?’

  ‘Twelve.’

  ‘And where do you live?’

  He mumbled an address in Shepherds Bush.

  ‘And what does your father do?’

  ‘Ain’t got no father. Ma takes in washing.’

  Hambling made some notes and nodded. ‘Now then, you were brought here to be questioned because you were riding a velocipede which we have good reason to believe once belonged to someone else. Can you say how you came to be in possession of it?’

  ‘I was given it, wasn’t I?’ said Joe, a little too quickly.

  ‘Oh yes, and who gave it to you?’

  ‘I don’t know. Just someone who didn’t want it no more.’

  ‘Very generous, I must say. Even for an old machine like that. Come on, you must know who you got it from. Speak up!’

  There was a long pause, then the boy said, ‘Well I didn’t exactly get given it. It was more like I found it. It didn’t belong to anyone, ’onest! I thought it had been thrown away, like rubbish, so I took it.’

  ‘And how do you know it didn’t belong to anyone?’

  ‘It’d just been left lying about.’

  ‘And where was that?’

  ‘Just anywhere. I don’t remember.’

  ‘Come on, now Joe,’ said Hambling, sternly. ‘I think you know very well where you got it. And as it happens, we know too, because it was seen earlier today so you might just as well come out with it.’

  Joe hung his head in misery. ‘In the old garden by the lodge,’ he muttered.

  ‘I see, and you just happened to be looking in there? Why was that? Was it because you knew what you would find?’

  Joe sniffled and there was a long pause.

  ‘Come on now, lad, I want an answer!’

  The tea wasn’t ready yet, but Frances took some milk from the larder and offered the boy a cupful. He looked surprised, then drank it down thirstily. ‘I heard someone say there was an old machine in there that didn’t belong to anyone, and it was just there for the taking, so I thought I’d go and have a look and there it was. I haven’t done anything wrong. It’s not stealing if it don’t belong to anyone.’

  Hambling leant forward and looked very closely at the boy. ‘Was it Mr Hopper who told you to get it?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘How long have you worked for Mr Hopper?’

  ‘Don’t know no Mr ’opper.’

  ‘I think you do.’

  ‘Don’t.’

  ‘You’re lying,’

  ‘No I ain’t.’

  ‘We know you work for him because you have been seen carrying messages.’

  ‘I never.’

  ‘Was it Mr Hopper who asked you to carry those messages?’

  ‘I tole you, I never.’

  ‘Sergeant,’ said Frances, collecting the empty cup. ‘Would you permit me to speak to Joe? I do have some experience in questioning children.’

  Hambling looked dubious. ‘Well you’re welcome to try, but I don’t think this one would know the truth if it bit him! We can hardly trust a word he says.’

  ‘He is frightened, that’s all. And he is far more afraid of Mr Hopper and bullies like Peters than he is of the police.’

  Hambling grunted assent, and Joe stared up at her as if hopeful of more milk. His face was unwashed and there was a swollen bruise on one cheek. She could see that he was unused to kindness.

  ‘Joe, did you ever meet a man called Cowdray?’

  Joe shook his head.

  ‘Well he used to own the velocipede you were riding. His first name was Edward. That was why the letters EDW were scratched on the side. Mr Cowdray was a messenger, and he worked for Mr Hopper, like you.’

  ‘I never! I don’t know no Mr ’opper!’

  Frances smiled and spoke gently. ‘Of course, we both know that isn’t true. In fact, I am sure that you are doing some other business of your own that Mr Hopper knows nothing about. You carry messages for some of the bicycling men, don’t you?’

  ‘I’m not sayin’ nothin’!’ he fired back, but there was no doubt that the remark had hit home.

  ‘You don’t need to say anything about that, Joe, because there’s nothing wrong in it, you may earn your money honestly in whatever way you please, only Mr Hopper is a hard man, a bad man, and he wouldn’t agree. Now we think that Mr Cowdray did some of his own business, too, which meant that he was taking money that Mr Hopper might have thought should rightfully have come to him. If Mr Hopper had found out about that, he would have been very angry, especially as he also suspected that Mr Cowdray had been helping himself to some of his takings. That’s why I think that Mr Hopper might have killed Mr Cowdray. I suspect he didn’t do it himself, he must have got one of his men to do it. Either way, the body was hidden somewhere, and it still hasn’t been found. No one thought to look for the velocipede, but today, with the police searching the area for the escaped convict, there was a danger that it would come to light. So the murderer became worried, and he told you to go and get it. He got you to do his work for him. Of course, you weren’t to know the reason for it. Now that means that you must know who killed Mr Cowdray. All you need to do is give us the name of the person who told you where to find the velocipede. Then the murderer will be arrested and you won’t have to be afraid of him.’

  Joe frowned.

  ‘I just want you to think about it.’

  ‘I ain’t done nothing.’

  ‘I know. The police know it too. Joe, if you are afraid of Mr Hopper – and no one can blame you for that – I can help you get away from him. I have a respectable business in which I employ messengers – very good messengers – they work for me in Bayswater: “Tom Smith’s Men”. You might have heard of them. They are well paid and looked after. Tom himself told me that he thought you were good at what you do. I’m sure we could find you employment where you wouldn’t have to worry about people like Mr Hopper or Mr Peters.’

  Small tears glistened in the corners of the boy’s eyes. ‘I don’t wanter get killed!’

  ‘Of course not. Now then, why don’t I get you another cup of milk and some bread and butter, and ask Tom to come and have a little talk with you and then we’ll see what can be done?’

  Joe chewed his lip, and then, after a while, he nodded.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR

  Sergeant Hambling readily agreed to the plan and after supplying Joe with his supper, Frances went to fetch Tom. It took very little time for her to explain what was required and Tom went to talk to Joe.

  Sharrock had completed his interview with the Ross-Fielder family, and came to speak to Frances. ‘I have to say, that was neither easy nor pleasant,’ he said.
‘I don’t often have to speak to persons of that class in such a way. In the end I had to promise the Ross-Fielders to keep the scandal quiet, and then they told it all. I’m saying this to you because you are not to breathe a word, either. If I hear a whisper of it in public I’ll know where it came from.’

  ‘Was I correct?’ asked Frances.

  ‘You were. The Reverend in his youth fell into temptation with their parlourmaid, a Miss Coote, who became Robert Coote’s mother. I don’t think Henry Ross-Fielder can avoid being charged with assisting a prisoner to escape, but it will have to be handled very carefully. As far as the public will be aware the Reverend, on discovering that Coote is a distant cousin of the family, felt guilty about not helping him when he was first approached, and the son foolishly decided to give him some money. I expect him to claim that his purpose was to make his relative’s life in prison easier, and he had not a thought in the world that Coote intended to use the money to bribe a guard to help him escape.’

  ‘I don’t believe him,’ said Frances. ‘In fact, Henry Ross-Fielder’s avoidance of the area on the day of the escape shows that he knew what was about to happen. He cut the spokes of his own bicycle as an excuse to stay away. A man who will damage his own bicycle is a truly desperate man.’

  ‘Is that so?’ said Sharrock, dubiously. ‘Well I wouldn’t know. The question is whether a court will believe him. Respectable family – they might give him the benefit of the doubt. He’s going before the magistrates on Monday.’

  ‘Did he say where he obtained the money?’

  ‘The mother admits giving it to him, the other brother, the clerical one, claims to know nothing. I doubt we’ll ever get to the truth of it. Still, that is one less thing to worry about. It only remains to determine who murdered Miss Hicks and locate Mr Cowdray’s body and we can all go home and sleep soundly in our beds. Unless, of course, you have all the answers, in which case I would be much obliged if you told me.’

  ‘That, I fear, may take a little longer,’ Frances admitted. She looked around. ‘Where is Jack Linnett? I hope you haven’t arrested him.’

  ‘Not yet, but he is under suspicion and for the moment I intend to keep him where I can find him again. He’s in the storeroom, being watched.’

  ‘I’d like to speak to him.’

  ‘No doubt.’

  ‘If, as you say, he isn’t under arrest there’s no reason why I can’t.’

  ‘I’m not sure if someone being under arrest has ever stopped you before. All right. If he wants to sign a confession, let me know.’

  A constable was situated outside the storeroom, and after a brief word from Sharrock he allowed Frances in, where Jack had been given a chair, a cup of water and some bread.

  He looked up hopefully as the door opened and Frances realised that he thought he was about to be freed, but he was surprised to see her. The constable stepped inside and the door closed.

  ‘Can you leave us alone?’ she asked the constable.

  ‘Sorry, Miss, I can’t do that.’

  Jack stood up and offered Frances the chair. ‘Thank you, I just wanted a word. We can both stand. It’s nothing to do with police work, it’s about bicycles.’

  ‘Do you know how Sir Hugo is? No one will tell me anything.’

  ‘I am pleased to say that he is very much better and Mrs Pirrie is looking after him. Mr Jepson says he will recover fully and can go home soon.’

  Jack gave a sigh of relief. ‘I was that worried! What happened to him?’

  ‘We think someone gave him a drug so they could steal his work.’

  ‘But who would do a thing like that?’ gasped Jack. ‘Sir Hugo is a fine and gentle man and has never hurt anyone. He wants to do good in the world!’

  ‘I’m afraid that there are men who will do anything for money.’ Frances beckoned him further into the storeroom where the constable could still see them but not overhear their conversation. ‘I need to ask you about the new invention that Sir Hugo was working on. I don’t mean the additional wheels, the other thing.’

  Jack’s eyes flickered. ‘There isn’t another thing.’

  ‘Yes there is. The improved tyres. Something that would make it easier for a bicycle to move on rough terrain. You tested them out didn’t you, the two of you, bowling them along like hoops. Mrs Pirrie saw you and thought that you were playing a game, but I think that you were testing the invention to see if it worked. And it must have worked very well. It’s an important improvement, with possible military significance, and Sir Hugo meant to share the idea with General Farrow, but he was taking the precaution of securing a patent before he revealed what he had.’

  ‘I don’t know about that, Miss,’ said Jack, stubbornly. ‘He didn’t tell me everything.’

  ‘But you worked with him constantly. You were as close as family.’

  ‘I do what I’m asked. He didn’t always say why. I don’t understand everything he does.’

  ‘You must have seen his notebooks?’

  ‘I don’t read, Miss. I never learned. My father, he made sure of that, because he wanted me to stay a pig-man and work for him.’ Jack turned his head aside as he said this.

  Frances was stern. ‘Well that was very remiss of Sir Hugo, who I know thinks highly of you and wants you to advance in life, not to teach you to read when it would be so useful to him if you could.’

  Jack frowned, and she saw that she had hit home.

  ‘You are probably the only person who knows what Sir Hugo was working on,’ said Frances, ‘and it is a big secret, not to be divulged to anyone except the proper authorities. I won’t ask you for the details of the invention. I am not an engineer and would not be able to understand them. I just need to know that it existed.’

  Jack frowned still harder.

  ‘Tell me, has anyone asked you to give away Sir Hugo’s secrets? Have you been offered any inducements to tell? Did you tell anyone that he was supposed to be going to the patent office this morning? I know about that because he was heard saying so to General Farrow.’

  ‘No!’ said Jack, angrily. ‘I wouldn’t tell on Sir Hugo, not for anything. Sir Hugo has been better than the best of fathers to me.’

  ‘So, as far as you know the fact that he was going to the patent office was only known to him, and yourself, and General Farrow.’

  ‘I don’t know anything about General Farrow. He never said anything to me.’

  ‘But someone did, didn’t they? Who asked you? Not General Farrow, then. His son?’ Frances recalled the snapped words between the General and his son, the orders to deal with correspondence and arrange a meeting. Had George Farrow, in return for the allowance from his father, been undertaking secretarial duties, and had access to the General’s papers?

  Jack Linnett hung his head. ‘He said he only wanted to protect Sir Hugo. He knew he was working on something important because Sir Hugo had been to see his father, and he said there might be people wanting to steal it. He said I could help by telling him what I knew, and there were people very high up who would be grateful to me, and would help to keep Sir Hugo safe, and I could have money, more money than I had ever seen in my life, and if I had money then Miss Hicks would like me.’ His lips trembled. ‘I said I thought he was going to marry Miss Hicks.’

  ‘Really? Is that what she told you?’

  ‘Not in so many words, but I saw the two of them talking together and they seemed very friendly, and she told her mother she was going to marry someone whose father was a big man in the world.’

  ‘What did Mr Farrow have to say about that?’

  ‘Oh, he said she was a nice enough girl but he didn’t want to marry her and he would be grateful if I did, and made her happy.’

  ‘Did you tell him what he wanted to know?’

  ‘I’ve told you, I would never tell on Sir Hugo. I said I didn’t know anything,’ he exclaimed angrily, wiping a grey hand across his face and leaving a long smear. ‘It was all that talk of money. That was why I knew it wasn’t right. I
wanted Miss Hicks to like me, not go with me for what money I had. But he didn’t understand that. He thought people could be bought. And it was cruel of him to lead her on like that, and make her think he would marry her and then say he could pass her on to me as he didn’t want her. So I was never going to do what he asked. A man like that! I don’t care about his grand family or his money! There’s any number of humble folk better than him!’

  ‘Sir Hugo had some red notebooks, didn’t he, with details of his work? What happened to those?’

  ‘I don’t know. He kept them in the workshop. But there was nothing in them, only what materials he had, and a few ideas he made drawings of.’

  ‘And the plans for the tyres?’

  ‘There aren’t any plans.’

  ‘But he must have had some to apply for a patent.’

  ‘Well then, the patent office has got them.’

  ‘But he never went to the patent office. He was drugged before he could go.’

  ‘Yes he did, he went a few weeks ago.’

  ‘Oh! So he has already applied for a patent?’

  ‘He must have done. Today was just for a meeting to talk about it.’

  No wonder, Frances thought, that whoever wanted the plans had drugged Sir Hugo rather than killing him. There were some secrets that only he held.

  ‘You said that Mr Farrow mentioned important people who would be grateful to you for giving away Sir Hugo’s secrets. Did he say who they were?’

  ‘No. Just that there were men higher up than him who would pay good money to know things.’

  So, thought Frances, George Farrow was only a small link in the chain, the link that passed on information from the General to someone willing to pay for it.

  ‘I don’t suppose you know where Mr Farrow is now?’ she asked.

  ‘No, although I saw the General taking his daughter home.’

  ‘And Mr Farrow wasn’t with them?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Thank you, Jack. You have been a good friend to Sir Hugo and I know he will appreciate it.’

  Frances left the pavilion and sought out Cedric and Mr Grove to tell them of the possible involvement of George Farrow in the attack on Sir Hugo. The younger Farrow had been helping his fellow club members to clear the field, but when she looked about for him, he was no longer to be seen.