Sam blenched.
“Fear not, Mr Sam. I do not expect the man to raise the hue and cry – he will not wish to attract my attention again. Let me give you a round tale of all my doings, Mr Sam…”
An hour and Sam was able to place fifty guineas in Nick’s hands, against his protests that he did not deserve so great a reward, had no more than done his duty to Society in removing from it a number of wholly undeserving parasites.
Nick left for his cottage and his lady, wondering whether he might not carry her into Stoke and thus to Birmingham where he had seen a number of shops that she might wish to patronise, sharing in his new-found prosperity.
Sam thought that an excellent notion, encouraged him in it. He was sure that Nick’s lady would enjoy a few days of holiday. Sam had seen the unfortunate young female from a distance, had raised his hat and smiled; he had not been formally introduced, Nick feeling it inappropriate in the absence of any ceremony of marriage. She was a handsome young woman, Sam knew, but he wondered whether her life expectancy was so very great, or even as much as might be usual in her trade.
“Josie – I must speak to Uncle Abe. Nick has told me of his doings and I must discuss them with my uncle.”
Josie preferred that Sam might not make her privy to all that Nick might have been up to. It was a situation where ignorance might be wiser for any person who wished to sleep sound of a night.
“Almost unbelievable, Uncle Abe! Nick spoke to the man who called himself Captain Haveringham. He discovered his actual name, and his absence of any military rank, from his personal servant – who did not survive interrogation – and simply threatened to expose him if he did not mend his ways and, specifically, make amends to young Rowlands. Hence the return of a large sum of money to the foolish youth. He then enquired of the gambling men and whorehouse proprietors who had associated themselves with Haveringham. The ‘captain’ did not wish to inform upon them; Nick, I quote, ‘spoke severely to him’. He took the list of his accomplices and then slit his throat for putting him to inconvenience and causing him to spend his valuable time on so foolish a business.”
Abe was not surprised. He reminded Sam that he had warned him of the unstable nature of his henchman.
“True, Uncle Abe. I did not expect him to behave quite so wildly, however. He visited every man on the list Haveringham gave him. In alphabetical order, he tells me, for not knowing which of them was most important in their little conspiracy against the youth of the County.”
“What it is to be literate, Sam!”
“A most beneficial state, Uncle Abe!”
“How many, Sam?”
“Eighteen, in all. Four disappeared, he said, for being fortuitously near the dust heap of the town and being lost beneath it overnight. Two others had not been retrieved from the sewers of the centre of the town, so he told me. That left a round dozen of corpses found with their throats slit. He believed that the criminal population would have recognised the victims and may have been intimidated into ceasing their evil ways, as far as the sons of the leaders of the town and county were concerned. He has no doubt that the Lord Lieutenant and his people will be most grateful to him, or would be if they knew his identity.”
“He is mad, Sam!”
Sam agreed, reluctantly, that he could hardly be called entirely sane.
“What is to be done, Uncle Abe?”
“Nothing by me, Sam! Far too great a risk for my liking!”
Sam was forced to agree; it might be a very bold man who tried to take a pistol to Nick.
“He is to take his lady to Birmingham, he tells me, for having been impressed by the growing town and its wealth. I must believe that he will have filled his pockets with the contents of his victim’s purses as well as my fee for his services. He may well be able to spend a month or more on holiday. The furore must have died down by the time he returns, and if the Runners have discovered his name, they will have shown themselves hereabouts and we shall be able to warn him to keep away.”
“What of you, Sam? What are you to do these next few weeks?”
“I must pay a visit to my parents, Uncle Abe. I have not seen them in some little time.”
Chapter Ten
A Killing Too Far
“There has been a Bow Street Runner in Stoke, Sam.”
“Do you know of any of our people who have spoken to him, Uncle Abe?”
“Several, Sam. All have shaken their heads and understood not a word of his enquiries. They know nothing of Derby and other such foreign places and have heard of none of the names he has mentioned. All, in fact, have given very useful information about the wickedness that is to be discovered in Stafford or in Stone, or perhaps it was in Chester or up north in Warrington, now they come to think of it – but they know of nothing untoward in their own little town.”
Sam smiled; all was as it should be.
“Have they told you of the names the Runner has mentioned?”
“Yours and mine, Sam. And that of Mr Rowlands. No informant in Derby has put a finger on Nick, which suggests that he was as careful as ever to ensure that none remained who could name or describe him.”
Sam was interested that they had not discovered his name from association with Nick.
“To pick out Rowlands is not so surprising, Uncle Abe. They will have soon discovered the connection between the spendthrift young men and the death of the vultures who preyed upon them. From that, just one step to discover that young Mr Rowlands has returned to the bosom of his family, and that Captain Haveringham had repaid him a very substantial sum in cash. I doubt young Rowlands kept his mouth shut in his circle of acquaintance in Derby. Any investigator might ask whether Mr Rowland’s good father might not have taken vigorous action to extricate his son from the gull-catchers that beset him. To mention your name and mine suggests that they enquired who in Stoke or its environs might have come to the elder Mr Rowland’s assistance in his time of travail.”
“Thus to say that our existence, and activities, is known to the authorities, Sam.”
“How could it not be, Uncle Abe? They will not support or protect us, but they rely upon us, and our like in every town, to keep the King’s peace, and well they know it! They might not like the fact, and they will ignore it while possible, but they do know who prevents their County from falling into anarchy.”
Abe could accept that as right; he pointed out, however, that the discovery of a deranged killer, a Mad Knifeman, no less, might be seen as evidence that anarchy stalked the streets.
“Thus, they feel that we may be derelict in our duty, Uncle Abe? Perhaps, but only in Derby, not here in Stoke. Do you know of the upright man in Derby? There must be such, and he might be the least fraction offended that we have permitted a man of ours to spill blood on his streets. An apology might not be unwelcome.”
Abe was much struck by the idea. He did not want the unknown in Derby to reciprocate by sending a Crazy Pistoleer or some such to Stoke.
“I think I shall send Alfred Cocks to Derby, Sam. He will be able to ask about, cautiously, and bring himself to the attention of the upright man there and then pass a message from us to the effect that an associate of ours, shall we call him, displayed an over-zealous application to his duty. Alfred will be able to do that little job – he is good at meeting new people, in a proper way.”
Sam was much in favour, they must keep good relations with their neighbours.
“What of Nick, Uncle Abe? One might say that he did no more than I asked of him, bearing in mind who he is and what he habitually does. I do not doubt from speaking to him that he is happy in his own mind to have done me sterling service. Should I respond to his actions by putting a bullet in his head?”
Uncle Abe could not see that as right or fair.
“If Nick was to disappear, then the word would spread that we had rid ourselves of him. He is known to be devotedly loyal to you, Sam. Who of our employees could trust you after that? Who is next, they would wonder.”
“
That would be very wrong in me, you are correct, Uncle Abe. Even so, I wonder if I might not be able to remove him in a more tolerable fashion…”
“Nick, there is a Runner, in Stoke, mentioning my name and asking who might be my closest and most trusted of henchmen. Inevitably, some blabbermouth will take a pint too many in his company – for he is generous at the bar – and name you, for most men know the great value I place upon you, Nick.”
“You are so good to say so, Mr Sam! My life has been at its pinnacle of delight since I came to your attention, sir! I live in comfort and with a lady who cares for my every whim, and solely because I had the great good fortune to attract your favour, Mr Sam! I shall go into Stoke this very day and remove this Runner before he can be a nuisance to you, sir.”
Sam had foreseen this response, shook his head gravely.
“I fear that would not serve our purpose, Nick. The Runner is no more than a single officer, sent to show willing and earn a fee. Was he to be killed, then Bow Street would respond by despatching a Conductor and his patrol to make the most vigorous investigation. They are said to ask their questions in the most rigorous fashion on occasion, and to spend gold like water to collect information. At very best, they would cause great upset to our ordinary affairs; at worst they might send some of our people to the gallows, for discovering activities better kept concealed.”
Nick was much struck by Sam’s little speech; he promised faithfully that he would not so much as look at the Runner.
“Best in fact, Mr Sam, that I should play least in sight for a month or two. I could spend a while in a large city, hidden from view. Should I be named, then I shall not be present. That will confound them!”
“It will indeed, Nick. Where will you go? London is the largest of cities but is the home of the Runners. You could hardly lay concealed there.”
“True indeed, Mr Sam. I shall make my way to Bristol, I think. I was to go to Birmingham with my lady, but it is too small to be sure to be unseen. I spent a while in Bristol as a much younger man and found it a pleasant enough town. I could amuse myself there for three months, and pay a call upon my former acquaintance, perhaps. I shall take my lady with me, Mr Sam – no doubt to her delight.”
A few minutes sufficed to make financial arrangements. Much though Nick protested that he could pay for his own vacation, Sam prevailed on him to accept another fifty guineas as a token of his respect. Nick left next morning, no doubt looking forward to a holiday from his onerous duties.
Mr Richard Rowlands presented himself, pleased and proud to have finally discovered a coal seam worth the exploitation.
“Farther distant than I might have hoped for, sir, being to the south of Stone, but placed well to send cartloads of house coal into the town and make an immediate profit. I think, sir, that it might be possible to avoid the expense of a trackway – the distance into Stone is no more than an hour for a cart. To Stafford is not a great deal more. I believe that Stone is poorly served with coals, and the north of Stafford has no pit serving it directly. I am sure that there could be sales of many hundreds of tons a week in very quick time, sir.”
“Pleasing indeed, Mr Rowlands. You have done very well, sir.”
It occurred to Sam that he had promised Captain Wakerley that he would keep clear of Stafford, but he could hardly regard the selling of cartloads of coal as an intrusion upon the private liberties of the people there.
“Would you wish to take over the management of the new pit that is to be created, Mr Rowlands? You might prefer to stay on the road, seeking out more opportunities. The choice is yours – I can hire a manager for the pit or a riding man to seek out more opportunities, whichever you prefer.”
Young Mr Rowlands rather thought he would prefer to create and then run the new enterprise; he might well, he said, be in the way of settling down, of establishing himself in life. He did not say that he had been five years hunting down this one prospect and might prefer not to spend the remainder of the decade in fruitless endeavour.
Sam made no comment upon the farmer’s daughters as an incentive to settle down – it would have been tactless, he thought.
“My elder brother, Mr George Rowlands, is to take a greater part in the work of our estate, Mr Heythorne. He is to take over the farming of our lands, I gather, so that my father can step back into a more leisured existence, concerned with the stables and little else. A good thing, in many ways, of course, but it makes it more exigent upon me to move out of the house. A mere younger son has little part to play in the new scheme of things, or so it would seem, sir.”
“The Land is harsh in its demands on its servants, Mr Rowlands. There is no place, it seems, for those who are neither master nor man.”
“True indeed, Mr Heythorne. I have it in my mind to become master of the new mine, under you, of course, sir. If I am to wed, then I must become a man in all ways.”
Sam gave his approval to that determination, though suspecting that Mr Richard Rowlands intended to turn himself into a rather unpleasantly authoritarian sort of gentleman. Not to worry – it was no concern of his.
“Now, Mr Rowlands, we have yet to discuss the finance of this new pit. How much am I to pay, cash on the nail, and what sum do you propose on the chaldron?”
To Sam’s surprise, the young gentleman had a fully costed proposal in his pocket, written out in a clear but unfamiliar hand. Sam wondered who had dictated the words and performed the calculations. He sent Mr Richard away after two hours with an agreement and the instructions to take the project in hand. He went himself up to the White Horse to explain all to Abe.
“It will cost two thousand in gold to buy part of the lands, Uncle Abe, sufficient for pithead and workings. The farmer does not see a hundred a year in cash from his acres and is overwhelmed by the prospect of a mountain, as he sees it, of gold coins while still retaining a hundred acres of his own. I have agreed with Mr Richard Rowlands that he will be paid the sum of half a crown for each Newcastle chaldron of clean coal that leaves the pit.”
Abe stopped Sam while he worked out the costs involved.
“A Newcastle chaldron is fifty-three hundredweight of coal, Sam. We shall pay thirty pence, which is a little more than a ha’penny a hundredweight. A hundredweight sells for what, four pence ha’penny, Sam?”
“Thereabouts, Uncle Abe. More in mid-winter, when the call for house coal is high, less in summer when the sun is warm. Say it leaves us four pence on the hundredweight across the year; a bit less than seventeen shillings for a chaldron. A single man can cut two chaldrons a day with some ease, from my experience, Uncle Abe. With the labour of wife and children, an amount more.”
There was cash and to spare to pay a wage and make a profit, Abe agreed.
“Mr Richard Rowlands has it in mind to wed one of the daughters – or I presume so, he made no mention of bigamous intent.”
Abe laughed and hoped the boy did not have all four in his sights.
“He would have no energy left to mind the pit, if that were so, sir. I doubt he is that ambitious. I think he may do well for us, sir. I am within reason certain that it was not his handwriting on the calculations he showed me. I suspect his young lady will run him and the pit both.”
“Excellent, Sam. He will have only the one function in that household, it would seem. I presume he can perform that, at least?”
Sam reminded his uncle that he had assisted the Rowlands to move a young lady in the family way to a conveniently distant location.
“So you did, Sam. He can keep his lady amused at night while she does his work in the day. Highly satisfactory for both parties, or so one trusts.”
“All will be well there, it would seem. One would hope that the young man will produce some thousands of chaldrons each year. I cannot see that we can profit at less than a crown on the chaldron, and that will be very handy indeed, Sam. Are there potteries in the immediate area, Sam? Will there be furnaces and kilns to be fed?”
“I suspect that there will be, Uncle Ab
e. There is clay in quantities in most river valleys, or so I believe, and men may well come where there is coal close to hand.”
“Even better, Sam. How is your goodfather now? You said he was none too well last month.”
“He says he is better – nothing more than a cough and a cold. I have my doubts, Uncle Abe. Josh is walking more slowly these days and puffing and panting before he has made good a furlong. He will not call in the doctor for knowing his own constitution well enough, or so he insists.”
“Foolish, Sam, but little you can do for him if he will not be persuaded.”
“Nothing until he collapses, Uncle Abe. He will not listen to me or to my lady. On his own head be it! I intend to ride over the moors to visit with my father later this week, Uncle Abe. I think I am free of any great demands upon me for the moment.”
The visit to his old home was not a success. The house seemed mean and poor to Sam, lacking the comforts he was used to. He recognised that it was in fact a comfortable old farmhouse, and with extra rooms built on as his father had gained in prosperity.
The real problem was that his father was no more than a villager, with the limited outlook and understanding that implied. He had no ambitions other than to become the richest farmer in his locality, and to leave a comfortable living to his sons and daughters when he was gone.
“Bought another five ‘undred acres of waste from Squire just last year, Sam. Low down at the bottom of the moors and good for a flock of a ‘undred sheep an nothing more. But, it needs but five years with the dung cart to turn it into poor growing land what’ll produce a crop of pease or beans every couple of years while it gains its strength. Thin old limestone soil, so it do be for now, but it can be made more. Ten years from now I shall take beans from it one year and barley or oats the next; twenty years and your brothers will be putting it down to wheat one year in three. The way prices are going, Sam, they will take five ‘undred quid profit from that land, from the wheat, and as much as a ‘undred in the other two years. And all from land that cost me two bob an acre! Squire be a good man for givin’ us all a sermon on Sunday, but ‘e’s got no know when it comes to the Land. Give it fifty year, our Sam, and my grandsons will own the lands and Squire’s boys will ‘ave the Rectory and bugger all else.”
A Killing Too Far Page 20
