“Did he now! We missed him, it would seem. A man a few years older than you, military in his stance, good English, urbane, courteous, quietly refined in his manner?”
“That would describe him quite well, sir. Captain Tarleton pointed him out and mentioned him to me as one who is active in Prussia, particularly in the field of armaments.”
“Did he really? Yet the good captain neglected to mention to me that Herr Hartmann had crossed the Atlantic, and that they had indeed shared a ship and its dining cabin and, quite possibly, its bar.”
“An unfortunate oversight, Major Hewitt.”
“Be damned for a tale, Sir Richard! One does not forget such a meeting, sir. It is possible that the good captain wishes to amaze me with his virtuosity, will in the manner of the stage conjuror pull a rabbit out of a hat. He may be watching Hartmann and be about to reveal all that he is doing. Captain Tarleton’s career is in the doldrums, his father having loaned me his services against his colonel’s will; he has been on leave of absence from his regiment far too long for his own good. A coup on our behalf would lead to representations being made at a high level that could only be to his benefit. Equally, perhaps more likely, in fact, he may have decided that his future in the Army is hopelessly compromised and he may be seeking another, better paying, master.”
“You will talk to him, I presume, Major Hewitt?”
“Good Lord, no, Sir Richard! That would be to reveal my suspicions. If he has gone into the field of private enterprise then he will cover his tracks, or run away; if he is genuinely innocent, naïve even, then he could be soured against us and then decide to turn. I shall set watchers upon him. There are a number of young ladies in two, shall we say commercial, houses not so far from the Guards barracks. They are frequently of use to us, in return for the guarantee that the Metropolitan Police will not make raids upon their premises. There is also a boy house operating on similar terms, but the good captain, perhaps unusually for the Brigade of Guards, is never to be found there. The gentleman will have a batman as well, and probably a private groom; in his financial state, dependent on his father’s allowance, one can be sure he will not overpay them and I shall assist them a little.”
“One had imagined that the legendary private detective might have played a role in such matters.”
“Good God, no, sir! Grubby, untrustworthy little men whose sole function in life is to fabricate evidence in divorce cases and to track down fleeing debtors. We have nothing to do with them!”
“You are being very open with me, Major Hewitt.”
“I am indeed, Sir Richard, for you are to be a lieutenant of mine, if it suits your convenience. You have access to a segment of society that is closed to me. You are a businessman rather than a gentleman born. You had, if I might venture to say so, a father who was not renowned for the most absolute adherence to the laws and customs of the land; he was a crook, in fact! As a result, while your peers in the world of commerce and industry may watch you carefully, and subject your contracts to careful scrutiny by their lawyers, they will never suspect you of being involved with people like me!”
“’Sweetness shall come forth from corruption’, sir?”
“Just so, Sir Richard!”
Dick accepted the offer on the spot; it seemed to offer an interest in life while not demanding too much of him. He would be able to put some time into business, but not so much as to be tedious, and would still spend three or four days of most weeks in Dorset. He had no desire to live permanently in London, could probably reduce that to two nights of the week. It might as well offer intellectual stimulation, attempting to counter the ploys of wily foreigners and their agents.
“We shall on occasion also be called upon to assist with the political beings who infest the streets of Europe and sometimes try to spread their activities this far. Anarchists and such like with their gunpowder bombs and revolvers and assassinations. Not too often, I trust, but do not donate your hand guns to the museum just yet, Sir Richard!”
“Should I habitually carry arms, Major Hewitt?”
“I should, Sir Richard. If you are recognised then you will be known as one who is a master of the revolver, and so you will be expected to be under arms. Thus, for your own protection, you must be.”
“Logical, sir. My man, Plaistow, will also then carry a concealed piece. Another warrant that gave him official permission to do so would be welcome.”
That could be done; the valet must be reminded of the confidential nature of his services, of course.
“I trust him, Major Hewitt. He is a gentleman’s gentleman, after all!”
“Of course. Accommodation in London can be a difficulty; it is possible to waste two or three hours of a day travelling through the capital’s traffic, especially when the fogs are upon us. We maintain an old mansion that is now made up into sets of rooms for gentlemen, not so far from this office; in easy walking distance in fact. The rooms are not uncomfortable and there is a cook of some quality in residence in the kitchens. I can recommend the house as a pied-a-terre. One of our gentlemen has been in residence these forty years, and will take his retirement there. It has the great advantage of having an ex-military doorman on duty at all times. There are rooms for servants, of course.”
“That will make good sense, I think, Major Hewitt.”
It also made it simpler for Hewitt and his private people to maintain surveillance upon him, Dick thought, for no man could be wholly trusted in the trade he was now formally becoming part of. That was an advantage of being comfortably rich, he supposed; it would be a vast bribe that suborned him and caused him to exchange countries. A young man such as Captain Tarleton might be bought quite cheaply by comparison.
Dick returned to Dorset having arranged to enter his new office at the beginning of the following month. There had been no mention of remuneration – a clerk’s wage was of no relevance to him and his reward would no doubt be forthcoming in a few years in the form of honours of one sort or another. The two weeks intervening he must spend doing the pretty in the neighbourhood; a first dinner party perhaps, certainly any number of morning visits and he must be noticed in Dorchester, patronising local businesses so that the Burke money was seen to be kept in the locality.
He arrived home to discover much consternation and domestic uproar.
“Sir Richard! You are back! And your advice sorely needed, sir. My scapegrace brother, sir!”
“What has the young fool done now, my dear?”
“Run away! He left a note to say that he would not be bundled aboard ship and he has fled to make his fortune.”
“Excellent! Did you give him the money? Not that I am complaining, a wise move if you did!”
“Not a penny, Sir Richard. He never asked of me, probably for knowing that I would not have made a gift in loyalty to you.”
“Well done, my dear. He is unlikely to have left empty-handed, walking like Dick Whittington. Was I your father then I would be examining my drawers to discover missing gold cufflinks or watch chains.”
“Oh, surely, Sir Richard, he would not so lower himself!”
He offered her a wager but she refused, not quite as sure of herself as she would have liked to be.
“We should pay your parents a visit in the morning, my dear, as a courtesy. I am to work two or three days a week for government in London for the next years and must inform your father of the fact. He has the right to know. I shall expect to take a train first thing of a Monday morning and, if I do not need to go to Liverpool or elsewhere, return of a Wednesday or Thursday evening. I shall be working for Major Hewitt, though that your Papa need not be told. It will lead to our eventual aim, my dear, and I hope our son may call himself the Honourable Richard Burke before his majority.”
A peerage was a worthwhile end and would open almost every door in the country for their boy, or for eventual daughters.
Mr Sudbury was acutely conscious of his son’s misconduct and his wife was, literally, prostrated by it; she had ta
ken to her bed.
“Piling Pelion upon Ossa, Sir Richard! I could not have imagined it of the boy! I am crushed and mightily ashamed!”
“Pinched the housekeeping did he, sir, to run away with?”
“One might say so, Sir Richard. It has always been my wont to keep a small sum in gold in my desk, against sudden need. No more than twenty sovereigns, luckily, but one never knows when a coin may be needed.”
“I do the same, sir.”
Dick did not mention that he kept a hundred tucked away, just in case. Sergeant Bill had recommended the habit to him as a boy; he had not had the money then but he did now, and as Mr Sudbury said, one never knew what eventuality might arise. The old days of smugglers were long past but opportunities sometimes arose to take a clandestine profit, even in rural Dorsetshire.
“Drawer unlocked and empty, sir?”
“Just so, Sir Richard. A bag of clothes and off on the very first train of the morning. Gone to London I know from the ticket he bought. First Class, the damned young fool!”
“Not one to stint himself on his comforts, young Jonathan! What does he think to do in London, I wonder?”
“I do not know. I cannot imagine how he will go on.”
Dick could, but felt it kinder not to voice his near certainty.
“Perhaps he will come to grace the world of the theatre, sir. Has he artistic talent? I am aware that he is nearly illiterate so writing will not offer itself.”
“To the best of my knowledge and belief, Sir Richard, he is possessed of no talents at all, except perhaps a burgeoning skill in the fields of fraud and theft!”
“He will be well advised to tread very carefully in the realms of criminality, sir. The Metropolitan Police are not wholly to be despised, I understand, and I am told as well that other, established members of the fraternity do not welcome competition.”
“It does not matter to me, Sir Richard. I shall see his face no more, except possibly as a line-drawing in a newspaper celebrating his execution.”
It would seem that there was to be no Prodigal Son in this Christian household.
Dick spent his fortnight in duty; he made morning calls and he attended three dinner parties but did not host his own. Briggs informed him that he had located a chef, a gentleman of French extraction, and he was to join them in another month at the end of his current employment. Dinners could wait until he was installed and had shown himself competent.
Dick’s office in London partook of the Spartan. A room at most twelve feet square with a large mahogany desk occupying one quarter of the floor space and a pair of heavy filing cabinets most of the rest. He had a chair, but it had been designed by an artist, he suspected, rather than a furniture maker; it was ornate, luxuriously carved and almost impossible to sit in for more than ten minutes at a time. He despatched Plaistow to purchase cushions.
The filing cabinets had locks and he was handed keys for each separate drawer, against signature. The keys were, he was told, to be deposited with the doorman at night and collected in the morning, again, recorded in a ledger and signed for, in and out.
“Your office will be unlocked for you and closed behind you after the cleaner has finished. It is only a minor precaution, but we must not be burgled, even by passing criminals. You will discover a porter at the door to the house where your rooms are located. Leave your keys with him; never remove them from the building. You will find the men on duty to be ex-soldiers; all carry arms.”
The filing cabinets were almost empty. Major Hewitt had been unable to gather any meaningful information about agents interested in the armaments industry, for lack of a man who could talk to the people involved.
“The Prussian, Herr Hartmann, has left the country again, Sir Richard. He has been observed in the embassy in Paris and it is suspected that his main concern lies now with French military preparedness. There is something called a mitrailleuse, which is said to be the latest master of the battlefield; no doubt he will be seeking information on it. Before he left he was observed to be in converse with an Englishman, a Mr Ings, who is a clerk to all appearances – rusty blacks and ink stains to his cuffs. They met at least three times and it seems they quarrelled, for this Ings was bundled out of the building by two large and well-muscled porters, the unofficial bodyguards at the embassy. We know the man’s name for he was shouting that they would hear of him again; they should not forget the name of Ings. He took a bus and then a train to Wimbledon, showing coins in plenty when purchasing his tickets, and our watcher saw him enter a tea-shop where he was addressed by name.”
“He must be easily discovered then, Major Hewitt. If he has fallen out with Herr Hartmann he could be of use to us, one must imagine.”
“He may well be, Sir Richard. He is a writer of sorts, so he says, and has some money, or so the girl in the tea-rooms suggests. Our gentleman who makes enquiries for me took tea and a bun there and found the girl very easy to talk to; he suggested in fact that she probably augmented her income in the oldest fashion. Five shillings in her hand and she was only too willing to tell all she knew.”
“What did she know, sir?”
“Remarkably little, Sir Richard. Ings has a grievance; he has been maltreated and he will have his dues. She says he is a man of forty years or thereabouts and bears a resemblance in his face to the last kings, not that she ever saw them, she is too young, but he insisted it to be so. He claims to be a son of the Prince Regent, well, George the Fourth for the date, and that his mother was wed to him and he is the rightful king of England. Bearing in mind that the Prince Regent was certainly married twice, at the same time, then nothing is impossible, of course. In the absence of incontrovertible documentation, however, Ings is nothing but a madman. One presumes he took his ‘proof’, so-called, to Herr Hartmann, who could have found a use for it, and was dismissed on its being shown false.”
“I do not quite understand, Major Hewitt. What use could this pretender to the throne be to a Prussian spymaster?”
“Two possibilities spring to mind, Sir Richard. The first, to espouse his cause, and create a great upset when, if he had legally sound documents, our present Queen was forced to stand down in his favour. The second, and far more likely course, is to alert the government and place these proofs and Ings in its custody; both paper and man would very soon disappear, to maintain stability in the country. After all, Sir Richard, it does not matter who sits upon the throne so long as it be securely sat upon! Tranquillity is far more important than legitimacy, as I am sure you will agree. Herr Hartmann would, in the second case, be much caressed in Downing Street and would have a good chance of turning the government from alliance with France to close friendship with the new Prussia.”
“Thus, he would not have dismissed Ings if he had a legally viable claim.”
“Quite. Our sole interest in Ings lies in a statement by the tea-shop girl that he has sworn to take his rightful place and ‘get rid of’ Queen Victoria.”
“Her Majesty is much in seclusion, I believe. It would not be easy to access her.”
“She spends some time at Windsor and more on the Isle of Wight, but mostly she is in Scotland where she is well protected.”
“Then it would be as well to get close to Ings, to discover what he has in mind. If he wishes to remove Her Majesty by recourse to the law, then there is no great problem, the courts will take ten years to hear his case and then dismiss it – we can assume that his proof is inadequate. If he has other means in mind, then he must be taken up, but we must not risk an arrest without justification, for that would lead to a failed criminal case and much publicity. I presume that I am more of his milieu than you are, Major Hewitt?”
“He might unburden himself to a fellow member of the middle order of people, but I cannot imagine he would have anything to say to a man like myself, one who has the stamp of the Guards officer upon him. My back is too straight and I cannot rid myself of the more fashionable elements of my diction – as has been pointed out to me by others of o
ur colleagues. Your accent is King’s English but provincial; as we are told is his. The young miss from the tea-shop insisted that he ‘talked posh’, but not really ‘la-di-da’; what she would have to say of my speech, I cringe to think!”
“I understand that the next step up the linguistic ladder is to be ‘pansified’, or so the Dorsetshire yokels have it, Major Hewitt. It is a rare and unpleasant distinction, one gathers. On that topic, by the way, Dorsetshire yokels that is, my wife’s younger brother, a hopeless and much spoilt wastrel, ran away from home some three weeks ago and is known to have taken a ticket to London. He had abstracted twenty pounds from his father’s desk and must therefore be running short of cash by now. He lacks skills, education and intelligence and I can see only one means of his keeping the wolf from the door. It would embarrass the family was he to be stood up in the Old Bailey on charges of extremely unpleasant behaviour. Jonathan Sudbury, some seventeen years of age, middling height, fair haired and not unhandsome; blue-eyed but weak in the expression – not a piercing-eyed adventurer. Is it possible to put out the word of him?”
“The Metropolitan Police are very good at picking up such youths; he may well be in charge already. They will normally put them before a magistrate’s court for vagrancy and either send them home or have them taken up into the army. The habit is to send them out of London to a depot in Kent or Essex where they may be trained and then be sent overseas so that they cannot desert and return to the streets of London. If he is in the ranks then he may easily be bought out – a few pounds and his enlistment can be legally terminated. I will make enquiries; if he has given his own name then he can be found, unless he has found a protector and disappeared from sight.”
“If he has espoused a military career then I think it better not to interfere, Major Hewitt. Six or seven years in India or Africa may make a man of him. I cannot think of anything else that might have that desirable effect. For the while, Major Hewitt, I shall bend my mind to the matter of Mr Ings.”
An Uncertain Peace (The Making of a Man Series, Book 3) Page 22
