“Truegood.”
“It’s Marshall, anything new?”
“No joy. As I thought, Rose hasn’t a clue. Lamb’s torn the Otter’s Pocket to pieces, but there’s nothing there either. You just caught me. I’m going to give it one more hour, then I’ll let the CID here get on with it. When I’m done I’m going to take Lamb and start on Murgatroyd’s other haunts — not that I expect him to be in any of them. You survived Armstrong?”
“Yes, and I think I’ve got a better idea for this afternoon.”
“Go on.”
“I broke into Carey’s rooms this morning.”
“I’m not sure I want to hear this.”
“I wasn’t the only one in there. A couple of Russian chaps arrived shortly after me. Having heard that the Russian sense of humour isn’t quite up to the Scots standard, I decided discretion was the better part of valour and beat a hasty retreat. They didn’t see the funny side, and took a few shots at me as I departed.”
“Bloody hell!”
“I’m convinced that Carey is the man behind the Chamberlain incident, and that he may have been working for the same person who set him up for Lowenstein.”
“Not the Russians?” he said.
“No. I reckon if they set him up to be arrested on Tuesday, they wouldn’t be trying to kill him on Saturday. It must be someone else. We have more than enough circumstantial evidence to bring Carey in for questioning about Lowenstein. When we’ve got him, we can find out about Chamberlain.”
“It sounds good to me. There’s just one problem: I don’t want to have to haul him out of some duke’s mansion. Not after our battle in Devil’s Acre — and you shooting up Grosvenor Square — on coronation day. Christ, I’ve got enough to explain to Mr M as it is.”
“According to Carey’s schedule book, he’s meeting someone at Lyons & Co., Butler’s Wharf, at four o’clock. I assume that’s the tea company and they have a warehouse there?”
“Yeah, on Shad Thames. Who’s he meeting?”
“That’s the good news. I think he’s meeting the same man who arranged Chamberlain’s accident.”
“Who’s that?”
“Does T.D. mean anything to you?”
“Who?”
“‘T’ as in Lyons & Co.; ‘D’ as in drink. All I have are the initials.”
“Nothing.”
“What about Rose and Murgatroyd? Any T.D. they might know?”
Truegood didn’t answer for a few seconds. “I’ll ask Rose politely, shall I? Where are you?”
“The National Liberal Club.”
“I’ll meet you at the Yard at two — no, better make it three.”
“I’ll be there.”
Rose appeared to be a dead end, which made Aitken’s sacrifice in vain, though we’d had no way of knowing beforehand. Whoever employed Murgatroyd had killed Lowenstein and arranged the evidence to point to Carey; someone had employed Carey to kill or scare Chamberlain; it looked like both employers were T.D. Who wanted Chamberlain frightened and Lowenstein dead? Then there was Ellen. For whom had Carey killed her? The elusive T.D. was a possibility, but once again there was the question of motive.
There was a knock at the door and Barnes entered. “If it’s convenient, sir… ”
“Of course. Sit down, Barnes, it’s your office. Did I miss the guns?”
He sat down, ramrod straight. “No, sir. It appears there’s been a delay at the Abbey. His Majesty hasn’t left yet.”
I wondered why, as the coronation had run like clockwork so far. “I’m going to ask you some questions about Mr Chamberlain and his guests on the twenty-fourth of May. Before I start I want you to know that the matter is of the utmost importance and may even involve the safety of His Majesty himself. Holding anything — anything — back from me is tantamount to treason. Do you understand?”
He paled and stammered, “Y — yes, sir. I wouldn’t —”
“Of course you wouldn’t, but I wanted to make that clear. Similarly, our conversation must remain entirely confidential.”
“Yes, sir.” He nodded so hard I thought he’d do himself an injury.
“Good. Please tell me everything you can about Mr Chamberlain’s visit to the club on the day in question.”
“All right, sir. Mr Chamberlain arrived just after half-past eleven. He had booked the Earl Russell Room, and went up at once. He instructed that his guests be directed there on arrival. He had arranged a luncheon for seven, to start at half-past twelve, but required complete privacy from the time the last guest arrived until the luncheon started.”
“Does that mean he was alone in the room with his party?” I asked.
“Yes, sir. The guests began arriving at a quarter to twelve. There were five gentlemen and a lady, but I’m afraid the only one I knew was His Grace, the Duke of Devonshire.”
“Can you describe the others?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Then do so please, in the order of their arrival.”
“The first was a major of cavalry. I do not know the gentleman’s name, but his regiment was the New South Wales Lancers, I remember that much. He also had a scar on his face.” Barnes touched his cheek, just under his left ear.
“Was the major blonde, with a thick moustache?”
“He was, sir. Shortly after came a tall middle-aged gentleman wearing spectacles. He was soft-spoken and very polite. Then the lady, who was also middle-aged, and — if I may say so… ”
“Yes, this is important.”
“The lady was rather forthright considering she was a guest at a gentlemen’s club, sir.”
“Did she have any distinguishing features?”
“I’m afraid not, sir.”
“Please continue.”
“After the lady, an older gentleman arrived. Once again I did not know who he was, nor was there any particular feature that I could use to describe him. He was perhaps about Mr Chamberlain’s age and he walked with a slight stoop. The last guest was His Grace. He arrived with a very fashionably dressed young gentleman with a waxed moustache and a… ” He touched his chin.
“A chin puff?”
“Yes, sir.”
“What happened next?”
“I took His Grace and the young gentleman up myself. That was at about five minutes to twelve. Once all his guests were in the Earl Russell Room, I locked the doors. At exactly half-past twelve, I unlocked them, and the staff served luncheon. At two o’clock all Mr Chamberlain’s guests left, except for His Grace. His Grace and Mr Chamberlain withdrew to the Smoking Room and remained there until just after three o’clock, when they both left.”
“Thank you, Barnes, you’ve been most helpful. I’ve just one more request. Miss Roberta Paterson is a guest of Lord Morley’s. Could you send her my compliments and ask her to join me at her convenience?”
“Yes, sir, I’ll see to it immediately.”
“Thank you.”
Barnes departed, closing the door behind him.
I took out my pencil and notebook and jotted down Chamberlain’s guest list. The Australian officer was almost certainly Major John Binstead, one of Lord Kitchener’s aides-de-camp. The Duke of Devonshire’s companion was obviously my friend Drayton. Then two other men and a woman. A New Woman by the sound of it. I didn’t think I’d have a hope of finding out who the latter three were today. Perhaps tomorrow, when I could speak to the waiters who’d served them. I’d have to concentrate on the four I did know.
Joseph Chamberlain was Secretary of State for the Colonies. A fanatical imperialist, Rhodes’ co-conspirator in the Jameson Raid, and his ally in the expansion of the Empire at all costs.
I’d met Jack Binstead twice, but knew little about him except that he’d come to South Africa as a captain in the New South Wales Lancers. When his regiment had been sent back to Australia, he’d been retained by Kitchener as an ADC, one of his band of boys.
Spencer Cavendish, the eighth Duke of Devonshire, was the president of the British Empire League, which aim
ed to bind the Colonies closer together in a commonwealth, to the benefit of all. I didn’t know if Rhodes had known Cavendish, but Rhodes’ main concern after the expansion of the Empire, was its federation.
Morgan Drayton, private secretary to Jameson and Jameson was Rhodes’ most notorious henchman and a close friend of his brother; he had made a play for Rhodes’ fortune, enlisting the aid of Drayton and Lowenstein.
One man linked all four.
Cecil John Rhodes was Chamberlain’s partner, Kitchener’s friend and Jameson’s employer. His goal — after world conquest — was Imperial federation, shared with Cavendish. Rhodes had proposed a secret society to rule first the Empire, and then the world…
The woman was Flora Shaw, Rhodes’ friend, Chamberlain’s ally, and another of the Jameson Raid conspirators. According to Ellen’s diary she had been in London that week. Shaw was as ardent an imperialist as Rhodes, she was middle-aged, and she was a New Woman.
Chamberlain, Kitchener, Cavendish, Jameson, and Shaw…
The secret society.
Chamberlain and his party had inaugurated Rhodes’ secret society. It made perfect sense. It wasn’t just Milner and his kindergarten who wanted to rule the world, it was Chamberlain and Jameson as well. Chamberlain with the political power of his office and Jameson with the financial power of Rhodes’ fortune — or so he hoped. Seven years ago they’d planned the Jameson Raid together; now, their aim was far more ambitious. That was why Jameson had kept Drayton in London for the coronation, because of the newly-formed society.
I considered the implications of my explanation and the more I thought about it, the more confident I felt that I’d uncovered the truth. Yet my insight — if it could accurately be described as such — still failed to solve the three mysteries: who had employed Carey to kill Ellen; who had employed Carey to frighten Chamberlain; and who had murdered Lowenstein? Carey was the only link amongst three otherwise unrelated crimes. It was imperative that I speak to him this afternoon.
There was a knock at the door. “Enter!” It was Roberta, wearing a crimson Gibson Girl outfit with a floral hat. I stood. “Good afternoon, Roberta, you’re looking particularly lovely, if you don’t mind my saying so.”
“Hello. I do not mind.”
I pulled out a chair for her and sat down once she’d made herself comfortable. “I found another entry in Ellen’s diary that might have something to do with her death. It involves Flora Shaw.”
Roberta gasped and put her hand to her mouth. “Miss Shaw, surely you must be mistaken!”
I took her into my confidence, advising her about the Lowenstein murder and the intrigue surrounding the execution of Rhodes’ will. She was well-informed on the latter, and told me that she’d spent some time this morning in the company of W.T. Stead, who was one of her editors, and whose latest literary work was entitled The Last Will and Testament of Cecil John Rhodes. Once Stead’s publication was in circulation, all London and the Empire would know of Rhodes’ dream to conquer the world. Few would know that Chamberlain and Jameson had already set it in motion. I skipped Carey’s involvement in Chamberlain’s accident, and moved directly to the luncheon in May.
“I may be wrong, but I think Chamberlain was inaugurating Rhodes’ secret society. Meanwhile, in the Cape, Jameson was wrangling for control of Rhodes’ fortune.” As I voiced my suspicions, my certainty ebbed. With each word I felt more ridiculous. “Er, now that I’ve said it, I’m not so sure anymore… ” I tailed off sheepishly.
Roberta wasn’t looking at me, nor was she listening. Her eyes were unfocused and she appeared deep in thought. I waited in silence. Eventually she said, simply, “No.”
“It seemed like a good idea, but you’re probably — ”
“No. Do you know what the twenty-fourth of May was?”
“Er, wasn’t it Queen Victoria’s birthday?”
“Yes, but that’s not what I mean. I’m talking about the twenty-fourth of May 1902?”
“I’m sorry, I don’t follow you,” I said.
“It was the first widespread celebration of Empire Day.”
“Empire Day?”
“Yes, Empire Day, the day that has been set aside to celebrate the establishment of the British Empire. And you’re absolutely right: what better occasion to launch Mr Rhodes’ secret society?” she concluded.
“Damn — pardon me, but this is one occasion where I’d much rather you’d proved me wrong.”
“I think I feel the same way.” From the floors above we heard cheering and clapping. The King had evidently left the Abbey at last. “Do you think Mr Chamberlain is the leader of the society?”
“It seems so. Why do you ask?”
“Just something Mr Stead said earlier. He was talking about men of the late Mr Rhodes’ ilk, men who seek power and personal glory above all else. He said that it would be difficult for them to form the kind of cabal of which Mr Rhodes dreamed, because they have an overwhelming tendency to fight amongst themselves. He used the examples of Mr Chamberlain and Lord Milner, and then Mr Chamberlain and Dr Jameson.”
I raised my eyebrows. “Chamberlain and Jameson?”
“That’s what Mr Stead said, and he should know. Apparently they are rivals in almost everything. The expression he used was that each wanted to be the ‘cock in the henhouse.’”
“The henhouse being the Empire.”
“It’s just like the plot of some Penny Blood, but it’s really rather frightening if it’s all true. I’ve thought of something else, as well.”
“Tell me.”
“Have you considered that Mr Lowenstein might have been murdered by one of his own?”
“What do you mean?”
“Isn’t that the detective’s maxim? To look to the victim’s relatives and friends. That’s what you told me when we met, isn’t it?”
“It is, but I don’t quite follow your line of reasoning.”
“Everyone knows there’s no honour amongst thieves. Perhaps Mr Lowenstein fell out with Dr Jameson? Or perhaps he had a pang of conscience and changed his mind?”
“It’s possible,” I said.
“I don’t know if that’s helpful, but I can see why you’ve been so busy. How does this all involve Ellen?”
I hesitated. “I’m not sure yet, but I am sure that Carey murdered her. You were right.”
Her mouth formed an almost perfect circle, and the colour drained from her angelic face. She said nothing and I watched her expression change in a series of conflicting emotions. Slowly, she covered her mouth with her hand again. Then tears flowed down her cheeks and she started to whimper quietly.
I moved around to her, gave her my handkerchief, and put my hand on her shoulder. I wasn’t sure what to say. All I could think of was, “I’m sorry I doubted you.”
Roberta cried for a few moments more, then dabbed her eyes dry and gave a very delicate sniff. She looked up at me and I saw the pain had been replaced by a steely determination. “Are you going to kill him?”
“No, I’m going to find out who hired him and why.”
“Who on earth would have employed Lieutenant Carey to kill Ellen?”
“I don’t know yet, but I will soon; don’t worry about that.”
“I’m not. I know you’ll find whoever’s responsible.” She stood and my hand slid from her shoulder. Our faces were only inches apart. I could see her pearly white teeth between her red lips, and feel her breath on my face. “Do I look presentable?” she asked as she handed my handkerchief back.
I took both her hands in mine. “No, you look beautiful.”
“Thank you. I wore this for you, Alec.”
“For me?”
“It’s crimson, the same colour as the ribbon of your Victoria Cross.”
“Thank you, I’m honoured. It becomes you. Not only beautiful, but intelligent too. If you hadn’t told me about Empire Day, I’d probably have changed my mind. Now I know I’m right. Chamberlain and Jameson were forming their society. You must be an excellent
journalist. Perhaps you’ll let me read some of your work when we have the time.”
“I’m glad to have been of assistance, and you’re very welcome to read my articles if you don’t think they would bore you.” She squeezed my hands before letting go. “Are you going to join me at the luncheon?”
“I’m afraid not. I have to get back to Scotland Yard. I’m hoping I’ll be able to convince Inspector True good to arrest Carey.”
“I understand. Let me show you out, at least.”
I opened the door for her, and she led me upstairs to the hall, now full of people. Some were milling about, and others leaving, but most were coming back in having watched the procession.
“After what you’ve told me, I don’t suppose you’ll be able to dine with us tonight either?”
I rested my hand on her arm. “No, I’m afraid not. Once Carey’s been taken into custody I’m hoping we’ll be able to coerce him into telling us who employed him to kill Ellen. She’s still my main concern.”
“I’ve never doubted it.” She looked up at me and smiled.
As we were in public, I took her hand and brushed my lips over it. “I’ll telephone you tomorrow, if I may, by which time I should have some news.”
“I look forward to it. Goodbye, Alec.”
“Goodbye.” I watched her return to her party. Then I retrieved my bicycle and pushed it outside to strains of Elgar:
Land of hope and glory, mother of the free,
How shall we extol thee, who are born of thee?
Wider still, and wider, shall thy bounds be set;
God, who made thee mighty, make thee mightier yet!
I tried to arrange my thoughts into some sort of order as I walked, but it was impossible. There was just too much to think about. Rhodes, Chamberlain, Jameson, Milner, Carey, Armstrong, Drayton, Colonel Rhodes… the connections were myriad and complex.
It was a few minutes to three when I was escorted up to Truegood’s office. I thanked the constable and entered without knocking.
Truegood looked up from his desk, jumped to his feet, and pointed at me, “You fucking lied to me, Marshall! You like taking me for a fool? You’ve got another thing coming if you think I’m going to let you get away with it!”
The Architect of Murder Page 19
