He smiled reassuringly. “I shall return no later than the evening after next, with good news I hope. Now, don’t make me drag you out of your pit!” he concluded in a louder voice, for the benefit of anyone outside. “Get yourself into that corridor and ready to move!”
I hurried to do so, but my mind had already returned to Galloway and his involvement in Hardie’s death.
Chapter Twenty-Two
The next day was one of the few that year in which the weather turned truly fearsome. Winds fit to uproot trees swept across London, and rain crashed against every exposed surface like a scour. As a result, exercise was cancelled and we remained in our cells all day, emerging only for services, during which I made sure to sit at the end of a row, beside a guard. Strangely, though there was no sign of Galloway or several of his closest companions during services, they were present in the corridor outside when it came time for the guards to escort us back to our cells.
The next day continued blustery, if less violent. I had spent the night considering Galloway’s absence from the chapel and remembered Hardie’s method of obtaining time at large inside the prison buildings. Holmes would return that evening and I was keen to have something to show him that might implicate Galloway in the boy’s murder. Consequently, I resolved to slip the attention of my guard before services began, if I saw Galloway do likewise.
Events proceeded exactly as I hoped. I hung back a little in the line to enter the chapel; then, as soon as I saw Galloway in conversation with Shapley, I pushed my way forward and reported that Mr. May had asked me to fetch his belt, which he had left in the central office. With hundreds of prisoners to watch over, and no way for me actually to leave the building, none of the guards were much concerned with any single inmate, and I was irritably waved on my way. I walked towards the central doors; then, as soon as I was out of sight, I doubled back and cautiously followed Galloway and a group of almost a dozen other men as they moved upwards in the direction of the attic spaces at the top of the building.
Just as Hardie had described, the top floor ended in an archway that led to a set of metal stairs; these doubled back on themselves as they rose an additional level, terminating in a landing and a large wooden door. Crouched out of sight at the final bend of the stairs, I could with difficulty make out a single figure acting as a lookout and, to his left as he faced outwards, a smaller door half hidden in the shadows. I had just turned my mind to the question of getting past the lookout when a shout from inside the room behind him caught his attention and he swivelled on his heel to ascertain what was required of him.
As soon as he had fully turned his back, I raced up the stairs and slipped through the door to the right.
Narrow but deep, the room behind had, I presumed, originally been intended as a storage space but now lay largely empty. A haphazardly stacked collection of broken wooden crates was the only contents I could see. It was dark inside, which suited my purposes perfectly, for there was a small hole in the plaster above the crates through which I hoped I might spy on activities in the next room. Carefully, I clambered up and pressed my eye against the opening.
Exactly what the other room’s intended function had been, it was impossible to say. In one corner were stacked mould-coated boxes, from which the sleeves of dust-covered prison jackets spilled out in untidy heaps across the floor. Equipment of some sort, long iron bars and cogs and wheels of various sizes, took up the length of the far wall, the whole lit by the dull light of the grey sky outside, struggling through three grime-encrusted windows. That still left plenty of room for the handful of prisoners gathered around Galloway, who stood on an upturned box in its centre.
From my vantage point I had a reasonable view of the men’s backs, though the sound of their chatter was muffled and indistinct. There was no mistaking Galloway’s voice when he spoke, however.
“Settle down, the lot of you,” he commanded, and there was instant silence. “Right then, you all know why we’re here. Adams has been a thorn in the side of our little community as long as I can remember. He might be high and mighty now, and bought himself respectability, but you all know as well as I that he’s as much as villain as ever he was. It was his doing that brought me here, for one, but that’s not why he’s got to be croaked. If that were all he’d done, I’d wait ’til I was out and do him in myself. But he’s guilty of a lot more than that, as all of you can attest.”
There was a murmur of enthusiastic assent, and I shifted a little, hoping to see some of the faces in the mob. The crate moved beneath me, and for a second I thought I would fall, but thankfully it righted itself under me and I was able to maintain my balance. I looked again through my peephole, and was glad to see nobody in the other room had paid any attention to the noise.
In the meantime, Galloway had allowed the sounds of agreement to die down naturally, then recommenced his harangue.
“We all know about the words he has with the police, and just today I heard from a man I trust that he’s at his old business again, in spite of the warnings he’s had. I say it’s time to put a stop to him permanently!”
This time the murmur swelled in volume until I feared that the noise would bring the warders swarming upon the meeting. If that were to happen, I might well be swept up alongside the other prisoners, which would require some nimble explaining.
I wondered if now might be the time to leave. I had the name of the next man to die, after all, but at the same time I could think of no one named Adams, either inside Holloway or beyond its walls. A name was simply not enough. There was more to be learned, and I would not be responsible for another death that I might have prevented. I returned my attention to Galloway.
While I had been distracted, Galloway had proved himself wiser than his noisy confederates. “Keep it down, lads,” he ordered, though without rancour. “What we need is someone to do the deed. Someone with access to Adams. But it’ll need subtlety, don’t forget. This isn’t a warning, nor a public demonstration. Fatal but deniable, that’s always the best way. A blade from nowhere, or a cosh to the head, then step away and leave a body behind, nothing taken. Quick and clean. Businesslike. I’ve someone in mind, but first, has anyone got any objection?”
To my surprise, he stepped down from the box and stood to one side, leaving the elevated position to any who wished to speak. It seemed there was more to Galloway’s gang than met the eye. Never before had I heard of a gang leader willing to be swayed once he had made a decision, yet here was Galloway apparently encouraging genuine debate rather than imposing his will by force.
A minute passed, with clumps of prisoners talking among themselves and Galloway walking among them, exchanging a quiet word or two with every one of them. His voice was too quiet for me to make out any of the actual words. A shopkeeper he had called himself, but I was reminded of a politician on the campaign trail, passing among his constituents with words of comfort and reassurance. It was a most peculiar sight.
Finally, one prisoner, a hulking brute of a man with only one ear, the other a ragged stump, stepped forward and climbed onto the box. At once, the room fell quiet. Galloway, I noticed, gave the speaker his full attention.
“That’s all well and good, Matty, but I bin thinkin’ on it, and seems to me that what we needs is a bigger warnin’, not a littler one. If Adams is still blabbin’ to the coppers, then mebbe he ain’t the only one. Mebbe a cut throat and left for all them others to see, in public like, that’s the way.”
His short speech done, he stepped down and resumed his place among his confederates. One or two were nodding their heads as he finished, but the general feeling appeared to be that he had spoken out of turn.
Galloway said nothing, but clapped the man on the back as he passed, then resumed his rounds of the room. Only once it had become clear that nobody else wished to challenge his plan, whatever it might be in detail, did he resume his position, a head above his fellows. Now I was reminded of the speakers at Hyde Park Corner, as he spoke a few general words of enco
uragement and reminded them of their loyalties.
“Mick’s not wrong in one thing, I’ll give him that. There’ll be others like Adams, who might be foolhardy enough to speak against us. And perhaps a more public display would help dissuade them from their foolishness. But there’ll always be folk like that and we can’t go gutting them all. We get too public, and the authorities will come down on us hard. And we don’t need that, do we? So long as we stand together, and don’t make ourselves too visible, there’s nobody can touch us. Remember that, and don’t be fooled into believing that we can afford to be complacent. We can do a lot, but we can’t do exactly what we want. No man can. We’re protected just now because we keep it quiet, or make sure nothing can definitely be added to our account. If we get too loud though, well… that protection’s likely to disappear. And we don’t want that, do we?”
There was no doubt that his words had found favour with the men arranged before him. Many were nodding and one or two proclaimed their support more vocally. The one-eared man simply shrugged but made no attempt to regain the speakers’ box, nor to speak out from the floor. Galloway slowly looked round the room, catching each man’s eye in turn, and then answered his own question.
“No, we don’t. We can’t rely on loyalty from anyone but ourselves, so we need to tread carefully. Bear this in mind; even when we were kids, nobody gave us anything, but we survived and we prospered. Together. Right,” he concluded, holding his hands out, palms down, above his men. “Time to get back to your cells. The warder’s bought but he won’t stay bought for ever. He’s got a family to think of, and he can’t afford to be losing his job. Off you go, and I’ll set things in motion. Adams’ll be breathing his last before the week’s done.”
A shuffling of feet and a final confused mass of conversations marked the end of the meeting, just as it might have done after a political gathering or a speech in a church hall.
It was time to leave. I guessed that services would be over very soon and I had learned more than I had expected. I had both a name to pass to Holmes, and the manner in which the man was to be killed. And I had gained an unexpected insight into the mind of Galloway. Callous and violent he undoubtedly was, as he had demonstrated with poor Hardie, but there was more to him than the common killer. He knew how to inspire his men and was willing, perhaps, to bend to their collective will. That nobody had seriously challenged him this night suggested either that his apparent democracy was a sham, or that his men knew that he could be trusted to do what was best for all of them. Was he too strong to be overruled, or too effective, I wondered?
I lowered myself down from my vantage point – and felt my stomach lurch as my boot slid on the dusty wood and I tumbled to the floor. I sprang to my feet and, acting entirely on instinct, ripped a section of wood from the smashed crate that had just betrayed me, and barrelled out of the door. So quickly had I moved that the lookout had barely begun to turn when I swung my makeshift club and fetched him a hard blow to the side of his head.
I did not wait for Galloway and his men to cross the brief distance to the door but hurdled the banister and fell the ten feet or so to the landing directly below. My ankle turned underneath me as I landed, but at least I was safely out of sight of the pursuers I could even then hear yanking open the door to the attic room. I stumbled away and half-ran, half-fell back towards the chapel, all too aware that there was no way in which I could slip back into the mass of prisoners without being noticed.
Not that it was likely to matter, for although I had given myself a small start, Galloway’s men would be upon me long before I reached even the dubious safety of capture by those guarding the prisoners at worship. Either way, the information I had was doomed to prove worthless and I would have failed again.
I limped round one more bend, in full expectation that an inmate’s hand would soon descend on my collar, when I spotted a cell door lying slightly ajar. Unoccupied cells to be turned out prior to the residency of a new inhabitant were often left in such a manner, and I wasted no time in throwing myself into this one and pulling the door closed behind me.
I heard running footsteps pass by, and the sounds of men complaining that their quarry had evaded them. An instant later, another voice joined the cacophony.
“What are you up to, you damned fools?” Shapley’s angry tone was unmistakable. “They’re coming out of the chapel right now. They’ll be here in a second. Quick, get in a line against the wall and let me do any talking that’s needed.”
I pressed my ear against the door, allowing my breathless panting to subside, as the throng of men did as ordered. I heard Galloway snarl at someone to keep quiet, then a new voice was added to the clamour outside.
“What’s going on here, Shapley? Are these men with you?”
Of course, Governor Keegan was always first to leave the chapel. Whatever he said next was lost amid the murmuring throng of voices, requiring me to push the cell door open a crack in hopes of catching the exchange between him and Shapley. Even then, there was too much noise for me to decipher more than an occasional muffled word. To my horror, however, it was clear that the order had been given for everyone to return to their cells. As soon as that happened, I would be missed and no explanation I gave would be enough to keep me from solitary confinement.
It was imperative that I remained at liberty to speak to Holmes when he returned that evening.
With no other choice, I nudged the door open just wide enough to allow me egress and pushed my way between the nearest two prisoners. Instantly, a dozen pairs of eyes swivelled towards me and a collective hiss of recognition washed over me. I stared straight ahead, knowing Shapley could not give me away without also surrendering Galloway and his men.
So it proved. With a barked order, the collective mass of prisoners, including myself, were split into groups and dispersed to their cells.
I had much to tell Holmes. I only hoped that I could avoid Galloway for long enough to do so.
Chapter Twenty-Three
Doing so proved simpler than expected. The guard escorting us remarked on my injured ankle and though it was not enough of a sprain to need to see the doctor, it was sufficient for me to avoid that day’s exercise period. As a result, I stayed in my cell all day, and was still there when the sound of a key in the lock announced the arrival of Holmes, once more kitted out as Mr. Andrews.
“Really, Watson, can I not leave you alone for more than a few hours, but you must injure yourself in some fresh manner?” he grinned.
“I am glad I amuse you, Holmes,” I snapped, irritated at his good humour when I had spent the day in nervous anticipation, “but I have a great deal to tell you, and little time in which to do so.”
To his credit, he immediately pushed the door closed behind him and took a seat on the vacant bed.
“My apologies, Watson. I have had some success in my endeavours outside these walls, but I should have known that you had not been idle. In spite of my request that you be so.”
He frowned as he spoke, but I had already begun to tell him of Galloway and the meeting in the attic, and he had no chance to continue his thought. His expression lightened as I spoke, and on several occasions he asked me to repeat Galloway’s words as exactly as I could.
When I had finished, he unfolded his long frame and jumped to his feet, suddenly alive with energy.
“This is excellent work, Watson, and tells us much we did not know, but I fear that you have so compromised your position that your safety is now imminently at risk.” He began to pace up and down in his usual manner, only to come to a sudden halt as the constricted dimensions of the cell constrained his long-legged stride. “I have already tried every avenue open to me to have you set free until your trial, but the twin influences of Major McLachlan’s objections and the note sent to Potter have rendered that impossible. My second thought – to remain close by, in the guise of a prison warder – has also proven less than ideal, for if I am to prove your innocence and so gain your more permanent release
, I must be out and about in the city and not confined to one location.”
“I can look after myself, Holmes,” I protested, unwilling to be completely mollified by his concern.
“Generally speaking, I should have no doubt of that, my dear fellow,” he agreed with a smile. “But this is a special case, one where every man’s hand is turned against you and you have no way to defend yourself effectively.”
I could not deny the truth of that, of course. The various wounds and abrasions I had suffered since entering the prison were painful testament to my success – or lack of it – to date.
“Even if I grant that to be true, what would you have me do, Holmes? Short of staying in my cell all day, I fail to see how I can avoid confrontation, especially now that Galloway knows that I have been watching him.”
Holmes eyed me thoughtfully. “Perhaps that is the answer,” he said slowly. He crossed to the door and risked a quick look outside. “We are agreed that I cannot be here as Andrews all the time in order to lend official weight to your protection. Nor can we arrange for you to be released pending your trial. Therefore, we must ensure that when I am not here, you are not available either.”
“That would be most helpful,” I agreed, “but how do you intend to manage that?”
Holmes stiffened suddenly as we heard footsteps approaching, but they passed by without disturbing us.
“My guard duties tonight do not require me to be in your section, so I shall explain quickly then be on my way. There are two ways in which we can keep you away from the other prisoners. Either I, as myself, can persuade the governor that your life is at risk from the other inmates, or you can commit some infraction of the prison regulations that leads to your being placed in solitary confinement. As the latter generally involves a fair degree of violence, I think it best to try the former approach first.”
He straightened his uniform tunic and placed his cap on his head. “I am on the night shift throughout this week, so I shall return in the morning and speak to Governor Keegan on your behalf, stressing threats made against you by criminals we have jointly placed in prison. It would not do, I think, to mention Galloway directly, given the result of your previous accusation.” He straightened the cap precisely. “I shall bring Lestrade with me. He will add an official flavour to the request.”
The Further Adventures of Sherlock Holmes--The Improbable Prisoner Page 17
