‘Can’t but take an interest when someone of your stamp disappears off the map. Not disappears, but set on a strange chase, I was told, which seems to never end and one no one could work out the purpose of. That’s not your style – quick to nab is more your way.’
‘Employed by one client, Mr Southouse, all that time.’
‘Must have deep pockets.’
‘Bottomless, more like.’
That pricked his interest; Southouse always claimed money meant nothing to him compared to justice, which would have held true if you made exception of the level of his fees. If there was a more expensive set of chambers in London, Hodgson didn’t know of it. Against that, few could come close for successful results.
‘Are you here on his behalf?’
‘Not exactly.’ The expression in response to that was silent curiosity. ‘Truth is, I am not certain of how to proceed on a certain matter.’
‘And you want my advice.’ Hodgson nodded, which got and avaricious grin. ‘Just sat there you have expended near half a guinea.’
When Hodgson replied, he had to hope he was right. ‘I doubt fees will be a problem. You will know of the Catherine Carruthers murder?’
‘I’d have to be deaf, dumb and blind not to. But that is a done and dusted case, perpetrator at the scene. The name of the butcher escapes me.’
‘Gherson. There are grounds to think he might have been as much a victim as the poor woman.’
A hand was clutched over a fist as Southouse sat back, the expression one of bland enquiry. ‘You intrigue me. I’m listening.’
‘It is one of those affairs where I seem to be sitting in the middle of a web …’
Southouse was quick to deduction; it was what made him so successful ‘Which I take to mean you know things, or reckon you do, that others don’t.’
‘Nail on the head, as ever.’
‘Do I sense uncertainty?’
‘Always best to be that, I have found. Times I’ve gone wrong, thinking I know matter top to tail.’
Southouse pulled out a hunter from his waistcoat pocket and flicked it open. ‘I have missed my dinner, Walter. What say we repair to the Ye Old Watling and avail ourselves of a couple of their pies?’
‘It’ll be a damned expensive fillin’, if I’m half a guinea down already, as I must be.’
‘Then let us make it a social visit, two old friends enjoying a feed and some porter.’
‘Can’t fault that.’
‘I’ll take the bare bones on the way.’
Hodgson wondered, by the time they got to Ye Old Watling and secured a seat, if he had managed to tell his tale properly. Weaving through the crowded streets had seen them parted by other people more than once and Southouse, for all his slight and bony frame, moved at a pace, which left the more bulky Hodgson breathing quite hard by the time they got to a seat. There was a pause while said pies and ale were ordered, and it required a deep gulp of ale before the lawyer returned to the subject.
‘So you sense two attempts at the same cove’s life, if what this lady you mention says is true?’
Hodgson had been careful with names. None of those in his web had been identified, they had all been a certain party or a lady I know. The only person named was Daisy Bolton: no sense in concealing that, if the murder was carried out on her premises. There was a point where other names would surface, but it was not to be yet. It was just as telling, when Southouse enquired, what he did not bother to ask – like how come a lady knew so much of someone pressed into the navy.
‘It would seem real enough.’
‘Gherson could tell you, if you asked him. I take it you are in a position to do so?’
‘I am, but I need to know which way I’m going to proceed afore I do that.’
‘So what’s in the folder you’re carrying? Must be germane, or you could have left it in my office.’ As Hodgson made to reply, Southouse held up a hand to stop him, a look of sly humour on his face. ‘I would guess, by its size and shape, it is likenesses of those two fellows reported to you by the Bolton woman. Do tell me I’m right.’
‘Copies I had made, yes.’
Their mutton pies arrived as the folder was handed over, which Southouse laid on a vacant chair, unopened. Two more pots of porter were ordered and the crust of both pies speared before he spoke again, this time through rising and meaty steam.
‘Why would the man who employs you not wish for them to be publicly flushed out?’ He was quick to answer his own question, given time, because Hodgson was dealing with a mouthful of his own piping-hot mutton. ‘Who is he protecting and why? These are questions you’ve asked yourself and I reckon you know the answer.’
Hodgson shrugged and mouthed another forkful. He knew Southouse of old as a man who liked to follow his own line of reasoning, liked to deduce from fragments some kind of whole, and if he was brilliant at it, the same could sometimes blind him to what was really the case.
‘You said fees would be unlikely to present a problem. Would they run to the services of both myself and Garrow?’
‘Possibly, if Gherson is to have a chance of being freed.’
‘Is that what you wish? Or should I say, is that what one of these two interested parties wish? My guess? For one of them the answer is yes, for the other it is no.’
‘The drawings, Mr Southouse.’
‘They are superfluous unless identified, and that has not yet happened or you would have said so. The question, to my way of thinking, is this. How did Catherine Carruthers come to be at the bagnio in Long Acre? What would a fellow do when he was far gone in drink and being tongue-lashed by a woman he’d had a carnal liaison with at some time in the past? She was still warm for him, by your account, was he still warm for her?’
More pie followed and Southouse looked to be chewing on that as well as the possibilities simultaneously, with Hodgson wondering how he could have absorbed so much of the conversation on the way, given how fractured it had seemed to him.
‘She was a married woman and admitted as much, with a complete want of discretion. That is if the Bolton woman’s testimony is to be believed. Does she have a reason for invention? I think not.’
More pie was consumed and chewed. ‘Could the Gherson you describe have resorted to foul murder and mutilation of a one-time lover, a refined woman by all accounts, and why? It is possible, I grant, but you say he is of a weak disposition. Which begs the even bigger question of how it could be done, if he was found unconscious? You say there was a club in the room?’
‘There was and it’s been taken by Bow Street for the trial. I could ask to see it but to what purpose? A knife was employed, obviously, but no sign of it emerged. There was a mob in that room afore Gherson was carted off.’
‘So you discount it, given it could have been taken by anyone?’
‘I do. Could Garrow get him acquitted?’
‘On the Bolton testimony, I would hazard a yes, though you know as well as I do nothing is certain in a court of law.’ He tapped the folder on the chair. ‘But as for the real culprits, if indeed it is they who are drawn here, that would be impossible to prove. You say they left the salon and no one saw them subsequently?’
‘Except the fellow on the door, who could have seen them depart?’
‘To be considered, Walter. But you have observed many a trial and any number of juries. How often is the claim made for some strange and mysterious third party as the villain in a crime? How often is it given credence by our forty-shilling freeholders? It would serve as no more than a last throw, and a poor one at that.’
If Hodgson’s instincts were to save Gherson, given he was inclined to his innocence, he had other things to consider, not the least his own prospects. No honest soul liked to see a man or woman hang for that in which guilt was in doubt, but it happened, if infrequently. The law was a blunt instrument at best; he knew it and so did Southouse.
His meeting with Druce had left him with two ways he could act and he had to work out which was b
est, his own well-being high on the list. Southouse was watching him as he ruminated on this, slowly wiping his mouth and chin with a napkin, and he nailed what he suspected lay at the heart of the dilemma.
‘So, Walter, for whom are you going to act? This mysterious lady or the fellow hiding the real promoter of the crime?’
This time, in the smile, the lips were so compressed they disappeared.
‘Imagine a verdict of not guilty, which puts another as the miscreant? What if you were to expose him? I assume a he, of course, not a woman. All those lurid penny pamphlets wrong by a mile. This will be a case to remember for years to come and it could make you, the one who solved it, famous.’
‘Let me settle for the pies and ale.’
That got an effusive protest, hands criss-crossing before his face.
‘Never in life. The tariff falls to me. I am about to wager which way you will play the game, and I have come down on the side of substantial fees for my practice. Call it an investment.’
‘One more call to make and I will advise how it goes.’
This time he did take a hack to Harley Street. Druce had paid him well and, besides, it was dark. He was taking a chance that Emily Barclay would be there, given he was within the time stated to respond. The fellow who answered the door informed him Mrs Barclay was occupied. Before he could say at what, if he even intended to, and that was far from certain, the cries of a baby came floating down to the hallway.
The look on the servant’s face, of something revealed that should not have been, told a man like Hodgson much, and he could add to that what he knew. An estranged husband and runaway wife, the rumour of it being in the company of a lover.
Druce sending him to Frome to look for denigrating information. The presence of a child not having been mentioned on his previous visit. Surely if it was Captain Barclay’s, it would have been in order to name it to evoke sympathy.
‘Can I ask you to wait, sir?’
‘Outside?’ Hodgson enquired.
The fellow was embarrassed. ‘If you please.’
He stood under the gaslight that fully illuminated the wide top step, thinking how novel such a device was, common in playhouses now, but still rare in dwellings. A hand was slid over the varnished oak of the door, the complex design of the heavy knocker fingered, both signs of the wealth to which he, like any other soul, aspired. Was Southouse right and with his imagined fame would there come prosperity? His hand was still on the brass when the door opened and he was silently invited to enter. She was at the bottom of the stairs, the infant in her arms.
‘Mrs Barclay.’
‘Do I judge by your early return, you have good news for me?’
‘I may.’
‘Please take Mr Hodgson’s hat and coat, Cotton, and show him into the drawing room.’ Turning back to him she added, ‘I will be back soon, once I have laid my son down.’
Then it was Cotton again. ‘And I’m sure we can give the gentlemen anything he desires as refreshment.’
She went up the stairs and he went to where he was directed, happy to take a decanter of wine and a tray of biscuits while he waited. She had put on a touch of rouge before returning, unnecessary to his way of thinking, but he reckoned it was there to hide any sign of a blush.
‘Please say if you want more wine.’
‘This will serve, Mrs Barclay.’ It was slightly unkind to then remain silent, to play upon her anticipation. ‘I wish to lay out a case to you, so you can decide how you wish to proceed.’
She sat down, as she had before, on the chaise, hands clasped in her lap, a sign to proceed. ‘There is a chance that Gherson could be found not guilty. The question is, do you wish that to be the case?’
The response reminded him she was clever. ‘You pose a possibility, not a certainty?’
‘Certainty is not attainable in any legal proceedings, as any lawyer will attest. I would guess you have little experience of the law, Mrs Barclay, and none whatever of the King’s Bench.’
‘In that you would be correct. But surely guilt and innocence are polar opposites? The accused must be one or the other.’
‘There are many factors in the drawing of a verdict.’
Emily listened as he outlined the several influences that affected a trial, first the opinion of the judge, most notoriously the Lord Chief Justice, Kenyon. With him politics would intrude if it was that kind of case; he would free his friends and direct the jury to condemn his enemies and it was a bold foreman who would defy him or any of his fellow judges. Others were dyspeptic and irascible, so opinion of counsel played a part.
A good lunch could more explain the way the jury was directed to acquit, a bad cold or a rumbling gut send the accused down to transportation or the gallows. Then there was the jury itself, what were their opinions and prejudices? That could not be foreseen for there was little control by counsel over choice.
‘But all that notwithstanding, a case can be made?’
His folder was opened and laid before her. ‘It can, but certainly only lies in the fact that, if Gherson was not the perpetrator, someone else must be. I ask you to look at these drawings and tell me if they trigger any memory.’
‘You think them involved?’
‘I think it possible.’
She took her time, as befitted the seriousness of the situation, but finally shook her head. ‘I am curious as to how you came to suspect them?’
‘A certain pattern of behaviour on the night Mrs Carruthers was murdered, which makes it conceivable they are the true offenders. But if you can’t name them, then Gherson is left with what I have at present.’ The pause was deliberate, the look that went with it equally so. ‘But have you considered what will happen if he is acquitted?’
‘I suspect that’s not a question you have put to Mr Druce. If you had, you would not be here.’
He had to smile; she was so quick to see what lay behind his being here and he responded with a shake of the head. It was time to be open. ‘I have a suspicion that it is not an outcome Mr Druce is much concerned to bring about.’
‘Because a dead Gherson cannot attest to his peculations?’
‘There may be other reasons.’
The slight forward jerk indicated she was about to ask for details, but she checked herself, realising the way Hodgson had said that meant he had no intention of enlightening her. He went on to tell of his meeting with Southouse, though he filleted their conversation, keeping to what mattered, mentioning Garrow and how he could plead an erroneous charge. It was a name which registered.
‘Let us assume a positive outcome and you are the person to engineer it,’ he said.
‘Pay for it would be more precise. I cannot believe William Garrow comes cheap.’
There was no need to confirm that. ‘You would then anticipate Gherson becoming a source of information to you.’
‘Naturally.’
‘Then if you will forgive, Mrs Barclay, you are being naïve. If I suggested to you that Gherson knows very well who arranged for the murder, would that surprise you?’
‘It would surprise me he has not pointed the finger of accusation.’
‘Then I would posit you have not appreciated how devious he can be.’ The scowl took issue, but again she did the right thing, which was hold her tongue. ‘A name could well surface at the point where he is about to be found guilty and, with it, some evidence of another’s guilt.’
‘Which would be?’
‘Only Gherson knows that for certain. But when you related to me the tale of his impressment, I admit to being taken aback. It told me many of the assumptions I had made were wrong.’
Hodgson trusted her to get the drift, without it being explained. The same person who sought to dispose of him on that occasion had to be the person who conspired to have him hang for the murder of Catherine Carruthers. She might even produce a name, but she would not hear it from him.
‘He has no employment and no prospect of any, so a freed Gherson will sell his soul to
the highest bidder.’
‘That would be in his nature.’
‘Then we must ensure that no bidding can take place. If I am to act for you, I see it as my primary task to extract from him everything he knows, before he’s made aware of Garrow and the defence.’
‘And how, Mr Hodgson, will you do that?’
‘Two people can play a double game, Mrs Barclay, but I admit, with a fellow like Gherson, it is going to be challenging to match him.’
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
The crew of HMS Hazard had so far spent time in waters that were tidal but calm. Even in a bit of a blow the wind never did much to disturb the surface of the Nore and Faversham had been likewise. Moving out towards Margate, under topsails, took the ship into a running sea, albeit one not very lively. Pearce held a straight course, the run of the waves striking just off the larboard bow, with a very good idea of what was about to happen. As soon as the ship began to pitch and roll, seasickness struck. Others, yet to succumb, found they could not keep their feet on the ever-moving deck.
He intended the cruise to be a gentle affair, so that a change to sail down past Ramsgate involved no more than hauling on the yards. Yet he knew difficulties would arise when he was required to come about, given there was not much sea room between the North Foreland and the Goodwin Sands. When the time came, the crew would have to be driven to their tasks, regardless of how they felt.
Too many people saw seasickness as a weakness, but Pearce had suffered it himself in the Mediterranean, if only briefly. Even the most experienced sailors could become afflicted, usually on leaving harbour after time spent ashore. Likewise, it was strange to be back on terra firma, when you’d been at sea for weeks on a lifting and falling, as well as a seriously tilting deck.
Right now, he was absorbing the movement with his knees and that would come to others as they became accustomed. He had noted that Hallowell was a bit green, though hiding it, Worricker seemed to be revelling in the motion, while all four midshipmen were stricken. Rufus Dommet would be laid low as he ever was, while Charlie would be mocking the afflicted, which included his fellow Pelican. Oliphant, now aboard, had not appeared, which had Pearce wonder at his condition.
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