by Emily Organ
“We don’t know yet.”
“You don’t know, but you’re still going to meet with this man? Is the inspector going with you?”
“No.”
“No?”
“James has tried speaking to Mr Chakravarty a couple of times, but he hasn’t been especially willing to talk.”
“But Inspector Blakely is a police officer. He can force him to talk!”
“He would prefer to use a softer approach at this present moment.”
“And you’re the softer approach?”
“I suppose I am.”
“How dreadful. I don’t understand why you should have to do this.”
“Because although Mr Fish has the Forster story now I’m working on the Alfred Holland story, which I’m sure is connected somehow. There are too many coincidences for it not to be.”
“And I suppose Inspector Blakely is indifferent to the fact that this banker could stick a knife into you at any given moment?”
“He won’t do that, Ellie. Even if he’s the murdering type I should think he would only do such a thing to those who cross him.”
“And that’s all right, is it?”
“No, but—”
“It’s not safe, Penelope. You must have a man to accompany you.”
“But it can’t be Inspector Blakely because Mr Chakravarty has already met him.”
“Then you must take George.” She helped me step into the burgundy dress.
“I don’t want to bother George with this.”
“But the City is his purlieu. He’s so familiar with lawyers and bankers and all those professional types that I think you would be even more convincing with George in attendance.”
“But he cannot pretend to be my husband!”
“No, of course not, but he could accompany you as your brother-in-law. In fact, such is George’s reputation in that part of London that it’s very likely Mr Chakravarty has heard his name before. I think his presence will lend further credence to your woman of means role.”
Although I did not usually enjoy the company of my brother-in-law, the thought of visiting Mr Chakravarty with an acquaintance felt surprisingly reassuring.
“All right, Ellie, just so long as you don’t think he’ll mind.”
“Of course he won’t. Now what do you think of this dress? It’s still a little long, but it sits much better about the hips and the bodice is terribly pretty, don’t you think?”
“Yes, I like this one.”
“Good.” She looked me up and down and grimaced. “You’ll have to do something fashionable with your hair, but I can’t think what. It’s almost irredeemable.”
“Thank you, Ellie.”
Chapter 28
“Chakravarty of Change Alley,” mused George as we travelled along Cheapside by hansom cab. “Hindu, I would guess.”
“His grandfather was from India.”
“I can’t say I’ve encountered the man personally. He takes on private clients rather than businesses, I think. I’ve seen his advertisements in the Morning Express.”
“Inspector Blakely says he’ll meet us outside the Royal Exchange,” I said.
“What do we need to meet him for?”
“He just wants to ensure that we’re happy with the plan.”
“There’s a plan?”
“The plan is for us to have a conversation with Mr Chakravarty about me borrowing some money to purchase a property in Kensington.”
“That’s all the plan we need, isn’t it? Only you’re not actually going to buy a property in Kensington, are you? I understand this is some ruse to speak to the man you suspect may be behind the murder of that Forster chap.”
“He might not be. I don’t think Inspector Blakely considers him a suspect just yet.”
“Then why are we doing such a thing?”
“To find out more about him. Any conversation you can have with him, you know, the man-to-man sort of thing, would be useful.”
“Ah, yes. I understand you now, Penelope. You’d like me to talk around the topic a bit?”
“I shall try to do the same, but I suspect that Mr Chakravarty will respond more favourably to conversation with a fellow gentleman.”
“Naturally.” George pushed his lower lip out and nodded. “And I must say it’s a rather interesting morning excursion. I barely recognised you at first in all your get-up.”
I was wearing the burgundy and cream dress with cream silk gloves which buttoned up to my elbows. Eliza had also lent me a diamond bracelet and Mrs Garnett had pinned my unruly fair hair into neat curls. A small silk hat had been fastened into my hair and I had reluctantly parted with my spectacles, which Eliza had said made me look like a working woman.
Despite my short-sightedness I was able to recognise the large, columned portico of the Royal Exchange as it came into view. I made a great effort to step elegantly out of the cab once we stopped and immediately opened my fringed parasol to shield my face from the sun.
Although my bodice was tight and my skirts were cumbersome I found myself enjoying the prestige afforded me by my attire. I smiled to myself as I noticed a few heads turning in my direction.
“Penny?” James’ face was a blur until he stood close beside me. He looked me up and down and grinned. “I… Well, I… I can’t believe you’re you!”
I felt a warmth in my face. “Is that a good or a bad thing?”
“It’s… You look good. Extremely good indeed! Not the Penny I’m used to, but certainly not in a bad way.”
“Left you tongue-tied, hasn’t she?” laughed George. “Surprisingly well-favoured when she makes the effort, isn’t she?”
The reaction of the two gentlemen made me realise that I usually neglected my appearance.
“Shall we get on with it?” I asked impatiently.
“You’re here to tell us about some plan, are you, Inspector?” asked George.
“I’d like you to subtly mention Mr Forster in conversation if possible,” said James.
“How do we do that when we’re there to talk about a mortgage?” George replied.
“Maybe you could pretend that he’s a friend of yours.”
“I could try, but what if this Chakravarty starts asking questions about him? I don’t know Mr Forster from a slice of cheese.”
“Don’t do or say anything which makes you feel uncomfortable,” said James. “Chakravarty will pick up on it and suspect something. Only mention Forster if it feels appropriate to do so.”
“And to what end?” asked George.
“What do you mean?” replied James.
“Suppose we mention Forster, what then? What are we hoping this Chakravarty chap will say?”
“Who can predict what he’ll say? It will be interesting just to gauge his reaction.”
George sighed. “It’s an intriguing plan, but I suppose it’s what you detectives and news reporters are accustomed to. Are you ready, Penelope?”
“Yes, I think so.”
“Good luck!” said James. “And thank you both. I appreciate your help.”
I took George’s arm and we crossed the street before stepping into a narrow passageway. I was accustomed to London alleyways being smelly, dingy places frequented by shifty-looking people. This one was more salubrious, widening as we progressed along it and lined with attractive shops.
“This was once the home of the coffee houses,” said George, swinging his cane as he walked. “Garraway’s was on this corner here. And there was also Jonathan’s. It’s where it all began, you know.”
“Where what began?”
“Trading in stocks and shares. The great men of those days came here for coffee and important discussions. What fun it must have been.”
We passed a clock shop and saw a man in a top hat and a lady in a silk bustle dress admiring its wares in the window.
“Is this it?” asked George, pausing by a doorway, beside which was a brass plaque etched with the words: ‘Samuel T. Chakravarty (Banker), establishe
d 1862’.
“It is indeed,” I replied.
He gave three sharp raps on the door with the mother-of-pearl-encrusted top of his cane.
Chapter 29
Mr Chakravarty was a humourless, brown-skinned man with heavy eyebrows and streaks of grey in his wavy black hair. His collar was so tall that it appeared to dig uncomfortably into his jowls. He sat at his desk beneath a portrait of a traditionally dressed Indian gentleman, who I guessed was a family member judging by the similarity of their features.
He listened intently as George explained my proposition to borrow six thousand pounds. I nodded politely and smiled where appropriate, all the while trying to assume a self-assured air.
“Everything sounds satisfactory,” said the banker once George had finished his explanation, “and I can foresee no reason why we should be unable to proceed in a straightforward manner. Have I seen you before at the Colthurst Club, Mr Billington-Grieg?”
“You may well have. I’ve been a member there for twelve years now.”
“Eighteen myself. It’s not what it used to be, but it’s still an agreeable venue.”
“The food has gone a little downhill since the new chef arrived.”
“Hasn’t it just? He insisted on engaging a new meat supplier, I understand.”
“I insist on the previous one!” stated George.
“As do I. The spiced lamb served up last week was practically indigestible.”
“Have you complained?”
“Oh yes, I’ve complained all right, but if the food doesn’t pick up I shan’t mind too much. It’s the company I enjoy there more than anything, and the imperfections of the Colthurst are part of its appeal, wouldn’t you say?”
I did my best to stifle a yawn. Although I knew this sort of conversation was important for building rapport I felt eager to move on to a topic I had a hope of contributing to.
Mr Chakravarty sat back in his chair and steepled his fingers. “As a fellow man of the Colthurst, Mr Billington-Grieg, I would consider offering your sister-in-law a favourable rate of interest.”
“Would you indeed? That’s very kind of you, my good man.”
“My pleasure. It’s something I like to offer acquaintances of mine, and in doing so I hope that it might pave the way for future business?”
“Absolutely. I’m game for anything that might help in paving the way.”
“Good, good. Shall we get on with the paperwork, then?”
“Yes, let’s!”
George was enjoying his conversation with Mr Chakravarty so much that he seemed to have forgotten I had no intention of going ahead with the mortgage.
“If we get on with the paperwork,” I ventured, “does that mean everything will be signed and sealed today?”
“It certainly does,” replied Mr Chakravarty. “You can’t ask for a quicker service than that, can you?”
“May I request a day or two to consider it properly? The purpose of this meeting was really to see whether we could agree something in principle.”
Mr Chakravarty’s face fell.
“It is such a lot of money, you see. I become quite nervous about large sums of money!” I added with a sweet smile.
Mr Chakravarty looked at George and shook his head.
“Women, eh, Mr Billington-Grieg?”
“I’ve always said it and I continue to say it: they don’t have the head for finance,” said George, “or politics, either.”
“Or the law,” added Mr Chakravarty.
“Especially the law!” agreed George.
I looked from one man to the other, incredulous that my stalling comment had drawn such unjust criticism.
“Do you think it would be a good idea for me to sign the papers today, George?” I asked with an acidic tone to my voice.
My brother-in-law laughed loudly and nervously. “My dear Penelope, since you have expressed a wish to spend a day or two considering Mr Chakravarty’s kind offer, that is exactly what we’ll do.”
“Even though I don’t have the head for finance?” I was beginning to wish that Eliza hadn’t insisted on George accompanying me.
“Yes, I have learnt over the years that one must always indulge a woman’s whim, otherwise a fellow never gets a moment’s peace.”
Mr Chakravarty nodded in agreement. “Very well. I’m sure that after a day or two you will realise how favourable an offer it is, Miss Green, so I shall make a note of a few particulars and await your confirmation.”
He dipped his pen into an inkpot and began to write something down. I felt inwardly relieved.
“Will you be contacting me yourself, Miss Green?”
“Yes,” I replied uneasily.
George caught my eye, as if he had finally remembered why we were there.
“I say, terrible news about that Forster chap, isn’t it?” said George.
I felt my teeth clench at his clumsy introduction of the topic.
“Mr Forster?” The banker looked up from his writing, seemingly baffled by the sudden change in conversation.
“The chap who was stabbed in the back in St James’s Square.”
“Yes, a most unpleasant business,” murmured Mr Chakravarty, returning to his notes.
“Did you know the fellow at all?” asked George.
Mr Chakravarty looked up again, appearing even more perplexed. “Know him? Why should I know him?”
“Oh, I just wondered.” There were beads of perspiration on George’s brow.
“Did you know him?” asked Chakravarty.
“No, no, I didn’t know the fellow. I, er, in fact I don’t know anyone who knew him. But it was a terrible business as I hear that his wife was also murdered.”
“I heard the same thing.” Mr Chakravarty rested his pen down on his desk. “Why are you asking me about Mr Forster?”
“I was just making conversation. It’s been in the papers a lot over the past few days, hasn’t it? In fact, Penelope…”
I felt my heart leap into my throat as I realised he had been about to mention that I was a news reporter.
“Penelope what?” asked Chakravarty. His brows hung low over his eyes.
“Oh, nothing really. I was going to say that Penelope, my sister-in-law here, is a keen reader of the Morning Express. You have been following the story intently, haven’t you, Penelope?”
“I have indeed.”
“The Morning Express, eh?” replied Chakravarty. “I take The Times myself.”
My heart thudded heavily in my chest as I realised that George was in danger of saying just the wrong thing at any moment. Although he had developed a good rapport with Mr Chakravarty, his attempts to steer the conversation had set me on edge.
“Apologies, Mr Chakravarty, for introducing a seemingly random topic of conversation,” said George. “I’m a garrulous fellow and cannot help myself at times.”
“No need for an apology,” replied the banker. “It’s just an odd coincidence, you see. The fact of the matter is that I did know the unfortunate fellow.”
“You don’t say!” replied George with mock surprise.
“Yes! In fact, he defrauded me.”
“Oh goodness, is that so? What a dreadful thing to do. Why should the fellow wish to do that?”
“He got himself into a quagmire, that’s what. And he thought he could borrow money from me to get himself out of it. I lent him some cash for a mortgage on a property that it turned out he didn’t own.”
“The rat!” declared George.
“I prefer not to speak ill of the dead.”
“Ah yes, I apologise.”
“Again, there’s no need, old chap. Part of the fault must lie with me. I should have had more checks and balances in place.”
“What did you do when you found out he had defrauded you?” I asked.
“I began legal proceedings in an attempt to recover the money,” replied the banker. “That was the only above-board method available.”
“And below-board?” inquired Geo
rge.
Mr Chakravarty sat back in his chair and folded his arms. “I’m not a below-board sort of man, Mr Billington-Grieg. What are you implying here?”
“Nothing at all!”
I winced as George gave a nervous laugh.
“I hope you don’t mind me saying this, sir, but I can’t quite get the measure of you,” said Mr Chakravarty. “One moment we’re having a pleasant conversation and are about to proceed with your sister-in-law’s mortgage, and the next you begin asking me all sorts of odd questions.”
“I do apologise if my questions were perceived as odd, Mr Chakravarty, I’m a garrulous fellow and —”
“So you’ve already explained,” interrupted the banker. “I’ve been in this business a long time, Mr Billington-Grieg, and I’ve learned to be wary. I admit that I was caught napping when it came to Forster, but most of the time I consider myself pretty shrewd.”
My mouth felt dry. The conversation had taken a turn for the worse and I needed to stop George talking any further.
“Please blame me, Mr Chakravarty,” I said. “I was talking to my brother-in-law about Mr Forster just before we stepped through your doorway, so when a natural pause arose in the conversation the murder was the first thing that came to mind, wasn’t it, George?”
“It was indeed, and —”
“And although George was not personally acquainted with Mr Forster, he has been quite affected by the incident as both Mr Forster and his late wife seemed like any other middle-class couple. I believe anyone from a similar background would cast a glance at their tragic demise and wonder whether the same thing could happen to them. It’s only natural.”
“That’s exactly my concern!” said George earnestly.
“As we have learned more detail about the case we’ve realised how unlikely it is to happen to us given that we aren’t in such dire financial and legal straits,” I continued. “Though I’m not suggesting for one minute that’s why they were murdered so horribly. It’s possible that in making the decisions they did they acquainted themselves with nefarious types who lived beyond the realms of the law. I’m inclined to think that an association with someone of the criminal classes may have played a part.”
