Death and the Black Pyramid

Fourteen

John thought that if he had been given a guinea for every time he had visited Sir John Fielding’s salon on the first floor of the tall, thin house in Bow Street, he would be a wealthy man by now. As he climbed the twisting staircase he felt that he knew every stair and every turn. It was dark and the Beak Runner in the Public Office had given him a candle the better to see his way up but as he approached the door it was flung open and the figure of Joe Jago, silhouetted against the brightness of the room behind, stood waiting for him.

‘My very dear Joe,’ said John, ‘how wonderful to see you again.’

‘And you too, Sir,’ said the other man, and welcomed him into the salon.

Inside it was all cheer and brightness — the curtains drawn, the fire blazing, the light of many candletrees illuminating the polished furniture. The only thing missing was the Blind Beak himself.

‘He’s still in court, Sir,’ said Joe. ‘Finishing off a difficult case. He shouldn’t be too long.’

John hovered. ‘May I sit down?’

‘Of course you can. Goodness me. You’re almost one of the family.’

‘And where are Lady Fielding and Mary Anne?’

‘They are out visiting friends. May I offer you some refreshment, Sir?’

John had dined only an hour before, taking the meal early in order to eat with Rose, who had a very long face about her as it was her father’s last night in London.

‘I promise I will be back in two weeks’ time, sweetheart,’ the Apothecary had said in order to reassure her.

‘I wish you didn’t have to go, Papa.’

‘I must say goodbye to Mrs Elizabeth, darling.’

‘I see.’

Sir Gabriel had interrupted. ‘Would you rather be driven by Irish Tom, John? I am sure that Rose and I can manage without him for a fortnight or so.’

‘No, Sir. I know you use him daily. Besides I will try and get a flying coach this time. It should be quicker.’

‘As you wish, my boy.’

Now the Apothecary looked up at Joe. ‘I dined recently so a small port would be very welcome.’

Jago poured out two glasses and sat down opposite John, noticeably leaving the Blind Beak’s chair vacant.

‘So how are things going with you, Sir?’

John peered into the depths of his glass. ‘I am to be a father again, Joe.’

‘Ah,’ came the slightly nonplussed reply.

John looked up. ‘The mother is Lady Elizabeth, the Marchesa di Lorenzi. I have repeatedly asked her to marry me but she refuses point blank.’

‘Oh dear! I don’t quite know what to say, Mr Rawlings. I am rather inexperienced in these matters.’

The Apothecary gave him a look of much fondness, thinking to himself that as far as he knew Joe Jago had never been married and had not had a great deal of contact with the opposite sex.

‘It is an unusual situation I admit. But then Elizabeth is a highly unusual woman, Joe.’

‘I agree with you there, Sir. But on the odd occasions I have met her I always found her pleasant enough. I’ll never forget how kind she was to you at the time of Mrs Rawlings’s death.’

‘She was more than kind, Joe. I think she saved my life. That is, that you and she saved it between you.’

The clerk flushed beneath his red hair, ill concealed by an old and tired wig. ‘I did what I could, Mr Rawlings. That is all.’

The Apothecary could have wept for the goodness of people around him but fortunately at that moment they heard a familiar heavy tread on the stairs and both men stood up. Joe went to the door and as it was thrown open, called out, ‘Mr Rawlings is here to see you, Sir,’ and the Blind Beak came into the room.

The man was now forty-six years old and stood well over six feet tall. As well as being of great height he was also well built so that his physical presence, to say nothing of his persona, filled the room. He wore a long and somewhat old-fashioned wig of curling white hair which hung to his shoulders, accentuating his nose and his full and passionate mouth. He had pushed up the black ribbon he always wore over his eyes so that they were exposed, closed as usual, beneath a pair of jet black, rather heavy, brows. But his hands — this evening carrying a cane to help him find his way — were beautiful, long and slender, almost feminine in their shape and delicacy. On his little finger the Magistrate wore a gold ring with an amethyst which glistened in the light.

As always John bowed. ‘It is a pleasure to see you again, Sir.’

‘My dear Mr Rawlings, how nice to hear your voice. Take a seat do.’

Because he knew the room so well, the blind man made his way without difficulty to the great chair which stood beside the fireplace. Lowering his frame into it, he turned his head to Joe.

‘Jago, fetch me a drink, there’s a good chap. I feel wretchedly depressed.’

‘Why, Sir, if I may ask?’ said John.

‘Because I have news from my contact in Paris that that devil Wilkes is thinking of returning to England. He’ll make trouble, mark my words.’

Into John’s pictorial memory came a list of the members of the Hell-Fire Club with Wilkes’s name prominent among them. That is until the man had fallen out with Sir Francis Dashwood, the founder, and had been barred from attending. Now he was in voluntary exile in France having been expelled from the House of Commons and convicted in the Court of King’s Bench for printing and publishing issue Number 43 of the North Briton — in which he had libelled George III — together with Wilkes’s pornographic ‘Essay on Woman’. He had four years previously come face-to-face with Sir John Fielding and demanded that the Magistrate issue a warrant against the Secretaries of State for theft of papers from his house. The Blind Beak had denied the request, knowing full well that the papers had been officially seized.

‘You refuse me, Sir,’ Wilkes had shouted, ‘then you too shall hear from me!’

It had been an empty threat but the news that the man was thinking of returning from France quite clearly made Sir John ill at ease.

‘But let us not waste good conversation on that universal hound,’ said the Magistrate now. ‘A health to you, Mr Rawlings. Tell me, how is the world using you?’

‘Sir, I have become involved in a murderous situation,’ answered John.

‘Tell me of it.’ And Sir John Fielding sat back in his chair, put his head against the cushioned mat and listened while the Apothecary told him the story of his journey to Devon and all that had transpired since. Eventually he spoke.

‘You say that you were told by the coach driver that he had driven the man Gorringe before but that he used a different name?’

‘Yes, Sir. Yet my investigations in Lewes yielded up nothing, except for that strange business of seeing two of the women who travelled in the coach walking along together.’

‘Quite so.’ The Blind Beak sipped his drink. ‘Surely not a coincidence?’

‘I would hardly have thought so.’

There was silence in the room, a profound silence during which Joe winked at John. Meanwhile the Magistrate performed his usual trick of appearing to sleep, which meant, as the Apothecary knew, that he was thinking deeply.

‘Tell me about the constable in Exeter,’ he said at last.

‘A professional, Sir. And quite efficient from what I’ve seen. But he has an enormous amount of work to do and quite an area to cover.’

‘Um.’ There was another long silence and then the Beak turned his head in the direction of Joe. ‘Tell me, Jago, are you due for any leave?’

‘No, Sir John.’

‘Then in that case you must take some unofficially. I want you to go to Lewes with Mr Rawlings and then on to Devon. Assist in any way possible. But you must be back here within a fortnight. Is that understood?’

‘But how will you manage, Sir?’

‘It will give young Lucas a chance to get used to the court. I shall have to rely on him.’

‘He is very inexperienced.’

The Blind Beak sighed. ‘We all were that once upon a time.’

Joe nodded gravely. ‘You’re right there, Sir. I shall be glad to accompany you Mr Rawlings and help you by any means I can.’

‘If it doesn’t inconvenience Sir John then I’d be pleased to have your company.’

‘When do we start, Sir?’

‘Tomorrow morning,’ John answered. He turned to the Magistrate who remained oblivious of the movement. ‘I must return to Devon first, Sir. I promised the Marchesa that I would be back in time to escort her to a ball.’

‘Very good. But I would suggest another visit to Lewes soon. I have a feeling that the answer might lie there. The key to the whole thing might well be Gorringe’s former identity.’

‘I shall go there after the rout, be assured of it.’

‘Remember you will only have Jago’s assistance for two weeks,’ the Blind Beak answered.

‘I will indeed, Sir John.’

‘Well now, let us change the subject. Has anything of interest other than the murder taken place since last we met, Mr Rawlings?’

John coloured even more deeply. ‘I am to be a father again, Sir. The Marchesa is with child.’

‘Well bless my soul,’ the Blind Beak answered, and laughed his deep melodious chuckle.

The following afternoon Joe Jago and the Apothecary set off by flying coach to Exeter. These conveyances were smaller than the stagecoach, carrying a maximum of four people, and were faster, having only to stop to change horses and give the travellers some rest. This particular coach halted for the night at Overton, having already traversed a distance of some sixty miles, and the two men, having seen by their watches that it was ten o’clock, went straight to bed, after consuming a hasty supper.

The next morning they set off at seven, stopped briefly at Blandford, dined at Dorchester, then pushed on through the darkness till their arrival in Exeter some three and a half hours later. John proceeded at once to The Half Moon, determined to show Joe the scene of the crime. Fortunately the room in which William Gorringe had met his grisly death had not been let to anyone else.

‘Are you game to stay in it, Joe?’

‘Indeed I am, Sir.’

So, rather wearily after so much intensive travelling, the two men climbed the stairs to the second floor and entered room seven. It had been scrubbed out and some sort of rosewater sprinkled about so that all traces and the smell of blood had disappeared. But even though the linen was fresh and clean, the bed upon which William Gorringe had met his terrible end was the same. John glanced at it somewhat fearfully, almost as if he expected the battered corpse to be lying there. He turned to Joe.

‘This is where he was killed. He was lying on the bed, his head reduced to a pulp. I don’t recollect ever having seen a corpse so badly beaten.’

‘Does it worry you sleeping here?’

‘No, not at all,’ John answered with great bravado.

But secretly he felt a little dubious about getting into the big bed and deliberately chose the side where William Gorringe’s body had not been. Joe, oblivious, removed his outer garments and got in beside him where he fell immediately into a deep and peaceful sleep. But John could not lose consciousness and now wished fervently that he had hired a horse and ridden on to Elizabeth’s. Yet he knew full well that to have ridden through that dark and desolate landscape would have been asking for trouble from any highwaymen who might be roaming the road.

A groan jerked the Apothecary into full wakefulness and lighting a candle he peered fearfully into the dark corners of the room. But it was only Joe moaning a little as he turned over. Reluctantly John blew out the light and finally fell asleep.

He woke to find Joe whistling cheerfully as he shaved in delightfully hot water.

‘Good morning, Mr Rawlings. Did you sleep well?’

‘No, I didn’t. I believe this room is haunted, Joe.’

‘Oh I don’t think so, Sir. It was just your imagination.’

‘I’m not so certain. Remember it has witnessed a violent death.’

‘I dare say a lot of other places have as well and they can’t all be haunted.’

‘Well, I’m glad I’m not staying here another night,’ John answered defiantly. Then added, ‘But what about you, Joe? I am sure that Lady Elizabeth would be glad to have you as a guest.’

‘That’s kind of you Mr Rawlings, but I feel I will be of more use staying behind in Exeter. But before we part company I’d be obliged if you would let me have a list of everyone travelling on the stagecoach with you. And, if possible, give me some address for them.’

‘I’ll do it as soon as I have had breakfast. But tell me, Joe, how do you intend to get around and about?’

‘I shall hire an horse. A good sturdy beast that I can rely on.’

‘An excellent idea.’ John got out of bed. ‘But be sure to call on me soon so that we can compare notes.’

‘You can trust me to do that, Sir. Besides I’d like to get a look at the Marchesa’s home.’

‘I think that you will approve of it enormously.’

‘I look forward to seeing it.’

And, that said, Joe continued with his shaving.