The Fleet Street Murders

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

Lenox began, as was his wont, by searching from the ground up. With a lack of ceremony that plainly surprised Natt, he lay flat on his stomach and took a preliminary look under the bed. Lighting a match from a matchbox in his pocket, he then made a more comprehensive survey of the space. He took enough time for Natt to offer an impatient throat clearing, but in the end the time he took was worth it. Behind one of the bed’s feet he found a pile of coins, stacked in order of size so that they made a small pyramid. He picked it up carefully and spread the coins in his palm.

“A farthing, a halfpenny, a penny, threepence, sixpence, and a shilling. All the coins of the realm up to the shilling,” said Lenox.

“You would be surprised what people hoard in here.”

“Of course. Wouldn’t he have kept money on his person, though?”

“In fact, no. There are frequent incidents of theft and mugging, I’m afraid.”

“It’s to be expected. What could this buy?”

“A pair of trousers?”

“I know what it could buy in our world,” said Lenox, “but in here?”

“Oh — oh. Perhaps five breakfasts? Four suppers?”

“Tobacco?”

“To be sure.”

With this Lenox resumed his search, looking under the nightstand, removing its one drawer and searching for false joints, and trying to pry off its top, until he was convinced it was innocent of further contents. Then he searched the visible floor, then the walls, and after that the ledge of the tiny window.

There was very little else in the cell, and finally he turned his attention to the hook Smalls had died on. It was slightly loose, no doubt from bearing all the weight it had. Lenox couldn’t make much of it but noticed a brown square about a foot below it, the size of another hook.

“What’s this?” he asked.

“There used to be two hooks. Still are, in a few cells.”

“Why did you take them away?”

“They had fallen out of use. From the color of the stain I’d say this one has been gone for three or four years.”

“I see.”

Lenox felt discouraged. He made it a policy to visit the freshest crime scene first but now wished he had gone to Carruthers’s or Pierce’s house instead.

They walked back to the warden’s office by the same grim route, and Lenox felt glad he had been born into a position that made crime an unlikely choice for him. Which was not to say there weren’t men of his station within these walls. Some of them were there because of him.

“Ah,” said Natt when they were in his office, “here is the list of 122’s effects.”

“Thank you.”

It was a short list that Lenox took in his hands. “One suit, gray serge; one piece of paper; one pouch, shag tobacco; one pipe, mahogany and match scarred; one penny blood, Black Bess.”

Lenox knew his compassion ought to be reserved for Pierce and Carruthers, but something about this list struck his easily reached heart. It was the magazine perhaps, the penny dreadful. He knew Black Bess. It was about a legendary highwayman, Dick Turpin, who had in truth been a stupid man, a robber of old ladies, a murderer, but who in these glamorized stories was the owner of a beautiful horse, Bess, on whom he rode the country, bad but never evil, a rogue with a conscience. What appeal would Black Bess have to a man like Hiram Smalls? It seemed to tell its own tale, the man’s choice of what to read.

“Did the paper have any markings or writing on it?”

“There will be a note on the reverse of the sheet if it does.”

“Ah — thank you.”

In fact, there was an addendum. In careful handwriting, a clerk’s probably, it read, “Note dated Dec. 20, no signature or address, beginning ‘The dogcarts pull away’ and ending ‘No green.’ Thirty-two words, nonsense or code.”

Well, this was maddening.

“Is there no way to get hold of the note?”

“You might inquire about it with 122’s mother.”

“Indeed I shall. You have her address, I hope?” Lenox said, trying to contain his ire.

“Here it is, somewhere on my desk.” Natt shuffled through his things. “Ah, yes, here.” He copied the address down for Lenox. “Will that be all?”

“Yes, thank you. I appreciate your help.”

“We strive for transparency, and in particular as you’re now in — in the public eye, as it were…”

So this was why it had been so easy to see the prison. “Yes?”

“If you do make it into Parliament, Mr. Lenox, I can guess you won’t forget us?”

“Of course not.”

Natt fairly beamed. “Topping! Yes, well, I wish you all of the best luck in your campaign and your — your case alike.”

“Thank you, Warden.”