The Masters of Bow Street Read online

‘On guard there. On guard!’

  On that instant the doors were thrust open and the men who had been followed rushed out, knives and pistols in their hands.

  Charleston, face to face with a man who raised a pistol, called out clearly, ‘Drop your weapons! We are officers of the law. You are under arrest.’

  The man in front of him fired on that instant, and a bullet caught Charleston between the eyes; several more shots sounded as, heedless of danger, more Bow Street men rushed forward. Benedict saw one of the highwaymen creeping close to the wall and leaped at him, while James, no more than three yards behind but hidden by shadows, watched the man who had shot and surely killed Charleston slipping along the arch way towards Long Acre.

  If James called for help, the others would hear and shoot him in his tracks.

  If he followed the man alone, he would be in nearly as much danger.

  No lights were on except the one at the archway and every step made it more difficult to make out the other’s shape; all at once he turned into an alley, and James stopped moving. Nearby was a doorway which would give him shelter. The noise of the battle continued; there was no more shooting but much bellowing and scuffling.

  Soon he heard the chinking of bridle and stirrups: Charleston’s killer was mounting a horse. James crept into the empty street. Sharp and clear, the horses’ shod feet sounded on the cobbles, and as James drew nearer still, the murderer nosed his mount into Long Acre. James’s one hope of stopping him was to let him pass and then spring at him.

  The masked rider peered in each direction but did not see James. Slowly he inched his mount forward, giving James time to draw level with the horse’s hindquarters. He keyed himself to leap, confident that once he could grip the rider’s arm he could throw him with one twist of the wrist, bringing him off the horse, but just as he was on the point of jumping he caught his foot on some piece of metal in the road and it clanged with an alarming noise.

  The man turned swift as sound in his saddle.

  There was just enough light from the flickering flares to show the pistol thrust forward. James flung himself to one side as a shot roared and flashed. He felt a thud in his left shoulder and crashed onto the cobbles so heavily that consciousness died.

  The highwayman put his horse to the gallop as men began to stream out of Morgan’s archway in time to find James with his badly injured shoulder but too late to catch the man who had killed John Charleston.

  All the other members of the Twelves were captured; all were taken to a special session at Bow Street, where John Fielding committed them to Newgate to await trial. One of them was Gabriel, son of Ebenezer Morgan.

  James was aware of pain in his shoulder and a throbbing ache in his head. He could smell something sharp and astringent which reminded him of a hospital. Light came into the small room from a window placed high in a wall. All was quiet. Very gradually he recalled what had happened and suddenly he realised the simple, overwhelmingly significant truth: he was alive! Cautiously, fearful of making the ache worse, he turned his head and saw that the ceiling sloped down to a door in a corner opposite the fireplace. He did not understand where he was, but at least he was alive.

  Had the others caught the highwayman?

  Was Charleston dead?

  These thoughts drifted slowly through his mind, while his head seemed to become heavy even on the pillow and his eyes closed. He did not know how long he alternately slept and dozed but the next time he woke he felt an alertness of mind which told him that all drowsing was done.

  He tried to sit up but the effort brought such blinding pain to both shoulder and head that he desisted, lowering himself gently back on the pillow. Hardly had the pain eased than he heard footsteps on stairs which creaked loudly, followed by more footsteps groaning on the boards of a passage. A few moments later the groaning stopped, the latch lifted quietly and the door opened.

  Mary Smith came into the room.

  In that first moment it was like a dream; she could not be real, must be a figment of his imagination! But as she crossed towards him and, seeing his eyes open, smiled with pleasure, he had no doubt that she was there in the flesh. He raised his right hand to her and she took it between hers, pressed gently, then drew back and sat on a slung chair. What light there was shone on her face, and he had a swift thought that in the little bonnet and dark dress with white ruffs at neck and wrists she was very like his mother. She had the same colouring, the same shaped eyes and forehead.

  ‘How long have I been here?’ he asked in a voice husky through lack of use.

  ‘Since last night,’ she answered, leaning forward and taking a small mug of water from a table at the side of the bed, putting her other hand at his head and raising it a few inches. He moistened his lips and then drank a little, surprised at the great effort this cost him. She lowered his head onto the pillows again. ‘You had a bad fall, and we were anxious for a while, but the doctor took the bullet out of your shoulder and assures us that although you may have cracked your skull it is not broken. You are to rest and sleep as much as you can, eat a little food and drink some soup. If you are obedient to your nurse he expects you to be as good as new before long.’ Her eyes smiled as she went on: ‘And you are not to be worried or anxious, and I am to answer all your questions as far as I can.’

  James looked at her searchingly and asked slowly, ‘Where am I and how is it you are here?’

  ‘You are in an old cottage attached to Mr. Weygalls’ house, and he commands me to give your needs my prime attention.’

  ‘But his family—’

  ‘Jamey,’ she interrupted, ‘last night a miracle happened in this part of London. The New Mohocks were broken up and are never likely to re-form. Mr. Sly made it clear that you were largely responsible, and except possibly for Ebenezer Morgan, who dares say no word since one of his sons was involved and one of his warehouses was used to store stolen goods, every person in the neighbourhood knows how great a debt they owe to you.’

  ‘Nonsense! The Fieldings—’

  ‘To the Fieldings, too, but they are remote from us. Jamey, I think you have talked enough. I will come whenever you call for me, and you have only to pull this rope behind your bed.’

  She drew the end of a rope forward so that he could reach it without strain, but before she could move away he rested a hand on hers.

  ‘Mary, why is this room like a hospital?’

  ‘You had best not allow Mr. Weygalls to hear you say that. He considers hospitals to be stinking places, where patients die even more quickly than they would outside, but with perhaps a little more comfort. This is a sickroom for his family. You were within a stone’s throw of this place, and Benedict Sly brought you here. Now you must rest.’

  ‘One more question,’ James pleaded. ‘How many of the New Mohocks were caught?’

  ‘By the strangest coincidence eleven New. Mohocks and eleven members of the Twelves! Only one, the man whom you tried to stop, escaped.’

  ‘Is it known who he is?’

  ‘You will have to ask others that, later.’

  Mary stood up and squeezed a sponge in a bowl of water on the table, wiped his head, face, hands and wrists, and emptied the bowl into an earthenware pitcher which she took out with her.

  He thought he would stay awake, she was so vivid in his mind, but in fact he fell asleep quickly and slept soundly and without stirring for some hours. He woke only to doze off again, and when he opened his eyes next it was daylight. He did not want to harass Mary but doubted whether he could get out of bed safely by himself, so he pulled the rope and heard a faint ringing some distance off. In a surprisingly short time her footsteps sounded.

  Mary helped him out of bed and to the commode, which was a tiny closet outside the door, and he was surprised to see one of the Harrington flush systems installed, while there was virtually no odour. It made a noisy clatter and the roar of watch was like a waterfall, so he was laughing when he went back into the bedroom. Mary had made the bed and had propped
pillows up against a wooden rest covered with sail-cloth, and this greatly eased his shoulder. After tucking the blankets around him, she said she would get his breakfast. Ten minutes later she reappeared with a tray on which were scrambled eggs, fresh bread and butter, and a pitcher of hot milk and another of hot coffee.

  ‘Ring for me when you have finished,’ she said.

  ‘Can you not stay and talk?’ James pleaded.

  ‘There are children clamouring for their breakfast in the kitchen!’

  ‘Oh, I’m sorry,’ he said. ‘I had forgotten you had others to care for.’

  ‘I only wish—’ she began, but broke off without finishing.

  Using his right arm James was able to handle the food without difficulty; it was not until he began to eat that he realised how hungry he was, and how good the food was. He was sipping coffee when he heard voices downstairs, one of them Benedict Sly’s.

  Approaching the door, Benedict called, ‘How is the people’s hero this morning?’ Pushing the door open, he strode in, his usually calm face filled with excitement. Suddenly his eyes blazed and he burst out, ‘The hero is being pampered, which is as it should be. Jamey - you, Bow Street and the capture of the Twelves are the talk of the town! Every newspaper carried the story in great detail and never have more newspaper reporters crowded into Bow Street. Jamey, you should see the store of ill-gotten wealth that was unearthed, close on fifty thousand pounds’ worth! Have no doubt the thieves will hang - and have no doubt you and all concerned will be much the richer when it is all over.’

  ‘Richer? How?’

  From the inside of his jacket Benedict drew copies of The Daily Clarion and The Public Advertiser and spread them out in front of James, who saw the bold announcement in the middle of both pages, identical except that they were in different type, stating that all jewels stolen by the New Mohocks were recovered intact and that the owners reclaiming them upon producing identification were to reward James and his men—

  James put the papers aside and said, ‘It was wrong to single me out for praise, Ben.’

  ‘I don’t agree with you,’ Benedict Sly said. ‘Had John Charleston been alive he would have been named with you. Full credit was done to him in yesterday’s newspapers. It is a triumph for Bow Street and for you. Revel in it while you can!’

  In a room on the first rickety floor of an alehouse in Kensington a man lay in bed with a pretty, blue-eyed girl beside him, looking at his strikingly handsome face with adoration. He was reading the announcement which James Marshall had just read, and he was scowling. Suddenly he flung the paper aside.

  ‘I know what I would do with the likes of them,’ he growled. ‘I’d draw out their vitals and then hang them high and while they had life left in them I’d quarter them, too.’ He broke off as the girl’s eyes widened, only to go on: ‘Never mind what I say, Nell.’

  His strong hand covered her breast and made a number of firm, bold strokes down to the pit of her stomach, until her whole body began to quiver.

  Afterward, when he lay half asleep, she whispered, ‘Will you take me to see, Jake?’

  ‘Take you where?’ demanded Jacob Rackham. ‘To see the man drawn and quartered. I have seen dozens hanged at Tyburn and Tower Hill, but never a drawing and quartering.’

  He drowned her words with a roar of laughter, but when that had stilled and they lay quiet, looking at the green fields beyond the window, he thought of what she had asked and of what he had said, and of the man James Marshall, who had come near to preventing his escape. Only once before had he felt such vicious anger towards a man, and that had been when he and the New Mohocks, early in their existence, had been amusing themselves with a girl and a stranger had come thrashing about, them with a staff, scattering them until two had fallen into an open sewer. They had carried the stench for weeks; he, the memory for much longer.

  Jacob Rackham made the same promise to himself now that he had made then.

  Later that same morning, the door of James’s room opened and, to his delight, his mother appeared, with Henrietta close behind. They were full of concern, eager in admiration, agog with their own tidings. Another building at the foundling home at St. Giles was almost ready. Even better news - a second such home was to be started near Staines, beyond Hounslow, by a friend of Sir Mortimer Tench’s who had observed what they were doing at St. Giles and planned to emulate them.

  It was hard to believe there was still better news.

  ‘A report from Gordon’s says that Johnny has made great advances in studies and has caused no more problems, Ruth said happily. ‘And there is a suggestion that before he goes for further study, he should visit all the Furnival offices throughout the world.’ She stood up from the side of the bed and took his hands, and once again he was reminded of her resemblance to Mary. ‘Jamey, it is no exaggeration to say that I am inordinately proud of you but also a little apprehensive - both feelings I had so often for your father.’ She leaned over and kissed his forehead, her voice unsteady as she went on. ‘Both he and John Furnival would have been so proud of you, my son.’

  Tears stung his eyes when she and Henrietta had gone.

  Soon, however, he was shaken out of such a mood, for Timothy arrived, closely followed by David Winfrith with greetings and a note from the Fieldings.

  Sitting down on the side of the bed, David said in a quivering voice, ‘Victims of the highwaymen are coming to inspect the recovered goods in droves, Jamey! And each - when he has satisfied one of the Mr. Fieldings and has answered his questions about that particular robbery, for the more evidence against the Twelves the better - goes off with his once lost property, leaving a handsome reward. Already the total is more than one hundred guineas. It would not surprise me if it grows to more than a thousand. If it is agreeable to you, ten per cent will be set aside as yours and the rest distributed—’

  For the first time since he had been here James was taken by surprise by the opening of the door, and Mary came in, smiling and yet scolding.

  ‘Do you want him to die before he can use his share of the reward, David? You will have to stop talking, for he must rest.’

  ‘I confess I had not realised how fatigued I was,’ James admitted. ‘But, David, I do not require a greater share than others.’

  ‘Ten per cent also will go to the widow and family of John Charleston,’ David told him. ‘I had forgotten that.’

  He went out, ignoring James’s protest at his leaving, and threw a teasing kiss at Mary as he went.

  ‘There are two things I would like,’ James told Mary that evening, never having felt more contented. ‘To have you stay for a while, not bustling about, and afterward to meet Mr. Weygalls.’

  ‘The first you can have if it pleases you,’ Mary replied, to his delighted surprise. ‘A kitchen maid will fetch the tray from the head of the stairs and will wash the dishes, the children are abed, and Mrs. Weygalls will sit downstairs with them. Mr. Weygalls has gone to a meeting of surgeons at Barbers’ Hall and will not be back until after you have gone to sleep.’ She took the tray out and when she came back she was without her apron, and looking as pretty as he had yet seen her. ‘Now that I am here what would you have me do?’ she asked, a gay note in her voice.

  ‘As the mood takes you I would like you to talk about yourself,’ James said.

  He was asleep, about an hour later, when she left.

  For five consecutive nights she sat with him and they talked or she read extracts from The Public Advertiser or The Daily Clarion, mostly about the stream of callers who came to seek their belongings. It proved that except for some gold plate stolen from a peer’s dining room and a few jewels, the Twelves had stored most of the valuables. They had, however, spent all of the money. On the seventh day, when James was out of bed and beginning to feel fractious, wanting to go out of doors, Benedict and David arrived together. The reward money, so they told him, now totalled more than fourteen hundred guineas, and there might yet be more! They went off leaving another phrase ringing i
n his ears.

  ‘Since Friday night there have to our knowledge been many fewer attacks by highwaymen. Neither the watchmen nor the Bow Street men have had a less strenuous time in winter.’

  Surely this was proof of the effectiveness of the methods Bow Street had adopted; surely more official approval and bigger payment would soon be forthcoming and London would be given a peacekeeping force competent to subdue all major crime!

  Paul Weygalls proved to be a short, plump, rather fussy-mannered man, quite different from the mind picture which James had conceived. He would not hear of payment or recompense for what he had done, telling James that the atmosphere of Covent Garden and around was unbelievably improved. People now dared venture abroad at night with much less fear. And indeed the effect on all London was most remarkable, most remarkable.

  ‘If there is a single thing I can do for you, Mr. Marshall, you have but to name it.’

  ‘There is one thing, sir,’ James said quietly.

  ‘Then as I say: name it.’

  Heart beating fast, James replied, ‘I would like permission to visit Mary Smith from time to time, sir.’

  ‘I suspect that if I were to refuse I might no longer have a housekeeper!’ Weygalls smiled broadly and turned towards the door. ‘In the meantime, Mr. Marshall, I shall send her to see you straightaway.’

  Two days later, after James had been, there for nine days, he went back to his rooms in the Strand. He was surprised to find three persons on the stairs, and in the office where he interviewed his callers, six more, four gentlemen and two ladies. Behind the desk were Benedict Sly and a youth whom James had never seen before. He proved to be Benedict’s younger brother Nicholas.

  The Slys had maintained the business which, because of the publicity, had increased tenfold.

  There was soon a much greater volume of work than ‘Mr. Londoner’ could handle, so he employed Nicholas Sly to maintain the office throughout the day, at the same time renting a small shop alongside it. He soon discovered that the lad’s love and knowledge of London rivalled his own, and it became Nicholas’ greatest pleasure to visit out-of-the-way parts of London and buy any small curiosities which took his fancy, cleaning and polishing them before putting them in the shop. There was always a ready market among visitors from abroad and from the provinces. As the weeks passed, Mary found herself free to visit James during the day, when the Weygalls’ children were at school. And when not engaged in work for Bow Street, James spent part of each evening visiting Mary, occasionally taking her to St. James’s Park to see the ducks on the lake or to stroll among the perambulating crowds along the Mall. After the excitement of the triumph over the Twelves, life took on an even tenor in most spheres.