Friday 6th June 1879: Lea Bridge

This very long day continued with news from London, none of it good.

The Rat King’s boy gave us the bad news: Blackwood’s home had been ransacked.

Constable Strange, who had been a constant presence watching Blackwood’s abode, had been conspicuously occupied with a fetching young lady who just happened to be in need. The oldest trick in the book, in other words. Meanwhile two hoods made for the back door and proceeded to make a ‘right mess’ of the room, pulling up floorboards, breaking everything in sight.

“By the time the landlady ‘ad managed to get Strange’s attention it were all over,” the boy reported. “Strange is very interested in talking to you, Mr Blackwood sir.”

“Is he. Well we had best stay away then,” Blackwood smiled. “When the blackguards exited, were they carrying anything?”

“They were indeed sir. A large satchel tucked neat under their arm, there was.”

“My leather satchel? With the plans?” Salvin asked.

“I’m afraid so,” Blackwood nodded.

Salvin paled, then started apologising profusely. “How can you forgive me Blackwood? I gave them your address, and now they’ve taken the very thing I wanted you to protect.”

Blackwood scratched his substantial head. “Well, yes. And I bet they broke the seal—that’s treason you know. And maybe they also killed someone!”

I patted Blackwood on the back. He wasn’t so bad sometimes.

“This won’t work in our favour, Blackwood,” Salvin scowled. “I should never have taken those plans!”

“Then why did you in the first place?” Silas asked.

Salvin hesitated. “I was not confident they were secure.”

Now this was an interesting revelation. “From whom?” I asked.

Salvin went on to explain that in his office there was a gentleman of recent employ, who he slowly begun to suspect of ulterior motives. “He nosed around where he should not, and one day I returned early from a club luncheon to find him hunting around for plans in a secure set of cabinets.”

The man was plain, brown hair, a bowler hat, often in a clerk’s suit and very friendly with the police. “I came to believe that he was in fact a member of the constabulary acting in some unannounced fashion. Most suspicious. He was a scurrilous fellow,” Salvin growled, “And it is for this reason I believe we cannot trust the police.”

“That makes things more complicated,” Silas sighed.

“I was vindicated not a week later. It was fortuitous I palmed the plans to Blackwood when I did; not a week later I was absconded from my bed. They questioned me with no kindness about the plans.”

“We have to get back to London fast,” Blackwood declared. “Shall we active the mirrors and use the Arcane Chamber?”

“No!” we all cried simultaneously.

“It would be a death sentence,” Silas declared. “We have no idea how to use it, and you saw what happened when it is even slightly misaligned.”

“But we must protect the Crown Jewels,” Blackwood protested.

“The Crown Jewels are not worth my neck,” Silas spat.

“They’re not?”

“I’m Scottish.”

Full of surprises is our Silas!

Upon questioning, Salvin claimed he had no hidden way into the Tower, which surprised us.

“That means that the Colopinto crew must plan to enter the Tower via the mirrors, as we suspected.” I said, which kicked off a long discussion with Salvin about how the mirrors worked. He, understandably, didn’t believe a word.

“Let us entertain the idea, absurd though it is,” Salvin smirked. “It seems an awful lot of bother just for a rather tawdry collection of jewellery.”

“Tawdry they may be, Mr Salvin, but they are priceless, and if they were to go missing it would be a great embarrassment for the Queen and Empire just when a royal marriage is in the offing.”

“Why should it embarrass them? Who would care?”

“It’s politics, Mr Salvin, politics,” I grimaced.

Silas and I proceeded to get into a heated argument about what to do next. I was of the strong opinion that the mirror to enter the Tower must be inside the Overton Farm homestead.

“Be that as it may, Gideon, our next move must be to go to the Baron. He will know what to do, and can muster enough men—army or police—to take the farm by force if necessary.”

“But Silas now is the time to pounce! Not in a day’s time when they will be on high alert now that we’ve taken Salvin. The majority of the Colopinto crew appear to be in London so the farm is vulnerable.”

“No Gidon. I will not have it. We are not prepared nor trained for that kind of work.”

“The Baron has never done anything. He just points us away and tells us to solve it ourselves: ‘that is why I am paying you’ might as well be his motto.”

“We go to the Baron.”

Oh Silas you are most vexing!”

We eventually voted on it. I lost, handsomely.

Friday 6th June 1879: Thornton Heath

Daphne refused point blank to go to the Baron’s mansion. “I am heartily sick of that boring old man. I am going home to rest, this has been exhausting. Plus father has some new hounds that I am overdue to meet.”

The Baron was surprised to see us, but granted us an audience. We introduced Salvin (they had not previously met) and briefed him on everything.

“So what have you done about this planned theft?”

“Nothing, yet,” Silas said. “Because we are not paid enough to risk our lives for you, or for the Jewels!” Silas’s blood was up and he continued on in this vein for some time whilst the Baron watched on passively.

“Your excuses for doing nothing notwithstanding,” the Baron said once Silas was done, “The Crown Jewels are not just a collection of rocks. Are you not a patriot?”

“He’s Irish,” Blackwood intervened.

“I’M SCOTTISH!” Silas yelled.

As Silas simmered the Baron regarded us all. “Do you know that the St James Crown lies amongst the Jewels?” To our blank looks he continued. “The St James Crown plays a unique role for the British throne: it must be used for any marriage of the Crown. Without it—”

“The marriage of Prince Arthur and Princess Margaret could not go ahead!” I exclaimed. “Of course!”

“Quite. And with the marriage impossible, so to the alliance of Britain and Prussia. Which would greatly please the rebels of Lombardy who wish to secure the independence from the newly united Italy.”

“Lombardy?” Silas said with growing comprehension. “In the North if I am not mistaken. Where Foedemere said the mirrors were manufactured.”

“And Duke Renaldo of Lombardy is the one who gifted the mirror!” I cried. It all suddenly made a horrible sense. I spun to Salvin. “Politics Mr Salvin!” He nodded weakly.

“That reminds me,” the Baron said, supping on his port. “Dolly wants to talk to you, Dr Hawthorne. Something about an examination of body parts found in Soho.”

“Body parts?” Silas paled. “They didn’t happen to be wrapped in linen, did they?”

“Linen? No. They were found in the house of a Mr Etihad.”

“Etihad. He was one of the mirror owners,” I said. “Does that mean…is Etihad part of this game? Was his house the nexus of the mirrors? Maybe I was wrong about the Farm!” I said with a tilted head toward Silas, who in good grace did his best not to look smug.

Friday 6th June 1879: London

We decided Silas should do as requested, whilst Blackwood and I retired to the Coffee House. Blackwood was too hot to have wandering the streets, so we agreed to reconvene tomorrow morning, once Silas’s work was done.

As we returned home I scanned Covent Garden for watchers, finding only a few regular street crew—no Colopinto goons and none of d’Chartreuse’s satanists.

“If you like I can get someone to show you what those ceiling mirrors are for,” I offered Blackwood once Eunice had us fed and watered.

“Certainly,” Blackwood said with great uncertainty.

“Boys or girls?”

“Girls?” Blackwood said, now visibly shaking.

Eunice rolled her eyes at me as she led him away.

At St Barts, Silas proceeded as Dolly requested. He fast identified the remains as the other half of Blackwood’s victim: matching clothing, tattoos, a weathered labourer, with wounded feet from nail-like punctures. And, of course, sliced with great precision.

“If I were to guess I would say a carving knife. A big carving knife,” Silas’s erstwhile assistant offered.

“Just what I was thinking,” Silas lied.

“Does that mean I could do your job, sir?”

Silas nodded absently as scribbled his preliminary report to Superintendent Williamson. “I made very sure to demand a visit to the site of the crime,” he told us later, “And happily he agreed immediately.”

Saturday 7th June 1879: London

A constable greeted us at Etihad’s house, a small but handsome terrace in Soho. “We are here under Superintendent Williamson’s instruction,” Silas said brandishing a telegram saying as much. “These are my assistants: Mr Brown and Miss Harrow.”

Smart, that Silas. We had no trouble getting access. “The body was found on the middle floor, sir, in the dressing room.”

“Can you also tell us where Mr Etihad is? We wouldn’t want to disturb him,” Silas explained.

“There’s no chance of that sir,” the constable laughed, “He’s in the nick!”

“Is that so?” Silas said, eyebrows raised.

“Why for slashing the body apart, sir. ‘E’s the main suspect, sir.”

We exchanged knowing glances and entered the house. I turned to Blackwood. “Tell us again precisely what you saw through the mirror,” I said to Blackwood as we entered.

“It was a room with wooden floors, pale wood,” Blackwood mused. “And heavily curtained windows—maybe two or three? And the back wall was curved, not straight.”

We climbed the stairway with growing excitement. Could we be on the verge of finding the answer that had so puzzled us?

Silas pushed open the door and we had our answer: no.

The floor of the room was heavily carpeted, and the back wall straight not rounded.

The carpet was covered with dark blood. “The half of the body I examined had the heart,” Silas explained. “There is not nearly enough blood here for that.”

“What does that mean?” I asked.

“It means, Gideon, that the body was moved here after the fact. Etihad has been framed.”

This was astonishing. I was in awe of Silas’s quick deductions, but once explained it made perfect sense.

“I will report this to Williamson,” Silas said once the survey was complete. “Saying that in my professional opinion the body was moved by persons unknown. And that Etihad is innocent. I see no value in hiding any of that.”

We agreed, then debated our next move. Blackwood wanted to return to the theatre, believing that the mirror in Foedemere’s dressing room may be the key. I argued against that, reminding him that the mirror was quite different—horizontal instead of vertical, and far smaller. “I am afraid I must again argue for Overton Farm,” I said, going over my reasoning once more. “They will be ready for us this time,” I warned.

Somewhat to my surprise the gentlemen agreed.

Saturday 7th June 1879: Overton Farm

The patrols at the farm had indeed been bolstered. Now there was an extra one skirting the perimeter, and there checks were more thorough. Never-the-less Blackwood was able to design an entrance that avoided their notice, and soon we were back in the tunnel beneath the grounds.

“The smithy was cold,” Blackwood observed. “They’re either gone or realise we have found them.”

“Or both,” I said.

The lower floor of the house showed no sign of great disturbance, but the doors had all been closed. We listened carefully at each, hearing soft snoring from the one that led to the kitchen area. Opening the door with great care we found a thug asleep in his chair. Silas moved swiftly to cover the man’s mouth with a ether soaked cloth, which sent him to sleep “for at least several hours.” We moved the slumbering form into the pantry for good measure.

At the stairway leading up I heard soft voices in conversation. “Things are about to get difficult,” I whispered. I was starting to feel very uncomfortable with what we were about to attempt—the Colopinto’s were ready this time, and we were only three. Three-and-a-half with Blackwood, I suppose.

Silas nodded and drew forth his stubbed shotgun, and Blackwood tapped the sap he had recovered from our sleeping friend. I settled myself and produced my pistol, hoping we would not need it.

With a nod we crept up the stairway. We burst through the door at the top to find two more guards sitting at a table, who jumped to their feet, as astonished as we were terrified.

This would all be over very quickly one way or the other.