Wednesday 28th May 1879: The Coffee House

Turning back through the pages of this diary I realise that I never captured the details of my initial interview with Inspector Clement, back before the name ‘O’Hara’ meant anything to me. I will rectify that now, and ensure that my erstwhile colleagues know all of this too; it was remiss of me not to mention it before now.

Clement interviewed me on baseless grounds regarding a spate of robberies, and it quickly became clear he was grasping at straws (with me being the last). He was very frustrated with the lack of progress on the case, a case which is now obviously the very mystery we are investigating: a mysterious burglar who appeared and disappeared at will, untraceable and unknown. As has become tradition he revealed me a lot more to me than I to him.

Each robbery took place in the home of a well to do family in one of the better parts of London, he told me. All occured at night and mid-week—perhaps as Foedemere was otherwise engaged at the theatre, we might now surmise. In most cases the occupants of the estates in question were at home and asleep in their beds. A horrible experience I am sure, to know that someone has invaded the sanctity of your home whilst you sleep.

As we have come to expect, in no case had there been any sign of a break in, and in all cases every external door and other access points were locked and secure. And putting lie to the regular London suspects, in no case was a safe opened.

Of most interest, given recent revelations, was that along with small items that could be carried by a single man (jewellery, money) the thief always took the silver. As we now know, the Colopinto mirrors are backed by a single sheet of silver, which gives them their particularly wonderful quality of reflection. It now seems obvious where that silver was being sourced, and how the Colopinto brothers could make their profit.

Much to Clement’s frustration there had only been one witness to this wave of crime, a lady (must find out her name). It seems she came downstairs on hearing a noise and found a ‘sinister figure’ dashing from the hall into the parlour. She was clearly a lady after my own heart for she gave chase, or so Clement alleges. She followed the shadowy figure into her parlour where she found the room empty with no alternate exit being apparent.

Though I could not say it at the time, I would stake my reputation on the fact that whilst there were no exits, there was a lovely, newly-hung, silver mirror.

Friday 30th May 1879: The Coffee House

Today I had a most disquieting visitor: the Rat King himself, Mr Elijah Cyrus.

I doubt any who might read this would know the latter name, and perhaps not the former either. But amongst the street dwellers and London underground the Rat King is a name very well known…and feared. His Rat Boys run the streets, below the belt runners of unknown number that permeate the city, and gods protect those that cross them. I suspect Foedemere’s thugs (Sayers and Quill) were recruited or hired by Mr Cyrus, which makes it just as well that we caused them no permanent harm (beyond bruising their no doubt fragile egos).

Mr Cyrus turned up on my doorstep without notice and Eunice was quick to notify–and warn—me. He is a small, appropriately rat-like man, and, as I soon realised, with a cunning to match. My usual charms and wit were no match for his insight, forcing me to take an unusually straight-forward approach to our dealings.

After some uncomfortable introductions, he appraised me of the reason for his visit. “Ms Harrow I know your works and reputation well, so it has been with some surprise that we have observed you of late becoming heavily involved with investigating the robberies that have left the constabulary at a loss. Now why would that be, I wonder?”

I was taken aback—the Rat King was watching me? I went on the offensive first, pushing back on his presumption, but he was not put off in the slightest. He did give me a slice of information, however. “My bobby-watchers have observed that you are being watched by more than just us. The city police, ourselves, a number of unknowns all of whom wore some shade of green, and someone else again.”

My mind leapt immediately to Foedemere and the Colopinto’s, as well as d’Chartreuse’s satanic church. I should be flattered to be so admired; instead I worried. A moment later my worry turned to laughter as Mr Cyrus played his first card: “You have spent quite some time in the company of one man in particular: Detective Inspector Clement. To any reasonable observer, Ms Harrow, it would seem fair to assume that you are not merely watched by the constabulary, but in fact are employed by them. What say—”

I erupted into laughter, unable to contain my mirth at quite how wrong Mr Cyrus was. I later reflected my reaction was somewhat unfortunate for perhaps I could have parlayed his assumption to our advantage. But really, the mere idea! Recovering, I denied the proposal entirely, challenging Mr Cyrus to find even a skerrick of evidence to the contrary.

Somewhat on the back foot, Mr Cyrus turned the discussion back to the robberies and I decided to come somewhat clean. “As you know, Mr Cyrus, I have a clientele from the upper echelons of our society, and it is very much in my interest to understand any threats to their safety, the better I may serve their needs.” Cyrus acknowledged this, but pressed again: “And your new friends? Are they too of this school of thought?”

At this juncture I proposed that it was in both our interests to find out the truth here, as it was obvious that he too was in the dark about the burglaries. “We stay out of each other’s business,” I said, “And that has been a mutually advantageous state of affairs. If you will tell me what you know, I will do the same.”

Mr Cyrus, being a smart fellow, agreed. What followed was a gentle give and take, both of us hedging what we could and giving what we would. He told me the Carter family had been robbed; along with Monseigneur Etihad of Soho and a Mrs Gordon of Hammersmith. I in turn revealed what we knew: that no safes had been broken into (he scoffed at this) and that the silverware was taken in all cases (again he accused me of withholding).

He was growing increasingly irate at the paucity of my information, so I relented: I gave him Foedemere. For the first time he seemed surprised and even confused. “The magician?” he muttered. I smiled and bade him farewell.

Wednesday 4th June 1879: The Coffee House

A week has passed and tonight we regathered in the evening to report our findings. I could see that our decision to conduct our own investigations had invigorated the gentlemen, as it had myself.

Daphne went first, as rank demands. He attended every social event and party he could in the intervening days (I was shocked by the tally; how does his circle manage to get anything done? Perhaps my question is also the answer…). He cleverly gave up rumours and gossip in exchange for finding what we sought. It was a confusion of nicknames and incestual family detail, but he managed to convey a number of names that had acquired a Colopinto mirror:

  • The widow Constance Foster had spent all her late husband Gerald’s money on (more than one?) mirror;
  • Bunty said Cubby’s father was browbeaten by his mother (Meredith Carter) into buying one;
  • And little Cubby himself had spotted a mirror at Tilly Barker’s house.

I jumped in at the mention of Carter, for that was one of the names I had extracted from Mr Cyrus. Our first link!

We next heard from Silas who had probed his employees and patients about the robberies, all under the guise of the usual patient-doctor confidentiality (which sounds just like Daphne’s socialising without the gin). From his nurse he discovered that Mr Langbrook had presented with a stab wound at St. Bart’s only days ago, confirming Clement’s report. As for his other discoveries:

  • Lord Ainsburgh was burgled, losing his silver;
  • Lord Dilworthy likewise, by ‘a man who must have walked through walls such was the security of his home’;
  • Mr and Mrs Barker of the Bank of Lloyds (Tilly’s parents) were victims;
  • Mrs Gordon of Hammersmith wasn’t robbed, but she did buy a mirror of her own at ‘great personal expense’.

Here we found our second link: Tilly’s parents (the Barker’s) matched Daphne’s finding! And Mrs Gordon had been one of Mr Cyrus’s victims, providing a third confirmation.

Excitedly we continued on with Blackwood’s research. He had scoured the newspapers and found something most interesting: in seven reported thefts not a single one reported the name of the victims. Daphne was not surprised at this, claiming no respectable house would want their name dragged through the much of a common robbery. It was only in the final report that a name was mentioned—the witness aforementioned by Clement was the elderly widow Mrs Foster. Bingo! Again a cross reference to Daphne’s finding.

Our theory was now unshakable. The mirrors were the key, and what we had witnessed below the stage a play-within-a-play, as suspected.

Blackwood had also spent considerable time studying the ‘Royal’ maps to the Tower of London. He said they were very revealing, and would give anyone in possession a perfect opportunity to plan and execute a heist. His theory was that if you could get two mirrors to match perfectly (as seemed possible given the precision of their installation) then there was some metaphysical means to travel safely between them.

Silas suggested that instead of two mirrors matching, it was more likely there was a web with a single central access point (for otherwise the number of matching mirrors would be become quickly impractical). This made perfect sense the moment he suggested it and explained how so many houses could be visited and robbed.

“Could it be Foedemere himself?” I suggested.

“We need to talk to Langbrook again,” Silas proposed. “He fought this assailant, and may be the only man in London who can describe him.”

Thursday 5th June 1879: The Langbrook Residence

Langbrook received us in his own home, Silas having secured the invitation. We quickly came to the point, asking Langbrook to recount what he had witnessed. He was only too willing, given our association with the Baron.

He had heard a noise downstairs and came to investigate, good man that he was. He immediately found his heirloom silver candlesticks were missing from the hall, along with a sterling silver statuette. A noise from his study drew him hence. He burst in to find a hooded figure rifling his desk! Langbrook challenged the intruder, who reacted by tearing a ceremonial sabre from the wall behind. “I will spare you the details, Ms Harrow,” he said apologetically.

“I assure you I am sure I have heard far worse, Mr Langbrook. Pray continue.”

He gave me a short nod and continued. “He used his left hand. I am sure of that for if he had used his right I might not be speaking to you today. The sabre had been designed for me, and I am right handed, you see, so his attempts at severing my limbs were wide and thankfully ineffective. He escaped from the room and into the hall, and by the time I had recovered myself to follow he had vanished into thin air.”

With a glance we all agreed it was time to reveal what we knew. “Not thin air, Mr Langbrook, a thin mirror.”

“What do you mean?” said Langbrook, perplexed.

We explained. About the installation of the mirrors, and the subsequent robberies on a near one-to-mirror ratio. About how that was how the houses were been entered.

“Of course! Yes, of course,” Langbrook exclaimed. “That is how they are getting in!”

I was very pleased he had so quickly understood. How wrong I was.

I elaborated on how they would enter through the mirror, do their nefarious business, and exit just as easily. As I spoke a frown crossed Langbrook’s face, then a scowl. “I will accept that the gained access through hiding when the mirrors was installed. But you must think me daft if you expect me to believe that the mirror itself was used!”

With a sinking feeling I realised he had misunderstood. “Sir you must believe us. We want to warn you, and ask for your assistance. You have explained that a mirror is to be installed in the Tower of London. Given what we now know, that must be removed, or we must be stationed there to trap whoever steps through it.”

“Do you take me for a fool?!”

“Of course not I—”

“Then kindly desist with this quite frankly absurd suggestion,” Langbrook uncharacteristically interrupted.

“It was silly of me to suggest it,” I said meekly.

Silas wasn’t quite as forgiving. He went on the attack. “If you wish to deny what is right before your eyes, go ahead. But it will be on your head when the wedding gifts, and not to mention the Crown Jewels themselves, are stolen from under your very eye!”

Langbrook leapt to his feet, furious, and for a moment I feared he would use the sabre on Silas.

“Save this,” I hissed urgently to Daphne, who, thank goodness, acceded to my plea.

“Langbrook, look, please accept our apologies. The Baron thinks very highly of you, very highly indeed, and you won the bet and we have come here with little notice, and you have most graciously hosted us and entertained our questions,” Daphne ad-libbed, and continued on until he had talked Langbrook down from the ledge.

We slunk away from the house, some the wiser but much chastened: we may have accepted the truth of the mirrors, but it would be a hard slog to convince anyone else.

The Coffee House

Despondently we made plans for our next step. Silas wanted to spend time verifying the robberies and establishing just how high up in society this affair went. “Lloyds are not to be trifled with, and we need to know exactly what is at risk here.”

“The Crown Jewels,” I countered. “What more do we need to know? How does it benefit us to know if Lloyds or the Bank of London itself is involved?” I was rather cruel in my dismissal. “The time for fact finding is long past: we needed to stop this.”

“I have an idea,” Daphne said, to our surprise. “If Silas is right about the web of mirrors, it would makes sense for the main access mirror to be at the Colopinto factory?”

“Yes!” Blackwood exclaimed. “They refused point blank to allow me to pick my mirror up from the factory, wouldn’t even give me the address.”

Silas asked how we would find it given that. “Simple,” I said, still unreasonably angry about our failure with Langbrook. “Mr Blackwood said the delivery cart was parked outside the Colopinto shop. It follows that it must have come from the factory. All we need to do is tail it and we will find the source.”

“We can get the constabulary to do that,” Silas said, “Or your Rat friends.”

“No! No no no! We are doing this or we are resigning our commission,” I growled.

It was agreed, reluctantly, and we withdrew to meet again on the morrow.

I feel somewhat guilty, pushing so hard for my way. But it is done now, and I will do my best to make it up to them.