Bedford Square - Anne Perry [25]
He thanked the clerk for his assistance and left.
The following morning Tellman began the task of learning about Balantyne in earnest. He waited outside the house in Bedford Square, standing across from it on the pavement under the trees, alternatively kicking his heels or pacing back and forth, always swinging around to look at the front door or the main entrance. He had little hope that any of the servants would talk. In that sort of establishment, he knew, they had loyalties, and it was more than a servant’s job was worth to gossip about his or her employers. No one could afford to be dismissed without a reference. It was ruin.
General Balantyne emerged from the front door a little after half past ten and walked uprightly along the pavement along Bayley Street and turned left into the Tottenham Court Road down towards Oxford Street, where he turned right and walked westward. He was dressed formally in dark trousers and a beautifully tailored coat. Tellman had vivid opinions about anyone who required a servant to dress him satisfactorily.
The General spoke to no one and appeared not to look either to right or left as he went. Marched would have been the appropriate word. He looked stiff, as if he were going into battle. A cold, rigid man, Tellman thought as he walked behind him. Probably proud as Lucifer.
What was he thinking about the crowds he passed through? That they were the civilian equivalent of foot soldiers, people it was not necessary to make way for, even to regard at all? Certainly he barely seemed to be aware of them, and he spoke to no one, nor raised his hat. He passed two or three soldiers actually in uniform, but ignored them, and they him.
At Argyll Street he turned sharply right, and Tellman almost missed him climbing the steps of a handsome house and going inside.
Tellman went to the door after him and saw the brass plate on which was engraved the words THE JESSOP CLUB FOR GENTLEMEN. He hesitated. There would be a steward of some sort in the vestibule. He would no doubt know all the members. He would therefore be an excellent source of information, but again, one whose livelihood depended upon his discretion.
He must be inventive. He was serving no purpose standing in the street. People would think him a peddler! He jerked his lapels straighter, squared his shoulders and pulled the doorbell.
It was answered by a middle-aged steward in well-cut, slightly faded livery.
“Yes sir?” He regarded Tellman blankly, summing up his social status in a glance.
Tellman felt the blood burn in his face. He would have liked to tell the man his opinion of gentlemen who spent their days with their feet up or playing games of cards or billiards with each other. Parasites on decent people, the lot of them. He could also have added his contempt for those who earned their living by pandering to such leeches.
“Good morning,” he said stiffly. “I’m Sergeant Tellman of the Bow Street police station.” He held out his card as proof of it.
The steward looked at it without touching it, as if it had been unclean.
“Indeed,” he said expressionlessly.
Tellman gritted his teeth. “We are looking for a man who is pretending to be a retired army officer, of distinguished service, in order to defraud people out of considerable sums of money.”
The steward’s face darkened with disapproval. Tellman had his attention at least. “I hope you catch him!” he said vehemently.
“Doing everything we can,” Tellman replied with feeling. “This man is tall, broad-shouldered, very upright, military looking in his bearing. Dresses well.”
The steward frowned. “That describes a few that I can think of. Can you tell me anything else about him? I know all our members, of course, but sometimes gentlemen bring in guests.”
“So far as we know, he’s clean shaven,” Tellman went on. “Although of course that can change. Fairish hair, thinning a bit, gray at the temples. Aquiline features. Blue eyes.”
“Can’t say as I’ve seen him.”
“I followed a man here just this moment.”
The steward’s face cleared.
“Oh! That’s General Balantyne. Known