Betrayal at Lisson Grove - Anne Perry [1]
Pitt bumped into an old woman and apologised before regaining his stride. They were round the dogleg now, and he could see West’s ginger head making for the opening into the wide thoroughfare forty yards on. They must catch him before he was swallowed up in the crowds.
Gower was almost there. He reached out an arm to grab at West. In that moment West ducked sideways and Gower tripped, hurtling into the wall and momentarily winding himself. He bent over double, gasping to get his breath.
Pitt lengthened his stride and reached West just as West dived out into the High Street, barged his way through a knot of people and disappeared.
Pitt went after him and a moment later saw the light on his bright hair almost at the next crossroads. He increased his pace, bumping and banging people, but he had to catch West. West had information that could be vital. The tide of unrest was rising fast all over Europe, and becoming more violent. Many people, in the name of reform, were actually trying to overthrow government altogether and create an anarchy in which they imagined there would be some kind of equality of justice. Some were content with blood-soaked oratory; others preferred dynamite, or even bullets.
Special Branch knew of a current plot, but not yet the leaders behind it, or – more urgently – the target of their violence. West was to provide that – at risk of his own life if his betrayal were known.
Where the devil was Gower? Pitt swivelled round once to see if he could spot him. He was nowhere visible in the sea of bobbing heads, the bowler hats, caps and bonnets. There was no time to look longer. Surely he wasn’t still bent double in the alley. What was wrong with the man? He was not much more than thirty. Had he been more than just knocked off balance? Was he injured?
West was up ahead, seizing a break in the traffic to cross back to the other side. Three hansoms came past almost nose to tail. A cart and four clattered in the opposite direction. Pitt fumed on the kerb. To go out into the road now would only get him killed.
A horse-drawn omnibus passed, then two heavily loaded wagons. More carts and a dray went in the other direction. Pitt had lost sight of West, and Gower had vanished into the air.
There was a brief hold-up in traffic and Pitt raced across the road. Weaving in and out of the way of frustrated drivers, he only just missed being caught by a long, curling carriage whip. Someone yelled at him and he took no notice. He reached the opposite side and saw West’s bright head for an instant as he swung round a corner and made for another alley.
Pitt raced after him, but when he got there West had disappeared.
‘Did you see a man with ginger hair?’ Pitt demanded of a pedlar with a tray of sandwiches. ‘Where did he go?’
‘Want a sandwich?’ the man asked, eyes wide. ‘Very good. Made this morning. Only tuppence.’
Pitt fished frantically in his pocket; found string, sealing wax, a pocket knife, a handkerchief, and several coins. He gave the man a threepenny bit and took a sandwich. It felt soft and fresh, although right now he didn’t care. ‘Which way?’ he said harshly.
‘That way,’ the man pointed into the deeper shadows of the alley.
Pitt began to run again, weaving a path through the piles of rubbish. A rat skittered from under his feet, and he all but fell over a drunken figure lying half out of a doorway. Somebody swung a punch at him, he lurched to one side, losing his balance for a moment, glimpsing West still ahead of him.
Now West disappeared again and Pitt had no idea which way he had gone. He tried one blind courtyard or alley after another. It seemed like endless wasted moments later before the familiar figure of Gower came out