Long Spoon Lane - Anne Perry [131]
He drew in a long, deep breath. “I don’t pretend I like you, sir, the way I liked Mr. Pitt, but I wouldn’t see you done for something you had no part of. It’s wrong. And I don’t want one of Sir Charles Voisey’s policemen running my station.”
“Indeed,” Wetron said softly. “And for what, exactly, does Sir Charles Voisey imagine he can have me ‘done?’”
“Not sure, sir.” Tellman was shaking and his stomach was knotted like a fist. “Something to do with blackmail, and the murder of a young man. Says he has a paper to prove what happened, and he’ll lay it on you.”
The silence in the room was like a growing thing, expanding to suffocate the spaces and take the air from the chest.
Wetron stared at Tellman, trying to control the rage inside him, trying to keep his brain cool enough to think. The truth of what Tellman had said was naked in his reaction to it.
Tellman could feel the sick fear grip him even more tightly.
“Will he?” Wetron said very slowly, his voice rasping. “Will he indeed?”
Tellman felt strangled. “Y-Yes, sir. I-I think perhaps he planned that all along. He’s got a terrible taste for revenge. That’s why he worked so elaborate, like, with Mr. Pitt, against the police bill—t-to set him up.”
“But you said Pitt escaped!” Wetron challenged.
Tellman let his breath out. “Yes, sir. Just luck. Someone else was passing on the river. Rescued him.”
“Mistake,” Wetron said with satisfaction. “Always finish the job yourself. Well, if Sir Charles wants my place, the fruits of what I’ve built…he can have it! Very good, Tellman. Very good. In fact, I shall see that he has it—and the blame that goes along with it.” He glanced at the clock on the mantel. “He will still be at home. Excellent. Just where the proof will be. I shall go and arrest him.”
His voice was shaking a little with a sudden excitement. “You say he tried to murder Pitt? Then he is a violent man. I had better take a gun with me. He may resist.” His smile was wide, mirthless, and filled with a savage pleasure. “Pitt is a fool, but his escape from last night’s adventure may prove useful. He won’t lie. If asked, he will say that Voisey tried to kill him.” He walked to a locked cupboard, took a key off his watch chain, and opened it. He picked a revolver, loaded it, and put it in the pocket of his jacket.
“I shan’t need you, Tellman,” he said, straightening up. “This is between gentlemen. You’ve done a good job.” He walked past Tellman and out the door, his back stiff, the gun invisible within the heavy fabric of his jacket.
Tellman waited until he was out of sight, then sprinted down the stairs and out the door. Pitt was waiting in an alley a couple of hundred yards away. They must follow Wetron and catch him at exactly the right moment, before he murdered Voisey. Then they would have them both, and all the evidence that was left. In their hatred, one would testify against the other.
He ran along the street, his boots echoing on the stones.
12
PITT WAS WAITING in the alley, pacing back and forth, standing for a minute, peering around the corner, and then pacing again. He saw Tellman when he was still twenty yards away, his figure easily distinguishable in the momentary crowd on the footpath because he was running.
Pitt started out, then realized in the tangle of people they could miss each other, and stepped back again. The moment after, Tellman nearly collided with him.
“Wetron’s gone after Voisey,” he gasped. “At his house. He’s got a gun. I think he’s going to shoot him whatever, and say it was self-defense. No one’ll argue with him.”
“Voisey’s house? Let’s go. He can’t shoot all three of us, and the servants.” Pitt strode towards the main street, Tellman at his side, and hailed the first empty hansom to pass. He gave Voisey’s address, and they both leapt in, shouting instructions to hurry.
“It’s a matter of life and death!” Tellman added, his voice so sharp that passing drivers swiveled to pay momentary attention, but with disbelief.
The hansom plunged forward, fighting its way through