Long Spoon Lane - Anne Perry [61]
Jones had done his business. He left, and went out into the street, Tellman on his heels.
Tellman followed him but at a very considerable distance. He even allowed him to get out of his sight, because he knew where he was going. His only concern was that he might not deliver the money today. He still did not know where to find Jones again, except on the same route next week, and Pitt could not wait another seven days.
But by nearly six o’clock Jones had not passed the money to anyone, nor had he returned to any building that could reasonably be his home.
Finally Jones went into a public house in Bethnal Green, and ordered a meal. Tellman watched as the barmaid brought it to him without asking for any money. At first he leapt to the same conclusion as previously, but then he saw the woman laughing, and he realized there was no apparent anger in her. She walked easily, with a slight sway of her hips. In fact, she was self-confident, flirting a little with other customers as she passed them, catching an eye here and there and winking. She made a joke. A large man responded, and she pretended to be shocked. There was another bellow of laughter. Jones joined in.
The woman returned to the bar and made a little note on a piece of paper and put it in the drawer.
Jones was a regular here. He was not extorting from her, she was putting it on his account. He must eat here regularly. He probably lived within a few minutes’ walking distance.
At last Tellman knew where to find Jones again. He left with life in his step. He realized he was hungry also, but he would eat somewhere else, not here, not in Jones the Pocket’s tavern.
Tellman arrived at his lodgings in a spirit of triumph, but as he lay in bed thinking over his success, he realized that while he understood exactly what he had seen, he had no proof of any crime for which he could legally arrest Jones. Ironically, and he was fully aware of the bitterness of it, he could have used the new laws of search that were currently being suggested in Parliament. But the last thing on earth he wanted was a gun, and still less that police corrupted by Wetron and his like should have them.
He needed an excuse to arrest Jones and keep him long enough for Pitt to take his place—and his money—and wait for his masters to come in search of it.
Of course, if they assumed that Pitt was equally corrupt, which he would have to be, then Tellman’s reasons for arresting Jones did not have to be honest.
But if they were not, and Wetron knew it, then Tellman would be hostage to that crime all the rest of his days.
He turned over and pulled the blankets with him. His pillow felt as if it were full of lumps. He was too hot one minute, and too cold the next.
Worse than hostage to Wetron, he would have dishonored himself. What would his mother have thought of him? He could taste her contempt as if it were already a fact, and, more bitter than contempt, her pain.
And Gracie. Gracie would be furious with him for not having been clever enough to have thought of something better. He would no longer be any kind of hero in her eyes.
What could he arrest Jones for, legally? He was guilty of extortion, but there was no way to prove it, because no one was going to say that they had paid him unwillingly; they did not dare to. Or the next thing they knew, they would receive a visit from the police, who would find stolen goods carefully planted in their houses, or forged money, or papers of some sort.
He sat up in the bed, cold