Long Spoon Lane - Anne Perry [94]
“We’ve connected Simbister to the dynamite,” Pitt told him, and felt Tellman stiffen with surprise that he should trust Voisey so far. “I’m going to Shadwell to see the boat where it’s kept.”
“When?” Voisey asked.
“Now.”
“You can’t go alone!”
“I’m not. Tellman’s coming with me.”
Voisey looked at Tellman for the first time, and with undisguised interest. He had barely had time to acknowledge him when another figure picked his way through the scattered rubble, from the other end of the street, and, after the briefest word with the constable, came straight to Tellman, who obviously recognized him.
“Mr. Tellman, sir,” he said breathlessly. “You’re needed back at the station, sir. There’s bin a robbery, and Mr. Wetron sent me ter fetch yer. It’s a big one, an’ ’e says as it’s too important ter leave ter Johnston. Seems they knocked the poor butler around summink awful, an’ scared the lady o’ the ’ouse ’alf out of ’er senses.”
“Stubbs, tell…” Tellman began, then realized his predicament. Wetron had sent for him. Stubbs had found him with Pitt. He would not leave Pitt to go to Shadwell Dock alone.
“Mr. Tellman?” Stubbs said urgently. “It’s already took me near an hour ter find yer!”
Why had he even looked here? Was Wetron so suspicious already? More likely he knew. There was a misery and defiance in Stubbs’s eyes. Tellman remembered his family, dependent upon him, the one old enough to work. He could not return home empty-handed, and Wetron would use that.
“It sounds ugly,” Pitt said decisively. “You’d better hurry. I don’t think we’ll find anything to do with your forger here, but if we do, I’ll let you know.”
White-faced, Tellman followed after Stubbs, a stiff, angry figure disappearing into the lengthening shadows.
“Shadwell Docks,” Voisey said with distaste. He glanced down at his elegant boots. “Still, Sergeant Tellman is right; it would be most unwise to go alone. I think this is one of those situations where cooperation would definitely be in our mutual interest. It’s not far from here, is it?”
Pitt had no choice. Whatever he thought of him, Voisey could gain nothing by protecting Simbister and the dynamite. And the bill was being read tomorrow.
“Come on,” he said. Please God it was not a fool’s decision.
He knew his way to New Gravel Lane and the Shadwell Dock. It was close enough to walk if they had to, and the chances of picking up a hansom in this area were slight. It was a good two miles as the crow flies. Along the narrow streets with their dog-leg bends, it would take them the best part of an hour. He had no idea whether Voisey was used to such exercise.
“If we go up to Commercial Street, we might find a cab,” he said dubiously.
Voisey looked at the mud in the street, then at the darkening sky. “Good!” He set off without waiting for Pitt to debate it any further.
They found a hansom, and in the event it took less than twenty minutes. They alighted some hundred yards from New Gravel Lane, and Voisey paid the driver. “Now what?” he asked, looking around at the vast warehouses and wharf buildings. The cranes were black against the sky, which was now completely dark except for the sulphurous glare from the patchy streetlamps. They could smell the salt of the river, and the damp of it filled the air and clung to the skin. They could hear water slapping against the stakes of old piers, sucking and splashing as it washed over the stone steps down to the river, and the bump of moored barges and boats against the bank.
“We go down to the water and find the Josephine,” Pitt replied quietly. “This way.”
“How are we going to see anything?” Voisey followed him gingerly. It was difficult to pick out more than