The Last Days of Newgate - Andrew Pepper [42]
The journalist looked forward to the spectacle of the hanging and wondered whether the seriousness of the crime merited some additional form of punishment.
Still, news of the man’s arrest had done little to stem the growing wave of anti-papist violence. A Catholic church on the Whitechapel Road had been burned to the ground. Another had been ransacked and desecrated.
Fox, though, was not interested in stories about mob violence. His ire was directed at Charles Hume’s ‘botched’ investigation.
Briefly Pyke told him about his own argument with Hume and about his hypothesis that the murdered couple were from different religious traditions. Fox muttered something about cover-ups and deception.
He was about to excuse himself when Gerrard, Fox’s personal secretary, appeared in the room, closely followed by a young boy, dressed in rags, who explained he had been told by Miss Lizzie to pass a very ‘hymn-portant’ message to Mr Pyke and that he had been promised a shilling in return. He wanted the shilling before he gave Pyke the message. Pyke procured the money from Fox’s indignant secretary. He glanced down at the note and saw Lizzie’s scribbled writing. Gerrard chased the young boy out of the office and closed the door behind them.
‘Anything important?’ Fox said.
‘I might’ve found the woman.’ The note instructed him to contact Polly Masters at the Rose. Briefly he wondered how much longer Lizzie would continue to come to his assistance when he treated her so poorly.
‘You mean Mary Johnson?’
Pyke just nodded. Fox had remembered her name. ‘Then you must go at once to talk to her.’ Fox’s tone was insistent. ‘Take my personal carriage. It will be quicker than flagging one down. Less costly, too. There’s not a moment to lose.’
Pyke wondered how far he might push Fox’s untypical generosity. ‘I have promised a reward for information leading to Mary Johnson’s whereabouts.’
‘A fee?’ Fox’s expression darkened. ‘What kind of a fee?’
‘A hundred.’
‘Pounds? ’
‘You told me finding the girl was our main priority. I took you at your word.’
‘A hundred pounds?’
‘It’s a lot of money, I know,’ Pyke shrugged. ‘If you don’t think it’s wise to pay it, we can always wait.’
‘Wait? Who said anything about waiting?’ Fox winced, as though he were in pain. ‘But you need to keep a check on your expenditure, Pyke.’
‘I’ll go and see Gerrard.’
‘We’re not awash with money.’
Pyke waited for a moment. ‘Can I ask you a question, Sir Richard?’
‘What is it?’
This time Pyke turned around to face his old mentor. ‘Have you ever had any dealings with Lord Edmonton?’
Carefully Fox placed his pen down on his desk and looked up. ‘Edmonton, you say?’ He ran his finger over the tip of his moustache. ‘He’s one of the Tory Ultras, isn’t he?’
‘All day, I’ve been asking myself how Edmonton knows Flynn has been making certain false accusations against me.’
‘I’m sorry, Pyke, but I fail to see how Lord Edmonton is relevant here.’ But he would not meet Pyke’s gaze.
‘But you haven’t had any communication with him?’ Pyke folded his arms and tried to gauge Fox’s reaction.
‘Why on earth should I have had communications with that Tory bigot?’ Fox was a well-known Whig. He sounded personally hurt by Pyke’s question.
Pyke shrugged. ‘If you hear that anyone has been passing information about me to other . . .’
‘Then I will, of course, tell you about it.’ Fox sighed. ‘Flynn has already been before the grand jury. He’ll stand trial within the week. The scoundrel is currently being held inside Newgate.’ He hesitated. ‘Listen to me, Pyke. I know that you’ve had dealings with this man in the past and I accept that such arrangements are . . . necessary. This is the issue that Peel utterly fails to grasp. Policing can never simply be about prevention. As I’ve tried to impress on Peel many times, prevention makes absolutely no sense without detection. And effective