The Whitechapel Conspiracy - Anne Perry [44]
“Of course it isn’t fair!” His body was rigid and his voice was almost strangled in his throat. “It’s wicked, but it comes from the power to do these things. You don’t know what they’re like, or who they are, or you wouldn’t talk about it like it was just a matter of me saying ‘Let’s do right by Mr. Pitt,’ and they’d say, ‘Oh, yes, of course we will!’ and it’d all change. Mr. Wetron’s told me to let the whole thing drop, and I know he’s got his eye on me to see if I do. For all I know, he’s probably one of them!”
Gracie stared at him. There was real fear in his eyes, and for a moment she was frightened too. She knew that he was more than fond of her, much as he wanted to deny it to himself, and that allowing her to see how he felt would cost him dearly. She decided to be a little gentler.
“Well, we gotta do summink! We can’t just let it ’appen. ’E in’t even at ’ome anymore.” Her voice trembled. “They sent ’im ter Spitalfields, not jus’ ter work but ter live.”
Tellman’s face tightened as if he had been slapped.
“I didn’t know that.”
“Well, yer do now. Wot are we gonna do about it?” She stared at him beseechingly. It was very difficult to ask a favor of him, with all the differences that lay between them, and the fighting against any admission of friendship. And yet she had not even considered not coming to him. He was the natural ally. Only now did she wonder at the ease with which she had approached him. She certainly did not doubt it was right.
If he noticed the “we,” and wondered at her inclusion of herself in the plan, there was no sign of it in his face. He looked profoundly unhappy. He glanced over his shoulder at the curious gaze of the desk sergeant.
“Come outside!” he said sharply, taking Gracie by the arm and almost dragging her through the door and down the steps into the street, where they could speak without being overheard by anyone but uninterested strangers.
“I don’t know what we can do,” he said again. “It’s the Inner Circle! In case you don’t know who they are, they are a secret society of powerful men who favor each other in everything, even to protecting each other from the law, if they can. They’d have saved Adinett, only Mr. Pitt got in the way, and they won’t forgive him for that. It’s not the first time he’s crossed them up.”
“Well, ’oo are they?” She was reluctant to let him see how much that thought frightened her. Anyone who could outwit Pitt had to be kin to the devil himself.
“That’s the point. Don’t you listen, girl? No one knows who they are!” he said desperately. “You look at someone in power, and they might be, and they mightn’t. No one else knows.”
She found herself shivering. “Yer mean it could be the judge ’isself?”
“Of course it could! Only it wasn’t this time, or he’d have found some way of getting Adinett off.”
She squared her shoulders. “Well, all the same, we gotta do summink. We can’t just let ’im be stuck in a filthy ’ole somewhere an’ never able ter come back ’ome again. Yer sayin’ as Adinett didn’t do in that feller, what’s-’is-name?”
“Fetters. No. I’m not. He did it. We just don’t know why.”
“Then we’d better find out, an’ sharpish, ’adn’t we?” she responded. “Yer a detective. Where do we start?”
A mixture of expressions crossed his face: reluctance, gentleness, anger, pride, fear.
With a stab of shame she realized how much she was asking of him. She had little to lose compared with what failure would cost him. If the new superintendent had deliberately commanded him to not enquire into the matter anymore, and to forget Pitt, and then Tellman disobeyed, he would lose his job. And she knew how long and hard he had worked to earn his place. He had asked no one any favors, and received none. He had no family still alive, and few friends. He was a proud, lonely man who expected little out of life and guarded his own anger at injustice carefully, cherishing his sense of fairness.
He had bitterly resented it when Pitt had been promoted to command. Pitt was not a gentleman.