Page 71 of Murder in Blackfriars

“Sent him to Paris,” Mr. Grimes said with glee. “Told him it was an urgent matter, but that the gent’s solicitor had paid for all the tickets and his stay in a fine hotel.”

“Clever,” I said, somewhat doubtfully. “What if the gentleman confirms this with his solicitor?”

“I happen to know his solicitor,” Mr. Fielding said. “And he owed me a favor. I gave the man’s servants a holiday, so we have the house to ourselves.”

I set down my basket, which was empty except for my notebook. “Do you know which house Mr. Naismith is in? The one on the corner with the bow windows?” I pointed in that direction.

Both Mr. Fielding and Mr. Grimes stared at me.

“How the devil did you know that?” Mr. Fielding asked in amazement. “Or did you decide the most ornate home around was the only one that would do for an overweening man like Naismith?”

“It is the one most easily visible from your front windows.” I switched my finger to the open door of the drawing room. “You’d have chosen another house if it had been farther along the street.”

“Of course,” Mr. Fielding said, shaking his head. “I only know because one of your urchins told me which one Daniel had been taken into. You sent a horde of lads to find things out, did you?”

“I could hardly do it myself and put meals together,” I said. “I cannot remain here all day to help watch, either, but I wanted to see the lay of the land. Daniel is in there, for certain?”

“He is,” Mr. Grimes said, lumbering the rest of the way down the stairs. “I saw him. As of the dawn hour of this morning, our Danny is alive and well.”

I sagged, my relief so strong I could barely stand. I hadn’t realized I’d been that worried.

Both Mr. Grimes and Mr. Fielding caught me under the elbows before I could fall. They steered me into the drawing room and sat me down on a sofa.

It was a pretty chamber, done in cream and light green, with ivory-colored paneled walls and a thick Brussels carpet on the floor. At any other time, I’d have admired the room and thought about how I might use the same colors in my own sitting room when I had one.

Today, however, I was only interested in staring out to view the house where Mr. Naismith dwelled.

“Do you know what they are doing in there?” I should be making notes of all this, but I could not rise to fetch my notebook. My eyes, for some reason, would not leave the window.

“I do not.” Mr. Fielding stretched out in a chair near the sofa, his gaze going to the square as well. “Neither my lads nor Grimes can get close enough to have a thorough conjecture at what they’re up to.”

“Mr. Naismith said he wanted Daniel to help him stop whatever is going on in Blackfriars,” I said. “An undertakingrun by rivals, he said. I am going to assume he means smuggling or something of that nature, since the docks are involved. There was a ship in on one of them when we were there looking for Mr. Banks. What did you notice, Mr. Grimes?”

“Huh.” Mr. Grimes leaned against the doorframe, as though he couldn’t bring himself to sit down in a gentleman’s parlor. “I thought it were funny Banks went down there, instead of heading straight for the pub to meet Danny. Maybe he saw something odd going on, or maybe he already knew all about it.”

I nodded. “What if Mr. Draper himself worked for Naismith? He controls most of the East End, so it’s likely Draper answered to him at some point. What if he and his friend, Mr. Barlow, decided to begin a sideline of their own, and Mr. Banks knew about it? Mr. Draper told you and Daniel that Mr. Banks was working for him to pay off a debt.”

“If that is the case,” Mr. Fielding said, “Banks, if he was intelligent, might well have known whatever it is Draper was up to. Perhaps Draper brought him into it, maybe trusting him as a mate from Mrs. Kerr’s. The fact that Banks managed to survive horrific battles in the Crimea tells me he’s canny and can think on his feet.”

“I agree. I have pondered several possibilities.” I counted them off on my fingers. “Mr. Banks might simply have glimpsed something odd at the docks and gone down to investigate it, startling those who wanted no one there. Or he might have been sent there on an errand—let us assume for Mr. Draper, for now—and decided to complete it on his way to meet Daniel. He got into an altercation, perhaps, or again, saw something he should not have, and was killed for it. Or”—I tapped a third finger—“he noted someone horning in on Mr. Draper’s territory and loyally went to stop it. In all threeinstances, he was murdered for what he saw. Or the killer thought he saw.”

“Neatly reasoned,” Mr. Fielding said with approval. “Not that we have any clear evidence of any of this.”

“Yes, but it is a direction to go. Evidence can be obtained if you look for it.”

“Aye, she’s right,” Mr. Grimes put in. “Best way is to wander about the docks and see if anyone tries to killus.”

Mr. Fielding looked pained. “When you sayus—”

“You know you can become a ruffian and have a poke about when it pleases you,” Mr. Grimes said. “Same as Danny. You haven’t always been the stuffy vicar. The Errol I knew as a lad could get in and out of anywhere he liked, with none being the wiser, slick as water.”

“Yes, but I was a stripling at the time. Now my knees play me up and I like to keep my hair tidy.” Mr. Fielding patted his sleek head.

“Mr. Naismith implied that Mr. Banks’s murder had to do with whatever scheme is rivaling his business,” I interrupted. “Which tells me that finding out who killed Mr. Banks, and why, will help reveal whatever this criminal venture is. Then Inspector McGregor and Sergeant Scott can sweep up the gang, and Mr. Naismith will leave Daniel in peace.”

“I very much doubt that.”

I spun at the sound of Daniel’s voice. Mr. Fielding and Mr. Grimes did likewise.