SEVENTEEN 7 страница

‘Forgive me if I don’t think Mayne and the others took her death quite as seriously as they did that of a murdered aristocrat. ’

‘By others you mean me? ’

‘What do you want me to say? Bedford is murdered. Within hours of his corpse being discovered, fifty men have been assigned to find his killer. ’

‘You still don’t understand, do you? ’

‘Understand what? ’

‘I could have assigned twenty men to investigate Mary Edgar’s murder but I thought of you because I could see you needed help. ’ Tilling shook his head. ‘I even arranged for your early release from prison, and how do you go about repaying me? ’

‘But that’s exactly my point. It wouldn’t have happened if she’d been rich and white. You wouldn’t have been allowed. ’

‘I made a decision to employ you without consulting my superiors. Now that decision has come back to bite me. Perhaps it was my fault, but now they’re baying for your scalp. I can’t help that. ’

‘So I should roll over and die like a whipped dog? ’

Tilling turned to walk away but hesitated at the last moment. ‘I used to think I knew you; that I knew who you were and what you stood for. And in spite of some of the things you did I respected you, too. Now I look at you and all I can see is a man on the verge of drowning. I want to help, but I don’t know how. I throw you a line and you throw it straight back in my face. ’

It was Tilling’s pity more than his anger which cut the deepest.

‘It wasn’t your gift to give. If it was, how could Mayne snatch it away from me so easily? ’

Tilling shook his head. ‘This isn’t about Mary Edgar or wanting to find whoever killed her. You just want to make us look bad. ’

‘Can’t you simply accept I might want to do something… good? ’ He couldn’t find a better word and stared at Tilling, not knowing what else to say.

‘When it comes down to it, Pyke, you’re a selfish creature. You are now and you always have been. If you were honest about it, I might be able to forgive you. But you’re doing what you’ve always done: constructing a spurious morality to fit the circumstances you find yourself in. ’

Pyke could feel his pent‑ up anger burning the tips of his ears. Tilling was already walking away from him along the corridor, his heels clipping in a tight‑ lipped fury. Then Pyke was alone in an unfamiliar building, and more than anything he wanted to run to the nearest apothecary and lose himself in a tincture of syrupy laudanum.

‘I’m worried about him, Pyke. I think you should be, too. ’ Godfrey stood at the window of his apartment. It was the following afternoon and Felix was talking with an older, scruffily dressed boy below them on the street.

‘Then you shouldn’t encourage him to read things he’s not ready for. ’ Pyke turned to face his uncle. ‘I never wanted you to write that damned book in the first place. I certainly never expected that my own son would read it. ’

Godfrey reddened slightly. ‘I’m not his father, Pyke. It’s not my responsibility to tell him what he should and shouldn’t be reading. ’

Pyke bowed his head. ‘I’m sorry. You’re right. I shouldn’t have said that. ’

‘Apology accepted. ’ Godfrey paused. ‘Did you know that he was caught playing truant from school today? ’

‘That’s probably my fault. I ambushed him and Jo yesterday morning on their way to school and persuaded them to accompany me to the zoological gardens. ’

Pyke had joined his uncle at the window. He watched his son with a mixture of pride and consternation, amazed at how tall he had grown and how different he looked. Older, almost a man.

‘For a while he hardly left his room. Now he’s taken to spending more and more time outdoors. ’

Pyke studied the lad Felix was talking to. It looked as though they were deep in conversation. ‘Do you know who the older boy is? ’

Godfrey pushed his spectacles up his nose and frowned. ‘Never seen him before. ’

‘I know you mean well, ’ Pyke said, ‘and I don’t mind the lad pouring over the Newgate Calendar, but could you please make sure that he doesn’t read another word of Confessions? ’

‘Point taken, dear boy. ’ Godfrey cleared his throat. ‘But if you were to find somewhere large enough for you, Jo and Felix to live, you wouldn’t have to worry about the lad finding something morally degrading here in my apartment. ’

Pyke had no answer to that, so he turned and went outside. As he walked down the steps, Felix looked at him. The older boy did, too, and then ambled across the street in the direction of Camden Place.

‘Is he a friend? ’

Felix stared down at his boots. ‘I just met him. ’

‘What were you talking about? ’

‘Just things. ’

Pyke looked at the older boy, who’d turned around and was grinning. ‘I don’t want you to talk to him again. ’

‘He admired my coat. ’

‘I said I don’t want you to see him again. Is that understood? ’

Felix looked up at him defiantly. ‘I’m not a child any more. ’

‘I know. ’ Pyke waited. ‘But child or not, you shouldn’t play truant from school. ’

‘They don’t teach us anything worth learning, so why should I go? ’

‘Because I say so. ’ It was an inadequate response, but Pyke couldn’t think of a better one.

Felix dug his hands into his pockets. ‘Have you found us a place to live yet? ’

‘Is that what you really want? ’

Pyke hadn’t wanted to ask this question for fear that Felix might, when it came down to it, prefer to remain at Godfrey’s. As it happened, Felix just shrugged and mumbled that of course it was what he wanted.

‘I’m looking for somewhere. Really I am. But you have to be patient. ’ Pyke hesitated, wondering whether to say what was on his mind. ‘In the meantime I’m trying to do something that will make you proud of me. ’

That got Felix’s attention. ‘Why do you want me to be proud of you? ’ The idea seemed difficult for him to grasp.

‘For one thing, I don’t want you to think of me as that character in Godfrey’s book. ’

A brief silence passed between them. Felix scrunched up his face. ‘That person stole from time to time and he even killed a few people. ’

‘Like I said, he’s a made‑ up character. ’

‘But that man in the bookshop accused you of killing the other man’s father. ’ Felix’s face was hot with fear and indignation.

‘There are some things you’re not old enough to understand. ’ Pyke looked up and saw that Jo was in the front window, watching them.

‘So it is true, then. ’ Felix’s eyes were bulging. ‘He said you stabbed the other man’s father in the neck and threw him out of a window. ’

Pyke could feel the heat under his collar. What was he supposed to say? What could he say? ‘That man was a liar and a drunkard. You shouldn’t believe him over your own father. ’

‘So why did you agree to fight him in a duel? ’

Flummoxed, Pyke tried to think of different ways to answer Felix’s question. He tried to think how Emily might have answered it but she had known Felix only as a young boy; now he was maturing rapidly. She would have been so proud of him, Pyke decided. But she still wouldn’t have known how to answer all his questions.

In the end, Pyke told Felix it was nearly dinner time and made him promise not to miss any more school. Reluctantly Felix agreed and followed Pyke up the steps to the apartment and then went on to his bedroom.

‘What do you know about Jemmy Crane? ’ Pyke asked Godfrey, once he was sure they were alone.

‘Crane? ’ Godfrey’s face was suddenly creased with worry.

‘He said he knew you. ’

‘We used to know some of the same people back in the old days. Why do you ask? ’

Briefly Pyke told his uncle about the murder investigation and his suspicions regarding Crane, and also about Field’s interest in Crane.

‘He’s a nasty one, that’s for sure. Ruthless, too. He used to be an associate of Dugdale’s back in the twenties. The market for free‑ thinking tracts on religion and politics died away and men like Crane and Dugdale turned to pornography. Dugdale clung on to his radical beliefs but Crane never had any such beliefs in the first place. ’

‘You haven’t come across him for a while, then? ’

‘Not for years. But I don’t doubt he’s the same as ever. A man like that wouldn’t think twice about slitting your throat if there was a profit in it. ’ Godfrey hesitated. ‘But then again, you could say the same about Field. ’

‘I know. ’

‘Field once poured lamp oil down another man’s throat and lit it with a match. He read the newspaper while the man choked to death. I’m sure you’ve heard the stories. ’

‘A rock and a hard place. ’

Godfrey considered what Pyke had just said. ‘Of course, you could just walk away from everything. Spend some time with your son. ’

Pyke let this last remark pass without an answer.

As he waited for a hackney carriage, Jo emerged from the apartment and joined him on the pavement. ‘I just wanted to say how much I enjoyed our trip to the zoological gardens. ’ She shifted awkwardly from foot to foot.

‘Except it seems I’ve encouraged Felix to play truant from school. ’

Her brow creased with worry. ‘I told Felix you’d be angry when you heard about it. ’ She took off her bonnet and scratched the top of her head. It gave Pyke the chance to admire the colour of her hair. ‘I hope I didn’t assume too much. ’

‘Not at all, ’ he said, smiling. ‘Use me as much as you want to. If it helps, that is. ’

Jo fiddled nervously with her hair. ‘Actually the reason I came out to speak with you is that Godfrey will be dining out on Wednesday

…’ She paused, perhaps flustered at the way this had come out. ‘What I meant was, Felix wanted to help cook a meal for you, and he, or rather we, wondered if you might come here to dine that evening. ’

Pyke stared into her blue eyes and what felt like the briefest spark of attraction passed between them. ‘I’d be delighted to, ’ he said, even before he’d had time to think about it.

‘Around seven? ’

He nodded. ‘Until the day after tomorrow, then. ’

Pyke watched her as she gathered up her skirt and climbed the steps to Godfrey’s apartment. As he did so, he wondered whether the idea for dinner had been hers all along.

TEN

Early the next morning, when the air was still cool, it took Pyke fifteen minutes to walk from the Whitechapel Road to the row of decrepit houses that Field had told him about – across from a scrubby field and a lake of stagnant water. The dwelling in question was a ramshackle cottage standing on its own at the far end of the lane. Pyke circled the property from a distance, trying to determine whether it was occupied, then crept up to each window, listening for voices or the sound of footsteps. From what he could tell, there were two or perhaps three men occupying a room at the back of the cottage – he could hear them talking. Making as little sound as possible, he tried the front door. Unsurprisingly it was locked and, using the jemmy and picklocks he’d brought with him, it took him the best part of five minutes to gain access to the front hallway. Once inside, he stood and listened, and when he was sure no one had heard him, he shuffled up the creaking staircase and tried the rooms immediately adjoining the landing. Both were unoccupied so he moved along the passageway. He was sweating slightly, and could feel his heart thumping against his ribcage. It was true that stumbling upon intruders was a terrifying experience for those whose houses were being invaded, but carrying out a burglary was just as unnerving.

The door at the far end of the passageway was unlocked, and when he opened it, Pyke had to pause and blink, to adjust to the sudden excess of light. Part of the roof was missing; initially he thought that the wind must have been responsible, but later he realised that the hole had been cut deliberately, to allow light to flood into the room. But Pyke’s gaze was drawn not to the hole in the roof but to the figure draped over a sofa in the middle of the room and the camera obscura resting on a wooden stool in front of her. She was perfectly naked. He stood there for a few moments but she neither moved nor reacted to his intrusion. It wasn’t until he crossed the room and shook her that he realised she was full of laudanum. Bessie Daniels, for it was undoubtedly her, stirred and looked at him through heavy‑ lidded eyes; when she tried to speak through her hare‑ lip, her words were slurred to the point of incoherence. Pyke found a sheet and threw it over her, then inspected the camera.

He had read about the process, invented by a Frenchman, Louis Daguerre, but this was the first time he had actually seen up close how it worked. Light – as much as possible, hence the cutting away of the roof – flooded through the camera lens and the resulting image was captured on a copperplate which had been exposed to an iodine solution, forming a light‑ sensitive silver iodide. The plate would then be developed over heated mercury, which would amalgamate with the silver, and finally the image would be fixed in a solution of salt water. The exposure took fifteen minutes, during which time the subject had to remain still; something that perhaps explained why Bessie had been drugged.

‘Bessie. ’ Pyke shook her arm and in the process noticed an amethyst ring on one of her fingers, a serpent motif carved into the bright purple stone.

She stirred again and gave him a bewildered stare. ‘Eh? ’

‘Harold Field sent me. ’ He waited for a reaction.

She looked at him, confused. Pyke could smell gin and laudanum on her breath. For a while, he wasn’t sure she’d understood what he’d said, but then she fell back on to the sofa and giggled. ‘Tell him

…’

Pyke waited. ‘Tell him what? ’

More giggling. Down below he could hear voices. Footsteps, too.

‘Tell him what, Bessie? ’

‘Morel‑ Roux. ’

That made him pay attention. ‘The valet? What’s he got to do with it? ’

But she wouldn’t answer him.

Pyke decided he could leave her where she was – and come back and talk to her later, when she was sober – or he could take her with him. He opted for the latter. Scooping Bessie up in his arms, he staggered to the door and heaved her up over his shoulders. She was as limp as a corpse. At the top of the staircase, he steadied himself and gripped the banister. He had made it halfway down when a door opened below him and he heard someone say, ‘Is it time? ’ There was nowhere to run. Pyke tried to take the final few steps two at a time but they were on to him before he’d reached the bottom, two of them, one armed with a pistol.

‘Put her down slowly and raise your hands. ’ One of the men, with a hatchet face, called out to Crane. Pyke did as he was told. Bessie Daniels giggled as Pyke laid her down on the floor.

Crane appeared in the hallway. ‘Give me one good reason why I shouldn’t tell Sykes to pull the trigger and blow a hole the size of my fist in your chest. ’

Pyke took a moment to run through his options. He could always try to bolt for the door but Sykes would surely fire the pistol and, at such close range, he would probably hit his target.

‘Make your choice, sir. Tell me why you came here or prepare to meet your maker. ’ Crane smoothed back his hair and wiped his hands on his trousers.

Pyke stared down at Bessie’s comatose body. ‘I was asked to find this particular woman. ’

Crane seemed amused by this notion. ‘By? ’

Pyke waited, deciding that only the truth would do. ‘Harold Field. ’ It was a huge risk, giving up Field’s name, but Pyke knew that most people were afraid of him and mentioning Field might make Crane more likely to talk.

As expected Crane’s whole demeanour changed. His shoulders tightened and his forehead creased with worry. ‘What does Field want with her? ’

‘I don’t know. I didn’t ask. I owed Field money. This was how he demanded I repay my debt. ’

They stared at one another for a few moments. Less sure of himself, Crane told Sykes and the other man to leave them alone – but also to remain close by in case Pyke tried to make a dash for it.

‘Are you telling me you have nothing invested in this little action? ’ Crane said, once they were alone.

‘That’s right. ’

‘And that it has nothing to do with the matter you came to talk to me about the other day? ’

‘Field heard I’d been to your shop and decided I was the right man for this job. ’ Pyke hesitated. ‘He didn’t want to send one of his men in case you recognised them. If he finds out that I’ve told you this, he’ll kill me, no question. He doesn’t want you to know he’s interested in your business. ’

Crane’s stare was like a lizard’s. ‘And why do you think he is interested in my business? ’ He glanced down at Bessie Daniels’ semi‑ conscious form.

‘I don’t know. He wouldn’t tell me. He just ordered me to bring her back to him. ’

‘You don’t know, eh? ’ Crane ran his teeth over his bottom lip, eyes narrowing to slits. ‘But you could find out, couldn’t you? ’

‘Perhaps. ’

That made Crane smile. ‘Well? ’

‘Are you suggesting I switch horses halfway through the race? ’

‘I could be. ’

‘What would be in it for me? ’

That seemed to be what Crane expected, and wanted, him to say. He grinned. ‘I like a man who knows how to think for himself. ’

A silence passed between them. ‘I’ll tell you what, ’ Pyke said. ‘If I find out why Harold Field is interested in this woman, you can tell me why you went to see Mary Edgar and Arthur Sobers at Thrale’s lodging house. ’

‘Back to that, eh? ’

‘That’s what I’m offering. Take it or leave it. ’

‘I’m the one with the pistol and you’re trying to make a deal? ’ Smiling, Crane shook his head, as though both irritated and impressed by Pyke’s bravado.

Pyke looked into his flinty eyes. ‘Do we have an agreement? ’

‘How will I know you’re telling me the truth, not just making up any old story? ’

‘I suspect you know exactly why Field might be interested in your affairs. But what you don’t know is how much or little he knows – and you need to know because Field is not a man to be taken lightly. ’ He hesitated. ‘And if that’s the case, you’ll know if I’m telling the truth, won’t you? ’

This time Crane’s smile appeared genuine. ‘You’re really quite remarkable. A few moments ago I was ready to kill you. ’

But Pyke wasn’t quite ready to shake the man’s hand. ‘We still haven’t decided what to do about her. ’ They both looked down at Bessie.

‘She stays with me. ’

Pyke shook his head. ‘I want to take her with me. ’

‘And hand her on a plate to Field, pay off your debt, just like that? ’

‘I don’t doubt you’ve already had your money’s worth from her. ’

Crane folded his arms. ‘She stays here for the rest of the day. Tomorrow I will pay her what I owe her and let her go home. How does that sound for a compromise? ’

Pyke looked into Crane’s face for signs he might be lying. ‘I have your word on that? ’

‘You have my word. ’

As they shook hands, Crane smiled slightly, an act that later seemed both mocking and sincere.

Harold Field was playing whist in an ostentatious private room adjoining a gin palace he owned in Holborn; the thick red carpet, red velvet curtains, striped flock wallpaper and the gilt‑ panelled ceiling put Pyke in mind of a Roman bordello, the kind of place where Caligula might have abused little boys while being fed grapes by half‑ naked prostitutes. Across the table from him, Field’s partner, a fat, bald, pig‑ like man whose face was slavered in his own sweat, was deliberating on which card to put down. On either side, their opponents shielded their hands and waited for the fat man to make his move. They swapped a brief look but their expressions remained inscrutable. Field placed his hand face down on the table and whispered something into the ear of one of his mob. Pyke couldn’t tell whether Field had noticed him or not as he’d made no effort to acknowledge his presence. From the gin palace, Pyke could hear the shouts of drunken revellers over the wailing of a badly tuned fiddle. On the table itself was a pot that looked to be in excess of a hundred pounds, if the growing pile of coins were all sovereigns, as they appeared to be. Briefly Pyke entertained the thought of someone walking in and trying to steal the pot at gunpoint, and of Field’s reaction, and he wondered whether there was anyone in London brave or stupid enough to attempt such an exploit. His attention was brought back to the game by Field’s partner, who had tentatively laid down the queen of hearts, to a murmur of disapproval from Field; the fat man’s mistake in playing the wrong card was obvious to everyone in the room. One of the opponents picked up the card and laid down his hand, taking care not to appear too triumphant. Both players eyed the pot but neither dared touch it. Field looked at the one who’d laid down his hand and whispered, ‘Go ahead. Take it, ’ then stood up and stretched his legs. In the chair opposite him, the fat man’s face was flushed and his eyes darted wildly around the room. He seemed desperate to explain himself, yet too afraid to speak.

‘ Take it. ’

Field walked across to the mantelpiece, where one of the candles had just burned out; and, taking care not to scald himself, he picked the stub out of the brass candlestick, tossed it to the floor, and barked at one of the servers to fetch a replacement.

No one in the room spoke.

One of the players gathered in the pile of coins and Field nodded, as though gratified by this development. The server returned with a candle but Field insisted that she give it to him, rather than placing it in the candlestick herself. Field then took the tall brass object in one hand, the candle in the other, and wandered back to the table. Carefully he placed the candle down on the card table and smoothed his ginger hair. The fat man gave him a pleading look and was about to say something but Field put a finger to his mouth and shook his head. The fat man held his silence and watched as Field circumnavigated the table, still carrying the brass candlestick.

He put it down on the table and retrieved his partner’s hand.

‘If you’d actually been concentrating and played this card, ’ Field said, holding up the seven of diamonds, ‘then we wouldn’t be having this conversation. ’ He shook his head. ‘It’s funny, isn’t it, how something apparently quite trivial can have grave consequences. ’ The fat man nodded dumbly, unable to bring himself to meet Field’s gaze.

Without saying another word, Field retrieved the brass candlestick and, in the blink of an eye, he swung the heavy end through the air and slammed it against the side of the man’s head, which seemed almost to disintegrate under the force of the blow. Holding the instrument with both hands now, Field raised it above his head and brought it down against the top of the fat man’s already shattered skull. The man slumped forward on to the table, and was quickly surrounded by a pool of his own blood.

Field wandered over to the mantelpiece and put the candlestick back where he’d found it. ‘You can all go now, ’ he said in barely more than a whisper.

The room cleared almost immediately. Field’s opponents opted to leave their winnings on the table.

Only Pyke and another man remained. He was tall and boyish with a smooth complexion and dimples on his cheeks but he was staring at the blood spilling from the fat man’s head with curiosity rather than revulsion. Field looked over at Pyke, acknowledging his presence for the first time.

‘I’ll need you to clear this mess up, ’ Field said to his younger assistant. Then, turning to Pyke, he added, ‘I’d like to introduce you to Matthew Paxton. He used to cut meat for a living, as I once did. ’

Pyke and Field’s assistant regarded one another warily, like two animals squaring up for a fight. Paxton wasn’t afraid of Field – Pyke could see that much – and Field’s introduction, as florid an account of another human being as Pyke had ever heard coming from the man’s lips, indicated that he both trusted and respected Paxton. Pyke could smell the younger man’s ambition.

‘Looks like you need a new whist partner, ’ Pyke remarked, once Paxton had left them.

‘I appreciate your effort, however misguided, to lighten the atmosphere. ’ Field smiled weakly. ‘That being said, I hope you have good news for me. ’

‘I went to the address you gave me but the property was deserted. ’

Field assimilated this piece of information without visible reaction. The pool of blood had spread across the table and had started to drip on to the carpet. ‘Can I ask you a question, Pyke? ’

‘Do you imagine I’m going to say no? ’

‘If people ever stopped fearing me, I might as well kill myself because someone else would soon do it for me. ’ It was said, Pyke thought later, as a simple declaration of fact rather than as an explanation for what Field had just done.

‘Then, rest assured, you stand to live for a long time yet. ’

That drew the faintest trace of a smile. ‘Come and work for me. I’ll make it worth your while. ’

‘Next you’ll be inviting me to play cards with you. ’

Field shrugged. ‘Do you think I’d have done that, if he’d been of any practical use to me? ’

‘That puts me greatly at ease. ’

‘I’m not such a philistine that I can’t detect the irony in your voice, Pyke. I also suspect you don’t much care for me and you certainly don’t respect me. I sometimes wonder whether you even fear me, but I find the idea that you don’t hard to fathom. ’ He held up his hand, to stop Pyke from replying. ‘Allow me to finish. Personally I find you arrogant and entirely untrustworthy. I don’t like your manners or your easy charm. But at the same time, and in spite of myself, I have to admit a sneaking admiration for you. Isn’t that strange? Doesn’t that strike you as strange? ’

Pyke remained silent.

‘Now please don’t insult my intelligence. ’ Field wetted his fingers and smoothed the ends of his moustache. ‘What did you really find at the place in Bethnal Green? ’

For a moment, Pyke considered continuing with the lie. ‘I found her. She was addled on laudanum – posing nude for one of Crane’s copperplates. She didn’t know her own name let alone what day it was. I heard footsteps. Someone came into the room. I had to fight my way out of there. ’ He considered telling Field about Bessie Daniels’ reference to the Swiss valet but decided against doing so, at least until he’d had a chance to work out in his own mind what it meant.

Field leaned back in his chair, took out a cigar from his pocket and lit it on one of the candles. ‘So why didn’t you tell me that to begin with? ’

Pyke looked towards the door. He didn’t doubt that if Field clapped his hands, there would be five or more men in the room, all willing to do whatever Field asked them. ‘I didn’t want you to think I’d failed you. ’

‘You’ll go back there tomorrow. ’ It wasn’t put as a question.

‘I tried to ask her what she knew but she didn’t seem aware of what I was talking about. If I knew a little more about your interest in Crane’s affairs and what I should ask her…’

Field put the cigar into his mouth and took a few puffs. ‘You’ll be told only what I want you to know. Is that clear? ’

Pyke remained silent.

‘Right at this moment I’m trying to find a reason why I shouldn’t have you killed. ’ Field blew a smoke ring into the air and watched it drift upwards and dissolve.

‘She was laid out on Crane’s sofa, naked, like a slab of meat. ’ Seeing her like that had made Pyke think of Emily, who had devoted her life to fighting exploitation in all its guises, and had died, or been killed, for it. And yet what had he done? He’d left the woman in Crane’s ‘care’. Trying not to think about what Emily might have said to him, Pyke refocused his attention on Field.

‘Are you trying to rile me? ’

Pyke waited for a moment. ‘Neither of us likes men who exploit members of the fairer sex for their own profit. ’

Field’s irises contracted and his expression became very still. ‘Do you know what I’m going to do? ’ As he puffed on his cigar, the hot ash glowed an intense red. Field waited for the smoke to dissipate. ‘I’m going to tell you something I’ve never told a living soul. ’

Pyke licked his lips but didn’t say a word.

‘My mother was killed by violent men when I was just a babe. I’m told she was beaten and raped before they strangled her and left her body in a cattle trough. ’

Field sat there, his expression implacable. Finally he opened his eyes and rubbed them. ‘There must be a hundred pounds there on the table, ’ he said, dismissing it with a wave of his hand. ‘Take it. It’s yours. ’

Pyke looked at the coins and banknotes on the table. They were covered with the fat man’s blood.

‘What? You think those two cowards who won it, fairly and squarely I should add, would dare set foot in this room again? Go on. Take it. ’

Pyke went to pick up one of the gold sovereigns. He got as far as touching it, the gold slick with blood. In the chair next to him, the fat man’s body had slumped farther forward.

At the door, he turned around and studied Field’s expression, which was a mixture of incredulity and interest.