“I decide we cannot wait anymore. I have direction and money from Sahib, but I don’t know how to go. I try to get man to talk to me. No one talks. They hurry past,” she said, her fingers wiggling to mimic walking away. “I ask another man, and then I hear Krishan yell my name. I turn,” she said, turning her body. “A woman is carrying Krishan away. I run, but I fall, and I don’t see them when I get up. I look all around, and then I go to our things. No one will help. I don’t know what to do. Then Mr. Thornbridge, he comes and helps.”
A light knock on the door signaled Charwood returning with refreshments. Rani hesitantly rose to assist Lady Branstoke with serving the tea and savory snacks. Cecilia smiled at her. Charwood returned a moment later with the brandy decanter and glasses from the library. Lady Branstoke waved him over to give her a glass of the stronger beverage.
“How did you come to be at the dock, Mr. Thornbridge?” Cecilia asked, as she set her small brandy glass on the table next to her.
“I check in a few times a week. My intention is for my visits to discourage any new untoward activities,” he said frankly.
She nodded. “I thank you for that. Soon that will be unnecessary.” She leaned back against the cushions of the matching striped sofa across from Rani. “The company will be sold before year end. The contracts are in the hands of the solicitors right now.”
David nodded. “Congratulations. I’m glad to hear it. Under the circumstances, I am glad I was there. A mudlark alerted me to Miss Rangaswamy’s plight. Said there was a foreign lady crying on the dock. When I approached, I did not know I would enteranothermystery. I took her to Bow Street and the Chief Clerk assigned Mr. Martin to assist us.”
James and Cecilia looked at the Bow Street officer. He had been listening with his head down, but he raised his head now.
Fatigue etched his good-looking, craggy features, making his blue eyes stand out in his wan complexion.
“Yes. Now it is my turn.” He had eschewed the brandy in favor of tea, being too fatigued for any spirits. He set his teacup and saucer on the mantel. “Muriel Patterson is the name of the woman who took young Sedgewick. She is dead.”
“What?” came from everyone in the room.
“How?” James uncrossed his legs and leaned forward in his chair.
Martin looked at him, then turned back to address the company at large. “She was stabbed. My witness—”
“Someone saw her get stabbed?” David interrupted.
Lewis Martin nodded. “Nearly. My witness came upon her before she succumbed. She told him two men offered her five pounds to snatch the boy. She knew it was too good to be true. Mrs. Patterson was not in the habit of kidnapping children, or any other larceny, but five pounds is a lot of money in the London stews.”
“Poor woman,” Cecilia whispered.
“Poor woman! She take my Krishan!” protested Rani.
“Yes, but she didn’t have to die,” Cecilia said
Rani rose to her feet as her voice rose. “Not die? I kill her if catch her!” she said, moving her hands abruptly down as if breaking a stick in half. “You not know Krishan. Krishan so little, so young, in strange place,” she shook her head, her English shattered in her distress. “How she say she would do this for money? I not understand.”
“Ladies, please, let’s let Mr. Martin talk,” said James.
Rani frowned but sat down.
“I appreciate the violence of your feelings, Miss Rangaswamy. I imagine you have been through a great deal in the past 24 hours,” James said smoothly. “Remember, we are just learning about these events.”
Rani pouted but nodded.
He turned back to Lewis. “Who is this witness?” he asked.
“One of the young mudlarks that frequent that area. His name is Daniel Wrightson; however, he often calls himself Dan Wright.”
“Dan was with this woman when she died? How did that come about?” David asked.
“He went looking for the woman and the boy. He knew her slightly and knew the area she was from, so he went looking.”
“Why?” James asked.
Lewis Martin ducked his head and rubbed his chin with his right hand before answering. A corner of his mouth kicked up in a self-deprecating smile. “He fancies himself a detective,” he said ruefully.
“You trust this young man?” James asked.
“Yes, I do.”
