David put his hands on her waist and picked her up. She was light, and through the voluminous folds of fabric wrapped about her, he could tell she was thin. Too thin. Why so many layers of fabric? It couldn’t be for warmth, as the bulk of the fabric was just wrapped and folded around her middle.
“Thank you,” she said simply, with none of the embarrassment David knew an English woman would have displayed should she need to be picked up. And then, somewhat to his surprise, she took charge of the situation.
“I am Krishan’s ayah, his nursemaid, you understand?” she said to Mr. Safford. She twisted her fingers together. “I bring him to England. Sahib, his father, he saysbring Krishan to my brother,” she said, those last words mimicking her employer’s lower tone. “Except he called him Kit, not Krishan like me and his mother.”
“And what is the lad’s actual name?”
“Sedgewick, sir. Christopher Sedgewick. He is five years.”
Safford nodded and took notes. David chafed at the slow process of the interview but held his tongue. He’d been surprised but pleased that the Chief Clerk had allowed Miss Rangaswamy to take the lead. Most men in his position would have deferred to the male—particularly the English male—and ignored the Indian woman.
“And what is young Christopher’s father’s name?” Safford asked.
“Sahib? He is Mr. Sedgewick.”
“His given name.”
“Given name?” Her eyes widened. “I do not know!” she said. She shook her head and frowned as she looked down. “How is it I do not know?” she said with heavy consternation.
“Owen,” David Thornbridge supplied. “Owen Sedgewick is heir to the Earl of Soothcoor. I believe there are other younger brothers. I know nothing about them.”
Safford nodded and took more notes.
“So how is it you are in England now, Miss—” he glanced down at his notes, “Rangaswamy?” he asked.
“Sahib, he very sick. Doctor say he will not live. Sahib say to take Krishan to England to his brother. Everything happen so fast! He give me money and papers, and next day we are on ship. No time to think, just go.”
“And what happened today?”
“I sent Sahib’s letter to his brother when the ship docked. The lascars—my countrymen who work on ship—they put our boxes and trunks on the dock and left us. I am afraid. Hours pass. No one from Sahib’s brother’s house come to help. Krishan, I tell him to sit on trunk while I ask someone on dock how to get to our new home. While I try to find a person who will talk to me, Krishan call my name.”
She paused and swallowed hard. “A woman, she picks him up and runs down the dock with him. I try to follow, but I fall and lose them. I am crying, crying. I don’t know what to do. This man, Mr. Thornbridge, he come to help, and I am here.”
“I took her to the Thames River Police,” David interjected, taking up the tale. “They took notes and said they would be on the lookout, but they suggested we come to Bow Street for help. The River Police suggested the woman took him for his clothes.”
Mr. Safford nodded. “Yes, a common crime in London these days. The culprit could leave him anywhere in the city,” he said grimly. Then his eyes narrowed. He looked out across the room. “Spenser! Get me Mr. Martin.”
The same man who had brought the chair immediately left off speaking to the people standing before him and went through a door at the back of the room.
Safford nodded in satisfaction. “Lewis Martin knows the best and the worst of London and can easily move between both worlds. He is in high demand as an investigator.”
David knew that meant Mr. Martin expected to be well paid for his investigation. “I understand,” he said.
Safford grunted in response.
A moment later, a blond tousle-haired gentleman approached the desk. David thought he was about his own age, maybe a little older than himself. He dressed much like any City of London bank clerk. David could see him talking with the higher end of society, but the lower end? David had his doubts.
“You sent for me, sir?”
“Yes, Martin. These people need your help. The Earl of Soothcoor’s nephew has been kidnapped off the East India Docks today.” He looked over at Rani. “How old did you say he was?”
“Five, he is five.”
“Yes.” He looked back at Mr. Martin. “Find him.”
Lewis raised an eyebrow at him, then cocked his head. “Yes, sir.”
3
