Before leaving, I went up to the office. It was obvious that it had been searched quite thoroughly.
Files had been pulled from the file cabinet, and were stacked atop the desk in piles that had spilled over onto the floor. A bottle of my aunt’s very fine whisky was still there. I put it in my bag. I was not about to leave it for one of Abberline’s men, should they return.
The blackboard had been pushed against the far wall, obviously in Abberline’s search for something that might tell him where he might find Brodie. There was some satisfaction that he didn’t find anything there.
The telephone line was still intact. I placed a call to the town house. Mrs. Ryan eventually answered.
“Praise the saints that yer safe,” she said, then proceeded to tell me that Abberline’s men had been there as well after I left that morning.
The Chief Inspector and his men had indeed been busy. They had an official paper signed by the magistrate allowing them to search the town house.
“Irish trash, the man was!”she exclaimed, which was quite a statement, as Mrs. Ryan was Irish as well.
There was more—however, the connection crackled, went silent for a moment, then she was there again.
“...gave them a piece of my mind, I did!”I caught part of the rest of it. “Said they were lookin’ for Mr. Brodie. I told them he hadn’t been here in days, but that wasn’t good enough. Then, they began to tear the place apart. I wish the hound had been here!”
I explained that I would be away for a few days, but didn’t say more, or where. The less she knew, the safer it was for her. I then told her that she should go to Sussex Square.
I knew that she would be safe there. There were boundaries even Abberline dared not cross, unless he wished to find himself sweeping the streets in his next position, which was an entertaining thought.
And there was Munro, of course. A confrontation with Abberline’s men would not end well for any of them if the Chief Inspector was foolish enough to go there and attempt what he had done at the office and the town house.
I didn’t leave a note for Brodie if he should return. Best not to let anyone know that I had been there if Abberline should return. I then locked the door behind me, obviously not that it would stop anyone.
Mr. Cavendish was on the sidewalk when I reached the street below. Rupert lay at the entrance to the alcove. After his behavior the night before, I was confident that if there was anyone lurking about now, he would have let us know.
We accompanied Mr. Cavendish to the Public House. I ordered supper, though I had little appetite. My thoughts churned over what I had learned, dozens of questions, and the matter of what to do next.
This part of the case was where I would usually have exchanged ideas, thoughts, and those questions with Brodie. At present, I was very much on my own.
It was an odd feeling, still I was determined to continue. I could only hope that he was aware of the warrant, and either Mr. Conner or Munro would find him. I was confident that he could elude the police until the murderer was found. He had, after all, once been one of them, and with the additional experience of living on the street.
“Is the food not to yer likin’, miss?” Miss Effie asked, of the meat pies she had served.
I realized that I had barely touched mine, while Mr. Cavendish and the hound had finished theirs.
“It’s excellent, as usual,” I replied. “I seem to have no appetite.”
“I can well understand.” She exchanged a look with Mr. Cavendish. “I’ll put it in a tin to send along with you.”
When she returned, I paid for the meal and we left the Public House.
“Where can I reach you, miss, if I should hear from Mr. Brodie?” Mr. Cavendish asked.
I could have explained about my temporary lodging at the flat on Drury Lane, but decided against it.
He had once been severely injured in a past inquiry because of information he had. With the incident at the office, I would not take that risk that he might be injured, or worse, if Abberline returned.
“I do think the hound should remain with you,” I told him out of concern. “I can take care of myself.”
He shook his head. “Mr. Brodie would have none of that. Besides, you have the extra meat pie. The hound gets hungry late of the night. And he’ll just follow you.”
It was a poor excuse. It was obvious he wouldn’t be persuaded.
“If you learn something, you might pass it on to Mr. Conner.” That seemed the best.
He nodded. “Be careful, miss.”
