“His Royal Highness is on a round-the-world voyage,” Dermott said. “The HMSGalateaisn’t due back for several months.”
“It’s hard enough to protect the royals at home, damn it,”Colonel Fielding grumbled. “Never mind on the other side of the world.”
“And half the royal princesses are married to bloody Germans,” Sir Richard said. “Is the Prince of Wales under lock and key?”
“Yes. Bertie called it house arrest,” Dermott said. “But he’s agreed to remain at Marlborough House if only to avoid Princess Louise’s fate.”
“Which is?” Sir Richard asked.
“The queen ordered her back to Windsor. The remaining royal offspring in England are at the castle now.”
“Good,” Colonel Fielding said. “Safest place for them.”
“Bollocks, Fielding!” Sir Richard shouted. “No place is safe.”
“I agree,” Tennant said. “Lady Middlebury was murdered in Windsor Great Park.”
“The number of soldiers patrolling the castle will double,” Dermott said. “The commander has given the Home Office that assurance.”
“Good,” Sir Richard said. “London is the Yard’s responsibility. I want constables out in force in Irish neighborhoods. Inspector Tennant, see to it.”
Sir Lionel asked, “What intelligence do we have from the Fenian Department, Colonel? Anything at all, or have all your ‘eyes and ears’ gone blind and deaf?”
Fielding pushed back his seat; the leg caught on the carpet and fell with a thud. “You’re a smug bastard, Dermott.” The colonel stalked out and slammed the door.
“Dear me,” Lionel said, getting up and righting the chair.
“You are a smug bastard, Sir Lionel.” Sir Richard’s smile flickered. “But I had the same question.” He waved Tennant and Dermott out of his office. “You have my orders, Inspector. Carry on.”
Outside, Tennant asked Lionel, “Any word on Mrs. FitzGerald?”
“I came directly from the hospital. She’s holding her own, thank God. The surgeon’s assistant, Doctor Rennie, seems a sensible chap.”
“That’s a relief. Sir Godfrey struck me as a—”
“Pompous blowhard?” Dermott said. “I understand Doctor Lewis was there yesterday and returned in the morning.”
“And Major FitzGerald?”
“Bowled over, poor fellow. You’ll hear no more jokes from me.”
“Turning over a new leaf?”
“Well …” Dermott pulled on his gloves and drew his walking stick from under his arm. “At least until Harriet is out of the woods. As for the two heroines of the hour, Princess Louise and Lady Styles leave for Windsor this afternoon. The queen asked her to accompany the princess.”
“What about their escort to the castle?”
“A detachment of the Queen’s Household Guards. Now, I must run. I’m collecting Susan at her flat and taking her to the station to catch the royal train.”
“And I must crack the whip at Sir Richard’s command.”
“About this show of force in Irish neighborhoods … Useful?”
Tennant shrugged. “My guess? We’ll do more harm than good and learn nothing.”
Tennant and O’Malley took charge of the raids on the two Irish neighborhoods closest to the scene of the shooting. As for the others, Tennant relayed his recommendations to the divisional inspectors and was forced to rely on the common sense and restraint of sergeants he didn’t know.
Sergeant O’Malley and six constables headed to St. Gileswhile Tennant and a squad of coppers traveled to Kensington. The inspector’s destination was one of London’s most squalid Irish rookeries: the collection of backcourt houses known as the Jennings Rents, located just beyond the gates of Kensington Palace.
