“Leon Schmidt you said?” He looked up, holding his finger on a line on the page.
“Yes. Mr. Schmidt had an injury of some sort.”
“We have record of a Schmidt who came to us in August.” The man frowned.
“Of a family,” Thomas corrected, his excitement building. “There are five in total. I need to speak with Mr. Schmidt, please.”
“They’re not here.”
“Are you certain?”
“Quite. We keep meticulous records of our inmates. They departed the last day of October.”
“Where did they go?”
“I have no idea. Inmates can—”
“Can you please not call them that?” Thomas asked, clenching his fist as frustration took hold once again. “They are people. People in unfortunate circumstances.”
The manager blinked rapidly as if trying to process the request. “Yes, well, those staying here can release themselves. They aren’t required to tell us where they’re going.” He paused for a moment. “There are some who have come in and out of the workhouse hundreds of times.”
“Truly?” That confirmed the system wasn’t working as far as Thomas was concerned.
The problem seemed to pain the man based on his disgruntled look. “It is a waste of our resources to allow such people to misuse the intent of the workhouse.”
“The Schmidts did no such thing.”
“Perhaps not. But others have.” The manager sat back in his chair. “Regardless, we do not know where the family went. They have not returned. Some families choose to enter other workhouses with the hope conditions are...different. You might check the ones in the surrounding area.”
With a quiet breath, Thomas realized he had no choice. He would have to continue the search elsewhere.
“Do you know if Mr. Schmidt had recovered from his injury?”
The manager consulted the book again. “He was removed from the hospice ward to the men’s ward two weeks before the family left. That suggests he showed improvement.”
Improvement might be a far distance from being recovered. Had he been well enough to find employment?
“And the children?” Thomas raised a brow. “Did they go with Mr. Schmidt?”
He consulted the ledger once again. “Yes. Three children and the wife all departed.”
So someone had lied. “Who would they have told they were leaving?”
“There are four of us who could’ve assisted their departure and noted it in the ledger. Any belongings they arrived with would be returned to them at that time as well.”
“But it wasn’t you,” Thomas said.
“No.”
Thomas closed his eyes briefly, at a loss as to how to find them.
“In my experience, the family most often returns to the neighborhood from which they came. Perhaps that’s the case for the Schmidts as well.”
“Do you have their former address?”
The manager named a familiar street in Mile End Old Town in the East End where Thomas had already searched. He thanked the man before taking his leave.
Though it was tempting to press to learn the names of the other managers and try to speak with them, what was most important was finding Peter’s family. Once he’d accomplished that, time permitting, he’d pursue who had allowed Peter to be shipped to America.
