“As soon as possible,” Brodie added.
“Ye’ll need to let the man know,” Mr. Conner commented.
Brodie nodded. “Mr. Cavendish will know how to get word to him.”
It was mid-morning when I wakened Adele and explained what had been decided.
“Who is this man?” she had asked of Brown.
That did require an explanation before she was comfortable.
“I have heard stories about such a man in Marseilles, where I am from. It is said that those who threaten him are not seen again.”
That did seem to describe Mr. Brown, whom I first met through Munro. He and Brodie had an odd friendship that came from ‘past business,’ as Brodie called it.
Mr. Brown conducted business in rooms over a tavern he appeared to own in the East End, with an assortment offoot-soldiers,as he referred to his men, and ‘business’ interests that included shipping and various other enterprises. Among them were rumors of bootleg liquor brought in from France, along with other illegal cargos.
When I had asked Brodie about some of those enterprises, he had simply replied, “Tis best ye dinna know.”
I was aware that he had done ‘business’ with Mr. Brown in the past in a somewhat odd partnership—favors passed back and forth, with that reminder from Brodie—“Dinna ask.”
Brodie had sent Mr. Cavendish out with the message for Mr. Brown. He returned just after midday.
“The docks at St. Katherine’s. His man Spivey will meet Mr. Conner there.”
“And he understands that she is not to be bothered in any way?”
“As ye told me, and he’s agreed. Along with the reminder that you now owe him a favor.”
I was concerned what that might require, but I did not ask as I provided Adele with the clothes for her ‘disguise’—Brodie’s cast-off clothes that I had altered so that they would fit and not fall about my ankles. Adele and I were about the same size.
“You are married to him?” she had asked. “A lady and a former police inspector?”
“Yes,” I replied. And I had been on that adventure ever since.
I had explained that first inquiry case that involved my sister without most of the details, only that he was the only person who helped me find her. I did leave out that other part that was quite personal.
“I should like to find that sort of man,” she had replied.
I had assured her that she would be safe with Mr. Brown and that we would see each other again when this was over.
As for her journal—those hasty notes, including the names of those who were responsible for Burke’s murder—it was presently locked in our safe at the office.
Adele wore no makeup, as she had when I first met her. Gone as well was the gown from one of London’s most exclusive shops. I had given her a pair of my boots, and with the jacket, acquired from a seconds shop, the somewhat battered cap with her hair tucked under, she might have been any ‘lad’ on the street, selling newspapers for the Times, or pinching food from a vendor. I added a smudge of coal dust.
“A new role for me to play,” she said as she glanced in the mirror on the dressing table.
I thought of the characters in Mr. Dickens’s books, taken from his travels about London. She could have played the part of any one of those poor street urchins he had written about.
“I assure you no one will recognize you, and you will be safe enough with Mr. Conner.”
It was late in the afternoon, darkness lowering over the building across the Strand and along the street when Mr. Conner finally returned.
“The package was safely delivered,” he informed us.
I let out a sigh of relief. He had been gone for some time, and I had begun to worry that they might have encountered some difficulty with Steiner still out there somewhere.
“No difficulty,” he assured us with a familiar grin. “Brown does have some of the finest ale to be found.”
