The lady frowned. “And who are you? Come looking for a story about Catherine? Well, he won’t give it to you unless you pay.”
My lips parted in surprise. “I don’t have anything to offer.”
She nodded at the purse hanging from my wrist. “What’s in there?”
“Just enough fare to get home.”
“That’s what he’ll take then.”
“But—”
“What’s this?” a man asked as he came to the door, scratching his head and blinking away sleep. When he saw me, he sobered enough to lift an eyebrow with interest. According to the reports I’d read in 1938, Thomas had been handsome and charming at one point—but now he was unshaven, overweight, and scarred by time. “And who are you, pretty lady?”
The woman who had answered the door scoffed and went back into the house, tossing a fiery glare in my direction and talking under her breath.
“Are you Thomas Conway?” I asked, aware of the woman hanging laundry, staring at me.
He leaned against the doorframe and looked me up and down, lifting a corner of his mouth in a half smile. “I am, sweetheart. What can I do for you?”
My pulse was thrumming. “May I have a word with you about—about Jerusalem?”
His smile disappeared, and he straightened. “What do you want to know about that?”
I glanced behind me and then said, “May we have a word in private?”
“There ain’t nowhere private around here,” he said. “And I ain’t got nothing to say, anyway.” He started to move back into the house, but I took a step forward.
“I can pay you.” I took the coins out of my reticule, hoping I could convince the cabby to take me back to Wilton Crescent on credit.
That got Conway’s attention. He held out his hand.
“Not until you answer my questions,” I said, clutching the coins in my fist.
He worked his jaw for a minute. “What do you want to know?”
I licked my dry lips, hoping he’d share the truth. “I know that Polly, Annie, Elizabeth, and Catherine were all in Jerusalem. And I know you were there, too.”
He stared at me, squinting for a second. “Who are you?”
“It doesn’t matter. Are you a Freemason, Mr. Conway?”
He hesitated, and I knew he was weighing the wisdom in telling me the truth. He glanced at my fist holding the coins and then leaned against the doorframe again. “I was just a poor, ex-soldier when I joined the Freemasons. I thought they might help me make something of my life. When they called upon me to assist the expedition as a guard and offered to pay my way, I went. Thought it would be a good opportunity for me and Catherine to see a bit of the world.”
“Are you still a Freemason?”
He looked down at his worn clothing and then lifted his head in pride. “Not in good standing, as it were. Couldn’t afford the dues after a time.”
“And what of the others?” I asked. “Was William Nichols a Freemason? Or John Chapman or John Stride?”
Thomas looked right and then left before he said, “Aye, they were all Freemasons, called upon because they had different skills.”
“How did each of your wives end up in Whitechapel?” I asked, eager for him to keep talking.
He shrugged and held out his hand. “I need me a coin for what I already told you.”
I slightly unclenched my fist, afraid he’d try to take it all, and removed one penny, which I handed to him. “Why were your wives in Whitechapel?”
Thomas put the penny into his pocket and said, “When you’re desperate and destitute, it’s the cheapest place to live—and to disappear. Polly left William because he had taken up with another woman. Annie left her husband because she couldn’t resist the bottle. Elizabeth left her chap because she was disease-ridden and couldn’t have children, and it came between them.” He shrugged. “Me and Catherine had our quarrels and went our separate ways. She was set up real nice in Woolwich for a time, in a respectable flat, but it didn’t take long before I heard she was living in Whitechapel.”
