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The first evening he put on old clothes, something he
hated doing. It reminded him of his youth when that was all
he had. But it was necessary. He needed to be anonymous,
and he knew his keen, lantern-jawed face was recognizable
in far too many places. This was the one advantage to com-
ing to the Cannon Street area, and farther east, but he dared
not ask the help of any of the men stationed there. It would
be reported back to Simbister first, and then to Wetron within
hours. If Pitt was right and the corruption was as deep into
the force as he feared, then he was working against them, not
with them.
Tellman had been born in the East End. He knew the
streets, the alleys, the courts and byways, the public houses
and the pawnshops. He did not know many people there any
more, but he knew what their lives were like. It was a
strange, unpleasant feeling to be in such familiar places
139
140 Anne Perry
again, as if the smell had never left the back of his throat, and
his feet still knew where the uneven cobbles were as he
walked.
He had passed every one of these shops and houses be-
fore, trudging with boots that leaked, always a little hungry,
uncertain of food or warmth, afraid of the future. If Jones the
Pocket came from here, he would understand too much
about him to be happy pursuing him. Grover was even worse.
He could pity him for his knowledge of the life he was escap-
ing, and hate him because he had betrayed the very path Tell-
man had taken out of it.
Grover would also have seen his mother struggle to feed
and clothe her children, almost certainly losing some to
weakness and disease. Tellman would never forget the si-
lence, the fear, the smell of grief in the house. Old people
could die; it was expected. But the grief was frightening and
inconsolable, even after all these years, when it was a child.
If he closed his eyes he could still see his mother s face the
night it had happened, and taste his own helplessness again.
Part of him hated Grover for leeching on his own. A large
part of him understood that when you were hungry, when the
desperation of survival drove you, you took when you could.
You had to be strong, clever, or lucky not to be broken,
sooner or later.
None of which in the slightest affected his determination
to find Jones the Pocket, and arrest him. He simply had no
joy in it.
During the course of the evening he went to every public
house within two miles of Dirty Dick s and the Ten Bells. He
watched the landlords, and familiarized himself with the
easiest route from one to another.
The next day he dispatched the men who usually worked
with him on errands that would keep them occupied for the
rest of the afternoon. At midday he was back at the Ten Bells.
According to what Pitt had told him, it was collection day, so
LONG SPOON LANE 141
he bought a beef sandwich and a mug of ale, and waited. He
sat near the door and watched every man who came in.
He had come on the early side, to be sure. After he had
waited over half an hour, a man with a long nose and flyaway
hair came in, flirted with the barmaid, and then bought him-
self a hot pie and a pint of ale.
Tellman nearly missed the next man who came in. He had
a sharp, pointed face, quick eyes, and he wore a loose coat
that flapped around his legs as he moved. The blond land-
lady s face became suddenly expressionless. Without wait-
ing for him to speak, she poured him a measure of gin in a
glass and handed it to him across the counter. He took it and
tossed it down in a swift movement, then replaced the empty
glass on the counter. No money changed hands.
Tellman drank the last of his ale and stood up.
The landlady held out her hand, palm up.
The man in the coat fished out a coin and gave it to her.
Tellman felt foolish. He would have to sit down again.
This was not Jones after all.
The landlady was stiff, uncomfortable. There was no
smile on her face as she had had for Tellman, who was a
stranger here. She went to the drawer where she kept her
money, as if to find change. Instead she made a quick move-
ment and put her hand into a separate pigeonhole and pulled
out a bundle of coins tied up in a rag. She slammed the
drawer shut, then turned around and gave the bundle to the
man. He took it with a few words Tellman could not hear,
and then placed it carefully into one of his vast inside pock-
ets. The payment had been made, but to anyone looking less
carefully than Tellman had been, it was an ordinary pur-
chase, with change.
Jones had done his business. He left, and went out into the
street, Tellman on his heels.
Tellman followed him but at a very considerable distance.
He even allowed him to get out of his sight, because he knew
where he was going. His only concern was that he might not
142 Anne Perry
deliver the money today. He still did not know where to find
Jones again, except on the same route next week, and Pitt
could not wait another seven days.
But by nearly six o clock Jones had not passed the money
to anyone, nor had he returned to any building that could rea-
sonably be his home.
Finally Jones went into a public house in Bethnal Green,
and ordered a meal. Tellman watched as the barmaid brought
it to him without asking for any money. At first he leapt to the
same conclusion as previously, but then he saw the woman
laughing, and he realized there was no apparent anger in her.
She walked easily, with a slight sway of her hips. In fact, she
was self-confident, flirting a little with other customers as
she passed them, catching an eye here and there and wink-
ing. She made a joke. A large man responded, and she pre-
tended to be shocked. There was another bellow of laughter.
Jones joined in.
The woman returned to the bar and made a little note on a
piece of paper and put it in the drawer.
Jones was a regular here. He was not extorting from her,
she was putting it on his account. He must eat here regularly.
He probably lived within a few minutes walking distance.
At last Tellman knew where to find Jones again. He left
with life in his step. He realized he was hungry also, but he
would eat somewhere else, not here, not in Jones the Pocket s
tavern.
Tellman arrived at his lodgings in a spirit of triumph, but
as he lay in bed thinking over his success, he realized that
while he understood exactly what he had seen, he had no
proof of any crime for which he could legally arrest Jones.
Ironically, and he was fully aware of the bitterness of it, he
could have used the new laws of search that were currently
being suggested in Parliament. But the last thing on earth he
wanted was a gun, and still less that police corrupted by
Wetron and his like should have them.
LONG SPOON LANE 143
He needed an excuse to arrest Jones and keep him long
enough for Pitt to take his place and his money and wait
for his masters to come in search of it.
Of course, if they assumed that Pitt was equally corrupt,
which he would have to be, then Tellman s reasons for arrest-
ing Jones did not have to be honest.
But if they were not, and Wetron knew it, then Tellman
would be hostage to that crime all the rest of his days.
He turned over and pulled the blankets with him. His pil-
low felt as if it were full of lumps. He was too hot one
minute, and too cold the next.
Worse than hostage to Wetron, he would have dishonored
himself. What would his mother have thought of him? He
could taste her contempt as if it were already a fact, and, [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]
zanotowane.pl doc.pisz.pl pdf.pisz.pl akte20.pev.pl
The first evening he put on old clothes, something he
hated doing. It reminded him of his youth when that was all
he had. But it was necessary. He needed to be anonymous,
and he knew his keen, lantern-jawed face was recognizable
in far too many places. This was the one advantage to com-
ing to the Cannon Street area, and farther east, but he dared
not ask the help of any of the men stationed there. It would
be reported back to Simbister first, and then to Wetron within
hours. If Pitt was right and the corruption was as deep into
the force as he feared, then he was working against them, not
with them.
Tellman had been born in the East End. He knew the
streets, the alleys, the courts and byways, the public houses
and the pawnshops. He did not know many people there any
more, but he knew what their lives were like. It was a
strange, unpleasant feeling to be in such familiar places
139
140 Anne Perry
again, as if the smell had never left the back of his throat, and
his feet still knew where the uneven cobbles were as he
walked.
He had passed every one of these shops and houses be-
fore, trudging with boots that leaked, always a little hungry,
uncertain of food or warmth, afraid of the future. If Jones the
Pocket came from here, he would understand too much
about him to be happy pursuing him. Grover was even worse.
He could pity him for his knowledge of the life he was escap-
ing, and hate him because he had betrayed the very path Tell-
man had taken out of it.
Grover would also have seen his mother struggle to feed
and clothe her children, almost certainly losing some to
weakness and disease. Tellman would never forget the si-
lence, the fear, the smell of grief in the house. Old people
could die; it was expected. But the grief was frightening and
inconsolable, even after all these years, when it was a child.
If he closed his eyes he could still see his mother s face the
night it had happened, and taste his own helplessness again.
Part of him hated Grover for leeching on his own. A large
part of him understood that when you were hungry, when the
desperation of survival drove you, you took when you could.
You had to be strong, clever, or lucky not to be broken,
sooner or later.
None of which in the slightest affected his determination
to find Jones the Pocket, and arrest him. He simply had no
joy in it.
During the course of the evening he went to every public
house within two miles of Dirty Dick s and the Ten Bells. He
watched the landlords, and familiarized himself with the
easiest route from one to another.
The next day he dispatched the men who usually worked
with him on errands that would keep them occupied for the
rest of the afternoon. At midday he was back at the Ten Bells.
According to what Pitt had told him, it was collection day, so
LONG SPOON LANE 141
he bought a beef sandwich and a mug of ale, and waited. He
sat near the door and watched every man who came in.
He had come on the early side, to be sure. After he had
waited over half an hour, a man with a long nose and flyaway
hair came in, flirted with the barmaid, and then bought him-
self a hot pie and a pint of ale.
Tellman nearly missed the next man who came in. He had
a sharp, pointed face, quick eyes, and he wore a loose coat
that flapped around his legs as he moved. The blond land-
lady s face became suddenly expressionless. Without wait-
ing for him to speak, she poured him a measure of gin in a
glass and handed it to him across the counter. He took it and
tossed it down in a swift movement, then replaced the empty
glass on the counter. No money changed hands.
Tellman drank the last of his ale and stood up.
The landlady held out her hand, palm up.
The man in the coat fished out a coin and gave it to her.
Tellman felt foolish. He would have to sit down again.
This was not Jones after all.
The landlady was stiff, uncomfortable. There was no
smile on her face as she had had for Tellman, who was a
stranger here. She went to the drawer where she kept her
money, as if to find change. Instead she made a quick move-
ment and put her hand into a separate pigeonhole and pulled
out a bundle of coins tied up in a rag. She slammed the
drawer shut, then turned around and gave the bundle to the
man. He took it with a few words Tellman could not hear,
and then placed it carefully into one of his vast inside pock-
ets. The payment had been made, but to anyone looking less
carefully than Tellman had been, it was an ordinary pur-
chase, with change.
Jones had done his business. He left, and went out into the
street, Tellman on his heels.
Tellman followed him but at a very considerable distance.
He even allowed him to get out of his sight, because he knew
where he was going. His only concern was that he might not
142 Anne Perry
deliver the money today. He still did not know where to find
Jones again, except on the same route next week, and Pitt
could not wait another seven days.
But by nearly six o clock Jones had not passed the money
to anyone, nor had he returned to any building that could rea-
sonably be his home.
Finally Jones went into a public house in Bethnal Green,
and ordered a meal. Tellman watched as the barmaid brought
it to him without asking for any money. At first he leapt to the
same conclusion as previously, but then he saw the woman
laughing, and he realized there was no apparent anger in her.
She walked easily, with a slight sway of her hips. In fact, she
was self-confident, flirting a little with other customers as
she passed them, catching an eye here and there and wink-
ing. She made a joke. A large man responded, and she pre-
tended to be shocked. There was another bellow of laughter.
Jones joined in.
The woman returned to the bar and made a little note on a
piece of paper and put it in the drawer.
Jones was a regular here. He was not extorting from her,
she was putting it on his account. He must eat here regularly.
He probably lived within a few minutes walking distance.
At last Tellman knew where to find Jones again. He left
with life in his step. He realized he was hungry also, but he
would eat somewhere else, not here, not in Jones the Pocket s
tavern.
Tellman arrived at his lodgings in a spirit of triumph, but
as he lay in bed thinking over his success, he realized that
while he understood exactly what he had seen, he had no
proof of any crime for which he could legally arrest Jones.
Ironically, and he was fully aware of the bitterness of it, he
could have used the new laws of search that were currently
being suggested in Parliament. But the last thing on earth he
wanted was a gun, and still less that police corrupted by
Wetron and his like should have them.
LONG SPOON LANE 143
He needed an excuse to arrest Jones and keep him long
enough for Pitt to take his place and his money and wait
for his masters to come in search of it.
Of course, if they assumed that Pitt was equally corrupt,
which he would have to be, then Tellman s reasons for arrest-
ing Jones did not have to be honest.
But if they were not, and Wetron knew it, then Tellman
would be hostage to that crime all the rest of his days.
He turned over and pulled the blankets with him. His pil-
low felt as if it were full of lumps. He was too hot one
minute, and too cold the next.
Worse than hostage to Wetron, he would have dishonored
himself. What would his mother have thought of him? He
could taste her contempt as if it were already a fact, and, [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]