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not of his own interests, that illusion was ripped apart. But
then perhaps he knew that Tellman had not been deceived in
that for years! He had lost nothing.  Is there anything else,
sir? he asked politely.
 No, Wetron replied, straightening up in his seat.  I just
wanted to know why you were so interested in this forged
five-pound note. It seems . . . trivial.
 I don t think there will be just the one, sir. Tellman smiled
now, a very slight lifting of the corners of his mouth.  If some-
one s got plates, they can print as many as they like.
 And did this . . . Jones, give you any useful information?
 Not yet, sir, Tellman said smoothly.  But there s time.
Wetron nodded slowly. He understood the battle lines be-
tween them, and he was sure that he would win.  Very well.
You can go.
Tellman had only one possible course open to him. How-
ever dangerous it was, he could not allow Pitt to remain ig-
norant of what might be a vital piece of information.
But first Tellman needed to discover for himself if what
Wetron said of Piers Denoon was true or not. If it were not,
and Pitt went seeking after him on Tellman s word, which
Wetron would of course deny, then Pitt would make enemies
he could not afford. Tellman needed to know for himself, and
give that proof to Pitt, not simply the unsupported rumor.
And of course he must pursue it in his own time.
It was two nights after his conversation with Wetron be-
fore he found the man he wanted. It had cost him both more
time and more money than he wished. He ran him down in
the Rat and Ha penny, a public house on the corner of Han-
bury Street, not far from where one of Jack the Ripper s vic-
tims had been found, her face disfigured and her stomach
torn open, five years earlier.
The room was crowded, filled with raucous laughter and
the smell of ale, sweat, and human bodies that had no means
160 Anne Perry
and no desire to wash. They sat opposite each other at a small
table.
 Lunatic! Stace said, puckering his mouth into a gri-
mace. He picked up his glass and stared at it appreciatively.
 Miserable enough ter cut  is froat one minute, mad enough
ter cut anyone else s the next. Talks more rubbish than any-
one I know. In t scared o nuffin , like  e don t care if  e s
 live or dead. Daft, I say. Got the money though.  Eaps of it.
 What does he look like? Tellman asked, pretending to be
only moderately interested, as if he were merely making con-
versation.
Stace shrugged.  Toff, he replied.  Wears dirt like it s
painted on top of  im. In t part of  im, like them wot lives
 ere. Clothes fit  im, an  is  air s clean. Got dainty  ands, like
a man wot s never done a day o work. He squinted sideways
at Tellman.  But I wouldn t cross  im, if I was you. Mad as a
monkey,  e is, an clever as one too.
 Clever doing what? Tellman took another swallow from
his glass.
 I dunno, but some funny folks give  im a lot o time.
 What kind of funny?
 Crazy people, wot blows up things, Stace replied, stuff-
ing the last of his pie into his mouth and talking around it.
 Always goin on about doin away wi the law, an I don t
jus mean the rozzers, I mean the  ole Parli ment an every-
thin . Blow up the Queen, if they could.
 Foreigners? Tellman inquired innocently.
 Some of  em, mostly as English as you or me, Stace said
disgustedly.
 Or Irish, maybe? Tellman suggested.
 All sorts. Stace gave an elaborate shrug.  Diff  rent ones.
Move from one lot ter another. Like I said,  e s daft as they
come. Must be on the opium, or summink. Always lookin
over  is shoulder like the devil was be ind  im. Don t stay in
one place long enough ter sit down. Think  is own shadder d
LONG SPOON LANE 161
bit  im. Wot about another pint, eh? An I could manage an-
other pie, if I was asked?
Tellman obliged. The information was worth it. He
fetched the pie and ale and returned to the table where Stace
took them immediately.
 Daft, you say? Tellman repeated.
 As a brush, Stace confirmed.
 Smokes opium?
 Dunno. Not fer sure.
 Where does he get his money from?
 Dunno. I said as  e were daft. Stace took a large bite of
his pie and swallowed it before he continued.   E is, but  e
in t stupid.
 Where could I find him? Maybe it was too bold a ques-
tion. The moment it was out of his mouth, he wished he had
not asked.
 Dunno, Stace replied.  Wot s it worf?
 If you don t know, it isn t worth anything, Tellman said
frankly.  You said he had good clothes, and under the dirt he
was clean.
 In t we all? Stace grinned, showing broken teeth.
Tellman did not argue, but actually it was not true. It
sounded as if Piers Denoon might return home to sleep, and
possibly to eat, certainly to take a hot bath now and then.
That might be the only place to find him. One could wander
around the East End for months without running across him.
They did not have months, quite apart from the obvious dan-
ger not only to Tellman himself, but to Piers also if the wrong
people knew he was looking.
 Thank you, he said appreciatively.  Another glass?
 Since yer ask, I don t mind if I do, Stace said gener-
ously.
Tellman did not find Piers Denoon that night, and the fol-
lowing day he had no opportunity to continue the search. He
was tired and discouraged by the time he went home to eat,
and change his clothes. It had been raining on and off during
162 Anne Perry
the day and his feet were sore, his trouser legs were wet, and
he had not had anything hot to eat in two days. He began to
think of Piers Denoon enjoying a steaming bath back in his
parents house in Queen Anne Street with a spirit of some-
thing close to bitterness.
He knew where the house was he had taken the trouble
to find out. The first night he had gone there and delivered a
message. The footman had informed him that Mr. Piers was
not at home.
He was not at home the second evening either, but Tellman
had nowhere better to look, so he spent the latter part of the
evening standing in the chill wind at the other side of the
street arguing with himself as to how much longer he could
endure it, and whether it was worth staying.
Twice he gave up and walked to the end of the road and
was about to go down to Cavendish Square, and changed his
mind, determined to give it another quarter of an hour.
It was half past ten when a hansom pulled up three doors
along and a young man alighted and staggered uncertainly
under the lamplight, almost bumping into it before he altered
course. He was unshaven and looked very much the worse
for wear. His clothes were dirty, but unmistakably well-cut
and tailored to fit his slender, almost emaciated form. He
passed into the shadow again, and Tellman did not move
until the man started down the area steps of the Denoon
house, as if to go in at the scullery door.
Tellman shot into action and sprinted across the street and
down the steps. He caught up with the man as he fumbled to
open the door to the back kitchen.
 Mr. Denoon! Tellman said urgently.
Piers jolted as if for an instant he had almost cried out,
then he swung around, his back pressed against the door.
 Who are you? he demanded.
Tellman already knew what he was going to do.  I came to
give you a warning, he said quietly.  Not a threat! he
added. In the light above the kitchen door Piers Denoon [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]