“Aye, that’s why I’ve come. I hear it’s in the newspapers thata secretary to the toff in Belgrave Square was done over, and I wanted to tell you it weren’t our Danny. Rest assured. I saw him this morning.”
I sagged, thankful the house’s railings were behind me. Mr.Grimes was quickly beside me, his strong hand under my elbow.
I’d already concluded from Hannah’s note and the lack of a grief-stricken James on my doorstep that the murdered man could not be Daniel. Also Constable Greene would by now have told me, or at least Tess, if the body had been Daniel’s.
But reasoning and believing were not the same as knowing.
“Thank you, Mr.Grimes,” I said, my voice faint. “I had deduced this.”
Mr.Grimes nodded at me. “You’re a sharp one, you are. But I thought I’d reassure you. Newspapers say all sorts.”
He did not release my elbow, bless the man. He was a large, frightening, South London tough, but I’d come to learn he had a warm heart and would do anything for a friend.
“You say you saw Daniel this morning?” I longed for news of him, longed for a sight of him.
“Aye. He goes out on occasion, and he told me to be nigh, in case he needed me. He went to a newsagents on the Brompton Road, and I pretended to happen to be there looking for a newspaper. Not that I could read it.” He guffawed. “Danny didn’t give me no particulars on what he was doing in that house. He just told me to tell you he was well, and to look after you.”
“I am glad.” I’d wondered why Mr.Grimes hadn’t come to me after I’d asked James to look out for him, but if he was hanging about waiting to see if Daniel needed him, I understood. I was happy now for the wait. “I am grateful to you for guarding him, as much as you can,” I said in all sincerity.
“I can’t get as near as I’d wish, in that part of London,” Mr.Grimes answered. “A constable is always ready to run off the likes of me. But if Danny needs me, I’m there with me fists. Let anyone try to hurt ’im.” He released me to pound one meaty hand into an open palm.
“I do feel better, knowing you are prowling,” I assured him.
Mr.Grimes boomed his big laugh, the sound cheering. “Not many would, would they? Oh, Danny also told me to tell you he knows about the maid.”
“What?” I regarded Mr.Grimes in pure dismay. “How could he possibly know?”
Mr.Grimes shrugged. “He’s Danny.”
“Drat him.” I doubted Hannah had told him her true identity. She was very good at deception, but then, so was Daniel. “He didn’t send her away, did he?”
“He didn’t say. But I think he’d have told me if he had done.”
I exhaled an exasperated breath. “Well, I hope he makes use of her instead of shutting her out. Blast the man.”
Mr.Grimes clearly had no idea what maid I was talking about, but he nodded along thoughtfully. “Danny does what’s best.”
“Do you know anything about what he’s facing?” I asked, my worries mounting. “Was the dead man the secretary he replaced?”
Mr.Grimes went somber. “Danny says so, though he don’t know who killed him. Mr.Howard, secretary’s name was. Gent from Northamptonshire, youngest son to a toff, come to London to make a living, poor chap.”
Mr.Howard had accepted the wrong offer of employment, it seemed. Had it been chance that he’d found work with Viscount Peyton? Or had he been a supporter of the Fenians, ananarchist himself? Or, more troubling, had he been an envoy of this secret police the letters mentioned?
If Mr.Howard had been a police spy, he’d been readily dispatched. Which meant that if Daniel’s true identity was revealed, they would not hesitate to dispatch him as well.
As much as I wished Monaghan and his cronies would act, I thought I understood why they hadn’t simply carted everyone inside Lord Peyton’s house to the nearest magistrate. Lord Peyton and his friends would have to stand trial, and if the police did not have enough of the right evidence, and Lord Peyton had a good barrister on his side, the judge might throw the case out or acquit him.
Lord Peyton also could be powerful enough to have judges dancing to his tune. Besides, he would face the House of Lords or a tribunal of some sort for treason—I wasn’t certain about how such things worked—but he’d never kick his heels in Newgate and then be dragged through the tunnel to stand in the dock at the Old Bailey.
Monaghan and Daniel had to be careful to catch these people in the act of whatever they planned. To bring forth enough proof to outrage the Crown and end the danger of them once and for all.
Others would follow, a dim voice in the back of my mind told me. There had been bomb attacks before, and there would be again, until Ireland had its grievances addressed. Some of the stories I’d heard about the suffering in Irish villages were sad and horrible, and I sympathized with the people there. But again, it wasmychild in danger from their fellow countrymen’s explosives.
Last October, bombs had gone off in Paddington Street Station, on the Underground, which had done nothing to endear me to that form of travel. I’d been careful to keep Grace fromtrains lately, especially after another incendiary device had detonated in Victoria Station only three months ago.
Daniel was trying to stop that. His ultimate task was to keep more violence from happening. Lord Peyton—or someone in his house—could point the way to the culprits.
I should leave Daniel to it, but as I’d reflected before, sacrificing Daniel for the greater good was not justifiable in my eyes.
