Chapter Sixteen
“We want youto take the train down to Dover,” Solomon told Janey and Lenny. “Find out if Darrow and Caterina had booked a passage on any packet or other vessel sailing to the Continent. According to Darrow, they planned to leave London on the evening of Friday the eighth, so try to get hold of passenger lists from then onward. Tell them whatever story is appropriate, that your master has lost his ticket, or whatever, just to see if their names were ever listed.”
“And if their names ain’t there?” Janey asked.
“Go on to the next one. If necessary, travel to the next port and the next. I’ve listed them here for you.”
Janey took the list from him, scowling at it. “Why don’t you just ask this Darrow?”
“Because he lies,” Solomon said, “and we haven’t quite worked out why.”
“You think he done it?”
“It’s more likely he’s the reason Montague’s done it,” Constance said dryly. “Either way, we need to know.”
Lenny was peering over Janey’s shoulder. “That’s a long list,” he said. “We’d never get round all those ports in a day.”
“You might be lucky in Dover, but take tomorrow too, if you need to,” Solomon said. “There are plenty of respectable hotels on the coast.”
Lenny straightened, meeting Solomon’s gaze. “That’s not right,sir, for Janey.”
Janey blushed rather painfully as though she expected everyone to laugh.
“Respectablehotel,” Constance repeated mildly. “There is enough money for two rooms. Tell them you’re brother and sister if it makes you feel better. But as Solomon says, with luck, you won’t need to and can come home this evening.”
“Why don’t you two go?” Janey demanded.
“Because I’ll be doing the same here in London,” Solomon said, “and there are other lines to follow, like Caterina’s friend whom she apparently visited three times in one week, probably as an alternative trysting place.”
“And then she went back to Marianne Locke’s again to meet him on the day before she died,” Constance said. “There’s something here we’re not understanding, and we need to.”
Janey shrugged. “We’d best be off, then.”
“Take the carriage,” Constance said, “collect anything you need from your respective homes on your way to the station.”
“I got everything,” Janey said quickly. “I come prepared.”
It might have been true, but more likely she was keeping Lenny away from Constance’s establishment, where she still lodged. Perhaps it was time she had rooms of her own somewhere else. Which would leave a vacancy for some other street waif.
Since they had no idea who or what they would find at the address in Theobalds Street, Solomon elected to accompany Constance before he began his trawl of passenger lists. As he picked up his hat, the heap of correspondence on the desk caught his eye.
“It’s getting out of hand,” Constance remarked, following his gaze. “I’ll see what I can do today, if I get the chance. Unless I would be better employed searching passenger lists?”
“I can probably do it more quickly without wasting so much shoe leather,” Solomon said wryly. “The correspondence might be a goodidea, if nothing more urgent comes up. First, though, let’s find out who lives on Theobalds Street.”
They took a hackney to the end of the road and, since they did not have a house number, began by speaking to the tobacconist at the corner to try to establish who lived where.
Solomon bought a newspaper and some tobacco he would never use. Then, since they doubted Caterina and Darrow had met at a family home, he asked casually about a fictitious family called Grey, old friends he was sure lived in this street.
The tobacconist frowned. “Grey? Hmm, there’s the Whites at number six, and Greens at number eleven, but I can’t think of a Grey…”
“Wait, though,” Constance said, “the family won’t be called Grey, will they? Jane was his mother-in-law! Perhaps you know a family who lives with the wife’s mother whose name is Grey?”
This elicited a few more house numbers and families, which they crossed off their mental lists before thanking the tobacconist for his help and departing.
They managed to cross off several more houses in similar fashion at the greengrocers’, where they were fortunate enough to meet with the local gossip who knew everyone’s business and was not shy about passing it on. In this way, they discovered a house that was completely locked up and empty, and another that was so full of people that it was never empty for a moment. Someone had lots of visitors, some had none at all except the woman herself, who liked to make sure the old dears were well.
With the houses left, there was nothing to do but knock on doors and say they were looking for Mrs. Montague, and was it true she was visiting the house?
