Murder in the East End - Jennifer Ashley Page 0,87
at Daniel and dashed after Luke, tossing away the board as he went.
“You bloody fool!” Daniel roared, but Mr. Fielding was gone.
I helped Daniel to his feet. He pressed his hand to the back of his head, and his fingers came away red. The vendors who’d witnessed the fight surged forward to assist, but Daniel waved them off.
“I’m fine.” He took a few steps, but I clung to him.
“Sit down. He’s hurt you.”
Daniel gently dislodged my grasp. “He’s maddened. We need to stop him.”
I agreed, but a blow to the head could be perilous. Daniel, however, started away, his steps even. I went right after him.
Together we pursued Mr. Fielding and Luke down Southampton Street. If they reached the Strand at the end, Luke might be lost in the crush of traffic, and again, could reach railway stations that would put him far out of reach.
Daniel smiled as we entered Southampton Street, cracking the sweat and soot on his face. He brought a police whistle out of his pocket and blew it.
More whistles sounded in response, the bobbies of Covent Garden answering Daniel’s summons. Constables surged down Southampton Street, and more ran in from the Strand at the other end. They surrounded Luke just as Mr. Fielding caught him.
Mr. Fielding’s cry of rage rang through the dimming afternoon. He raised his fist and smashed it into Luke’s face, and raised it again.
This time, I saw the glimmer of a knife. I shouted, but Daniel was beside his brother, deftly twisting the weapon from Mr. Fielding’s hand.
By the time I reached them, Mr. Fielding was cursing and struggling. Daniel jerked Mr. Fielding’s arm behind him and took him down to the ground, holding his brother fast.
“Not yet,” I heard Daniel say to him. “We need to hear the man’s story first. You’ll have your vengeance, my old friend, I promise you that.”
Mr. Fielding jerked from Daniel’s hold. But instead of regaining his feet to go after the subdued Luke, who was now being placed in handcuffs, he sank into a crouch, put his hands over his face, and began to sob.
* * *
* * *
Luke was a sorry specimen as he sat in the interrogation room inside Scotland Yard. The constables who’d caught him had wanted to drag him to Bow Street, to lock him away to await the magistrate, but Daniel convinced them to load him into a police van and drive him down the Strand and around to Great Scotland Yard.
Inspector McGregor, who took over as soon as we arrived, was not pleased to see me. He scowled hard from his height and barely allowed me a greeting.
But he knew I’d never be persuaded to leave, so he let me peer through a grilled window into the room where Luke awaited, as I’d done another time he’d questioned a villain.
Luke had his hands cuffed before him, chained to the table. The bluster had gone out of him—he gazed across the table at Inspector McGregor, Daniel, and especially Mr. Fielding with great fear.
I was not certain Mr. Fielding should have been allowed in the room. He ought to be with me, watching through the window, as I couldn’t be sure he didn’t have more knives on his person.
But Mr. Fielding admittedly had calmed a great deal since Covent Garden, and now his countenance was blank, hiding his raw emotion. His seemingly cool demeanor along with his collar had induced Inspector McGregor to let him take part.
“We’ve got you dead to rights on procuring,” Inspector McGregor said to Luke in his crisp way. He touched a small stack of papers he’d placed on the table. “And charges of assault going back several years. No one’s forgotten their beatings by you. You’re also here on suspicion of the murder of Miss Nell Betts.”
Luke looked confused. “Don’t know ’er.”
Mr. Fielding moved, but Daniel threw him a cautioning look. “You wouldn’t have known her name,” Daniel said to Luke. “She found the bawdy house where you took the children, didn’t she? You saw her snooping and decided to get rid of her.”
“You mean the biddy what was with you today? Yeah, I chased her off. She’d no business down there.”
“Not her.” McGregor’s growl cut in. “A few weeks ago. She was a nurse from the Foundling Hospital.”
Luke’s brows furrowed then his expression cleared. “You mean the nun? I run her off too. She was knocking at the door, yelling at the ladies inside. It’s my job to run people off.”