Page 62

His gaze fell upon Grace with interest. Not with lasciviousness, I was relieved to see, but with an air of how he could best use her as a hold over me or Sam and Joanna.

There was a rush of air, and then Mr. Jarrett found himself against the sooty stone wall of the post office, a very large man pinning him there.

I’d glimpsed Mr. Grimes moving among the foot traffic in Cheapside and around St. Paul’s Churchyard, his huge bulk difficult to disguise. Mr. Jarrett, on the other hand, had not noticed him, being too arrogant to believe anyone would dog his steps.

Mr. Jarrett hung in Mr. Grimes’s very large grip, his arrogance changing to alarm. Mr. Grimes wore a long duster coat and cap that had seen better days, his dark hair as greasy as Jarrett’s. His blue eyes, though, bore merriment as he gazed up at Jarrett.

“Now then,” Mr. Grimes said. “You’re not welcome around here. You pop off home, all right?”

“You’re not from around here either.” Jarrett tried to hold on to his sneer, but his eyes betrayed his fear. “I know you, don’t I?”

“Not well enough,” Mr. Grimes answered cheerfully. Hehailed from South London like Mr. Jarrett—they might have crossed paths from time to time. “This lady is my friend, and you have no business with her.”

“I do have business.” Mr. Jarrett’s words were breathy as Mr. Grimes cut off his air. “Have information for her.”

“I don’t believe ya, but say it and be gone.” Mr. Grimes’s fingers tightened, and Jarrett’s eyes widened.

“Watch out for that man from the bank,” Jarrett gasped out. “He’s a slippery one.”

“Mr. Kearny?” I asked.

“Naw, not the nervous cove who’s trying to get his leg over Millburn’s lady. The higher-up. Word has it he were skulking around outside the bank on Monday morning, when that bloke got himself offed. What was he doing, eh? Fitting up our Sam, most like.”

The higher-upmight mean Mr. Zachary. Something worth looking into. “How do you know?”

“Have friends, don’t I? They tell me things.”

I wondered what sort of friends he had deep in the City. Reliable ones? Or was Mr. Jarrett inventing things to make Sam depend on him again?

“May I speak to these friends?” I asked.

“Can take you to them.” Jarrett peered fearfully down at Mr. Grimes. “If you call off your hound.”

I was not silly enough to follow Mr. Jarrett through London to a place where he might or might not have mates who might or might not have information. For one, I’d hardly take Grace with me, and for another, it was possible the world would never see me again.

“Perhaps you can tell this to my friend, Inspector McGregor,” I suggested.

Jarrett’s face screwed up. “Not talking to any bloody peeler. You don’t want to know—that’s fine by me.”

“Let him go, Mr. Grimes,” I said. “Mr. Jarrett, please take yourself from Cheapside and its surroundings entirely, and do not return.”

Mr. Grimes, never losing his congenial expression, eased Mr. Jarrett to his feet. Jarrett tried to jerk from him as soon as he was standing, but Mr. Grimes kept a firm hold. He spun Mr. Jarrett in place and gave him a hard shove back the way he’d come.

Mr. Jarrett stumbled but quickly gained his balance and hastened toward the larger street of St. Martin’s Le Grand, where he vanished into the traffic there.

Mr. Grimes made a show of dusting off his hands. “That’s the rubbish gone, then.”

“Can you follow him?” I asked. “It would be useful to know where he is staying and who these mates are.”

“My orders are to keep an eye on you and your friends, so no. But…”

Mr. Grimes stuck his tongue behind his teeth and let out a piercing whistle.

Grace clapped her hands over her ears at the high-pitched sound but looked delighted. I had the feeling she would soon be trying to imitate that whistle.

I heard running footsteps and then several boys burst past me from the other side of the church. Another came belting up from the direction of Cheapside.

“Keep the bloke what I was having a discussion with within your sights,” Grimes ordered. “Send word to me where he goes.”