Page 34 of Where the Heart Leads
She sat, smiling amiably. Stokes resumed his seat. Setting another chair beside Penelope’s, Barnaby sat and crossed his legs. He harbored not a single doubt that Penelope was set on immersing herself in all aspects of the investigation. He and Stokes would have to, at some point, draw a line and curtail her involvement, although he’d yet to fathom exactly how.
Regardless, until she reached the point beyond which it was unsafe for her to go, he saw no real benefit in attempting to rein her in.
Stokes focused on him. “I got your note about the Carters. I had cause to visit Aldgate watch house this morning, and discussed the situation with the sergeant there.” He glanced at Penelope. “We have to exercise caution so that we don’t alert those involved to our interest in them—if we do, we’ll lose all chance of rescuing the boys already taken. If Mrs. Carter’s death is imminent, then mounting an around-the-clock watch would possibly be worth the risk—possibly.” He locked eyes with Penelope. “Do you know if she’s expected to die soon?”
She held his gaze, then grimaced and glanced at Barnaby. “After meeting her, I would have to say no.”
“So it could be weeks, even months, before this boy, Jemmie, becomes a target?” Stokes pressed.
Penelope sighed. “I checked with Mrs. Keggs—the Foundling House’s matron—after seeing the Carters yesterday. Mrs. Keggs has trained as a nurse. She’s visited the Carters recently, and her opinion, confirmed by the local doctor, is that Mrs. Carter has at least three months more.”
Stokes nodded. “So Jemmie Carter is not at immediate risk, and setting a watch on him might well work against us. However, if our more direct avenues of investigation fail, we may need to pursue him and others like him to pick up a trail.”
Remembering Jemmie, seeing the boy in his mind’s eye, Barnaby reluctantly nodded. “You’re right—a watch for any length of time might well put the boys already taken at greater risk.” Meeting Stokes’s gaze, he asked, “So if you ‘had cause to visit’ an East End watch house this morning, can I infer that you’ve found some other way forward?”
Stokes hesitated. To Barnaby it was clear he was feeling his way over Penelope; he wasn’t at all sure how much he should say before her.
Penelope spoke before he could. “Rest assured, Inspector, nothing you say will shock me. I’m here to assist in whatever way I can, and am determined to see our four missing boys rescued and the villains exposed.”
Stokes’s brows rose a fraction, but he inclined his head. “A laudable stance, Miss Ashford.”
Barnaby hid a smile; Stokes had clearly been polishing his tact.
“Very well.” Stokes settled his forearms on his desk and clasped his hands. He glanced from Penelope to Barnaby. “As I mentioned yesterday, I knew of a contact who I hoped would help me gain better insight into the identities and whereabouts of burglary schoolmasters who might be currently active in the East End. Through my contact, I was introduced to a man who’s lived all his life in the area. He gave me eight names, together with some addresses, although by the nature of their business these villains move constantly so the latter are likely not to be of much help.”
Stokes drew a sheet from a pile beside his blotter. “This morning I visited Aldgate watch house. The police there verified my list, and added one more name.” He glanced at Barnaby. “So we have nine individuals to pursue.” He transferred his gaze to Penelope. “But we have no guarantee at this point that any of these men are involved in this particular case.”
Following Stokes’s gaze, Barnaby saw Penelope nod—saw the gleam of engaged alertness in her eyes.
“That’s excellent progress, Inspector—you’ve moved a great deal faster than I’d dared hope. I do understand that nothing is yet certain, but we now have a place to start—a route through which to learn more of active burglary schools. Your contact has certainly advanced our cause materially—can I ask you for their name? I’d like to send a note from the Foundling House expressing our gratitude. It never hurts to encourage people when they’ve been helpful.”
Barnaby inwardly winced. He straightened in his chair. He was about to explain to Penelope that revealing contacts was something an investigator never did, when he saw something that froze the words in his throat.
Color was rising in Stokes’s lean cheeks.
Observing the phenomenon, registering Penelope tilting her head as she did the same, Barnaby eased back in his chair again, and left Stokes to her.
Raising her brows, she prompted, “Inspector?”
Stokes shot Barnaby a glance—only to see that he’d get no help from him. He was now as intrigued as Penelope. Lips thinning, Stokes cleared his throat and met Penelope’s gaze. “Miss Martin, a milliner in St. John’s Wood High Street, hails originally from the East End. I met her while investigating another crime to which she was a witness. When I approached her with our present case, Miss Martin suggested introducing me to her father—he’s lived in the area all his life, and now he’s bedridden he spends most of his days listening and talking about what’s going on around about.”
“He gave you the names?” Penelope asked.
Stokes nodded. “However, as I said, we’ve no guarantee our list will lead to your four boys.”
“But those individuals, even if they’re not connected in any way with this latest incident, are surely the most likely to have heard if someone else is actively involved in their trade. They might well be able to help us locate our villain and thus rescue the boys.”
Stokes shook his head. “No—it won’t be that easy. Consider.”
As Stokes leaned forward, Barnaby noticed that his friend was rapidly losing his reticence over interacting with Penelope; like Barnaby, he was starting to treat her as a coinvestigator.
“If we go into the East End,” Stokes continued, “and openly inquire whether any of these men are currently running a burglary school, no one will say they are,evenif they are. Instead, the instant we go away, whoever we ask will most likely send word to the men we’ve inquired about, and tell them questions are being asked. That’s how the East End operates. It’s an area that has its own rules, and by and large those rules don’t encourage interference from ouside, especially from the rozzers, as they term us. The certain upshot of us making open inquiries will be that the villains—be they the ones on our list or someone else—will hear of our interest in short order, and they’ll close up shop and move, taking the boys with them, and taking even greater care to hide their tracks.”
Sitting back, Stokes shook his head. “We’ll never catch them by asking questions.”
Frowning, Penelope replied, “I see.” She paused for only an instant before continuing, “From that I gather that you intend to go into the area in disguise, locate these men, and observe their activities from a distance—thus establishing whether they are currently running a burglary school, and if our boys are with them.”
Stokes blinked; he glanced at Barnaby, as if seeking guidance. Unsure of Penelope’s direction, Barnaby had none to give.
