Chapter 6
I was broken out of my thoughts by a knocking on the door and turned to find Sergeant Peck standing there.
“Sergeant, thank you for coming. I was not expecting you till later though.”
“Just on my way to the station sir, thought I would stop in and see how you were. The lads like to know.”
“Ah yes of course. Now I wanted to see you sergeant because I don’t think this matter is concluded as yet. We have not as yet identified the source of death, those strange kegs or the marks on the wall. There is more to this matter than we have yet seen,”
The sergeant thought this over for several seconds.
“The chief Inspector said the matter was all done sir. No monster, just some huge rats off a ship from China.”
I chuckled at that.
“Well I’m sure the chief inspector will not mind me tidying up a few loose ends. Now I want to swap you to the day shift for a while. Finish early tonight and start in the afternoon tomorrow. I want you to check around and find out where those strange barrels came from. Pop down to the morgue and ask for Professor Carlyle, he is expecting you. He has a photo for you to show around.”
For a moment I thought the sergeant was suppressing a grin.
“A photo sir, very techno local sir.”
“We live in scientific time’s sergeant. So collect the photo and check around tomorrow afternoon. I will send word to the station that you are working on a case for me.”
“Right you are sir.”
He left and I was suddenly tired again. For having done nothing all day I was exhausted, my various injuries ached and I lay back on the bed to rest my eyes.
~
I woke just after dawn and lay in bed for a while, the noises of the waking hospital around me and my thoughts unfocused and confused.
Then I moved my legs to a more comfortable position and a sharp stab of pain from my knee bought me back to clarity.
My knee was the main source of pain but the stitches also ached. I was reached for the battered tin before I remembered my hip flask was empty.
I mixed a little of the powder into water but a single sip left me gagging, the taste was truly foul.
Careful of my Knee I strapped on the brace and dressed myself though as I had no plans to leave just yet I put on my waistcoat but left my jacket hanging on the door. Rather informal but I was technically a hospital patient so I doubted anyone would mind too much.
I was relaxing in the room’s single chair, looking out of the window at the bustle of traffic building up in the street outside and my thoughts far far way when there came a clatter from the corridor and the sound of Mrs Winpole cursing someone for being clumsy.
She had somehow managed to bring a full breakfast to the hospital, piping hot. Freshly squeezed grapefruit and all. The woman is truly a marvel.
She also bought a letter from my father, this had been delivered the night before by courier with instructions that it be delivered to me as quickly as possible.
I opened the letter and put it on the tray beside my plate to read as I worked my way through the feast.
Arthur.
One of the neighbours bought round a Bristol daily Broadsheet, newly delivered this morning. They
thought it would be of interest since the front page was filled with the story of our son saving the city
from a host of monstrous rats.
The story was full of wild details and what I hope was speculation, rats as tall as a man indeed.
There was also mention that you had singlehandedly defeated them. Though there was a later mention
that one of your constables was injured during the battle, so it is my hope that you were leading a
sizeable group of well armed men and not doing anything as foolish as that lone hero nonsense.
The reason I am putting pen to paper however, is your mother. She found the paper before I could hide
it and while she was full of praise for how brave you had been the last paragraph caused her great concern.
This was quoting from a source within the hospital that mentioned that you had gone to fight these
monstrous rats despite previous injuries sustained while dealing with a murderer and that you had
sustained such wounds that you were now unable to walk and were being moved around the hospital
by wheel chair like an invalid.
She was much concerned by this and very set on talking to you at the first available opportunity.
She has ever been against your career as an Inspector with the constabulary. She is strongly of the
view that it is something far below your station and hardly the job for a gentleman. For myself I am
happy to allow you to serve as you wish and I am fully aware that you serve the Queen against her
enemies much as I did with the army.
I remember well your story of the events of last year and I have many old friends who keep me well
advised of some of your more unusual cases. Your mother, however, will never understand.
She was terrified of being left at home to wait for word that I had fallen on some distant battlefield, it
was for this reason I resigned not long after your sisters birth.
Now she sees you facing the same threats and I feel that she will be most insistent, I feel the best course
would be for you to resign your role with the constabulary; she will never be at peace otherwise.
There are a great many challenges for you and I am sure you will have no lack of interests.
Oh by the way, the young lady is a fine woman and would make a good match, your mother will be most
insistent on this as well. She worries so about the fact that you are now twenty eight and yet unmarried.
The girl is from a fine family, her grandfather is navy but I served with him on a campaign many years ago.
Married life is not so bad that you must fear it and putting your mother’s mind at ease would be well worth
accepting the inevitable. Having spent some time talking with the young lady she is well educated, forthright
and has some unusual views. I am sure you would like her if you give her the time.
I would ask that you not mention this letter to your mother. I am sure she will suspect I have written but let
this be between the two of us.
Your ever loving father.
I read the letter twice then signed and folded it back into its envelope. This had been building for some time.
My mother introduced an eligible young lady at least once a year and two years ago managed no less than three. I knew in my heart it was inevitable but it was not such a great worry.
My job however, that was a different thing. My mother had ever been against it but as long as it was no more than a harmless hobby she remained silent.
I dearly loved her and did not wish to cause her pain.
Perhaps it would be for the best that this became my last case. In four years I had been badly injured four times, oh there had been countless bruises and scrapes but I have been in a hospital or under the ministrations of a doctor four times. Now in the space of a few days I had added two more to my total.
I would give this matter some thought though in my heart I knew I would not refuse my mother if she came out and demanded I resign my position.
With breakfast done I thanked Mrs Winpole and asked her to deliver a message to her husband the butler when she returned to the house. I had been in this hospital room for several days now and found myself needing a number of items, clean shirts and the like, a razor and a few other items.
There was a spare key to my home kept safe at my parent’s house so he could let himself in and I was sure that a change of clothes and a shave would leave me feeling much better.
As a final thought I also asked him to bring a bottle of good scotch, my flask had been empty since yesterday and I was feeling the need for some good scotch whiskey and another spoonful of that magical powder.
She promised that she would pass on the message and having cleaned up the remains of the breakfast left the room.
This left me at a loose end. I had nothing more on the case, my idle speculations were going in circles and I quickly became bored. The view from the window was of no more than the street and the passing of people and horse drawn vehicles did nothing to inspire me.
I called to a passing nurse to send an orderly to attend me and when one arrived I sent him out to purchase as many broadsheets, newspapers and journals as he could find. I gave him a shilling for his time and the promise of another when he returned.
I made a note to send word to my bank to have one of their men bring round some more change. My pocket was becoming somewhat empty of minor coin and I could hardly start paying for these little errands with crowns or half sovereigns.
He returned quickly, it seemed there was a cart selling a selection of broadsheets and papers outside the hospital for the convenience of visitors.
Today’s Times, yesterdays London Journal. The Bristol Mercury. A copy of this week’s Somerset County Gazette and a handful of popular journals and other such rags.
I started to throw the popular publications in the bin but then paused; the insight of the working class prints would give me a differing view on events and may contain something that my more usual papers would not contain.
I had barely started into my reading when there came a cough at the door heralding the arrival of Mr Winpole along with a fresh suit in a travel bag and a suitcase.
Shaved and properly dressed I was feeling like myself for the first time in several days. Also thanks to a double whiskey and a liberal spoonful of Carlyle’s powder my aches and pains were gone as well.
Before I set to reading the many papers and periodicals spread across my bed I called for yet another orderly and sent him to find a messenger who could carry notes from myself to various people across the city.
Again he returned quickly, most conveniently there was a telegraph office just a short distance from the hospital and they sent a young lad. Properly uniformed and eager.
I wrote several messages. One to the station to confirm I wished Sergeant Peck to be working on days for me. A second to the bank to arrange for the delivery of sufficient small coins to last me another few days. A note to Cavendish gentlemen’s outfitters. I felt my boot was ruined beyond repair and asked for them make another pair, they had my measurements. If it turned out the boot could be repaired it would make a spare for the next time I found myself in such a circumstance.
With the lad sent on his way I turned to the papers and began to find out what had been happening in the realm while I had been locked away in this hospital.
~
Sergeant peck had spent the afternoon checking with every person he could think of along the old docks, the new piers, the excise offices, the main warehouses and a few establishments that may or may not have dealt with items where the official customs seals were missing.
None had seen the like of the strange dull metal kegs thought the idea of having a photograph to show around struck a few as most strange. The fact that Sergeant Peck was the one showing them the photograph was perhaps more the cause for amusement thought they were careful not to say as much.
Finally as the light began to fade he returned to the station. It seemed most unusual to be heading to the station with the setting sun to finish a working day rather than to start one. The station was busy, the day shift reporting back and the night shift getting ready to head out.
In addition to the constables there was something of a press of rough looking men and a few street women in scanty clothing. Spotting one of the day shift sergeants Peck walked over to ask what this was all about.
It turned out that there had been a raid on a tavern, looking for stolen goods. In the process of the search there had been a scuffle and Inspector Alderman had ordered the entire tavern be arrested. Now the two day shift sergeants and the station sergeant were trying to sort out the mess, assign some sort of charge or send them on their way.
Sergeant Townsend noticed the folder Peck was carrying. “Not your usual Peck my boy, you turning into an inspector?” There was a chuckle behind that but it was light hearted. Townsend was something of a bully to the constables under him but he knew where the line was, he had been one of those who helped clean up after that incident in the warehouse last year.
Peck opened the folder and took out the photograph. “Techno local policing, that’s what Inspector Thorn calls it.”
Townsend looked at the photograph and shrugged.
Out of the corner of his eye Peck caught a movement. One of the men standing against the wall waiting to be processed had been looking at the photograph and had suddenly turned away and ducked his head. To an experience constable like Sergeant Peck this was a red rag to a bull and he spun on his heel and pointed to the man who was now trying to push his way deeper into the crowd.
“You! Yes you with the ears, over here and be quick about it.”
The man pretended not to hear and tried to push several other men aside, they blocked him by pushing themselves against the wall further away from that pointing finger.
Sergeant Peck waved several constables over with his other hand and they grabbed the man Peck was pointing at, hauling him roughly across the room to stand in front of the two sergeants.
Peck held the photograph toward the man.
“You recognize this?”
“No, no. Never seen it before in my life. Honest guv, on me mums grave. Never seen it before.”
The two constables holding him were both young but even to their ears he was lying. Peck and Townsend could read the man like a book.
Townsend asked “That picture to do with Inspector Thorns case Sergeant Peck?”
Peck nodded, still looking hard at the now quivering man held upright by the two constables.
“Tea room should be empty, nice and quiet with the door closed. If you want to ask any”, Townsend paused dramatically, “loud questions.”
I was broken out of my thoughts by a knocking on the door and turned to find Sergeant Peck standing there.
“Sergeant, thank you for coming. I was not expecting you till later though.”
“Just on my way to the station sir, thought I would stop in and see how you were. The lads like to know.”
“Ah yes of course. Now I wanted to see you sergeant because I don’t think this matter is concluded as yet. We have not as yet identified the source of death, those strange kegs or the marks on the wall. There is more to this matter than we have yet seen,”
The sergeant thought this over for several seconds.
“The chief Inspector said the matter was all done sir. No monster, just some huge rats off a ship from China.”
I chuckled at that.
“Well I’m sure the chief inspector will not mind me tidying up a few loose ends. Now I want to swap you to the day shift for a while. Finish early tonight and start in the afternoon tomorrow. I want you to check around and find out where those strange barrels came from. Pop down to the morgue and ask for Professor Carlyle, he is expecting you. He has a photo for you to show around.”
For a moment I thought the sergeant was suppressing a grin.
“A photo sir, very techno local sir.”
“We live in scientific time’s sergeant. So collect the photo and check around tomorrow afternoon. I will send word to the station that you are working on a case for me.”
“Right you are sir.”
He left and I was suddenly tired again. For having done nothing all day I was exhausted, my various injuries ached and I lay back on the bed to rest my eyes.
~
I woke just after dawn and lay in bed for a while, the noises of the waking hospital around me and my thoughts unfocused and confused.
Then I moved my legs to a more comfortable position and a sharp stab of pain from my knee bought me back to clarity.
My knee was the main source of pain but the stitches also ached. I was reached for the battered tin before I remembered my hip flask was empty.
I mixed a little of the powder into water but a single sip left me gagging, the taste was truly foul.
Careful of my Knee I strapped on the brace and dressed myself though as I had no plans to leave just yet I put on my waistcoat but left my jacket hanging on the door. Rather informal but I was technically a hospital patient so I doubted anyone would mind too much.
I was relaxing in the room’s single chair, looking out of the window at the bustle of traffic building up in the street outside and my thoughts far far way when there came a clatter from the corridor and the sound of Mrs Winpole cursing someone for being clumsy.
She had somehow managed to bring a full breakfast to the hospital, piping hot. Freshly squeezed grapefruit and all. The woman is truly a marvel.
She also bought a letter from my father, this had been delivered the night before by courier with instructions that it be delivered to me as quickly as possible.
I opened the letter and put it on the tray beside my plate to read as I worked my way through the feast.
Arthur.
One of the neighbours bought round a Bristol daily Broadsheet, newly delivered this morning. They
thought it would be of interest since the front page was filled with the story of our son saving the city
from a host of monstrous rats.
The story was full of wild details and what I hope was speculation, rats as tall as a man indeed.
There was also mention that you had singlehandedly defeated them. Though there was a later mention
that one of your constables was injured during the battle, so it is my hope that you were leading a
sizeable group of well armed men and not doing anything as foolish as that lone hero nonsense.
The reason I am putting pen to paper however, is your mother. She found the paper before I could hide
it and while she was full of praise for how brave you had been the last paragraph caused her great concern.
This was quoting from a source within the hospital that mentioned that you had gone to fight these
monstrous rats despite previous injuries sustained while dealing with a murderer and that you had
sustained such wounds that you were now unable to walk and were being moved around the hospital
by wheel chair like an invalid.
She was much concerned by this and very set on talking to you at the first available opportunity.
She has ever been against your career as an Inspector with the constabulary. She is strongly of the
view that it is something far below your station and hardly the job for a gentleman. For myself I am
happy to allow you to serve as you wish and I am fully aware that you serve the Queen against her
enemies much as I did with the army.
I remember well your story of the events of last year and I have many old friends who keep me well
advised of some of your more unusual cases. Your mother, however, will never understand.
She was terrified of being left at home to wait for word that I had fallen on some distant battlefield, it
was for this reason I resigned not long after your sisters birth.
Now she sees you facing the same threats and I feel that she will be most insistent, I feel the best course
would be for you to resign your role with the constabulary; she will never be at peace otherwise.
There are a great many challenges for you and I am sure you will have no lack of interests.
Oh by the way, the young lady is a fine woman and would make a good match, your mother will be most
insistent on this as well. She worries so about the fact that you are now twenty eight and yet unmarried.
The girl is from a fine family, her grandfather is navy but I served with him on a campaign many years ago.
Married life is not so bad that you must fear it and putting your mother’s mind at ease would be well worth
accepting the inevitable. Having spent some time talking with the young lady she is well educated, forthright
and has some unusual views. I am sure you would like her if you give her the time.
I would ask that you not mention this letter to your mother. I am sure she will suspect I have written but let
this be between the two of us.
Your ever loving father.
I read the letter twice then signed and folded it back into its envelope. This had been building for some time.
My mother introduced an eligible young lady at least once a year and two years ago managed no less than three. I knew in my heart it was inevitable but it was not such a great worry.
My job however, that was a different thing. My mother had ever been against it but as long as it was no more than a harmless hobby she remained silent.
I dearly loved her and did not wish to cause her pain.
Perhaps it would be for the best that this became my last case. In four years I had been badly injured four times, oh there had been countless bruises and scrapes but I have been in a hospital or under the ministrations of a doctor four times. Now in the space of a few days I had added two more to my total.
I would give this matter some thought though in my heart I knew I would not refuse my mother if she came out and demanded I resign my position.
With breakfast done I thanked Mrs Winpole and asked her to deliver a message to her husband the butler when she returned to the house. I had been in this hospital room for several days now and found myself needing a number of items, clean shirts and the like, a razor and a few other items.
There was a spare key to my home kept safe at my parent’s house so he could let himself in and I was sure that a change of clothes and a shave would leave me feeling much better.
As a final thought I also asked him to bring a bottle of good scotch, my flask had been empty since yesterday and I was feeling the need for some good scotch whiskey and another spoonful of that magical powder.
She promised that she would pass on the message and having cleaned up the remains of the breakfast left the room.
This left me at a loose end. I had nothing more on the case, my idle speculations were going in circles and I quickly became bored. The view from the window was of no more than the street and the passing of people and horse drawn vehicles did nothing to inspire me.
I called to a passing nurse to send an orderly to attend me and when one arrived I sent him out to purchase as many broadsheets, newspapers and journals as he could find. I gave him a shilling for his time and the promise of another when he returned.
I made a note to send word to my bank to have one of their men bring round some more change. My pocket was becoming somewhat empty of minor coin and I could hardly start paying for these little errands with crowns or half sovereigns.
He returned quickly, it seemed there was a cart selling a selection of broadsheets and papers outside the hospital for the convenience of visitors.
Today’s Times, yesterdays London Journal. The Bristol Mercury. A copy of this week’s Somerset County Gazette and a handful of popular journals and other such rags.
I started to throw the popular publications in the bin but then paused; the insight of the working class prints would give me a differing view on events and may contain something that my more usual papers would not contain.
I had barely started into my reading when there came a cough at the door heralding the arrival of Mr Winpole along with a fresh suit in a travel bag and a suitcase.
Shaved and properly dressed I was feeling like myself for the first time in several days. Also thanks to a double whiskey and a liberal spoonful of Carlyle’s powder my aches and pains were gone as well.
Before I set to reading the many papers and periodicals spread across my bed I called for yet another orderly and sent him to find a messenger who could carry notes from myself to various people across the city.
Again he returned quickly, most conveniently there was a telegraph office just a short distance from the hospital and they sent a young lad. Properly uniformed and eager.
I wrote several messages. One to the station to confirm I wished Sergeant Peck to be working on days for me. A second to the bank to arrange for the delivery of sufficient small coins to last me another few days. A note to Cavendish gentlemen’s outfitters. I felt my boot was ruined beyond repair and asked for them make another pair, they had my measurements. If it turned out the boot could be repaired it would make a spare for the next time I found myself in such a circumstance.
With the lad sent on his way I turned to the papers and began to find out what had been happening in the realm while I had been locked away in this hospital.
~
Sergeant peck had spent the afternoon checking with every person he could think of along the old docks, the new piers, the excise offices, the main warehouses and a few establishments that may or may not have dealt with items where the official customs seals were missing.
None had seen the like of the strange dull metal kegs thought the idea of having a photograph to show around struck a few as most strange. The fact that Sergeant Peck was the one showing them the photograph was perhaps more the cause for amusement thought they were careful not to say as much.
Finally as the light began to fade he returned to the station. It seemed most unusual to be heading to the station with the setting sun to finish a working day rather than to start one. The station was busy, the day shift reporting back and the night shift getting ready to head out.
In addition to the constables there was something of a press of rough looking men and a few street women in scanty clothing. Spotting one of the day shift sergeants Peck walked over to ask what this was all about.
It turned out that there had been a raid on a tavern, looking for stolen goods. In the process of the search there had been a scuffle and Inspector Alderman had ordered the entire tavern be arrested. Now the two day shift sergeants and the station sergeant were trying to sort out the mess, assign some sort of charge or send them on their way.
Sergeant Townsend noticed the folder Peck was carrying. “Not your usual Peck my boy, you turning into an inspector?” There was a chuckle behind that but it was light hearted. Townsend was something of a bully to the constables under him but he knew where the line was, he had been one of those who helped clean up after that incident in the warehouse last year.
Peck opened the folder and took out the photograph. “Techno local policing, that’s what Inspector Thorn calls it.”
Townsend looked at the photograph and shrugged.
Out of the corner of his eye Peck caught a movement. One of the men standing against the wall waiting to be processed had been looking at the photograph and had suddenly turned away and ducked his head. To an experience constable like Sergeant Peck this was a red rag to a bull and he spun on his heel and pointed to the man who was now trying to push his way deeper into the crowd.
“You! Yes you with the ears, over here and be quick about it.”
The man pretended not to hear and tried to push several other men aside, they blocked him by pushing themselves against the wall further away from that pointing finger.
Sergeant Peck waved several constables over with his other hand and they grabbed the man Peck was pointing at, hauling him roughly across the room to stand in front of the two sergeants.
Peck held the photograph toward the man.
“You recognize this?”
“No, no. Never seen it before in my life. Honest guv, on me mums grave. Never seen it before.”
The two constables holding him were both young but even to their ears he was lying. Peck and Townsend could read the man like a book.
Townsend asked “That picture to do with Inspector Thorns case Sergeant Peck?”
Peck nodded, still looking hard at the now quivering man held upright by the two constables.
“Tea room should be empty, nice and quiet with the door closed. If you want to ask any”, Townsend paused dramatically, “loud questions.”