Person or Persons Unknown by Bruce Alexander Read Free Book Online Page A

learned from her tallies with what I have heard from the woman with whom I just spoke. Her name is Maggie Pratt. She was well acquainted with the victim, whose name she gave us as Teresa O’Reilly. Thus the victim is indeed Irish, as your Mrs. Crewton guessed. The Pratt woman — she is hardly more than a girl — tells us she saw Teresa O’Reilly in conversation in Duke’s Court with a soldier, a red-coated Grenadier Guard from the Tower not long before Mr. Tillbury discovered the body and gave the alarum. It could well be that the victim, pursued by the
    soldier, left Duke’s Court and proceeded down the alley where the two had their final altercation. What was it that was heard by your witness, Jeremy? ‘Not with the likes of you.’ That, too, fits well, for the Irish — particularly the rural Irish — have no love for red-coated English soldiers. She, perhaps from some personal experience, may have had some special animosity against them, may have refused him, said something of the sort your Mrs. Crewton overheard. The soldier, presumably drunk, may then have stabbed her in anger. And having stabbed her, hid the body, hoping at least to delay the discovery. You see, Jeremy? It all fits right snug, does it not?”
    “Indeed it does,” said I.
    “Maggie Pratt has consented to review the troops at the Tower on the morrow,” said Sir John. “She seems to look forward to it, rather, for she says she got a good look at the fellow and would have justice done.”
    Having delivered the letter which I had taken in dictation from Sir John, I returned from the Tower of London in a baffled and uncertain state, unable to give absolute assurance that it would truly reach him to whom it was addressed that same night. I had certainly tried my best. Walking boldly to the gate to which I’d been directed, I had asked to be admitted that I might deliver a letter to Captain Conger, acting colonel of the regiment. The guard at the gate told me then in a most indifferent manner to come back with it next day. I had then said I would not, for the letter was from none other than Sir John Fielding, Magistrate of the Bow Street Court. He remained unimpressed until I shouted loud as I could that a woman had been murdered, and a Grenadier Guard was suspected. That brought out the corporal of the guard who, though he would not admit me, did solemnly promise to put the letter in the hands of Captain Conger. I left then, knowing I could do no better than that, convinced also that had I worn the red waistcoat and carried the crested club of a Bow Street Runner, I should have been given direct admittance to the presence of the acting colonel.
    So there was I, returned at last to Number 4 Bow Street. Though I was embarrassed by my failure to get beyond the Tower gate, I felt that Sir John would surely understand — as indeed he did. And I was quite famished, having eaten nothing but an apple or two since breakfast. Yet a surprise awaited me above which delayed my dinner further.
    I waved my greeting to Mr. Baker, keeper of the strong room, as I made for the stairs.
    He called to me: “Sir John has a visitor.”
    “Oh? Who is that?”
    “You know the fellow better than I… a medico… Irish. He helped on that Goodhope matter.”
    “Mr. Donnelly!”
    “That’s the name. I sent him direct upstairs, for I remembered he was well known to the Beak.”
    “And to me, as well,” said I exuberantly, as I jumped upon the stairs and started up them two at a time.
    Indeed Gabriel Donnelly was well known to me. I had counted him a friend when first I came to London, for as I well recalled, he had taken a sincere interest in me when I was but a raw youth — no more than a boy — of thirteen. As for Sir John, he had said he would ever be grateful to Mr. Donnelly for the manner in which he eased the last days of the first Lady Fielding.
    In my eagerness, I burst in upon them, for all were seated round the kitchen table. Yet at the last moment I