The Gold Masters by Norman Russell Read Free Book Online Page A

in the morning, I want you to station yourself with field-glasses on Morgan’s Lane Pier, on the Surrey side, and watch all six launches sail under Tower Bridge. All six will have white funnels, with a red band, and a letter and numeral in black beneath the band. So there you are, Box: the details of what I hope will prove to be an efficient operation. Take those plans downstairs with you, and commit them to memory. I think that’s all. Good morning.’
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    Clutching Mackharness’s set of plans to his chest, Box shouldered his way through the doors of his office, which swung to behind him with a series of reverberating thuds. Sergeant Knollys had come in from his lodgings at Syria Wharf, and was sitting on his side of the table, his notebook open in front of him. Box took a cardboard wallet from a drawer, slid the plans into it, and tied its faded red draw-tapes.
    â€˜Well, Sergeant?’ he asked. Jack Knollys turned over a page of his book.
    â€˜Sir, Mrs Pennymint lives in a house at Brookwood, Woking. Twenty-four Charnelhouse Lane. Her husband’s a market gardener. Mr Alfred Pennymint, and Mrs Wilhelmina Pennymint. They’ve been on the rate books there for twenty-eight years.’
    â€˜Mrs Pennymint’s a cheeky lady, Sergeant. Fancy suggesting that I had an uncle called Cuthbert! What a liberty! So she’s not a native of Spitalfields?’
    â€˜No, sir. When she comes up to town for her seances, she stays with the secretary of the Temple of Light, a Mr Arthur Portman. He lives in one of those nice little houses in Henrietta Terrace, near the Strand.’
    â€˜And what did you find out about Mr Portman? He looked almost like a toff, but I don’t think he was. Very respectable, at least in the outward parts. For the inner man, of course, I can say nothing.’
    Sergeant Knollys smiled.
    â€˜Mr Arthur Portman, sir, is chief counter clerk at Peto’s Bank in the Strand. Very convenient for him, living in Henrietta Terrace. He and his wife have lived there for seventeen years. They rent the house from the Bedford Estate.’
    Peto’s Bank…. Their £ 600,000 in gold was to be moved by van down Surrey Street to Temple Pier. And Mr Arthur Portman was chief counter clerk. Box shifted uneasily in his chair. From somewhere beyond the darkness of surmise, an idea was rising, but it had not yet come into the light. And Woking….
    â€˜You know, Sergeant Knollys,’ said Box, ‘the very mention of Woking gives me the pip. All those thousands of people, and most of them dead! That necropolis at Brookwood is one of the biggest cemeteries in the country. And to make matters worse, they’ve got one of those great smoking crematoriums—’
    â€˜Crematoria.’
    â€˜Yes, that’s what I said. And then there’s the lunatic asylum…. Woking! I wouldn’t live there, Sergeant, if you was to pay me. Mrs Pennymint, though, will feel quite at home, and so will her spirit guide, Benvolio, I expect.’
    â€˜Yes, sir. And now we come to Mrs Almena Sylvestris. She lives in a very nice house in Melbourne Avenue, Belsize Park. Discreet enquiry among the neighbourhood grooms and maid-servants elicited the information that she is a genuine lady, and highly regarded by all—’
    â€˜Why all these long words, Sergeant? “Elicited”, and so on? You sound like a policeman. There’s only me here, you know. So she’s a lady – well, I could have told you that, having seen her in the flesh, if that’s not too indelicate an expression. And anywhere in Belsize Park is a good address. Single, is she?’
    â€˜She gives herself out to be a widow, and I think she probably is. I saw her alighting from her carriage, and that’s how she struck me. The local residents know that she’s a medium, but for all that – or maybe because of that – she’s highly respected.’
    Jack Knollys stopped