The Thief-Taker : Memoirs of a Bow Street Runner by T.F. Banks Read Free Book Online Page B

bowing to Darley.

    Out on the walk, as they awaited their carriage, Sir Charles Carey turned on Morton.
    “You know perfectly well, Mr. Morton, that the lords of the King's Bench do not approve of idle inquests!”
    “I saw that man within a quarter hour of his death, sir, and he did not die of choking.”
    “A doctor examined him before you, sir,” the coroner fumed. “And you would have me hire another to draw the same conclusion. I will not do it.”
    “So it is about your expenses, is that it?”
    Sir Charles balled his hands up into tight little fists and his face turned suddenly red. “And can you guarantee me, sir, that at the end of quarter sessions I will be reimbursed for the expense of hiring a surgeon? No, sir, you cannot. The Chief Justice will scrawl needless over the writ, and I shall be out of pocket every shilling of it. Would you care to pay for it yourself?”
    “Gentlemen, enough!” Sir Nathaniel glared at his two companions until they fell silent. Then he said: “There will be no inquest, and no investigation of this death.”
    The two men looked at him, their expressions in stark contrast.
    “You have no evidence, Mr. Morton. Glendinning's constitution was delicate, he drank too much, perhaps in reaction to the earlier events of the day, and he died. If we investigated every man who died of drink in London we should do little else. No, we will chase this no further. His family have sorrow enough.”
    “They are trying to protect his character,” objectedMorton. “They don't want it known that he was at the Otter—”
    “That is probably so,” Sir Nathaniel interrupted. “Would you? I expect their fine Halbert was something of a bounder. It is enough that they shall have to live with this knowledge; there is little need for the world to know.”
    Their carriage drew up and Carey climbed in, smiling in triumph.
    “Nonetheless, I think a brief visit to—”
    “You shall do nothing of the sort, Mr. Morton! That is all I have to say on the matter, sir. Devote your energies to that theft of antiquities from Burlington House.”
    Morton's impatience with the previous interview boiled over, and he replied with poorly judged asperity.
    “There is no point in any further investigation into that particular matter. The thieves have the goods secured. As I have explained before, there are very few ways for them to make a profit on such unusual material. They, or their fence, will have to sell it back to the owner. There is nothing for us to do but wait for them to make contact, place a notice in the newspaper, or use some other familiar device. I have no appetite for more fruitless digging in the cold ashes of this crime.”
    It was the second time that day Morton had refused to cooperate with his Magistrate. Sir Nathaniel turned on him.
    “You have no appetite for it? You will develop the taste, sir, and I'll thank you not to speak back to me in this manner!”
    Sir Nathaniel climbed into the carriage beside Sir Charles and pulled the door sharply closed behind him, leaving Morton standing by the kerb as the coach jounced once, then went deliberately on its way.

Chapter 7
    Y ou may begin by admitting I was right,” Arabella said as she caught sight of Morton in her mirror. He had just let himself into her dressing cabinet backstage at the Drury Lane Theatre. She continued applying her face powder with studied care.
    “You were undoubtedly right, Mrs. Malibrant,” Morton said mildly. “About what, pray?”
    Arabella smiled, but then recomposed her face. “Do not try your charm on me, Henry Morton. You doubted me, and should not have. Is that not what you have come to say?”
    “I never doubted you for a moment,” Morton said, pulling up a joint-stool. “You are never wrong. Not even the time you had me nab the footman for stealing Lady Ellington's bracelet. He just did not have it in his possession at that moment—or ever, if my memory serves.”
    “I do not claim always to be