The Unbelievers (4 page)

Warner came over and stood in front of one of the chairs.

“What's this all about? I haven't done nothing wrong.”

“Take a seat please, Mr Warner, this is just a private conversation.”

Warner sat on the edge of the easy chair.

“You can't get me for anything. I've done my time.”

“We don't want to ‘get' you, Mr Warner. We just want to ask a few questions to help put our minds at rest about the Duke's safety. The Duchess has asked us to make enquiries.”

“All right then.”

Allerdyce unbuttoned his coat and took his notebook out of his jacket pocket.

“Mr Warner, would I be correct in assuming that, of all the servants at Dalcorn House, you are the one with the closest knowledge of His Grace's comings and goings?”

“Yes.”

“When did you last see your employer?”

Warner paused for a second.

“Thursday evening. About quarter past seven o'clock. I had assisted His Grace in dressing for dinner, and laid out his bedclothes, and he dismissed me for the night.”

“In what frame of mind was he?”

“Irritable. Quite normal.”

“Can you think of any particular reason for his irritation?”

“His Grace has a quick temper with servants and women. He was annoyed that in inserting his collar stud I had pinched the skin on the back of his neck.”

“Is that all? Had anything else happened during the course of the day to vex him, or to explain why he should choose to absent himself for three nights?”

“No.” Warner's gaze shifted between the two policemen.

“Are you certain, Mr Warner? If your employer has come to any harm you may be invited to testify under oath in court. You wouldn't want to have been found to have withheld evidence, would you?”

“Do you think he's come to harm?”

“I didn't say so, Mr Warner, but I strongly advise you to tell us anything which may help us to find out.”

Warner paused again before answering.

“There's one thing, but I don't think it's worth mentioning.”

“Go on.”

“A telegram arrived for him late in the afternoon which appeared to excite him somewhat.”

“What did the telegram say?”

“I don't know. It arrived for him in a sealed envelope from the telegraph office, and I handed it to him unopened.”

“What effect did it have on him?”

“A slightly queer effect. I saw him flush quite red and mop his forehead with his handkerchief as he leant against the mantelpiece of his study. He asked me to leave him.”

“Do you have any idea who may have sent the telegram?”

“I said it was sealed. I don't know who it was from or what it said.”

“Very interesting. And after the Duke dismissed you on Thursday evening when did you next look for him?”

Warner rubbed his chin and glanced at the floor before answering.

“On Friday morning at eight o'clock. I brought hot water and towels for shaving to his dressing room, then knocked on the door of his bedroom to inform him that I had done so. On hearing no answer I entered the bedroom to check whether he was present, and whether he had any needs.”

“And, needless to say, he was not there.”

“No.”

“Were you surprised, Mr Warner?”

“No.”

“Why not?”

“His Grace from time to time has pressing matters of business which require him, at short notice, to spend a night away from home.”

“And you assumed that this was one such night.”

“Yes.”

“Did you think the telegram might be associated with his absence?”

“I don't know. I've told you, I don't know what was in it.”

“And, Mr Warner, what do you know of the business which typically requires the Duke's sudden absence?”

Warner stood up.

“I don't know. I don't have to talk to you unless you have a signed warrant from a JP, do I?”

“No, this conversation is purely voluntary but it may be in your interests to assist us.”

McGillivray stood up, towering over the valet. Warner walked over to the window. As he did so the sergeant stayed close to him, between the valet and the door.

Warner stared out at the parkland for a minute, then turned back to face the Inspector.

“Would you believe me if I said I knew nothing about the Duke's night visits to town?”

“No,” said Allerdyce.

“But if I tell you anything I'll get sacked. I'll be thrown out with no character reference. I'd never be able to make an honest living again.”

“Please, Mr Warner, sit down again. We have no interest in prejudicing your position. We are already aware from another party that the Duke has some sporting interests and some friends in the city that he likes to visit at night. We simply need some assistance in making enquiries at the places which he may have visited over the past three nights so that we can assure the Duchess of his safety. Can you tell us where these places are?”

“I could. But you'd never get in if they didn't know you. And if they smelled copper they'd knife you.”

“Could you introduce us to these places, Mr Warner?”

“What's in it for me? They'd knife me if they knew I was introducing peelers.”

“We might be able to offer an incentive. The Police Benevolent Fund could possibly stretch to £2.”

“That's more interesting. But what if I don't?”

“There's a very large file of unsolved crimes in the basement of the City of Edinburgh Police headquarters. We also have an equally large file of known criminals, including former convicts whose sentences have been discharged. I'm sure we could find a crime which fits your skills perfectly.”

“I'm sorry Margaret, I have to go.”

Margaret Allerdyce held baby Stephen to her shoulder, patting him gently on the back to help him release the trapped wind which was making him crotchety.

“You were out last night. You worked most of today. Now you're out again?”

“It's my duty Margaret. I have to.”

“And what's so important that you have to spend Sunday night away from your family.”

“It's a missing person. Quite an important one.”

“Missing person? You didn't come to church with us this morning, you didn't get back from the Police Office until four o'clock, and now you're away again. Someone's more missing than that?”

“I don't want to go out. I'd stay at home if I could.”

Margaret sighed and the baby gurgled.

“I know you would. I'm sorry. I just miss you. When do you think you'll be back?”

“I don't know. It could be quite late.”

“If it's after ten o'clock I'd be grateful if you slept on the couch in the parlour. I'll have Millie make it up for you. The doctor's told me I need my rest, so I'd prefer not to be woken. I'm sorry.”

“All right then.”

“And Archibald, please look after yourself.”

“I will.”

She kissed him gently on the cheek. The baby started to cry again and Margaret turned away. Allerdyce watched as she slowly climbed the stairs, clutching the banister as if her legs didn't even have the strength to carry her frail body up to the landing.

Every day of his seven year marriage to Margaret he'd felt an impermanence, as if she might be torn away from him at any moment. Sometimes he'd almost persuaded himself that this was an irrationality, that she was young and healthy and he had no reason to fear. But now, watching how painfully slowly she was regaining her strength after the baby's birth, he knew it was permanance that was the illusion. In a vast, cold, chaotic universe of unimaginable force there was no reason why she shouldn't be carried off on any arbitrary day or hour, as suddenly and cruelly as Helen.

He also knew – and this chilled him even as he was pulling on his overcoat – that it would hurt less this time. There was something in him which had frozen on that winter's day in the cemetery, when he'd said his farewells to his first wife and to the God who'd let her die. Yes, he could say he loved Margaret and the children but there was some part of him, the part that had felt the keenest joy and the deepest sorrow, that had gone. He wished – he almost prayed – that he could feel the pain again, so that he could be released from a life of duty back into the agonies of love.

But right now, tonight, his duty was absolute. Find the Duke or face the consequences.

He opened the door and stepped onto the gas-lit pavement, pulling up his collar and turning his steps towards the East End.

Warner had chosen the Black Bull as a meeting place. It was set into cellars at the foot of Calton Hill, the darkness of the street made more profound by the great archway above it which carried the broad highway of Waterloo Place eastwards.

Allerdyce had to take his hat off to get through the low door. He'd left the bowler at home in preference for a shabby top-hat which he hoped would make him look like a gentleman who was out for an evening of dissolution. He'd put a black cloak on over his dark suit.

As he went down the steps into the public house he was assaulted by the stench of smoke, beer, whisky and vomit. He felt his boots sink into the damp sawdust on the floor.

He scanned the room, straining to see in the feeble light of the few gas jets which were set into the wall. The cellar was divided into high-sided wooden booths so that customers could conduct their business, whether criminal or sexual, in private. On the far side of the room, his eyes were drawn to the vast white bosom which spilled from the décolletage of the middle-aged landlady.

He looked into the first booth, where four men sat playing cards, with stacks of coins and a bottle of whisky on the table. One of them looked up at him and folded his hand of cards shut.

“Jesus, Inspector, what are you doing here?”

Allerdyce recognised ‘Sharp' Blaikie, who he'd had to arrest three times for running illegal gambling a bit too openly.

“Nothing that need concern you, Mr Blaikie.”

“I'm playing an honest game, Inspector. 52 cards to the pack, each and every one of them different. You can check them if you like.”

“And I suppose the money on the table is just to buy the next round of drinks?”

“That's exactly right, Inspector.”

“All right then, Blaikie, I never saw you here tonight.”

“God bless you, sir.”

Allerdyce looked into the next booth, where two young women in fashionable dresses were sitting with two men in evening dress. One of the women was vigorously kissing her man, while even in the dim lamplight Allerdyce could see her hand reaching into his trouser pocket for his wallet. The other took a swig from the bottle of champagne on the table with one hand while the other hand was hidden inside the fly-buttons of her partner, who lay back staring at the ceiling and groaning quietly. She looked round.

“Here, what are you staring at, you dirty bugger? Fuck off out of here.”

“My apologies, madam.”

He moved onto the next booth, and was relieved to see Warner and McGillivray already sat there, a pitcher of beer between them. The valet was still in the same clothes he'd been wearing earlier, minus the collar and tie. The sergeant was dressed as an artisan, wearing a blue canvas jacket over a collarless shirt of striped calico, and a red silk kerchief round his neck.

Allerdyce sat down on the wooden bench and Warner poured him a glass of beer.

“I'd drink to your good health,” said Warner, “if I thought I could guarantee it tonight.”

Warner looked the Inspector up and down.

“You'll do. You don't look too obviously like a pig, and your man looks all right. You'll be safe enough here, which is why I chose it. But you're going to have to be very careful in some of the places we're going to.”

“Mr Warner has just been explaining the circumstances of his employment with the Duke,” said McGillivray.

“I'm a good valet,” said Warner. “I do my job as well as any man. But that wasn't entirely why the Duke appointed me.”

“Go on,” said Allerdyce, taking a mouthful of the bitter brown beer.

“He was looking for someone who could show him places that excited him, and arrange for him to meet people who could oblige his needs. He wanted me because I know my way around.”

“Meaning?”

“Look, Inspector, you already know I've been in trouble. I used to manage the business interests of some ladies of pleasure – I did it fairly and the ladies were well rewarded for their work, but it's the sort of thing the law doesn't like. It's an enterprise where you learn all sorts of things about where to find your enjoyments in the city, and about the people who are looking for them. The Duke learnt that a friend of his was employing me as a valet, and that I was discreetly helping his friend to meet his needs. So he offered me more money than his friend was prepared to pay, and I went to work for him.”

“So, you're his accomplice in his visits to Edinburgh on ‘urgent business'? Why weren't you with him on Thursday night?”

“I don't have to be. I've shown him where to go, and now he's known in these places he can go when he likes. He doesn't need me unless I find out about some new entertainment he might enjoy, or unless he wants me to procure company for him and arrange a private appointment.”

“So, you're going to take us to the places he frequents and maybe we'll find him?”

“I don't know, Inspector. It's not like him to go on a bender for three nights. You might find someone who's seen him, but I don't think you're going to find the Duke.”

Allerdyce drained his beer and wiped his mouth with his handkerchief.

“The quicker we get going the better chance we may have of finding him,” he said.

“All right then. But don't forget I'm taking a risk. I could get chivved for being with you. I need the two guineas you promised me, payment in advance.”

“It's two pounds Warner, and cash on delivery. You get paid when we've found the Duke, or found out what's happened to him.”

“Bloody hell, you peelers are the biggest crooks around.”

The three of them shared a cab down Leith Walk, Allerdyce and Warner crammed on either side of the sergeant's bulk. The driver stopped at the Foot of the Walk, where the broad thoroughfare stopped and narrow lanes led between warehouses and tenements towards the dockyards.

The driver opened the sliding hatch into the cab's interior.

“I don't go beyond here at night,” he said. “You'll have to walk.”

Allerdyce paid him and stepped out into the cold. Down here, close to the sea, the gaslights struggled to shine through a damp mist.

“All right,” said Warner, “here's the deal. I can get you into the Duke's favourite places, but I can't stay in there with you. If the Duke sees me with you I'm fired, and if your cover's blown I could be dead. What's your cover story?”

“I'm the manager of a brewery out looking for some sport, and the sergeant here is one of my draymen whom I've brought along for protection.”

“That'll have to do, but watch your backs.”

They crossed the road and went down a narrow lane which descended gently. They passed closed shops, and public houses from which singing and fighting could be heard. A drunk staggered out from the door of one of them and barged into Allerdyce, staring at him with confused hostility until the sergeant pushed the man out of the way and he tumbled helplessly to the ground. Soon, the dark bulk of the parish church of South Leith crouched against the night to their right, and Allerdyce heard the shrieking of drunken women from the graveyard. As he walked further into the darkness he clung to the knowledge that every pace was bringing him marginally closer to Royal Burgh of Leith police station, at Queen Charlotte Street.

“Down here,” said Warner, indicating a darker, narrower lane which led off to the left.

Allerdyce followed the valet. The lane led away from safety in the direction of the Water of Leith, the filthy river which ebbed, near-stagnant, into the docks, bearing the effluent of the mills which had exhausted its power. Even here, Allerdyce could smell its sulphurous miasma, unless the smell was coming from the tenements which crowded four storeys above him, linked by washing lines from which sheets and rags hung limply in the night. As they walked along, he noticed that some of the windows of the crowded houses still had glass, while others were blocked up with paper or the wood from packing cases.

There were plenty of slums in the City of Edinburgh, and Allerdyce was familiar with every close and rookery of them. But here, across the Leith town boundary and in another jurisdiction, everything was tinged with alienness. His instinct for what streets a man could walk down in relative safety was disoriented, and when he looked at a passing rough he couldn't know whether he was a wanted criminal, a trusted informer, or simply a working man making his way home from the public house.

Warner turned right into a narrow close. Allerdyce and McGillivray followed him down the narrow passage into a courtyard, surrounded by tall buildings on each side. A low building, with a brightly-lit door, jutted into the courtyard from the far side.

“McGuigan's Sporting Arena,” said Warner. “It's worth a try.”

Warner spoke to the rough on the door and returned to the policemen.

“All right, you're in. It's a shilling each, payable at the door, and you'll be expected to buy a drink. And don't forget you're not looking for the Duke of Dornoch. He travels under the name of Willie Burns when he's in town at night.”

“Well, Sergeant,” said Allerdyce, “will you come with me? I needn't remind you of the circumstances of your predecessor's dismissal.”