Don Gutteridge - The Bishop's Pawn

“I’ve learned a bit more about that incidentmyself,” Marc said, but the import of his remark did nothing tostall Brodie’s determined narrative.

“Anyway, we left right after that, so Icouldn’t pursue the matter further, though I’m sure it’s importantsomehow. But it’s what happened outside that’s mostinteresting.”

“Where you were assaulted?”

“Marvin and Todd and Carleton stopped on theverandah to light their cigars, and I deked around to the side ofhouse to take a leak. I’d just finished when two hulking creaturesstepped out of the shadows. I caught a fist on this cheek and wentdown before I could blink. I lay there senseless and unable to callfor help. I braced myself for more blows. But they didn’tcome.”

“Your friends arrived?”

“Not yet, no. The biggest fellow leaned downand said to me in a horrible whisper, ‘We been askt to bring you amessage, Mr. Langford. Get outta town tomorrow, an’ don’t comeback.’ If there was more I didn’t get to hear it because my chumscame running around the corner, and the goons took off.”

“Well, there’s no doubt that you and I havestirred up a hornet’s nest. And the queen bees are on to our game,alas. I think that we had better stay together for the rest of ourtime here. I’ll have to take you along to Eliza’s with me tomorrowmorning.”

“The beauty you courted back in Toronto?”

Marc smiled. “I’ll tell you everything in themorning.”

***

Although many different emotions registered inBrodie’s face as Marc retold the story of what had actuallyhappened to his guardian on that fateful day fifteen months ago,his principal response was relief. To Brodie, the man who had lovedDennis Langford and helped raise his son and daughter, who had readthem fantastic tales and epic poems, who had suffered with themthrough their childhood illnesses – such a man could never havecaused bodily harm to any fellow human. And Brodie’s boyish faithhad now been shown to have been justified.

While they ate a late breakfast and mulledover the events of the previous evening, Marc called the porter totheir table and asked him to have a taxicab brought to the door atten-thirty. They would drive, together, to Eliza’s place. Brodiewas curious about this mysterious lady from Marc’s past, so Marcobliged him by recounting, in a bowdlerized version, the tale oftheir brief but passionate relationship in the winter and spring of1836. He had not seen or heard from her since she and her UncleSebastian had left Toronto abruptly in June of that year for NewYork City, where they were to set up a branch of the family’sbusiness: importing and exporting wines. Eliza Dewart-Smythe was asintelligent, knowledgeable and commercially astute as she wasbeautiful.

“And just how serious were you about thisparagon?” Brodie asked as he drained his coffee and peered over therim at Marc.

“Well, I did propose to her once.”

“And she turned you down?”

“She threw me over for life in the bigcity.”

***

For Constable Cobb, Tuesday was going to be a day notmuch better than Monday had been. In mid-morning, he had left hisheadquarters at The Crooked Anchor and walked over to Briar Cottageto take a gander at Beth’s babe, which had arrived, as usual, inthe middle of the night – disrupting his sleep as Dora rolledthoughtlessly over him in her haste to heed Charlene’s call for themidwife. But when he reached the front stoop, he was nearly sweptaway by the din of excited and very female voices from inside.Every woman within three blocks must have congregated to offertheir assistance, show solidarity in their common cause, and gatherfodder for subsequent social discourse. He could hear Dora’sauthoritative bellow above the other hen-babble, and that more thananything precipitated his immediate flight. (When he had suggestedat breakfast that he’d like to inspect the new arrival, asleepy-eyed Dora had snorted, “You better wait a while, thatblazin’ beak of yours might scare the wee thing out of a year’sgrowth!”)

So Cobb had then made the rounds of the othertaverns he regularly patronized, in hopes of meeting up with one ofhis snitches who might have information to sell regarding ReubenEpp or for that matter anything useful about the poor-box thefts atSt. James. Except for the solace of a few flagons of ale and a fishpie at lunch, however, the effort had proved fruitless. Even hissnitches had gone to ground. He did manage to get some satisfactionlater on when he upbraided a drover for whipping his ailing horsein front of Smallman’s and a dozen appalled ladies. And, Olucky day, the fellow had had the impertinence to backtalk a minionof the law and then take a swing at his helmet. After which, to thecheers of the nearby chatelaines and the approval of the beast, hehad deployed the horsewhip on the villain’s backside.

It was sometime in the middle of theafternoon when the idea struck him: if he couldn’t resolve themystery of who had aided and abetted Reuben Epp, then by God hewould find out what was going on at St. James. That the Poor Boxhad been rifled – twice – was one fact. That someone haddeliberately, in the night, done the rifling was another. And thatConstance herself was up to no good was a safe assumption. Dora hadtold him at breakfast, before the jibe at his nose, that tomorrowafternoon there was to be a christening held at St. James andpresided over by the bishop-in-waiting. The unfortunate infant wasthe scion of one of Toronto’s wealthiest families (“That’s all weneed,” he’d said to Dora, “another little Family Compacter.”) Thatcombination, of Dr. Strachan and conspicuous wealth, was sure todraw three or four hundred well-wishers to the ceremony. ConstanceHungerford and Mavis McDowell would doubtlessly have their Poor Boxwithin easy reach. If the thief were to follow his customarypattern, he would strike sometime late Wednesday evening or earlyThursday morning. And this time Cobb intended to be ready.

Later that afternoon, when he spotted MissyPrue sweeping the stoop at the rear entrance to the vicarage, hesidled up to her. And while she batted her eyelashes at him, he puthis proposal to her. Yes, she would gladly help him catch the thiefwho had so upset the missus. And yes, she would tell no-one. Itwould be their secret. Cobb left, whistling. The major – ona wild-goose chase in New York and unaware of the babe just born -would be proud of his apprentice’s deductive powers, his coldlogic, and his low cunning. Cobb was certain that, by Thursdaymorning, at least one of the mysteries would be brought to asatisfactory conclusion.

“We’re going to take the scenic route,” Marc said toBrodie as they got into the cab in front of The Houston Hotel. “Thecabbie is puzzled, but he’s put my bizarre instructions down to theeccentricities of a foreigner.”

Instead of heading up to Broadway and movingstraight down to Park Place, they turned west, and soon foundthemselves zigzagging through the Greenwich area. In broad daylightthe devastation of the great fire was even more apparent than ithad been early Sunday evening: everywhere they bore witness tocharred walls, tangled timbers, makeshift shanties and dilapidatedtents. The consequences of the economic collapse that had followedthe great fire could be seen in the shambling and starved figuresof men on every street corner, who stared at the passing carriagewith hollow and malevolent eyes. Brodie wondered why they had comethis way, but said nothing.

Ten minutes later they emerged onto Hudson, awide thoroughfare, and followed it until it ended at Read Street,where they swung east again and came out onto Broadway. They passedthe City Hall and its pleasant park and arrived, at last, at ParkPlace, where they turned east again. Brodie could no longer holdhis peace.