Bruce Alexander - The Color of Death

But still he pressed: “Such as … what?”

We stood at the door to Little Jermyn Street; I wished to be through it and away from his prying questions. With that and only that in mind, I said, “Oh, there was something about Crocker, and …” And there I halted when about to mention the King’s Carabineers. It had suddenly occurred to me that he had no right to know any of this. An alarm sounded within me.

“You mean little Crocker, the chambermaid?” he asked eagerly. “What did he say? “

“That, sir, is none of your affair,” said I, drawing myself up and looking him coldly in the eye. “And I must say, Mr. Collier, I wonder at your intense curiosity in this matter, seeing that you were hardly even acquainted with Arthur Robb.”

“Oh … well, I did know him, you see … in a way. I’d seen him every day … spoken … “

“Goodbye to you,” said I to him, and so saying, I grasped the large brass handle and heaved open the door. I did not hear it close behind me, though I’m sure it did.

There was a considerable crowd in court that day. It was unusually large for the magistrate’s court, though the number assembled would not in any way have compared with the crowds in attendance in any of the courtrooms at Old Bailey.

In addition to the “regulars” — drabs, women of the street, porters, and layabouts who dropped by Bow Street for their midday’s entertainment — there were many more who had come because it was rumored that an arrest had been made in what were then popularly called “the St. James robberies.” Some had even heard that the robber in question was a “proper blackie”; they wanted an early look at him before he was sent on to Old Bailey and given his ticket to the crap merchant.

Because so many had come thus to gawk at Mr. Burnham, they grew restive as Sir John heard a pair of lesser matters that had been brought before the magistrate’s court in search of settlement. They were of the usual sort: two Covent Garden green merchants who claimed the same choice stall (one of them, it turned out, had simply arrived earlier one morning and claimed the spot as squatter’s privilege). The second matter, in its own way just as frivolous, turned upon the discovery in the street of a deal of money by two men who purported to be friends; both claimed to have spied the sack of gold first and fell into a brawl over it; this attracted another, a merchant, who claimed to be the true owner of the sack of money (Sir John awarded the sack to the third man after the latter had correctly given the exact amount therein, but the magistrate then instructed him to given a guinea to each of the other two men in reward for having discovered the fortune in the street).

As they shuffled off, Sir John turned to Mr. Marsden and instructed him to bring on the next case and have the prisoner brought forth.

That Mr. Marsden did, calling out Robert Burnham by name, and turning to the door through which he would be brought by Mr. Fuller. But when the door opened, a great noise was heard from the crowd, for Mr. Fuller herded in not one prisoner, but four. Each of the four was of the same brown hue; each was dressed similarly and was about the same height; and each wore hand irons.

They were directed to the bench off to the right of Sir John where they remained standing.

Sir John spoke out in a voice deep and solemn: “Mr. Burnham, you have been accused of taking active part in the robbery by force and violence of the Trezavant residence in Little Jermyn Street in the city of Westminster three evenings past. How say you, sir — guilty or not guilty?”

Then came a most remarkable occurrence: In response to Sir John’s question, all four men spoke together as with one voice, “Not guilty.”

They did then sit down upon the bench and listen as Mr. Marsden read forth a description of the robbery, complete with a list of the goods taken — paintings and furniture, table silver, and various objects made of gold. Appended to this was a description of the “apoplectic disorder” of Mr. Arthur Robb, which was occasioned by the robbery and caused his eventual demise a day later in St. Bartholomew’s Hospital.

Though seated, the four men gave all this their full attention. It was while they were thus occupied that I, looking upon them, was able to identify two of the four. At the far end I recognized Mr. Burnham; and at the nearest was none other than Dr. Johnson’s young charge, Frank Barber. But who the two men were between them, I could not say, though there was something about each which did seem familiar.

Once Mr. Marsden had done, Sir John intoned (again most solemnly): “We have a witness. He is Mr. Thomas Trezavant. Come forward please, sir.”

Thus invited, Mr. Trezavant rose from his place in the front row of benches and moved forward as swiftly and resolutely as his great bulk would allow. When he halted, he was directly in front of the magistrate, with Mr. Burnham and his companions a good fifteen feet or more off to his right.

“Will you tell us, Mr. Trezavant,” said Sir John, “what you saw on the evening that your residence was robbed in the manner just described by Mr. Marsden?”

“That I shall and gladly, but first let me congratulate you, sir. I thought you had but one of this black-faced crew in captivity, but I see that you have captured all of them.”

“That’s as may be,” said Sir John. “Or perhaps better said, it is neither here nor there, for the task I put before you is to describe what you yourself saw and heard on the evening of the great robbery.”

And that Mr. Trezavant attempted to do, yet he lapsed often into hearsay and surmise. Sir John was forced a number of times to remind him of his injunction to report only what had personally been seen or heard.

“I begin to suspect,” said the magistrate, “that you were safely sequestered in your study during the entire event.”

“Not so, sir. I may have been made a prisoner in my own study, but I was hardly ‘safe,’ as you assert.”

“Oh? What then?”

“I was tortured.”

“Yes, I recall you said something about that. In what way were you tortured? And to what purpose?”

“Well … they came blustering into my study without so much as knocking. There were but two of them, but frightening they were, and of fearful countenance. They took me quite by surprise.”

“Let me interrupt to ask you, sir, were you aware before their appearance that your house had been invaded, so to speak, by this robber band?”

“Uh, no sir, I was not.”

“How did they know to find you there?”

“That I cannot say. They seemed, indeed, to know their way about the house. Perhaps one of the servants directed them to me.”

“Do you know which one it was? “

“No, but I have my suspicions.”

“Keep them to yourself. A magistrate’s court is no place to air suspicions.” Sir John rubbed his chin in thought, producing a scowl of vague disapproval. “Let us get back to this matter of torture,” said he. “What did they wish to know?”

“The location of my wife’s jewels.”

“And how did they go about torturing you, Mr. Trezavant?”

“Well …” He hesitated, looking about the courtroom as if in a state of acute discomfort. ‘They described to me their intentions.”

A low hum of comment swept through the attending crowd. Yet Sir John made no effort to quiet them, so eager was he to understand properly what he had just heard.

“They described to you their intentions?” he repeated. “Was that … all?”

“Yes,” said he, “but I have a most vivid imagination.”

The hum in the courtroom rose to a pitch, then exploded into a great gale of laughter. Though Sir John himself smiled broadly at Mr. Trezavant’s confession, he must have thought that such unbridled hilarity at the expense of the witness was altogether improper, for he thumped loudly with the mallet which served him for a gavel and called loudly for order.