Bruce Alexander - Person or Persons Unknown

“Yes, sir. Richard stayed with us until we reached the Cheshire Cheese. He left us there.”

“At approximately what time?”

“Again, I must reckon, but it seems likely it would have taken about a quarter of an hour to walk there.”

“So that you did not see your brother from about a quarter past the hour of three until a quarter past the hour of five. Correct?”

“Correct, sir.”

With that. Sir John dismissed Corporal Otis Sperling, but instructed him to return to the room where he had awaited our call. When he had gone. Sir John sat back in his chair and touched fingertip to fingertip. He thought for some time.

“Well, what thought you of that?” asked Sir John of me.

“It would seem,” said I, “that Richard Sperling is our man.”

“So it would seem indeed. There is some discrepancy on the matter of time. But tell me, Jeremy, how did the corporal seem when I asked him to be specific on the lateness of his brother? He answered readily enough.”

“Yes, but he seemed to grow a bit uneasy. He frowned, he delayed, he looked about. By the end of the interrogation, a bit of perspiration stood on his brow.”

“There is an open window behind me. This room is quite cool.”

“Exactly,” said I.

“It could well be,” said Sir John, “that having let slip that his brother had failed to arrive in time for them to leave together on the five o’clock coach, he realized from my subsequent questions that the matter of time was essential. And so, he began perhaps to minimize his brother’s tardiness. It could well be that Richard arrived at the Coach House an hour or more late. Perhaps he barely made the six-thirty coach to Hammersmith.”

“Which would put it within the limits of time set by Maggie Pratt’s sighting and the discovery of the body.”

“Then still warm,” put in Sir John.

He seemed about to add something to that when a knock came upon the door. Invited to enter, the sergeant came through the door appearing quite pleased.

“I’m happy to report,” said he, “that I found no knives of any description among the personal property of Sperling, Otis, or Sperling, Richard. And a good thing, too, for possession of such would indeed be a court-martial offense.”

“Well, Sergeant,” said Sir John, “if you are happy, then I am happy.”

“Both have good records, sir — though Sperling, Richard, has been in the regiment only a bit over a year.”

“How old is he?”

“Just nineteen, sir.”

“So young! Well, be that as it may, we must have him at Bow Street to continue our inquiry.”

“That will be a matter for you to take up with Captain Conger, sir.”

“I thought as much,” said Sir John, rising from his chair. “Would you take us to him, please?”

Once the sergeant had led us to the captain, out in the drill yard. Sir John had a little difficulty convincing him of the necessity of removing Richard Sperling to Bow Street.

“Is he accused?” asked the captain.

“By no means,” said Sir John. “I do believe, however, that he would be responsive in a more formal setting.”

“The full weight of the law, is that it?”

“Something of the sort, I suppose. In any case, will you grant him permission to appear as witness?”

“I will, of course, if I may have him back.”

“Beg pardon? I do not understand. Captain. If there is no need to bind him for trial, of course you may have him back.”

“And if there is such need, we shall also want him back so that we may convene a military court-martial. Military justice is swift, sure, and impartial. Sir John.”

“Well, I am convinced that it is swift, in any case. But see here. Captain, it is entirely too early to argue about matters of jurisdiction. A coroner’s court must be convened in order to establish formally that the matter at hand is murder.”

“Is there any doubt of it?”

“No, but a surgeon has examined the body and will give testimony. A good deal may be established by him in favor of your Private Sperling.”

“Or against him.”

“Indeed. Yet it is an open inquiry that draws no conclusion on guilt or probable guilt.”

“I see,” said the captain. “And who is the coroner?”

“Uh, well,” Sir John hesitated, “I am acting in that capacity pro tern.”

Captain Conger looked at him in a manner most skeptical. He considered. At last he said, “Sir John Fielding, I bow to your reputation, for it is a good one. Nevertheless, I shall not allow you simply to whisk him off as you seem to suggest. Private Sperling will go with an armed guard to Bow Street. If any attempt is made to hold him, or bind him over for criminal trial, they will be under my orders to bring him back to the Tower, and if necessary, to use force.”

Though apparently vexed. Sir John nodded his acceptance, but then said he: “Then, I, too, have stipulations. They are these: First of all. Private Sperling is not to be brought in chains, for he is a witness and does not stand accused of any crime.”

“Agreed.”

“Second, that Corporal Tigger be a member of the guard party, and that he himself be allowed to testify.”

Though the frown on the captain’s face indicated he had no real understanding of the implications of this proviso, he offered no objection.

“Agreed,” said he.

“And finally, that at least one other of equal or superior rank be in the party to ensure that Corporal Tigger and Private Sperling do not discuss in any way the crime or their activities of the day past.”

“Agreed.”

“Then if you are satisfied. Captain, I am,” said Sir John, smiling pleasantly. “And I offer you my hand upon it.”

Which indeed he did, wherewith the two shook hands.

“By the bye. Captain Conger, I wonder, is Lieutenant Churchill about? I encountered him last year. I think it only proper that I look in on him while visiting the Tower.”

“Sir John, he is off shooting in, as you put it earlier, ‘some woody comer of the realm,’ as is near every officer in the regiment but me. Note, sir, that I am putting my trust in you in this matter. If you go against me in it, I shall be sore embarrassed and will no doubt suffer evil consequences. Good day to you, sir.”

With that, he turned on his heel and walked away at his brisk campaigner’s pace.

“The hearing is at eleven this morning,” Sir John called after him. (Though the captain gave no sign, I was sure he heard.) And to me Sir John said: “The man drives a damned hard bargain.” Then, remembering, he called out again loud and clear: “And, Captain! Do see that Private Sperling brings his bayonet along.”

To which the captain gave out the reply: “It shall be done. Sir John.”

“Gentlemen, this is a solemn proceeding under law to determine the nature of the death of one Teresa O’Reilly. To that end, we have assembled witnesses to give testimony that may or may not be pertinent when and if a magistrate’s hearing be called on this matter. I, as magistrate, am acting pro tempore as coroner. And so as I conduct this coroner’s inquest, I shall be attending to all that is said with my magistrate’s ear.”

Sir John was addressing a group of twelve men lured off the street by Mr. Marsden with the promise of a shilling. They were seated six and six in the first two rows of the small courtroom on the ground floor of Number 4 Bow Street. The witnesses sat to one side — Maggie Pratt, Gabriel Donnelly, and Private Sperling, who sat between a corporal, whom I took to be Tigger, and the unnamed sergeant who had assisted us at the Tower. Mr. Marsden sat beside Sir John. As it happened, I was the only one present who did not take some part in the proceeding.

“First,” said Sir John, continuing to speak direct to the coroner’s jury, “let me acquaint you with the facts. The deceased was found in a yard off New Broad Court which leads direct into an alley that connects to Duke’s Court. You may know this territory well, for the site is quite near to where we now have gathered. She was found, feet protruding from under a stairway at a bit after six by a resident of the yard, a Mr. Sebastian Tillbury, who immediately gave the alarum. Constable Perkins was passing and came swift to the call. He read his timepiece and fixed his arrival at eight minutes past six. Note the time, please, for it may prove quite important. The body was still warm to the touch.”