Andrew Pepper - The Last Days of Newgate

‘I want you to be my eyes and ears on this investigation. I am not privy to Peel’s intentions in this unfortunate business, whether he will want to be involved in an official capacity or not. But whatever Peel decides, and whatever he says, I want you to look into this matter on behalf of Bow Street, and I want you to find the man who did those things.’ In an unusual display of emotion, he grabbed Pyke’s arm and stared with watery eyes. ‘Do you understand?’

Fox’s sudden outburst, whether it was provoked by passion or outrage, took Pyke by surprise.

He nodded and assured Fox that he would do as the old man asked. In fact, he had already made up his mind to conduct his own investigation, whether Fox sanctioned it or not.

A little later, Fox wanted to know whether Pyke had any business that might distract him from the matter in hand. ‘If you have to share out some of your work, I’ll see that you’re properly remunerated.’

Pyke assured him he had no such business.

‘Even what took you to that lodging house in the first place?’ When Pyke said nothing, Fox continued, ‘In the past, I have been aware of instances in which the activities of persons under my authority have transgressed the official sanction of the law. Perhaps I should have taken a firmer stance against such practices. Perhaps this laxness on my part is one of the reasons why the Home Secretary does not seem favourably disposed towards us.’ His stare intensified. ‘I am well aware of the business Brownlow alluded to earlier, Pyke. A man by the name of Flynn, a known receiver of stolen goods who is currently being held in the felons’ room, is making all kinds of scurrilous accusations against you. The man claims that you have been personally responsible for countless burglaries during a period extending as far back as the last days of our current monarch’s much-lamented father. Am I to assume that his accusations are entirely false?’

Pyke appeared wounded by the slight and assured Fox he had never dealt with the man in any capacity.

‘If I am prepared to draw a line under whatever you may have done in the past, I’d like to feel I had your unequivocal support on this matter.’

It was a strange request, one that bristled with repressed anger.

Still, Pyke said he would do whatever the old man asked him.

‘Excellent.’ Fox nodded, seemingly back to his old self. ‘And you’ll keep me informed with regular reports?’

Pyke promised he would.

‘Well, that’s settled, then.’ Fox held out his hand and Pyke shook it without knowing what had been settled.

It struck him only later that, in agreeing to be Fox’s eyes and ears, he had permitted himself to be used in a way that he couldn’t quite fathom. But then again, he had no plans to disclose everything that he turned up. Fox would find out only what he wanted him to.

The fact that the private chambers of the Secretary of State for the Home Department were disappointingly spare was not a reflection on the rest of the building. Indeed, as they were led through a maze of interconnected rooms, it was hard not to be impressed by the ornate furnishings and gilt decorations, and, in one instance, a cantilevered staircase that extended through the full height of the building. But when they were finally ushered into Peel’s private chambers, Pyke was surprised to discover that, with the exception of the vast library of books that lined every part of the wall, the man’s office was small and functional. The impression of being cramped was augmented by the large number of people already in the room. This was not the informal meeting between themselves and the Home Secretary Fox had been expecting. Even to Pyke’s untrained eye, it resembled a full-scale conference of war.

Peel was standing in front of a large mahogany desk. He was a tall, elegant man with a long distinguished face and a full head of curly, reddish hair. He was fashionably dressed and wore powder, though this was perhaps explained by the fact that he had come directly from an official function in order to convene the meeting. Excusing himself from another conversation, Peel came over to greet them. He seemed to know Fox well and referred to him amiably as ‘Sir Richard’, but there was no warmth in his voice, and he treated Pyke as he might have done a servant. He wasn’t actively rude but simply seemed to look through Pyke as though he were not there.

‘Right, gentlemen, if you could all take a seat, perhaps we could make a start.’ He spoke with a faint Lancashire accent. ‘First of all, I would like to thank you for coming here at such short notice. Your assistance at such a vexing time, I can assure you, is much appreciated. Most of you will already know one another but for those who are less familiar with the persons gathered in this room, perhaps you will permit me, for the sake of expediency, to go around and make your introductions.’

Their chairs were arranged in a semicircle arching around the desk that Peel now sat behind.

‘To my right,’ Peel began, ‘is, of course, Sir Henry Hobhouse, the now retired Home Office under-secretary who, along with the gentleman next to him, William Gregson, a fine barrister in his own right, has been assisting me in drafting the new Metropolitan Police Bill. As I’m sure you all know, I will be presenting the bill to the House next month.’ He glanced over at Sir Richard. ‘I’ve asked them to sit in on this meeting because the terrible events of this evening, and my proposed response, have implications for our legislative programme. Next to them is James Hardwick, the esteemed criminologist who, I am reliably informed, studied under Becarria. Mr Hardwick will provide us with a preliminary report into the psychological background of the man who killed these people.’

Pyke looked at the bespectacled young man with his smug expression and oiled hair and wondered how he was able to comment on something he knew nothing about.

‘To my left, we all know Sir Richard Fox, the chief magistrate at Bow Street, and next to him is. .’ Peel looked at Fox rather than at Pyke. Fox said, ‘Pyke,’ and Peel nodded and said, ‘This is Mr Pyke, who is a Bow Street Runner and had the misfortune of discovering the dead bodies. Mr Pyke will, I hope, report precisely what happened. And finally we have Charles Hume, who served under the duke at Waterloo.’ Peel did not elaborate beyond this and left Pyke and others in the room wondering in what capacity Charles Hume had been invited to the meeting.

The only other person in the room was a large, bug-eyed man with black hair and coarse skin. Peel did not introduce him and he took a seat at the back of the room.

‘I’m sure I don’t need to underline the seriousness of the public-order situation we’re now facing. Nor do I need to stress the significance of what’s happened in relation to the Metropolitan Police and Catholic emancipation bills that I’m planning to present to the Commons in the next few months. You’ll understand, of course, these events threaten both pieces of legislation, yet also underline their importance. .’

As Peel spoke, Pyke studied the impassive faces of those gathered in the room and then the expensively bound editions mounted on the wall behind him. He wondered how many of them Peel had actually read. He seemed like an intelligent man but Pyke could not help but think that the quantity of books functioned, in the main, as a reminder to others of Peel’s superior learning.

Peel asked Fox to explain what measures had already been undertaken to police the area and secure the scene of the murders, and Fox outlined what had already been done by the Bow Street magistrates and Runners. If nothing else, Fox’s account served to reinforce Pyke’s belief that he had authorised such an extensive deployment only in order to garner the political capital.