Chapter 11

Eleven

We worked together. Lily read off the letters and numbers in that note and I then wrote them on the blackboard in precisely the same order.

It was brief, there was only one row, but it meant something to someone, intercepted by a man in Luxembourg who worked for the Agency and had paid dearly for it.

In her former life in the brothel, one of Lily's responsibilities was to keep track of letters, notes, and bills that came into the "Church." In addition there was some sort of code the ladies used that not only warned which customers paid and which did not, but also apparently rated the men according to… the deed, as she put it.

Lily had learned to decipher the messages in those notes, but I suspected it was more than merely clever observation. She was obviously quite gifted in ways we were only beginning to discover— her awareness of things, and her ability to learn something and remember it in short order with just a glance, much like a photograph.

I laughed at her comment— that men might be rated according to how well they "performed." I did wonder if the ladies awarded points or some other method.

Most interesting.

"Miss?" she drew my attention back to the task at hand.

It was time to put to use the sequence she was certain would determine what the message was.

"Please continue," I told her. "Let's see what you have."

"The letters dinnae make sense at first," she began. "But the first one is usually important in a message, right?

"The first letter is an X," she pointed out. "And the next three letters make no sense either, T, R, and another X."

I listened intently.

"If ye follow the number of places— then ye come to the letter ‘A.' The first letter in the message is an ‘A.' Then four more, and the next letter is L, followed by…" she counted off the same number once more, "another L."

A-L-L. The word all .

Had she actually discovered the key to the coded message?

Using the same sequence, I applied it to the remainder of the message.

When the next letters had been revealed I stood back from the board to view what had emerged. The letters I had circled all ran together.

all i np l ace

It was now merely a matter of separating the words in that string of letters.

All- in- place

Something was " in place!"

I looked over at Lily. It did seem that she had in fact deciphered the message so far. Clever girl.

Her brow wrinkled. "And then, there is the numbers. If ye apply the same number of places…"

The sequence of four numbers then the next one revealed is a one, then an eight, followed by another one and then a two, using that same sequence.

1-8 and then 1-2

And the final letters that emerged:

P — A — R — L — S

Was it some sort of shorthand writing that the person it had been intended for would understand from previous messages?

P-A-R-L-S? Could it possibly mean Parliament? But then the additional letter— S, made no sense.

Brodie had once referred to my notes written in shorthand as " that gibberish that no one was able to understand ."

He had, however, later admitted that it did appear to be quite useful when I was able to quote a comment a suspect had made. One that I had quickly written down that had proven useful in our inquiry case at the time.

He had been sufficiently impressed, contrary to the saying " one couldn't teach an old dog new tricks ." He hadn't been particularly amused by that reference.

I heard the sound of steps at the landing. Brodie entered the office, covered with a dusting of snow upon his coat and hair.

"Mr. Cavendish said ye returned some time ago," he commented as he immediately went to the stove to warm his hands.

"Were ye able to learn anythin' at the museum?"

"We deciphered the code in the message!" Lily excitedly replied. "That is the right word, miss?"

"That is the word," I replied.

Brodie looked over, obviously somewhat surprised to find her there.

"I thought a visit to the museum might be interesting for her," I explained. "And Sir Reginald may be able to assist with the notes Dr. Bennett had. As for the code…"

"Wot are ye talking about?"

"It seems that Lily has been able to decipher the message the Agency intercepted; the one I had a copy of, thinking that I might be able to assist with it," I reminded him.

"It appears that Lily has figured it out."

"Wot do ye believe ye have discovered?"

By his tone it was obvious that he was skeptical, and quite possibly merely indulging the both of us.

"Actually, it was Lily who discovered the code sequence and then deciphered the message."

"I didna mean to interfere," she started to explain. "I happened to see it, and it was just there— the way the letters stood out. It happens that way sometimes."

"Ye didna interfere," Brodie assured her, then with a look over at me. "That had already taken place. Now, Miss Lily," he told her, "show me what ye have found."

A smile spread across her face as she went to the blackboard and explained the pattern she had discovered.

"Miss Mikaela helped," she added and pointed to the message that had emerged using the pattern she had discovered.

Brodie studied the board, that dark gaze narrowed in concentration.

"It seems to mean that something important is to happen," Lily pointed out the obvious.

He continued to study the message.

"But we were only able to figure out part of it. Then there are the numbers ye see, and more letters. They must mean somethin'."

He read the numbers aloud. "An address, or possibly something else."

"One and then an eight," I repeated, then, "Could the one and eight actually be the number eighteen?"

Eighteen. What did that mean?

"The eighteenth?" Was that it? If so, then the next two numbers, one and two?"

"Something is supposed to happen on the eighteenth of December?"

Brodie looked at me. "Verra possible."

And today was the fourteenth of December.

"That could mean that something is planned for four days from now."

"Ye did well," he told Lily. "It would seem that ye have found something verra important." And then with a look over at me.

"The rest of it is for us to determine."

The question was: What was to happen and where ? And what did the rest of those letters mean?

"I do not trust the telephone service," Brodie announced. "A call often passes through too many hands. Ye never know who might be listenin'."

Such as those who might find the information we'd uncovered and pass it to someone else? But what did it mean?

While I thought of the usual conversations I had on the telephone— responding to an invitation, a call to the cab service, or recent conversations with my sister or Lily about various things, I realized quite clearly his meaning.

It did seem that new inventions, marvelous as they were, also brought new and perhaps dangerous possibilities.

He had placed a call to Alex Sinclair and asked for him to meet us at the office on the Strand. He mentioned only that it was important, nothing more.

It was very near an hour later when Alex arrived, quite soaked through from the weather, his cheeks and ears reddened from the cold.

"Have you learned something?" he managed to ask from between teeth that chattered.

I handed him a cup of hot coffee with a bit more something else to warm him.

"Oh, this is quite wonderful, Miss Forsythe," he said after taking a sip. He glanced past me to the blackboard.

"Oh, I say, what have you there?" His gaze scanned the original message. "This looks very much the same as the message our people intercepted in Luxembourg."

"The same," Brodie replied.

"And the rest of this?" Alex asked.

"The decoded message," I explained. "Or at least part of it. Something is in place to happen on December eighteenth."

He stared incredulously at it. "How? I wasn't able to decipher any of it with my machine."

"It was easy," Lily spoke up even though I had cautioned her to let Brodie discuss the matter with Alex. She went to the board and went through the sequence that she had discovered.

"Incredible," Alex replied, then looked at her. "And you saw the sequence when you first looked at it?"

She nodded. "It happens sometimes. I look at something, like the word puzzles, and the letters just seem to be in the right place."

"Incredible."

That was two "incredibles" in the last few minutes.

"The question now is what does it mean…" Brodie concluded. "Sir Avery must be made aware of this, and we need to figure out what is to happen on the eighteenth of the month, and where."

"Have you been able to find anything more about Soropkin?" Alex asked.

Brodie shook his head. "I have people searching for him, but… no. However, Mikalea may be able to provide some information that she has uncovered that could be useful."

"I have the curator of the museum looking over Dr. Bennett's notes and an old manuscript we found in Aldgate," I explained when Alex looked over at me.

"Much of it appears to be in some Egyptian dialect. It may provide some insight to what he was working on and the reason he was murdered. And we do know that Brodie has learned that Soropkin was supposedly seen in Aldgate before he disappeared."

"You believe there's a connection?" he asked Brodie.

"We may very well know more tomorrow when Mikaela learns what was in the manuscript the doctor had in his possession when he was murdered."

"I'll let Sir Avery know about the code," Alex replied. "He may have some thoughts on it as well. And you will let us know what you are able to learn tomorrow?"

"Of course," I assured him.

Lily had been quiet after explaining how she had deciphered the code, with a great deal of interest it seemed, in our conversation with Alex.

"Murder?" she exclaimed.

Hmmm. An explanation was needed, albeit a very brief one.

"A case that Mr. Brodie is working on."

"And that message has somethin' to do with it?"

"Perhaps." I gathered my bag, then went to retrieve my long coat.

"Where are we goin'?" she excitedly asked.

"You are going to return to Sussex Square," I replied. She instantly pulled a face.

"You have given us a valuable clue," I continued. "Without your assistance Mr. Brodie might have gone on for days. It was important and we are both most grateful. However…"

"There is that word again," she grumbled. "Everyone uses it— however."

"However," I began again, "your education is very important."

"Wot do I need with more education? Mr. Brodie never had any education."

"Not true."

His education had come from the streets and what he picked up along the way, pushing himself up out of the gutters as he once told me.

"He acquired his education along the way, and so must you."

"If I get this education, then I could be of more help to ye?" she replied.

Clever girl.

"You could achieve a great many things."

"And maybe work with ye and Mr. Brodie? That could be worth the aggravation of learnin' how to speak proper and act like a lady like Miss Lenore told me."

Aggravation. I had to agree with her, however…

We made our way to the alcove on the street below.

I had Mr. Cavendish summon a cab for her, with instructions for the driver that he was to take her directly to Sussex Square with no stops along the way— not that I didn't trust her, and there would be extra fare in it for him when they arrived. I was confident that my sister would see the matter taken care of.

With Lily safely departed, Brodie was off as well, to see someone— the man in German Town who claimed to have seen Soropkin.

Before Brodie could object, I had Mr. Cavendish summon another cab. There was someone I wanted to see. It might very well be important.

Mr. Brimley was most accommodating when I arrived and made my request.

"The woman lives in Stepney. She lost her husband last year and the boy has done his best to support the family since." He shook his head.

"A dreadful accident. One of the worst I've ever seen, and the lad needed far more care than I could provide."

I then asked if he thought I might visit with the boy, that it might be important to our investigation since Dr. Bennett was able to help the boy.

"Mr. Brodie already paid a visit and took a few boxes of food to help them get by until the boy can return to work." He eyed me sharply. "Did he tell you to come here?"

I wouldn't lie to him, as he had become a good friend and most important to our inquiry cases.

"I thought so," he answered his own question when I was hesitant. "He worries for you, miss. After that first case."

"That was very near two years ago and I am quite well recovered, as you know. However, I might be able to help him with this."

"I'll probably regret this, what with his temper, most particularly where you are concerned…"

He shook his head.

"You are too bold for your own good, miss. I don't know of another woman who would take it upon herself to help solve a murder case. And I suppose you don't want me to mention this to Mr. Brodie."

That would happen soon enough, if I was to learn anything with the visit. If not, then it didn't matter.

The boy, Ethan, his mother and two sisters lived in a flat on Leman street, in Stepney, near the sugar refinery. In spite of his young age at twelve years, Ethan had worked in the warehouse next to the refinery, loading sacks of sugar daily onto wagons that then made deliveries across the city. Until a dreadful accident.

In spite of that poor East End of London, their flat, when we arrived, was spotlessly clean with work tables set up for Ethan's mother and sisters. They took in needlework for some of the better shops in order to make ends meet.

Mr. Brimley introduced me upon our arrival. It seems that he had been there before to check up on the boy after Dr. Bennett saved his life.

Ethan's mother, Agnes, was surprisingly young, perhaps only a few years older than myself, although her features were careworn. Still, there was a warm smile for Mr. Brimley, and a courteous nod toward myself.

He had brought brown bread sweetened with molasses, a bottle of medication for Ethan to help him sleep at night, and fresh bandages.

My introduction to Ethan was most unsettling, and something I would not forget.

He had been injured in a fire at the refinery where he had gone with one of the workers to pick up a load of sugar. There was a fire in the refinery that quickly spread.

Ethan had been unable to escape. Trapped by the fire, he had been badly burned on his hands and face as he tried to help put out the fire. He was bandaged about both hands, with more bandages about his head. He was also bandaged about the middle of his body.

"The doctor said that in time there won't hardly be any scars to his face," Mr. Brimley whispered. "He used skin from the lad's back to replace the burnt skin on his face. I've heard of it, but never known of it here in England.

"It seems that the wounds accept the new skin because it's from the same person," he continued. "Then, the bandages are applied with a salve that the doctor provided. He gave me a list of the ingredients so that I could mix it at the shop. Hopefully it will be successful. The methods are old, however, and not without risk."

"What sort of risk?" I asked.

"If not cared for properly, like any wound, the new tissue could begin to die."

I could only imagine the horror of that possibility.

"I will see the boy through," he assured me.

I approached the cot where Ethan lay, still weak even though it had been almost three weeks since the accident.

I could see skin on his neck beginning to heal, without the gruesome damage left behind by fire that I had seen when in Edinburgh with Brodie.

A miracle indeed, I thought, as Ethan nodded. "I canna stand so good as yet, miss."

I assured him that wasn't necessary as Mr. Brimley explained the reason I was there. He made it sound more like a social call to put the family at ease.

"I work with Mr. Brodie," I explained. "He told me about your accident and the fire. I was hoping you might be able to tell me about Dr. Bennett."

The boy's eyes lit up. "He fixed me real good. I can use me hands, and he said that in time there won't be any scars on me face."

"It was terrifying," his mother put in. "They brought him back here and I swear I was certain that he was…

"Mr. Brimley heard of Dr. Bennett and contacted him. Then we took Ethan to Aldgate, not one of them hospitals. I didn't understand, but the doctor assured us that he could take care of Ethan there."

"Did you see anyone else while you were there?" I asked. "Possibly someone else who had come to see the doctor?"

She shook her head. "I didn't see no one else, miss. The doctor was there all alone. He had to leave after he saw to Ethan and I stayed there until he returned. Then he sent us home with my boy all bandaged up like you see him. And in the time since, he's already started to heal."

"Did Dr. Bennett mention anything about the treatment he gave Ethan?"

"He said that we shouldn't tell anyone, that it might mean trouble for him. According to Mr. Brimley, we wouldn't have gotten the same from other doctors and Ethan would have died."

"Is there anything else you can tell me? Something you saw or something that happened while you were there but perhaps thought nothing of?"

"It was just me and Ethan with the doctor," she replied. "He was unconscious most of the time." She hesitated.

"What is it?"

She looked at Mr. Brimley, uncertain. He nodded. "You can tell her."

"There was a man, showed up at the door of the doctor's office."

"What did he look like?"

"Didn't get a good look; he wore a long coat with his hat pulled low and a neck scarf wrapped about 'im. But I did see the bandages, like my boy here. ‘im and the doctor spoke some, then he left real sudden.

"Seein' how the doctor helped my boy and all, I figured it was another patient who was injured. It didn't seem important." She looked from me to Mr. Brimley.

"That's fine, Agnes," he assured her. "And it looks to me as if you are taking good care of the boy."

She nodded. "'im and the girls are all I have."

"Apply that salve when you change the bandages. I'll come by again in a few days," he told her.

She laid a tentative hand on his arm. "I can't pay you right now wot with Ethan not working. Everythin' the girls and I earn goes for food."

"Don't you worry about that, Agnes." He patted her hand. "You just take care of the boy."

I wished Ethan well in his recovery and thanked his mother for speaking with me. What I had learned about the surgery he received was fascinating. What might that mean for others badly injured?

"I would like to help them," I told Mr. Brimley as we left.

"The rent is most important now. Mr. Brodie already took care of that for the month. But next month…"

It wasn't the first time Brodie had intervened on behalf of some family in the East End.

"I'll see that you have the money for next month when you return to see to Ethan, and for your care of him as well."

We walked the short distance to the main thoroughfare where we were eventually able to find a driver.

"It's but a drop in a bucket , miss, for them that live in these places," he said as we returned to his shop.

"A very large bucket ," I replied, it being obvious with so much poverty in the East End. "And yet you stay, when you might be able to set up your shop in another part of London and make a decent living."

"And you might refuse to take inquiry cases for those such as the good doctor who only wanted to help those like Ethan."

"What is to be done?" I then asked. But I knew— changes. There were changes taking place, as I had told Sir James. However, it was painfully slow, and seemed almost impossible at times.

"I'll take fresh bandages and a box of food to Ethan and his mother, and the girls. And I suspect that you will find the murderer who killed the good doctor."

I thought a great deal about what I had learned in my visit with Ethan and his mother.

It was apparent from what she told us that Brodie might very well not be aware of the man she had seen— a man dressed in a long coat with a scarf, his hat worn low that didn't quite conceal heavy bandages about his face. Another injury that the doctor had helped the man with?

After seeing Mr. Brimley back to his shop, I then had the driver take me to the office on the Strand.

It was very nearly evening, fog wrapping around lamp posts as the rain set in when I arrived. There was a light in the window of the office at the second-floor landing.

"Mr. Brodie returned some time ago," Mr. Cavendish greeted me.

Rupert appeared, promptly sat at my feet, and nudged my hand. I had been somewhat remiss recently in bringing him some of Mrs. Ryan's sponge cakes or scones.

"There was a bloke 'round earlier, tall, like any working man in this part of London. But there was somethin' about 'im, the way he carried himself. Didn't seem right," he continued. "And he seemed most interested in the office, kept lookin' this way. The hound set up quite a ruckus.

"I mentioned it to Mr. Brodie. Thought he should know, with you bein' here by yerself from time to time."

What might that mean, I thought. Merely one of the people on the street? Someone looking for work or possibly a handout? Or, perhaps someone Brodie had spoken with, one of his "sources?"

I thanked him and headed for the stairs.

Brodie looked up from the desk as I entered the office. There was that frown, and I fully expected a comment about being out "alone" again, which I had not. At least not the entire afternoon.

I removed my neck scarf and coat.

"Miss Lenore called round to let ye know that Lily arrived safely back at Sussex Square after yer visit to the museum." He set the pen down rather sharply and I sensed the question that came next.

"Several hours ago."

After calling on Ethan and his mother, I was not of a mind to hear his usual objections about taking myself off alone. It was one of those things that needed a conversation between us.

I had been "taking myself off," as he put it for some time in my travels, however I supposed that Brodie had a point— a point my sister had also made a few weeks earlier when I had casually mentioned that he seemed somewhat adamant about my "independent nature" as he put it.

"He's only concerned for your welfare , " Linnie had explained. "Quite understandable under the circumstances, there is now the two of you."

The circumstances being our inquiry cases that had admittedly been somewhat dangerous from time to time, and the recent change in our relationship that I was adjusting to.

"I would think that you might appreciate that, someone who cares deeply for you," she had continued . "I never had that, at least not before. You must learn to compromise."

"That" referring to her marriage that had ended the year before, and the dreadful circumstances that had taken her to that point.

"Mr. Brimley was good enough to accompany me to Stepney. I met with Ethan and his mother."

There, I thought, compromise .

"When you explained that you learned Dr. Bennett had treated the boy's injuries, I thought there might be… something else that could be important."

I was not usually at a loss for words. But the visit with Ethan had deeply affected me, far more than I had anticipated. I went to the stove to warm my hands.

I had seen injured children before in the course of our inquiries, some quite seriously. But Ethan had been so very brave, and to think the boy might have been permanently maimed and scarred.

"To see him… the wounds were obviously quite severe. If not for Dr. Bennett…" I was rattling on as Brodie would have called it, quite out of character for me.

I heard the scrape of his chair across the floor then felt those strong hands, gentle on my shoulders. I turned and he pulled me into his arms.

"It would seem that Dr. Bennett very well may have discovered new ways to help those injured like Ethan," I went on, soaking the shoulder of his shirt as the tears came, and I never cried.

"Why would someone want to harm the doctor…?" The rest of it caught in my throat, and then in that way that he knew what I was thinking.

"Fear perhaps, professional jealousy," Brodie suggested.

The cold knot that I'd carried back from Stepney slowly eased.

When had I come to need that? How had I convinced myself that I didn't need such things?

"Ye're shaking," he said then. "Have ye eaten anythin' today? Ye know how ye are when ye dinnae eat."

I shook my head. He handed me his handkerchief, then went to the door and called down to Mr. Cavendish with a request to have food sent over from the Public House.

The food and another dram of my aunt's whisky helped considerably as I told Brodie of my visit to the museum that morning and the hope that Sir Reginald might be able to tell us something important once he translated Dr. Bennett's notes and that manuscript.

"Aye, it could be useful."

I held out my glass for another dram.

"He's quite certain now that the writings in the papyrus are Coptic. It's a very old Egyptian dialect, but he seemed confident that he could translate it."

Somewhere along the way, Brodie took the empty glass from my hand and mentioned that it was quite late.

I rose from my chair with the intention of making my way to the adjacent room. However, at last count, there had been at least two drams of my aunt's whisky. Or was it three?

I wobbled slightly and Brodie was there to unwobble me. One arm went about my waist, the other under my legs and he carried me into the bedroom.

He set me on the edge of the bed, then began to unlace my boots. He removed one, then the other.

"Ethan was so very brave," I said then, and it occurred to me that I might be slightly intoxicated. "He reminds me of you."

Was that the reason the visit to Stepney had affected me so?

Brodie looked up. "Is that so?"

I nodded as he pushed my hands aside and then unbuttoned my skirt and shirtwaist, then told me to stand.

I did, for the most part, with a hand on his shoulder to steady myself and stepped out of my clothes.

"I thought of Edinburgh and what it must have been like for you as a boy…"

He eased me down onto the bed, then tucked the bedcovers about me. I felt his hand against my cheek.

"Go to sleep, lass."