The Color of Death Read Online Free PDF

wouldn’t know, sir. I never talked to no black man before. They just sounded regular.”
    “Thank you, that will be all.”
    And off she went, pausing only to curtsey and blurt out a thank-you.
    “Well, Jeremy,” said Sir John, turning in my general direction, “what did you think of her? “
    “I would say, sir, that what she lacked in valor she made up in good sense.”
    “Well put,” said he, “but tell me, is Mr. Bailey about? Now that I’ve talked to a couple of them, I feel as though I’d like to talk to more — just getting into the spirit of it, so to speak.”
    “Yes sir, Mr. Bailey is just across the room.” In fact he had been talking for quite some time with a man nearly as large as he.
    “Beckon him here, will you?”
    That I did, and Mr. Bailey came, bringing the big man along with him. “Sir John,” said he, “I’ve someone with me here who can tell you a bit about the murdered man.”
    “Ah, at last,” said Sir John. “I was hoping you’d find one such. The butler hired him but claims to know nothing about him.”
    “Well, I know something, don’t know all,” said the newcomer.
    “Your something will be most welcome, Mr… . Mr… . What is your name, sir?”
    “Burley,” said he. “Tom Burley in full. Walter Travis and me were porters together. We did all the furniture moving, the heavy lifting and loading — just the two of us.”
    “Then you must have been well-acquainted with the man.”
    Tom Burley sighed and shook his head. “Nobody got too well-acquainted with him. He was a hard man to get to know.”
    “Well, there are those, of course. But perhaps you could tell me, Mr. Burley, something of his background. Where was he from, for instance?”
    “Right here in London, as near as I can tell. He never talked about anyplace else, anyways. Certain things he said made me think he’d put in some time in prison.’
    “Debtors prison? The Fleet? Bridewell?”
    “No, I think he’d seen the inside of Newgate. I don’t know for what, or for how long, but he got to talking about it once, told of the nasty little tricks played by the warders on the inmates, and he told it in such a way, it seemed pretty certain to me he knew from experience.”
    “Hmmm,” said Sir John, musing for a moment, “yet he was hired. The butler said he’d been given a good character by his last employer.”
    “Aw, that meant nothing, sir. He counterfeited it, made it all up his-self, then handed it over to a scrivener to get it Englished proper and make it look as such should look.”
    “You know this for certain, Mr. Burley?”
    “I know he told me that’s what he did. And if you’re wondering why I didn’t snitch, I’d have to say it ain’t my nature to do so. As long as he did his share of the work — and he did — I’ll keep mum on the matter.”
    “Why do you suppose he was singled out to be killed? Was it done as a warning to the rest of you there in the kitchen — a threat? “
    “Oh, perhaps something of that sort. Something was said. A threat was made. It was just when they were getting ready to leave, they took him along. But that wasn’t the reason — not to my mind.”
    “Then why was he taken? Why was he killed? “
    “I’ve something in mind about that,” said Burley. “I think it might be he was in on the sacking of the house — told them when to come and what was where, and so he expected to leave with them. He didn’t seem overly worried when he went up those steps. Shoot him down, and you’ve got one less when you divvy the whack.”
    Sir John nodded thoughtfully, considering at length what had been said. “Did you view the body?” he asked at last.
    “Oh yes. We’d all heard the shot fired out back, so we had a pretty good idea where to look. Travis was shot in the back of the head — by surprise, I’d say. Poor cull never knew what hit him.”
    “I wonder if you — “
    “Beg pardon, Sir John.” It was Constable Bailey. Usually a model of