The Darkest Walk of Crime Read Online Free PDF

to
parliament in the form of a petition.”
    “All correct so far, Constable.”
Smith’s eyes never strayed from Mendick’s face. “Pray continue.”
     “Parliament rejected the
petition out of hand, but Chartists are persistent, and whenever the economy
dips and there is unemployment and distress in the country, there is more
support for them.”
    “That’s accurate enough,
Constable, as far as it goes.” Smith looked toward Field, who gave a brief nod.
Mendick realised that Smith was unsure exactly how much information he could
safely impart to a lowly police constable.
    Helping himself to Field’s
brandy decanter, Smith recharged their glasses and poured a third, which he
pushed toward Mendick. “You may need this before I am finished, Constable.” The
glass sat on the silver tray, its contents an amber temptation as Smith
continued, “There are new developments among the Chartists. You are obviously
unaware of the militancy that is increasingly gripping these people. There is
something extremely nasty brewing up north, Constable, something that they term
Physical Force Chartism.”
    Mendick nodded. He knew of the
split in the Chartist ranks. While most of the Radicals believed in Moral Force
Chartism and hoped to persuade the government to accept their demands by
peaceful protests and great petitioning, others were more militant. Led by
Feargus O’Connor, the only Chartist Member of Parliament, the Physical Force
Chartists spoke of armed revolution unless the government accepted the six
points of the Charter.
    Smith sipped at his brandy and
continued, “We are unsure exactly what these people contemplate, perhaps a
worker’s strike or a national holiday as they term it. Perhaps they plan
a series of such strikes that may well cripple the economy of the country, or
perhaps something even worse, but we would like you to find out.”
    Mendick curled a hand around the
crystal balloon and swirled the liquid inside. The smell of the brandy was
sharp and inviting, but still he desisted. He knew that even a single drink
could induce him down the sweet descent to stupidity.
    “Me, sir?”
    “You, sir.”
    Once again Smith was ice-cool.
“Mr Field speaks most highly of your resourcefulness and I have witnessed your
dedication and courage myself. We need somebody to enter the ranks of the
Chartists, pose as one of them and relate their intentions to us.”
    “I see, sir.”
    Mendick had expected a Scotland
Yard detective would investigate murders and serious theft, but he was being
asked to act as a spy, the very thing that British people hated most about the
plain-clothes police service. The brandy exploded reassuringly inside his
stomach, and he paused for an instant, relishing the sensation even as he
assessed Smith’s proposal.
    “But why me? There must be many
other officers with more experience.”
    “There are,” Smith agreed. He
glanced at Field again. “Look,Constable, this matter is more delicate
than you yet realise. Inspector Field did not select you at random. Firstly, we
require an officer who would be at ease in the north, and you are no Londoner.”
    “No, sir, I am from further
north.” Mendick could feel the brandy weakening his normal reticence, as he had
feared it would. “But there are many established Scotland Yard officers from
outwith London.” The brandy pushed him into continuing, “There is more to this
case than you are revealing.”
    “Much more,” Smith agreed.
Sighing, he reached for the valise, placed it on his knee and snapped it open.
He looked up, and Mendick chilled at the force of his eyes. “What you are about
to see must remain strictly within these four walls, Constable. Is that clear?”
    “It is sir.” Mendick took
another sip of the brandy, closing his eyes as the spirit warmed the inside of
his mouth and eased into his system. Strangely, now that he knew what he was
being asked to do, he felt neither apprehension nor excitement. He had desired
a transfer