The Detective and the Devil Read Online Free PDF

worked as a clerk for the East India
Company.’
    Harriott baulked at this.
    ‘The East India Company?’
    ‘Yes, sir. Perhaps you could assist with dealing with the Company?’
    ‘Assist how?’ asked Markland, somewhat put out.
    ‘I have personal history with John Company,’ said Harriott, glancing down at his left leg without further comment. If Markland had bothered to read Harriott’s memoirs he would
have known that the magistrate’s left leg had been ruined in service of the Company in India. Horton found it interesting that Markland did not know this.
    ‘Markland, have your men interrogated the neighbours?’
    ‘They have, Harriott. Of course.’
    ‘And their findings?’
    Markland frowned at being asked to report in this fashion, but then he consulted an elegant leather notebook. A look passed between Harriott and Horton. Edward Markland, it seemed, had taken to
writing notes.
    ‘Mrs Johnson’s name was Emma, the daughter was called Jane. The neighbours say they were a pleasant enough family, the wife particularly. She seems to have been generous with her
money and her time, both of which she seemed to possess in decent amounts. The mother took in some sewing, and the daughter did some work alongside her.’
    ‘Any other family?’
    ‘The wife has a sister, living in Putney.’
    ‘And were there any witnesses to the events?’
    ‘None at all. No unusual noises, no raised voices at all.’
    ‘Though there is a menagerie next door,’ said Horton, causing Markland to glance at him with irritation. ‘Unusual noises are not uncommon on that street.’
    Markland appeared not to have noticed the strange shop next door, and did not relish having its presence pointed out to him.
    ‘No one seen coming or going?’ asked Harriott.
    ‘No,’ said Markland, looking away from Horton.
    ‘He was careful.’
    ‘Assuming he worked alone,’ said Horton, and Harriott looked at him.
    ‘You think there was more than one man involved?’
    ‘I have no idea. But there is nothing to suggest there was only one man.’
    ‘Who discovered the bodies?’ asked Unwin.
    ‘The servant, a girl called Amy Beavis. She lives with her father over towards Whitechapel.’
    ‘I suggest Horton goes to speak with her,’ said Harriott. ‘He is good with servants.’
    Horton had little idea what this might mean, but nodded in any case.
    ‘Your thoughts, Horton?’ This from Markland.
    ‘My thoughts, sir?’
    ‘Have you developed a picture of the case?’
    ‘By no means, Mr Markland. It is far too early for such things. I will need further time to investigate.’
    ‘Well, time is something we do not have,’ said Markland. He rose, and placed a hat on his head. ‘There is a frenzy of chatter in the streets. People believe the killer of the
Marrs and Williamsons has returned. Nonsense, of course – Williams is dead. But the uneducated and the idle thrive on gossip. I must return to the Shadwell office. Horton will report to me
any developments. Is that agreed, Harriott?’
    Harriott grunted, a noise that Horton knew could signify almost anything.
    ‘Well, then. I will go and speak to the gentlemen of the press, and try to calm the populace. Gentlemen.’
    Markland left, and Unwin made his own farewell, leaving with the silent and stone-faced surgeon. Horton and Harriott were left alone.
    ‘He will calm the populace, will he?’ grumbled Harriott. ‘My word, sometimes I think Edward Markland imagines himself to be Bonaparte.’
    ‘He certainly seems to desire an empire,’ said Horton, without thinking. He looked at the magistrate, embarrassed by his revealing insubordination. Harriott smiled, though the smile
was an old, ill and tired thing.
    ‘You have made an enemy of the surgeon, constable,’ said Harriott.
    ‘So it would seem, sir.’
    ‘Tell Markland everything,’ the old magistrate said. ‘But tell me first.’
    Amy Beavis did not live in Whitechapel, despite what Markland had said. Her address was