Churchyard and Hawke Read online

  Amos reluctantly accepted that Tom was probably right and he said so, adding, ‘You must come to my office with me tomorrow, Tom. I’ll arrange a meeting with the Chief Constable and get Harvey in on it too. We’ll see if between us we can work out what it is the Banks family and their friends are up to.’

  Later that night, in the darkness of their bedroom, Amos and Talwyn were discussing the implications of the information Tom Churchyard had brought with him from London. Amos expressed his doubts about the ability of the inexperienced Cornwall constabulary to effectively deal with the influx of so many ruthless and experienced criminals.

  ‘It sounds as though that is exactly why these criminals have chosen Cornwall as their target.’ Talwyn said, ‘As you’ve said yourself, most other counties have had an organised police force for many years. This will probably be the last opportunity they have to get away with such a thing - and the only place where they are likely to succeed.’

  ‘My duty is to see they don’t succeed.’ Amos pointed out, ‘but just talking to you about what could happen has already given me an idea. There are so many doubts about the force being able to cope with whatever these villains intend doing at Laneglos that the obvious answer is to disrupt their plans before they get to the house.’

  They were lying together in bed and Amos could not see her expression, when she said, ‘It’s all very well to say that’s what you’ll do, but you don’t even know what it is they have planned so how can you prevent them from doing it?’

  ‘We’ll certainly need to have luck on our side,’ Amos agreed ‘and the first piece of luck will mean outguessing them - but that might not be as hard as it seems. The list Tom brought from London contains the names of villains who have been involved in almost every crime that’s come before the London courts. They range from pickpocketing and robbery, to deception, sleight of hand, confidence tricks and all types of fraud. It’s the men and women who carry out the last crimes I’ve mentioned who are going to be most difficult to detect. The best of them are adept at passing themselves off as gentry.’

  ‘But. . . what can such men - and women - hope to achieve at a ball?’ Talwyn was puzzled.

  ‘I can think of a number of things,’ Amos replied, ‘At such large functions as a grand ball in a house like Laneglos there will be rooms set aside for smoking and drinking - and where men gather in such places they will wager - and discuss business matters. A clever villain would be able to rile a drunken man sufficiently for him to wager far more than he otherwise might on something the criminal has rigged. Others might pretend to be very knowledgeable about what is going on in the city and persuade someone with money to sign his name to something he believes will make him a healthy profit. But this is just scratching the surface of what could happen. There are a great many ways a clever rogue can part a rich man from his money - especially when drink is flowing freely. There will also be well-dressed pickpockets circulating among the guests, relieving men of gold watches and purses - but I suspect the main target will be the women, many of whom will no doubt be weighed down by a fortune in jewellery.’

  ‘Surely no thief will be able to take jewellery from a woman in a crowded ballroom?’ Talwyn’s disbelief was evident in her voice.

  ‘Some of the London thieves I know are so skilful they could probably rob them of the clothes they’re wearing as well.’ Amos retorted. He was aware he was exaggerating - but not by very much. ‘What really worries me is that some of the men named on Tom’s list are known to go out armed. With so many villains involved they could be planning to hold up the guests and take everything from them all. If that happens it’s probable some guests will have drunk enough to try to stop them - and it could turn really nasty. I can’t allow matters to reach that stage, Talwyn, I need to nip it in the bud.’

  ‘It’s an absolute nightmare!’ Talwyn was aghast at the thought of what Amos had suggested could take place at the County’s social event of the year and the realization of the danger he would be in, ‘Do you really think that is what is being planned?’

  ‘It could go even farther.’ Amos replied, grimly. ‘Some of the names on Tom’s list are of well-known burglars, many of whom are wanted men. They won’t risk being seen at the ball. If they are involved in this they will be breaking into the house and stripping it of everything of value while the other gang members are busy in the ballroom.’

  For a long time Talwyn lay beside Amos in silence, then she said, ‘The sheer scale of all this is almost unbelievable, Amos. Cornwall will have seen nothing like it since the French and Spaniards came pillaging the coastal towns and villages! It is a very, very frightening prospect . . . .’

  Then, the tone of her voice changing, she said, ‘But there is nothing more that can be done about it tonight . . . Have you remembered that tomorrow is the first anniversary of the day we moved into this, our first home? I know you’re going to be very busy . . . far too busy to celebrate, I fully understand that, but let’s not waste tonight. . . .’

  Amos believed that nothing could take his mind from thoughts of the imminent onslaught the London criminals had planned, but marriage was still a comparatively new experienct for both of them - and Talwyn was a loving, caring and resourceful young woman. . . .

  CHAPTER 8

  Chief Constable Gilbert was so worried about the prospect of the Cornwall Summer Ball being taken over by London criminals that he readily agreed with Amos that he should try to thwart them in every way possible. After discussing the matter in his office, he said, ‘You may call on the services of every man in the force if need be, Amos. . . but do you have any plans of how best to use them?’

  ‘I think fifty constables should be adequate.’ Amos replied, ‘but they must be the best men we have and we’ll need to depend to a great extent upon Sergeant Major Halloran - and Tom Churchyard.’

  The ex-London constable had been introduced to the Chief Constable before going off with Harvey to sift through the list of London criminals believed to be on their way to Cornwall.

  ‘Churchyard’s fractured wrist is going to prevent him being of any great help.’ Gilbert pointed out.

  ‘On the contrary.’ Amos said, ‘His knowledge of the criminals involved will be invaluable. For that reason alone I would like him to be taken on as a sergeant - with immediate effect. I’ll go further and forecast that within a couple of years you will be making him an inspector. We need men like him in the force.’

  ‘We need recruits, certainly, especially those with police experience, but they need to be able-bodied. I would be pilloried by the Police Committee if I took on a disabled man - and as a sergeant!’

  ‘With all due respect, sir, I don’t think we can afford not to take him on. We are going to have to rely very heavily upon Churchyard’s knowledge in order to identify the villains involved - and I am sure I don’t need to remind you that he sustained his injury whilst obtaining information on behalf of the Cornwall constabulary.’

  Amos could see that his reminder of the importance to the force of the success of the county ball had given the Chief Constable pause for thought and he added, ‘The Committee have already approved the appointment of a sergeant clerk to assist me in my office and Churchyard is the ideal man for the post . . . after all, it is Churchyard’s left wrist that’s broken.’

  Shrugging his shoulders in a resigned gesture of acquiescence! Gilbert said, ‘Alright, Amos, you have convinced me . . . I hope I can do the same with the Police Committee. You had better keep him in plainclothes for the time being. We can’t have an invalid going around in uniform.’

  Amos was delighted. The arrangement would suit him well. The Police Committee had made it clear in the past that they would not agree to having a plainclothes detective section within the force, expressing an opinion that it would be tantamount to having the police ‘spying’ on the populace. This was Amos’s means of obtaining his own way by subterfuge. He intended that Tom Churchyard would remain in plainclothes for the foreseeable future -
even when his wrist had healed.

  ‘If none of those we’re looking for get off this train I shall begin to worry?’

  Tom spoke the words to Amos as they sat in the station-masters office at Bodmin Road railway station waiting for the arrival of the 6.15p.m. train from London. The Grand Ball at Laneglos was only forty-eight hours away but, as yet, there had been no sighting in Cornwall of any of the London criminals and he was worried he might have been fed false information about the plans of the Hoxton criminals. It was not unknown for them to deliberately mislead policemen in order to divert attention from their real intentions.

  ‘I’ll save my worrying until after tomorrow’s train ,’ Amos lied, ‘None of them will want to spend more time than is absolutely necessary in Cornwall, so they will leave it until the last minute to arrive. . .’ He broke off to say, ’. . . but here’s the train now!‘

  The Great Western locomotive, dribbling dark smoke from a tall crenulated smoke-stack had come into view along the curving line from the east, heading a line of chocolate and cream coloured carriages.

  As the locomotive slowed alongside the platform and the block brakes of the train screeched in complaint, the fireman on the open footplate, his face blackened by smoke and perspiring heavily, waved off the small boys who were running to keep pace with the engine, while the driver tugged at levers and opened and closed valves to bring the train to a halt.

  Seven passengers alighted from the train and, laying a hand on Amos’s arm, Tom said excitedly, ‘There’s Dolly Brooks . . . ! The woman wearing the leghorn hat.’

  Looking to where a tall, slim and attractive woman was being handed from the train, Amos exclaimed, ‘And I recognize the man she’s with! The last time I saw him he was standing in the dock at Marylebone magistrates’ court. He was charged with a comparatively minor fraud under the name of Shannon . . . Conrad Shannon. He is a very plausible rogue. So plausible that he convinced the magistrate of his innocence and as a result got away with it. I heard afterwards that Shannon was only one of many names he’s used during a lifetime of fraud, deception and forgery. He has been in prison more than once.’

  Dolly Brooks had linked arms with Shannon and the pair were walking towards the station exit followed by a porter carrying a suitcase he had lifted from the carriage compartment they had just left.

  ‘What do we do about them?’ Tom asked.

  Amos had cast an eye swiftly over the other passenger. Satisfied they were country men and women who had probably travelled no farther than from Plymouth on the train, he said, ‘We’ll see whether they are being met by anyone. If they are not . . . we arrest them.’

  Outside the railway station the majority of Cornish passenger boarded a waiting horse-drawn bus, others choosing to walk the mile or so distance to Bodmin town. Dolly and her companion paused for a moment before being directed to a waiting hire-carriage by the porter carrying their baggage.

  The porter handed the portmanteau to the driver of the carriage and the couple from London were about to board the vehicle when the two policemen accosted them. It was Tom who spoke first. Addressing the woman, he said, ‘You’re a long way from home, Dolly, to what do we owe the pleasure of your presence in Cornwall?’

  Startled, Dolly regained her composure very quickly. Drawing herself up to her full height and speaking in a cultured voice, she said haughtily, ‘I don’t think we have met before and my name is not Dolly. You have apparently mistaken me for someone else.’

  Shaking his head and assuming a sad expression, Tom replied, ‘You may have changed your name and lost your Hoxton accent but we have known each other too long for there to be any mistake, Dolly. I repeat, what are you doing here, in Cornwall?’

  Amos thought he had detected a brief moment of alarm on the face of Dolly’s escort when Tom first spoke to her but now, aware he was talking to a man with an arm in a sling, the man said arrogantly, ‘My companion has told you she does not know you - and has no wish to do so. It is none of your business but her name is Adelaide, not Dolly, and we have come from London to attend a ball being held by Viscount Hogg. Now, if you will kindly excuse us . . . .’

  He was about to hand Dolly into the carriage when Amos spoke, ‘One moment, sir, perhaps my colleague should have introduced himself. He is Sergeant Churchyard of the Cornwall constabulary - and I am Superintendent Hawke. Your name is . . . ?’

  ‘I have no wish to know either your names, or your ranks but you can be quite certain I will bring your behaviour to the attention of your Chief Constable . . . I presume he will be attending the ball at Laneglos?’

  ‘Possibly.’ Amos agreed, ‘but you haven’t answered my question . . . Your name, if you please?’

  ‘This is unwarranted harassment.’ blustered the man, ‘I am Sir Richard Donahue. As I am employed at the Treasury in London it is possible I am known to your Chief Constable.’

  ‘It is possible he will know you.’ Amos admitted,’. . . as indeed do I, but I seem to remember that when I last saw you, you were standing in the dock in Marylebone magistrates court, calling yourself Conrad Shannon - and some of my colleagues there could remember a number of other names you had adopted in the past. I think you and Dolly - or Adelaide - had better come with us to the police station in Bodmin and sort out exactly who we all are . . . !’

  CHAPTER 9

  Looking through a barred aperture in the solid oak door of the police cell, Tom Churchyard saw Dolly Brooks lying on the built-in wooden bench which, together with a bucket in a corner of the diminutive and Spartan room, formed the only furnishings. A rolled up coat served as a pillow and Dolly was lying looking up at the white-washed ceiling, meditating on the events which had led to her incarceration.

  Tom entered the cell carefully balancing in his good hand a tray on which was a bowl of watery vegetable soup, a hunk of bread, cheese and a mug of weak tea.

  Turning her head, Dolly said, ‘Oh, it’s you!’

  ‘That’s right, Doll,’ Tom said cheerfully, ‘Personal service, ‘specially for you.’

  ‘You can poke your "personal service". Just let me out of this bleedin’ hole.’ Sitting up stiffly, she added, ‘I’ve done nothing wrong.’

  The refined accent in evidence at Bodmin Road railway station had gone and she had reverted to the dialect of the area from which both she and Tom originated.

  Still cheerful, Tom placed the tray on the plank bench beside her, saying, ‘I believe you, Doll. . . and so does Superintendent Hawke, but that’s only because we picked up you and "Sir Richard" before you’d had time to do what you’d come to Cornwall for.’

  ‘Oh? And what is it I’m supposed to have come here to do?’

  Seating himself on the bench with the tray between them, Tom replied, ‘Now, that’s exactly what Superintendent Hawke and me have been wondering. As I told him, knowing you as well as I do, there are so many things you’re good at. There were times I’ve known you go into a shop as skinny as an orphan - and come out looking eight months gone, with half the shopkeeper’s stock stuffed up your jumper. I’ve also heard you bragging that you could go "up west", collide with half-a-dozen rich men and have their watches and purses while they were still peering down inside your bodice and assuring you there was no need for you to apologize.’

  Smiling benignly at her, Tom continued, ‘Of course, there was much more, Doll . . . like the shilling-a-time knee-tremblers in the alleyway by the school for young gents at St Pauls. . . .’

  ‘All right, you’ve made your point - and stop calling me "Doll"! It’s a scullery-maid’s name and whatever else I may have been I’ve never been a drudge . . . but to go back to my original question, I’ve done nothing, so why are you keeping me in here? It ain’t right.’

  ‘The problem is, Doll, you don’t need to do anything at all, it’s what your friends and relatives get up to that’s likely to land you in trouble. You see, there’s a crime - a very serious one - known as "conspiracy". That’s when a lot of villains get together and decide they’
re going to break the law. Now, once the law is broken all those who conspired to do it are equally guilty - whether they were at the scene or not when it was committed - and they’ll be given the same punishment as those who carried it out.’

  ‘But . . . that’s not fair!’ At first indignant, Dolly realized she had almost admitted she was aware something was planned and she added quickly, ‘Anyway, I don’t know of anything that’s going on.’

  ‘I’m afraid that won’t wash, Doll. We already know that something’s been planned and we know where and when it’s going to happen. What’s more, we’ve found evidence on your "Sir Richard" that incriminates both of you. Evidence that proves your intention of being at the scene of the crime together with the others involved. I’m very much afraid that it’s Newgate again for you - only this time it will be for very many years with no one to get you out.’

  There was an element of truth in what Tom had told her. They had found two tickets for the Laneglos Grand County Ball in the possession of Conrad Shannon, the name in which Dolly’s companion had been entered in the Police Station’s custody book, despite his insistence that he was Sir Richard Donahue.

  Whether this was sufficient to convict the pair of conspiracy was uncertain, but Tom’s claim certainly scared Dolly. With unfeigned horror she pleaded, ‘You can’t have me sent back to Newgate, Tom. . . I couldn’t take it. I’d top myself if I had to stay in there for very long, I swear I would. Take pity on me Tom . . . for old time’s sake!’

  Tom was aware that Dolly had been an actress - and a very good one, with a wide repertoire of feigned emotions. She was also a convicted criminal. He had no illusions about her inherent dishonesty but he had known her before her conviction and was aware her upbringing and life itself had drawn her into ways that came naturally to so many of her contemporaries.