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Honesty put a match to his pipe and muttered, “Impossible to getthat fat. Even in ten years.”
Burton nodded, and continued, “So Tomas and this Frenchman spentweeks prospecting until one day they never came back. Nothingfurther was heard until earlier this year, when rumours reachedPedro that a person named Tomas Castro was in an asylum inSantiago. He rode there to make enquiries and was told that, aroundthe time of his father's disappearance, a man had been delivered tothe establishment in a state of near insanity. He'd later, during amoment of lucidity, given his name as Castro. Naturally, Pedrowanted to see him, but was informed that the patient had recentlybeen transported to London to be incarcerated in the Bethlem RoyalHospital. Apparently, he'd turned out to be from a rich Englishfamily. Pedro therefore concluded that the lunatic in question wasneither his father nor the Frenchman.”
“English!”
“Yes. So now we have to find out exactly who that man is.”
“Roger Tichborne?”
“It seems likely. You'll remember that he was raised by a Frenchmother and had a French accent.”
“Which the Claimant doesn't.”
“Notably.”
Honesty asked, “Who took him from the Santiago asylum?”
“Ah, that's an interesting point.”
“It is?”
“He was removed by a rather well-known individual.”
“Who?”
“Nurse Florence Nightingale.”
“The Lady of the Lamp!”
“The very same. Which, considering I was told she's missing,intrigues me a great deal!”
“Told by whom?”
“Isambard Kingdom Brunel, at the time of the Brundleweedrobbery.”
“By gum! What's she up to? We must see that man in Bedlam! Apolice raid, perhaps?”
“Good heavens, no! That would be far too heavy-handed! No, no,softly, softly, catchee monkey. Palmerston's men, Burke and Hare,are preparing false papers. In a couple of days, they and I willenter the asylum in the guise of government inspectors.”
Honesty grunted and sucked thoughtfully at his pipe.
Burton pulled a cord at the side of the fireplace. He and hisguest sat in contemplative silence until Mrs. Angell answered thesummons. Burton requested a pot of coffee. As the old lady left, heturned back to the Yard man and said: “So Commissioner Mayne sentyou to Australia to find out more about our faux aristocrat? Howwent it?”
“Went well. I took Commander Krishnamurthy. Remember him? Finefellow. Head of Flying Squad now!”
“Yes, so I've heard. What did you two find down there?”
Honesty bent and placed his pipe on the hearth. He licked hislips, interlaced his fingers, and rested his hands in his lap. Heeschewed long sentences, but he was now in a position where theymight be necessary, and he needed to prepare himself.
The study door creaked open and footsteps padded across theroom.
“Hello, Fidget,” Burton muttered. He reached down to fondle hisbasset hound's ears. “I'm afraid you'll have to wait for yourwalk.”
The dog sat at his feet and regarded the man opposite.
“In Wagga Wagga,” Honesty began, “no one has heard of TomasCastro. No one recognised the face in the daguerreotype. They didspeak, however, of a man named Arthur Orton, a local butcher.Tremendously fat. Had an insatiable appetite for raw meat.Mysteriously disappeared.”
“When?”
“Four weeks before the Claimant arrived in Paris.”
“Ah!”
“Orton learned his skill as a butcher in London. He originallyhailed from Wapping. Upon my return, I found the family.Interviewed his sisters. They say he moved to Australia somefifteen years ago. Never heard of again. I showed them thedaguerreotype. They say it's not him.”
The study door swung open and Mrs. Angell entered with thecoffee. She poured them each a cup.
“Thank you, my dear,” said Detective Inspector Honesty. Thehousekeeper smiled. There came an impatient hammering at the frontdoor.
“I'll get it,” she said, and departed.
“I have the distinct impression, Inspector,” said Burton, “thata very tangled web has been woven.”
“I should say so. Who's assaulting your door?”
“I'd recognise that knock anywhere. It's our mutual friendWilliam Trounce.”
Footsteps thundered up the stairs and the door was flung open.Trounce stamped in, ruddy-faced and puffing. He banged his bowlerhat onto a desk.
“He's been released on bail!” he yelled. “Ah! Honesty! There youare! Hallo, Burton! Long time no see! The Claimant was taken to theOld Bailey at nine o'clock this morning and walked out a free manthirty minutes later. There was a crowd of cheering idiots to greethim. How the blazes has that fat monstrosity garnered so muchsupport these past weeks, eh? Tell me that, Captain!”
He dragged an armchair over to them and plonked himself into it,rubbed his short hair vigorously, then punched one hand into theother.
“Blast it!” he shouted.
“Admiral Lord Nelson,” Burton said to his valet, “would youfetch a cup for Detective Inspector Trounce, please?”
The clockwork man saluted, walked to the door, and left theroom.
“I'll be blowed!” Honesty exclaimed. “Thought it was a suit ofarmour!”
Burton rubbed his chin thoughtfully. “I don't know, Trounce, oldman,” he said. “I don't know. But you're absolutely right-the mostremarkable aspect of this case is that, from the very start, theClaimant has gained supporters left, right, and centre. Judging bywhat I've seen so far, I'd say he radiates some sort of powerfulmesmeric influence, though why it affects some and not others isquite a mystery.”
Burton remembered the people he'd seen in court rubbing theirheads as if experiencing discomfort; Colonel Lushington's suddenheadache when the Claimant arrived at Tichborne House; and EdwinBrundleweed's strange migraine.
It was the black diamonds, of course. Something was emanatingfrom them. Sir Charles Babbage had said they could store andtransmit the electrical fields generated by a human brain. All theevidence suggested they could influence a human brain as well.
“Your average man in the street seems under the impression thatthere's a conspiracy against the Claimant,” Trounce said. “He'sbecome a hero to the working classes.”
“An aristocrat who laboured as a butcher,” Honesty commented.“They like that.”
Trounce grunted his agreement.
Admiral Lord Nelson entered with a cup in his hand.
“Pour Detective Inspector Trounce a coffee, would you?” Burtonsaid.
“Good lord!” Honesty muttered as the clockwork man obeyed.
Strident screams and cries reached them from the streetbelow.
“That sounds like young Swinburne,” Trounce observed.
“Arguing with a cabbie, I'll wager,” Burton agreed. “He'sconvinced that any cab ride, whatever the distance, costs ashilling, and he'll argue until he's blue in the face if the cabbiedisagrees!”
He smiled. It had been a while since he'd seen his diminutiveand highly eccentric assistant, and he'd missed him.
A few minutes later the doorbell jangled and a shout of, “Hallo,sweet angel!” floated up from the hall below. Footsteps sounded,the study door opened, and Mrs. Angell a
“Send him in, Mother.” Burton chuckled. “And consider theservice suspended until further notice!”
As the landlady turned to leave, Swinburne bounded past her intothe room.
“Hallo! Hallo! Hallo!” he cried. “Greetings one and all! Comeon! Up and at ’em! Shake a leg! Hats on heads! Let's be off! Wedon't want to miss it!”
Burton crossed to his friend, shook his hand, slapped his back,and said: “Hello, Algy! Off where? Miss what?”
“I'm delighted to see you too, Richard, but a little less powerto your welcome, if you don't mind! Every time you pat my back, Ifear bones will break. By George, you look ta