The Case of the Baker Street Irregular (Andrew Tillet, Sara Wiggins & Inspector Wyatt Book 1) by Robert Newman

Author:Robert Newman [Newman, Robert]
Language: eng
Format: epub, azw3
ISBN: 9781497686823
Publisher: Open Road Media
Published: 2014-12-29T23:00:00+00:00

10

The Listener

“Do you trust me, Andrew?”

Andrew looked at the blind fiddler with surprise. He must know the answer to that, must know how Andrew felt about him, especially after everything that had happened the day before. But since he seemed to want a response, Andrew said, “Yes, Ben.”

“Good. We’re going to do something that will seem odd to you, but I want you to do exactly what I tell you, and do it without asking any questions.”

“All right, Ben.”

They were standing in front of the Bazaar on Baker Street. Since it had been very late when they got to sleep, they had not gotten up as early as usual that morning. By the time they had had their breakfast at a coffee stall, it was a little after ten. Ben had played for a while in Soho, then they had walked west to Baker Street.

Ben told him what he wanted to do and, though it certainly was rather strange, Andrew did not comment. Ben tucked his fiddle under his chin and began to play again, and Andrew, holding the wide brimmed black hat, stood beside him looking up the street.

A few minutes after eleven, the heavy set man with the military mustache came out of 221B. He was wearing a top hat and carrying a small black bag as Ben had said he would.

“He’s coming,” said Andrew quietly.

Ben continued playing. Then, as the man came towards them, he lowered his fiddle and stepped forward, bumping into the man and knocking off his hat. Andrew, who had circled behind them, caught it. Tucked inside the hat was a stethoscope. Whipping it out, he hid it in his jacket, passed the hat to Ben, and hurried off up the street.

Behind him he heard Ben saying, “I beg your pardon, sir. I hope I didn’t hurt you.”

“Not at all,” said the man.

Glancing back, Andrew saw Ben give the man his hat. He put it on without looking inside it, continued on to the curb, and waved to a hansom. Andrew paused, waiting for Ben to catch up with him.

“Did you get it?” asked Ben.

“Yes. He never noticed it was gone so I didn’t run.”

“Good lad. We’ll get it back to him one of these days.” And smiling as he had the day the man gave him a shilling, he let Andrew lead him back down Baker Street and then east.

When they got to Picadilly, a newsboy, papers under his arm, ran past them calling, “Dynamiters strike again!” and Ben paused abruptly.

“Boy!” he called.

He bought a paper and gave it to Andrew.

“Tell me where the dynamiting was,” he said.

Andrew skimmed the article, which took up most of the first column.

“On Pall Mall, near one of the clubs.”

“Anyone hurt?”

“No. Some windows were broken, but that’s all.”

“Ah,” said Ben. “Let’s have lunch.”

They spent most of the afternoon around Leicester Square and in Soho and had dinner in a rather grubby restaurant near Seven Dials. Ben was strangely silent, as he had been most of the day, and when they had finished dinner, he said, “We’ve some more business to take care of tonight.

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