The Hangman's Secret by Laura Joh Rowland

Author:Laura Joh Rowland
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Crooked Lane Books

CHAPTER 17

“This is gonna to be so terrific!” Mick bounces with gleeful anticipation.

It’s ten thirty in the morning, and he, Hugh, and I are crowded in a cab with my camera equipment, riding to Newgate. After Inspector Reid delivered the summons last night, Sir Gerald sent a message that instructed me to photograph the exhumation.

“I can’t go through with it.” Hugh’s face is pale, moist, and sickly.

“Don’t you wanna see if Amelia’s there?” Mick says.

“I’m afraid that if she is, I’ll disgrace myself.”

I don’t know which I’m more afraid of—that Mrs. Fry was telling the truth or lying. I suppose I should prefer to see a corpse and look a fool than learn that justice for Amelia Carlisle’s victims was subverted.

At Newgate, police outside the main entrance are holding back a crowd of men, women, and children, reporters and photographers. Newsboys hawk copies of the Daily World, whose headline announces the exhumation. As we alight from the cab, laden with my equipment, a cry rises from the crowd. “It’s Sarah Bain!”

I cringe from the mob that presses in around us. Reporters shout, “Miss Bain, who’s the anonymous source? Do you think Amelia will be found in her grave?”

Cameras thrust at my face; exploding flash powder blinds me. I silently curse Malcolm Cross for making me a celebrity.

“Let us through!” Constables pushing the reporters and photographers aside usher my friends and me to the entrance. Two black horses draw a large black carriage up to the prison. The carriage bears a gold insignia—a ship in full sail. Sir Gerald steps from the carriage, his tall, stout person clad in a black overcoat and a silk top hat. The crowd keeps a respectful distance; his wealth and power form an invisible barrier around him that even the light from the flashes doesn’t seem to penetrate. He surveys the scene as if he owns everything and everyone in it. The reporters address him with deference.

“Sir Gerald, are you glad that your newspaper has forced the government to exhume Amelia Carlisle?” “Sir Gerald, can you please give us a statement for our readers?”

On his heels follows Malcolm Cross, who behaves like a prince making a royal visit, waving to people he knows, his smile broad with self-importance. Sir Gerald pauses near the entrance and says, “All I care about is that Amelia Carlisle got her just deserts. If we find out today that she didn’t, I’ll move heaven and earth to make sure she does.” His words have the gravity of a blood oath. Perhaps he thinks justice for Amelia will feed his hunger for vengeance.

Cheers from the crowd follow him and Malcolm Cross into the prison. Hugh, Mick, and I trail them. I try to appear calm while my insides quake. In the hall, we meet Governor Piercy, Sheriff Hargreaves, Dr. Davies, and the Reverend Starling. Their expressions are somber, composed; I can’t tell if they’re afraid of what the exhumation will reveal. Only the chaplain’s jerking Adam’s apple betrays any anxiety. They shake hands with Sir Gerald but disregard my friends and me.

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