Free Night's Child by Maureen Jennings

breakfast. That is all.”
    It was Murdoch’s turn to speak up. This time, his voice was firmer. Still kind but there was no mistaking that he was reaching his limit.
    “Benjamin, what you just said to your teacher was rude. Gentlemen don’t speak like that. Please apologize.”
    The boy was looking so white, Murdoch almost thought he might faint the way his sister had.
    “I beg your pardon, Miss Slade. I didn’t mean nothing.”
    “Anything,” she corrected him automatically. “You didn’t mean anything.”
    “No, Miss.”
    “I am in no way asking you to be disloyal to your sister, Ben, but I would like to speak to her, as would Mr. Murdoch. You say you don’t know where Martha lives now. But at a guess, where might she be? Was it a grand house like the ones on Sherbourne Street or Berkeley?”
    He thought for a moment. “I can’t say, Miss. Martha never told us much cos of Pa. She’s come back home a couple of times in the beginning and she said it was a swell house and they treated her good. That’s all I know.”
    “How did she get the position, Ben?” Murdoch asked.
    “She found a newspaper under a bench.”
    Miss Slade and Murdoch exchanged glances. “You mean she answered an advertisement?”
    “Yes, sir, that’s what she did.”
    Murdoch took the photograph of the baby boy from his envelope and held it in front of Ben.
    “Have you ever seen this picture before?”
    The boy’s eyes flickered, but he shook his head. “No, sir. Passed on as he, the baby?”
    “Yes.”
    Before he left the station, Murdoch had taped a piece of paper over the genitalia of the youth in the other photograph so that he was only visible from the waist up. He showed this card to Ben.
    “Do you know this lad?”
    “No, sir. Why is he covered up? Is he a prince?”
    “I doubt he’s a prince and he’s covered up because he doesn’t have any clothes on.”
    Ben giggled nervously. “Why not?”
    Murdoch decided to ignore the question. “Are you sure you’ve never seen him? He didn’t come to your house ever?”
    Ben was on safe ground here. “Oh no, sir. Nobody comes to the house.”
    Murdoch took the boy’s chin in his hand and looked into his eyes. “Are you telling me the truth, son?”
    Ben stared back at him but his brown eyes had gone blank, deliberately guileless.
    “Oh yes, sir. I ain’t never seen either picture before.”
    Miss Slade managed to bite her tongue and not correct his grammar. Murdoch let him go, unconvinced. “Thank you, Ben. Now, listen to me. I want you to let Miss Slade know the moment Aggie returns home. Will you do that?”
    “Yes, sir. But Aggie’ll come to school, won’t she?”
    “She might be afraid to. You will be doing her a great kindness if you tell her that we want to help her. Then let Miss Slade know. Just in case Aggie decides to run off to Martha’s again.”
    “Yes, sir.”
    “You can go back into the classroom, now, Ben,” said Miss Slade.
    The raucous attempts at imitation had died down and now there was the ordinary murmur of unsupervised children. Benjamin did as the teacher told him, but she remained in the corridor. Murdoch could see her distress.
    “We’ll get to the bottom of this, ma’am, I promise. Even if I have to knock on the door of every photographer in the city.”
    That comment won him a rather reluctant smile.
    “I do appreciate your help, Mr. Murdoch.”
    “I will report back to you as soon as I can.”
    She stared at him for a moment, considering some choice he couldn’t fathom.
    “Just a moment,” she said and went back into the classroom, returning immediately with a silver card case in her hand. She opened it. “Here is my card. I would be more than happy if you call on me at my lodgings. I don’t mind what the hour. I wish to know any outcome of your inquiries.”
    Murdoch put the calling card into his pocket and tipped his hat.
    “Good day, Miss Slade.”
    As he walked back toward the cloakroom, he could hear new sounds