Free Bleeding Heart Square by Andrew Taylor Page A

you. It's a lot for a girl to carry around in her handbag."
    "I think I'll keep it, Father. There are things I need to buy." She glimpsed the gloom descending on his face like mist. "But I ought to give you something. I ought to pay my way."
    He beamed at her. "I won't pretend that money isn't a little tight at present. A temporary embarrassment, as they say." He watched her open her handbag and find her purse. She took out a five-pound note, which he almost snatched from her gloved fingers. "I have a business appointment a little later this morning," he went on. "First, though, I'll introduce you to Howlett."
    "Who?"
    "The Beadle chap in Rosington Place. He's a bit of an ally of mine."
    "I think I met him the day after I arrived."
    "He ought to know you're my daughter. Have you got half a crown, by any chance?"
    "Why?" she said, thinking of the five-pound note.
    "I haven't any change on me. I like to give Howlett something now and again. It's an investment, in a way."
    They set off toward Holborn Circus. Smoke drifted up from the chimney of the lodge at the foot of Rosington Place. He rapped on the shuttered window facing the roadway with the head of his stick.
    Instantly the dog began to bark. The shutter flew up with a crash, revealing Howlett's head and shoulders. "Shut up," he said and the barking stopped abruptly, as if the dog had been kicked. "Morning, Captain."
    "Morning, Howlett. This is my daughter, Mrs. Langstone. Mind you keep an eye out for her."
    Howlett touched the brim of his hat. "Yes, sir. We met the other day, didn't we, ma'am?"
    Lydia nodded. The dog began to bark again.
    "I suppose Mrs. Langstone might find it convenient to use the back gate occasionally," Ingleby-Lewis went on.
    Howlett grunted. The dog began to yap again.
    Her father turned to Lydia. "There's a gate up there in the corner by the chapel--you can get directly into Bleeding Heart Square from there."
    "We don't like all and sundry using it," Howlett said firmly.
    "No, indeed. Only the favored few, eh?"
    "The little tyke," Howlett observed. "I'm going to have to let him out."
    His face vanished from the window. The door opened. The dog ran round the lodge and sniffed Lydia's shoes.
    "Beg pardon, ma'am." Howlett edged the dog away from her with the toe of his boot. "Get out of it, Nipper."
    "Plucky little brute," Ingleby-Lewis said.
    "He's got a terrible way with rats."
    "Well. Mustn't stand here chatting all day. Work to be done, eh, Howlett? Here, something to keep out the cold."
    The half-crown changed hands. Howlett touched his hat again. Lydia and her father walked up Rosington Place toward the chapel at the far end. The two terraces on either side were drab but primly respectable. Judging by the nameplates on the doors, they consisted almost entirely of offices.
    "Must be a living death, working in one of these places," Ingleby-Lewis observed, quickening his pace because the Crozier would now be open. "Just imagine it, eh?"
    Lydia stared up at the chapel. Now they were closer, she saw it was much larger than she had first thought. From the other end of Rosington Place, it was dwarfed by the perspective: the height of the terraces created the impression that you were looking at it from the wrong end of a telescope.
    "Belongs to the Romans now," Ingleby-Lewis said. "That chap Fimberry is always in and out--knows all about it. Odd place, really. Still, that's London for you, I suppose: full of queer nooks and crannies. And queer people, come to that."
    The chapel was set back into the terrace on the left-hand side. A door on the left gave access to the house that abutted on the chapel; there was no other sign of an entrance. Immediately in front of them was a gate, painted murky brown, that sealed the northern end of Rosington Place. It was wide enough for a carriage, and it had a wicket inset in one leaf. Ingleby-Lewis raised the latch.
    "Old Howlett's got the only key," he said. "Sometimes he keeps the door locked just to show who's top