Free Children of the Tide by Jon Redfern Page A

sir.”
    â€œCome then, follow me, Sergeant.”
    Hobbling a little with his gouty foot, the inspector mounted the steps to the first floor and entered a large window-bright room. A gathering of constables and other sergeants stood at attention.
    â€œGentlemen of the law, I wish you a good afternoon,” said Inspector Endersby as he lifted off his hat and pulled off his suede gloves. “Before I begin, may I remind you all as members of the Metropolitan Police Force what our purpose is as public servants. We have before us an unusual crime. We are to perform our duties dependent upon the public approval of our actions. Unlike our French compatriots abroad, we do not use fear or the ways of the military to mete out justice. You and I are not judges or hangmen; we are instead guardians of the peace.” The men stomped their boots in agreement.
    â€œI desire, gentlemen, your strict attention to my proposal.” One of the desk sergeants took up pen and paper. Endersby instructed Caldwell to take a stand in the middle of the room. “Kindly describe the murderer, Sergeant,” commanded Endersby. “Use only the details based on what has been learned from the witnesses.” Caldwell began his profile, starting with a description of the culprit’s overall appearance, elaborating afterward the remarkable facets which had impressed the young Catherines.
    â€œA singular villain,” added Endersby. “Now, gentlemen. Write out copies of this verbal picture of the murderer-suspect and have a copy delivered to each of the station houses in quadrants north and south of St. Paul’s. The villain, we surmise, will most likely strike again in the area near St. Giles, but have all detective branches alerted and warn constables to keep sharp eyes on anyone who resembles the man — his limp, beard, scar, and the weapons he carries.”
    â€œYes, sir,” was the resounding response, spoken in unison. Endersby thanked them; he subsequently commanded the station sergeant to release two constables on day duties to accompany Mr. Caldwell on this most demanding mission. Within moments, two young men appeared in full constable wear — black stove-pipe hats, white leather gloves and navy blue jackets.
    â€œMr. Rance, sir,” said the first one, tall, lean, dark-haired.
    â€œMr. Tibald, sir,” said the other, equally as tall, sloped-­shouldered and light-haired.
    â€œWe can forestall the cruel murder of another unfortunate. If our logic is correct,” Endersby concluded after explaining to his new recruits the strategy for the afternoon. The men had adjourned to a vacant office where on the wall attached, by tacks, was a large map of London. “Look gentlemen,” Endersby began. “Do you see the circle?” The inspector’s right hand drew a line from St.Giles, along Holborn, to Shoe Lane. “In this quadrant of London,” he explained, “the city has erected six workhouses built to a standard with wards, some for children or prostitutes, others for destitute families and bachelors. I believe our searcher has begun his hunt in this area first — and that he will follow this circle, if he can, from Shoe Lane over to Wych Street, north again toward St. Giles and the Seven Dials, then again along Holborn where he may end at the Foundling Hospital. This is a poor, hobbled man,” Endersby reminded his three law men. “He must travel by foot — and slowly — given a noticeable limp described by one of our witnesses. I conjecture he will investigate any one of these places tonight and the next, if he has not done so already. He may murder as well as search for his Catherine if last night’s crimes are an indication of his method.”
    The two constables studied the map and turned to Sergeant Caldwell for instruction as to which one of the three of them would tackle the various workhouses. Caldwell outlined his agenda before