Free Lifeblood by Tom Becker Page A

Where’s Pa?”
    There was a pause.
    â€œHe’s gone,” whispered her mum.
    â€œGone? Gone where?”
    Without tearing her gaze from the window, her mum handed Raquella a note. The maidservant’s hands shook as she read it.
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    My Dearest Georgina,
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    I have always feared that this day would come. For years I have been keeping a dreadful secret. Many nights I thought about telling you, but I knew that it would have only put you and the children in danger. Now I know that my hour of reckoning has come, and I must face it alone or place all those I love in unimaginable peril. A life without you is barely a life at all, but I hope that in time I shall be able to return to you, my love. In the meanwhile, take care of one another.
    Â 
    Your loving husband,
    Â 
    William
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    â€œI . . . I don’t understand,” said Raquella. “What’s this secret he’s talking about? Where has he gone? What’s going on, Ma?”
    Georgina didn’t reply to her daughter’s question.
    â€œOh, my William,” she whispered. “What have you done?”

9
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    A hansom cab came to a clattering halt outside the front door of the Rafferty house. Alerted by the noise, Jonathan, Carnegie and Arthur headed outside, in time to see Lucien Fox climbing awkwardly down from the carriage. The editor of The Informer hobbled towards Arthur, a testy expression etched on his face.
    â€œThis had better be good. You know I don’t like to leave the office.”
    The reporter smiled grimly. “Oh, it’s good all right. In fact, it’s so good that I didn’t think it was a good idea advertising it around The Informer . You might trust your devoted staff, but I certainly don’t.”
    They headed back into Edwin’s glum front room, where the note from the safe had been left on the table. Lucien put on a pair of sharp-rimmed spectacles and began to inspect it thoroughly, the paper crackling under the touch of his fingers. He read the note several times in complete silence. Then he looked up, rubbing his neck thoughtfully.
    â€œWell, it could be genuine,” Lucien conceded. “Paper looks old enough.”
    Arthur beamed triumphantly, pressing the ever-present handkerchief to his perspiring forehead. “Unbelievable, isn’t it? You know what this is, don’t you? It’s the first new clue to the James Ripper murder in over a decade!”
    â€œI wouldn’t get too carried away just yet,” Lucien replied cautiously. “This note’s only a couple of lines long, and it doesn’t exactly prove anything. It could be referring to something else entirely.”
    â€œHe’s right,” Carnegie sniffed. “This isn’t adding up yet. Are you really suggesting that Darkside’s most infamous murder was carried out by Edwin Rafferty ? That man couldn’t have organized a punch-up on the Grand.”
    Arthur frowned. “I know it could be nothing. But I’ve got the same sort of feeling I got when investigating the Claude du Pont murder. No one then thought the chimney sweep could have been responsible for such a fiendish act, but I soon showed them. When I get hunches, they don’t tend to be wrong.”
    â€œThat, at least, is true,” Lucien acknowledged wryly. “But even if the note is something to do with James Ripper, where does it lead you? Ever heard of this Brother Fleet?”
    â€œI can’t say I have, but I can ask around. Someone on Darkside will know who he is. . .”
    He was interrupted by Carnegie clearing his throat loudly.
    â€œThat’s one way of carrying on. It’s a bit random, though. There is another approach we could try.”
    â€œWhat do you mean?”
    â€œLook at the note again.”
    Both Lucien and Arthur peered closely at the small slip of paper, frowning with concentration. After a few seconds the editor clucked his tongue with