Free The Black Crow Conspiracy by Christopher Edge Page B

drawn, dark circles inked beneath his eyes whilst his features bristled with the beginnings of a beard. Next to him, Mr Wigram blinked hard and then frowned.
    “And I do hope you are not threatening my client, Inspector Drake. It is enough of a scandal that you have held him here for so long without a single shred of evidence.”
    Drake eyed the figure of the elderly lawyer with disdain.
    “The gravity of the situation demands that I take every appropriate action to find out the truth. May I remind you that the charge of treason is a capital crime. As for evidence, I have Montgomery Flinch’s own confession printed in the pages of
The Penny Dreadful
, whereas your client has been unable to even provide me with an alibi for the night of the tenth of May.”
    “I told you,” Monty protested, his eyes wild with a look of injured innocence. “I spent the evening at a tavern in Soho.”
    Drake sneered at his reply.
    “But you appear to have indulged too heavily to remember exactly which one. My men have visited every public house in the area, but not one of the landlords and barmaids we have questioned recollect seeing Montgomery Flinch on the night in question.”
    Beside Monty, Wigram let out an exasperated sigh. His prediction that Monty’s drinking would end in
The Penny Dreadful
’s ruin seemed to be coming true in a most unexpected fashion.
    “And that’s not all,” Drake continued. “As a matter of fact, our investigations are finding the identity of Montgomery Flinch to be as much of a mystery as his whereabouts on the night of the tenth of May. No birth certificate, no mention of his name in parish records or census returns – in fact, the first time the name of Montgomery Flinch appears in print is in the pages of
The
Penny Dreadful
in 1899. A mere three years ago.”
    As Monty shrank further into his seat, Wigram began to stutter out an explanation, the lawyer’s own face now pale.
    “Records can be lost,” he began. “Last winter, at the offices of
The Penny Dreadful
, we had the misfortune of losing many of Mr Flinch’s personal documents when our printer’s assistant mistook them for kindling for the fire.”
    “A likely story,” Drake snapped in reply. “Until I hear a cast-iron alibi and see proof of Montgomery Flinch’s identity, then I am keeping your client here, Mr Wigram, on the authority of the Crown no less. Must I remind you that these are dangerous times – there are whispers of war from overseas and rumours of foreign agents on the prowl. For all I know, Montgomery Flinch might be a spy whose plot is to disrupt the coronation itself.”
    He turned his accusatory stare back towards Monty, the dishevelled actor blanching under its glare.
    “
Wosind die Kronjuwelen, Herr Flinch?
”
    Monty stared back blankly at the detective before bursting into tears.
    “I don’t know what you mean!” he wailed. “Why do you insist on torturing me like this?”
    Inspector Drake held his gaze, his face intent as he inspected Monty’s anguished expression.
    “Oh, you’re good, Mr Flinch,” he said finally. “I have to give you that. Keeping up this pretence of cowardice and ignorance even though all of London knows that your intricate tales of terror make lesser minds quail.”
    Before Drake could press Monty further, there came a rap on the door of the interrogation room. The face of a police constable peered around the frame.
    “I’m sorry to interrupt, sir, but I’ve got a visitor for Mr Flinch at the front desk. It’s a young lady who says that she’s his niece: one Miss Penelope Tredwell.”
    At this announcement, a flicker of irritation flashed across the detective’s face, but then Inspector Drake rearranged his features into a thin smile.
    “You had better take him back to his cell then, Constable Richards. I am sure Mr Flinch and his niece will have plenty to discuss.” He turned towards Monty again, his dark eyes narrowing as he spoke.“Perhaps she can convince you to