Matthew Falconer paid their local “knocker-upper” two pennies a month to be awakened every morning at five o’clock, seven days a week. The man walked along the street carrying a lamp and a long stick, with which he tapped the upstairs windows of his customers.
When Matt heard the tapping this morning he was out of bed at once, moving quietly, not wanting to disturb Maude, who was sound asleep. He took off his nightshirt, dressed quickly, and went to the washstand to shave, comb his hair, and clean his teeth.
Once he was downstairs he found the Swan Vestas and began to light the gas lamps. He then added paper and wood chips to the low fire which had burned all night, and filled the kettle with water, put it on the stove.
He was taking a cup out of the cupboard when there was a light knocking on the front door. He set the cup down on the table, frowning, wondering who it could be calling on him so early on a Sunday morning.
Matt unlocked the door and stiffened when he saw the two policemen on his doorstep, and swallowed hard, wondering what they wanted. For Matt, two coppers visiting him was not a normal sight.
Before he could say a word, Constable Roy said, “Good morning, Mr. Falconer. I’m Constable Tony Roy and this is my partner, Sergeant Mick Owen. We need to speak with you.”
“What about? Has something happened?” Matt asked, his voice rising.
Constable Roy nodded. “Your son has been injured, Mr. Falconer. Can we come in, please?”
Matt felt a tightening in his chest, and he paled as he opened the door, allowed the policemen to enter the small hall. Finally he managed to say, “Jimmy’s not home?” He glanced at the staircase. “I thought he came in late, after we’d gone to bed. I was just about to wake him up.”
“He didn’t get home, I’m afraid.” Sergeant Owen said in a low voice. “Let’s go into the kitchen, shall we? And we’ll tell you everything we know.”
Matt nodded, now unable to speak. His mouth was dry as bone. The cold chill that swept through him seemed to flow out of his body to fill the room. He shivered as he pointed to the chairs around the long oak table, and sat down; the policemen followed suit. He felt as if he’d just been hit in the chest.
He pushed the words out when he asked, in a shaking voice, “Where is Jimmy now? How badly is he injured?”
“He’s at King’s Hospital, and he has some serious wounds. We found him and his friend unconscious on the Chalk Farm Road last night. But I’m happy to inform you that he is now awake. We’ve spoken to him. He appears to be lucid.”
Matt gaped at the police officer. “Lucid? That tells me Jimmy has head injuries. Whatever happened to him?” He was afraid for his son, shaking inside.
“He does have minor head injuries, but the surgeon, Mr. Perdue, told us he will be all right. Let me reassure you he will recover, be his old self in time. As for what happened, he and his friend Dennis Holden were attacked and beaten up by some men. Your son said you would call them bruisers. We were doing our rounds at eleven-thirty when we saw them passed out.”
“My God! I can’t believe this! Who would want to harm them? It doesn’t make sense. How is Denny?”
“His wounds are a little more severe. He was still in a coma when we left the hospital to come here.”
Matt closed his eyes, shook his head. After a moment he opened his eyes. “Have you been to tell Denny’s father?”
“Not yet. We will see Mr. Holden after we leave here,” the sergeant explained.
Constable Roy, leaning closer to Matt, said quietly, “We don’t know who did this, Mr. Falconer. Your son told us he didn’t recognize them. There were three men who apparently appeared from nowhere and assaulted them on Chalk Farm Road.” The constable paused before adding, “We’ve no lead, no witnesses, nothing to go on.”
The sergeant now asked, “Do you know anyone at all who would want to hurt your son and his friend?”
“No. Jimmy’s a good lad, works hard with me on our stalls at the Malvern Market. He’s a lovely lad, very popular, and Denny’s the same. He works with Jack on their stalls. Could it have been a robbery?”
“No. They both had a bit of money on them, and it wasn’t taken,” Constable Roy answered.
“What time do you think this happened?” Matt’s voice was still shaky.
“Around ten-thirty.” Tony Roy sat back, and continued, “Your son told us he and Denny went to your brother Harry’s café. Your parents and your brother George continued back to the Montague house near Regent’s Park.”
“That sounds right. Harry mentioned to me he was going to invite Jimmy and Denny to have coffee and cakes—” Matt broke off. After a moment, he exclaimed, “This was obviously planned, wasn’t it?”
“That’s what we think,” Tony Roy agreed. “And if it was planned, what was the reason for the attack? Can you think of anyone at all who might want to get even with you? Want revenge?”
Matt shook his head vehemently. “I can’t. Because we haven’t done anything to anyone. Nor has Jack Holden, for that matter, I’m sure. He’s a good chap.”
“To say it’s a mystery is the understatement of the year,” Mick Owen muttered. “Beating up two young men for no reason whatsoever doesn’t seem right to me. There has to be more to this. Something we’re not seeing.”
“I agree, but I can’t hazard a guess.” Constable Roy looked at Matt. “Is there anything from the past? Something that happened years ago, maybe?”
“Absolutely not.” Matt rubbed his eyes with one hand, and then suddenly sat up straighter. “I wonder if someone holds a grudge against my father, Philip Falconer.”
“I doubt it,” Mick Owen exclaimed. “I’ve met your parents and they’re fine people. I can’t imagine anyone being set against them.”
Matt nodded. “I agree. There is one thing I do remember, though, not about the past, but more recently. Harry told me that Jimmy and Denny have been going to a bar near the Thames … Tango Rose. I think that’s the name. Harry warned them off last night, told them it was a bad place, full of bad people.”
“That’s a start. We’ll go and see the owner. He may remember the lads, and more importantly, anyone whom they might have been with, or mingled with,” Mick Owen replied.
“What’s happened?” Maude, fully dressed, walked into the kitchen, a look of immense apprehension flooding her face when she saw the police.
Matt jumped up and brought her to the table, introduced the policemen. It was Constable Roy who told her why they were there and what had happened. She collapsed against Matt’s chest and began to weep. But eventually, she controlled herself and sat up, wiping her wet cheeks with her hands.
Maude looked at Constable Roy. “When can we go and see our son?” She stood up. “I want to go now. At once. Seeing him will make me feel better and it will help Jimmy too. Perhaps we should take Jack Holden with us. What do you think, Matt?”
“Yes, we must go to King’s Hospital, and take Jack with us. I’d better rouse Rossi and Eddie, hurry them on, so they can come with us. And you’d better make a bit of breakfast. Then we’ll go.”
“And we’ll take a hansom cab, or a brougham, if Jack’s with us,” Maude answered, in a voice that told everyone at the table there would be no argument about that.