It was William who brought up a crucial question when he asked Natalie when Irina planned to return to London.
“As soon as she can,” Natalie answered. “I would say in a few weeks, not much longer.” She looked from William to James, and remarked, “I wish we three could go for a visit. Saint Petersburg is one of the most beautiful cities in the world, with wonderful things to see.”
James said, “It’s a great temptation to go, but I’m afraid I can’t take the time off.”
William agreed, and then added, “I would love to see the city. It’s built on stilts like Venice, isn’t it? And the Hermitage is a wonder.”
Natalie nodded, and was about to say something when the sound of thunderclaps made them all jump. They looked at each other, and it was Natalie who exclaimed, “I can’t bear it if it now starts to rain. I’m wearing a new dress, and we didn’t bring any umbrellas.”
James glanced out of a nearby window and shook his head. “It’s not raining yet, but it might. We can stay here a bit longer, wait it out if necessary.”
“Or I’ll go and find a hansom,” William said. “It’s been a hot day and, up in these parts, rain and storms often follow.” He grimaced. “I’m afraid that Hull is considered a Rainy City, as well as the City of Gaiety.”
There was another thunderclap, and then total silence. Again James looked outside and told them, “No rain, we’re all right.”
William beckoned to the waiter and asked for the bill. Once he had paid it, he turned to Natalie and said, “Thunder often intrudes and, as often as not, it doesn’t rain. I’ll finish my wine and we can be off.”
“I’m reassured,” she murmured, and then smiled. “Thank you, William. It’s been a lovely evening.”
“Yes, a real treat, old chap,” James said. He had noticed the flicker of interest between them and smiled inwardly, hoping their prospective supper date worked out well. He had always thought they were made for each other. But they had to know that.
There was a sudden flurry at the door of the restaurant. As he looked down the room, James saw Joe standing there, gesturing to the waiter, glancing around, looking for him. He was chalk white and obviously upset about something.
James jumped up and hurried down the room. “What’s wrong, Joe?” he asked, staring at him.
“An explosion,” Joe said in a low voice, pulling James toward the door. “The arcade. The arcade’s on fire. Come on. Let’s go, sir.”
Shock rolled through James and for a split second he was frozen on the spot. Finally he said, “Go on. Go back there. I’m coming after you in a moment.”
Joe simply nodded and left the restaurant.
James went back to the table and, although he was shaking inside, he said quietly, “The arcade’s on fire. It wasn’t thunder. It was an explosion. I’ve got to go!”
He left and began to run after Joe, who was speeding down the road. James was filled with alarm, knowing that he was facing a huge disaster.
His fear pushed him forward. He had long legs and stamina, and had always been a good runner. He sprinted on, worry prominent in his head.
It did not take James Falconer long to catch up with Joe, who nodded and ran on. James ran next to him. When they came to the end of the side street, went out onto the main road, he saw the huge blaze ahead. Oh God! His arcade!
To his relief, he suddenly saw the firemen, whom he identified by their uniforms, holding hoses, and half a dozen policemen. They were dealing with the fire between them.
Falconer grabbed Joe’s arm, brought him to a stop. “They’re on the job. Just tell me what happened,” he gasped, out of breath, sweating. “How could the arcade start burning?”
Joe stopped, nodded, endeavoring to breathe more evenly. He too was hardly able to speak and perspiring hard.
Joe leaned against a shop door and finally managed to get some words out. “I don’t know who did this, Mr. James. I been on duty since eight, like yer tell me ter be. Not a soul in sight. I patrolled. Talked ter both watchmen. Then boom! It were like a bomb gone off.”
“You saw no one, Joe?” James asked, his voice a little more normal as he leaned next to Joe.
“No.” Joe shook his head. “I met yer at two. Then I went ’ome. Annie give me dinner. Saw yer at about nine, when yer came by.”
“Someone did this,” James said. “If it was a bomb, it was somehow placed earlier today and detonated from somewhere else.”
“But ’ow can yer do that, Mr. James?”
“Not sure. Did you go for the police? Who got the fire brigade in? Was it quick?”
“Police patrol on duty come right away. They ’eard the blast. They took over. I knows one of ’em, Andy Coles.”
James nodded. “Let’s go!” He started running, followed by Joe, who soon caught up with him.
Within a few minutes, James was running right into the throng of men, followed by Joe, who motioned to the others to let Falconer through. The police and firemen did so.
Suddenly, there he was, standing in front of his beautiful arcade, a big part of his dream. It was blazing along one side, the flames still shooting up into the dark sky, illuminating it with brilliant light.
His heart clenched, and he stood there helplessly. Tears rolled down his face; he couldn’t hold them back, and he felt as if his heart had just broken. “Oh God, no!” he cried out. “My arcade is gone! Destroyed.” He felt a hand on his arm and looked over and saw Joe, still as white as bleached bone, tears on his cheeks also.
Joe said, “Yer’ll start over, Mr. James. I’ll ’elp yer. An’ we’ll find the bleedin’ bastards who set t’ fire. Arson, sure as bloody ’ell, it is. We’ll ger ’em.”
Chief constable of the Hull police force, Joe’s friend Andy Coles, joined them quietly. James immediately wiped his cheeks, took out his handkerchief, patted his face with it, and blew his nose.
With his usual determination, he took control of his flaring emotions. Turning to the policeman, he extended his hand. “I’m James Falconer, Chief Constable. This is my arcade. Or rather, I’m building it for the Malvern company.”
“Sorry to meet you under such terrible circumstances, sir. We’re here to help. Let’s move to the side, please, sir. The firemen need to move in closer to the blaze.”