Page 5 of Infernal Vices

I got the idea that Detective Inspector Dancer was the kind of detective who did not care about whom he trod on in his search for the truth. He was a results man, that was for sure. He was for the thrill of the chase and glory in the capture. In a way, I admired men like him, men who vowed to carry out the letter of the law and not stop until they’d found their culprit, but deep in my heart I understood that I was walking on a knife’s edge. One step to the left or right and I’d find myself in a perilous situation. I’d need to be very careful in my dealings with this man. A fellow like Dancer could probably spot a liar a mile away! And in this instance, God save me, I was that liar! I would need to ensure dominance in my home.

“I say, detective. This is a beastly business. I take it that you and your men will reserve the utmost discretion about this hullabaloo. I’d rather not have every hack in London beating on my door,” I grumbled exactly as a man from my class would in such a predicament.

“We all follow Sir Howard Vincent's Police Code to the letter. Any officer who discusses this case with the press will be severely reprimanded.”

“Good, good.”

“Now, Mr. Hannan. Who was the first to notice the theft?” Dancer addressed me as if he hadn’t listened to a word of information the constable had previously told him.

“Mr. Troy, my valet. He roused me at around seven o’clock, I believe. He’d caught the thief red handed, making his escape out of the window here.” I gestured to the window.

Dancer strode to the window again, and dragged the sash higher. The damask drapes billowed and a gale of icy January air rushed into the room and stabbed my skin like pins. He poked his head out of the window, looked up, then looked down eyeing the flowerbed beneath the window. Then to my horror he climbed out.

I exchanged confused eye contact with the two police constables and then hurried to the window to see it was a bright morning with a milky blue winter sky, yet clouds approached swiftly on the breeze. Dancer was perusing the outside of my house, his gaze raking up and down the walls, fixing on each window, and guttering down pipe. Dancer then called,

“Constable Barnabus!” I moved away as the second constable rushed over to the window, “There’s a ruddy great footprint in the flower bed, here. Measure it, we’ll see how big the villain’s feet are!” Dancer ordered, “But first help me back in.”

Constable Atkins rushed over to help Barnabus pull Inspector Dancer back into the room.

“It was a swift, unhindered escape Mr. Hannan. I’m surprised that you haven’t made measures to secure your home correctly, especially as you house such treasures. You could do with a more substantial lock on that window, and maybe plant some holly bushes in the flowerbed,” he advised.

I was surprised by the gardening advice, but I did see how I’d been lax when it came to the security of my collections. A new lock and a holly bush could act as a deterrent for any future thief.

“Atkins, I’d like a private word, and then I want you to hurry back to headquarters and ask for a photographer to attend. Bring the plaster of Paris kit back with you too. Take a cast of the footprint. Barnabus, it’s about to rain, cover up that footprint to preserve it and take a look in the back alley and around the square to see if any items were dropped, then go door-to-door to make enquiries. Question the domestic staff, for they are always the first to be about in the morning. This is a busy square, someone must have seen his escape,“ Dancer instructed.

I knew full-well that this supposed clue of a footprint was not going to help in identifying the culprit. We extracted Euan from the clutches of the cabal without a stitch of clothing on and certainly no footwear. Everything Euan wore belonged to me. So this line of enquiry would most certainly be a dead end.

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