The Night of the Victorian Plot

Chapter 1

November 1875

It was raining in the capital so, when James West entered the office he shared with his colleague Artemus Gordon, the first thing he did was to remove his bowler hat and divest himself of his Ulster and shake it to displace any water droplets remaining on its surface.

"Watch out will you," Gordon said.

"Sorry, didn't see you there."

Artemus Gordon refrained from pointing out that West couldn't have failed to see him and that this was the fifth time in as many days that he had pelted him with water; as many days as it had been raining in fact.

West hung his coat next to Gordon's Inverness and then noticed that his colleague had the Times opened on his desk. "Anything of interest?" he asked.

Gordon looked up at him. "The Government reports a drop in reported cases of typhoid," he said.

"That'll be down to that fellow Bazelgette. It took him ten years but London finally has a proper sewerage system."

"Yes, a remarkable feat," Gordon agreed.

"Quite. Anything else?"

"There's a small piece about a German delegation arriving in London. Might mean work for us."

"Undoubtedly, who is the head of the German Department these days?"

"Anderson," Gordon replied, referring to Sir H Percy Anderson.

West and Gordon had been working for the Foreign Office for several years, sharing a room in the classical building designed by George Gilbert Scott. They couldn't know that at that moment they were being discussed in an office on a different floor of the building.

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Lionel Carruthers, their superior, was talking with a member of the German Department who had been sent by Anderson on a rather delicate mission. They were discussing the credentials of West and Gordon over a cup of tea.

"It seems James West is renowned for his fighting skills," Carruthers was saying, referring to the record in front of him. "He was excellent at boxing and rugby at his public school and cricket of course."

"Goes without saying."

"After that he attended Sandhurst and then he entered the Royal Artillery as a Captain but resigned his commission after taking part in the Welseley Expedition in 1870."

"The Welseley Expedition?"

"Yes, the Red River Rebellion, in Manitoba. They captured Fort Gary from the rebels but the leader managed to escape across the American border before they could try him for murder; Louis Riel his name was."

"Yes, I do remember something about it. Didn't the men have to hike across the Canadian wilderness for several months with all their equipment and supplies?"

"Yes, because those dashed Yankees wouldn't allow us access to United States territory. Don't see why. Rebels were French as far as I recall. Always interfering in matters that don't concern them, those blasted Americans. Still, after all those privations I can't blame West for thinking he'd had enough. He joined us here at the Foreign Office shortly after."

"And what about Artemus Gordon?"

"Ah yes, let me refresh my memory." Carruthers picked up the other buff folder lying on his desk and perused its contents. "Gordon was tutored at home before he attended Cambridge. He has an outstanding knowledge of languages, ancient and modern. Instead of studying he spent a lot of his time at the local theatre and learned a lot about acting and the art of make-up. Sounds a bit rum…oh yes it was evidently of great use during his time in the Rifle Brigade."

"In the Rifle Brigade?"

"Yes, he was a Major in the First Battalion. It seems he became a master of disguise during the Crimean War. He was a firm favourite with the Russian troops until they found out he was British. Speaks the language like a native, it says here. He got safely back behind British lines by the skin of his teeth."

"What happened after that?"

"He took part in the siege of Sevastopol and was awarded with the Victoria Cross three years later."*

"He must have been quite young at the time."

"Yes," Carruthers replied. "Though he's fifteen years older than West. Not long after the war he resigned his commission and took up a career in the theatre. It says here that he specialised in character acting."

"Good grief, that's quite a career change. How did he end up in the Foreign Office?"

"After his father died he decided to put his talents to better use, in service to the British Empire. With his language and tactical skills he was snapped up by Villiers who was in charge back then."

"From what you've told me I'm sure the old man can make use of them. But can you guarantee their discretion? The matter can never be made public."

"I'll vouch for them in that respect. They're my two best men. I would tell you something of the work they've been doing here but that's top secret information, not the sort of thing with which we would trust the German Department."

The man gave a strained laugh. "I'll send in my report to Sir Percy and I'll let you know if and when the Department needs their services."

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"Well there you are then, James," Artemus said, putting down his tea cup and waving a memo at him. "We've to report to the German Department at two this afternoon. It must be something to do with the delegation."

"Yes, undoubtedly, but what?"

"That, James my boy, is the question. I wonder if we're to be briefed by Sir H Percy Anderson himself."

"What lowly office clerks like us?" James said with a wink.

Artemus laughed. Only a handful of men knew what the pair of them had actually been doing since they joined the Foreign Office. Some of those men were bound by the Official Secrets Act while the rest had inevitably faced the long drop # and were thus unable to talk.

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"Mr West, Mr Gordon," one of the senior members of the German Department welcomed the two men. "My name is Arthur Westcott.

The two men shook hands with Westcott in turn and then he said, "Please be seated."

James and Artemus sat on the leather chairs facing Westcott's desk and the door opened behind them to admit a pretty young woman bearing a tray with three cups of steaming hot tea, a milk jug and a sugar bowl. There was nothing to eat and Artie was left to merely dream of the rich tea biscuits he had been expecting.

"Thank you, Enid," Westcott said.

The young woman laid tray on the desk and departed.

"You will take tea of course, gentlemen?" Westcott said, pouring milk into one of the cups and adding sugar before placing it next to his blotting pad.

West and Gordon both nodded. There was no circumstance in England where a hot cup of tea would not be welcomed. James drank his tea black and sweet and Artemus added a little milk to his.

"No biscuits?" Artemus asked, hopeful that the omission could still be rectified.

"Afraid not," Westcott told him, without an explanation for the deficiency.

When the noise of stirring spoons had subsided and the first sip or two of tea had been taken, Westcott got down to the business at hand.

"As you have probably read in the newspaper, a delegation of German businessmen has arrived in Britain as guests of the German Embassy."

"What is this, a security detail?" Gordon said. It was obvious from his tone that it was not something he relished. "I would expect their Embassy to deal with that."

"No, this is another matter altogether. One of the 'so-called' businessmen has been brought to our attention by one of our agents in Germany. He is suspected of being behind a series of anarchist plots on the continent."

"Couldn't you have refused him entry to the country?"

"Not without some sort of indisputable proof. He is being wooed by the War Office because he manufactures arms and he has some pretty innovative weapons that they would like to get their hands on."

"What do you want us to do?" West asked.

"Follow him and find out if he is intending to cause any trouble while he is here."

"Won't that be difficult if he is under the protection of the German Embassy?"

"It would if he was at the Embassy but he's not, he's staying at the Rathbone Hotel."

"I see," West said, "and what is the name of this arms manufacturer?"

"Herr Lieblosen."

It was Gordon's turn to speak. "I say, doesn't that mean Loveless in English?" he asked.

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To be continued

* The first Victoria Cross was awarded in 1857, three years after the Siege of Sevastopol. A number of them were given retrospectively to soldiers who fought during the Crimean War.

# This refers to the practice of hanging introduced in England in 1872, in which a rope of 14-15 feet is used causing the neck to break, as opposed to the "short drop" of just a few feet which killed the victim by strangulation, a slow, painful death.