William Monk 08 - The Silent Cry

this is, ’ave ya?”
    “He’s no’ with the po-liss anymore,” MacPherson explained, going farther into the room and closing the door to the cellar behind them. “Runcorn got his revenge, it seems, and had himdrummed out. He’s on his own. And I’d like to know for myself who’s been doing this, because it’s no’ one of us who live here, it’s some fancy fellar from up west way, so it is.”
    “Well, if that don’t beat the devil! ’E wot lives longest sees most, as they say. So Monk’s workin’ fer us, in a fashion. That I’d live ter see the day.” He gave a rich chortle of delight. “So wot you want from me, then? I dunno ’oo dun it, or I’d ’a fixed ’im meself.”
    “I want to know if there were any beatings or rapes of factory women in the last three weeks,” Monk replied immediately. “Or in the two weeks before that either.”
    “No …” Snaith said slowly. “Not as I ’eard. ’Ow does that ’elp yer?”
    “It doesn’t,” Monk answered him. “It was not what I was hoping you would say.” Then he realized that was not true. It would have indicated a solution, but not the one he wanted. He did not care about Rhys Duff himself, but he knew how it would hurt Hester. That should not matter. The truth was what counted. If Rhys Duff was guilty, then he was one of the most callous and brutal men Monk had ever known of. He was twisted to a depravity from which it would be unimaginable to redeem him. And more immediate than that, although he might recover, in time, there were his companions. He was not guilty alone. Whoever had been with him was still at large, presumably still bent on violence and cruelty. Even if the attack on Rhys had temporarily frightened them, it would not last. Such ingrained sadism did not vanish from the nature in one act, however harsh. The need to hurt would rise again, and be satisfied again.
    Snaith was regarding him with growing interest.
    “Yer’ve changed,” he observed, nodding his head. “Dunno as I like it. Mebbe I do. Edges ’a gorn. Yer in’t so ’ungry no more. Bloody nuisance, yer was. More ’n Runcorn, poor sod. Never ’ad yer nose fer a lie, ’e din’t. ’E’d believe yer w’en you’d smell the truth. Looks like yer lorst that, though, eh?”
    “Difficult truths take longer,” Monk said tensely. “And we all change. You shouldn’t discount Runcorn. He’s persistent too, just weighs his priorities, that’s all.”
    Snaith grinned. “Eye ter the main chance, that one, I know that, whereas you … yer like a dog wi’ a bone. Never let go. Cut orff yer ’ead an’ yer teeth’d still be fast shut. Bleedin’ bastard, y’are! Still, nobody crossed yer twice, not even yer own.”
    “You said that before.” Monk was stung by his helplessness. “Did I do anything to Runcorn he didn’t have coming?” He framed the question aggressively, as if he knew the answer, but his stomach knotted as he looked at Snaith’s face in the gaslight and waited for the answer. It seemed an age in coming. He could feel the seconds slip by and hear his own heart beating.
    MacPherson cleared his throat.
    Snaith stared back, his round, hazel eyes shadowed, his face a trifle puckered. Monk knew before he spoke that his reply was the one he feared.
    “Yeah, I reckon so. Enemy in front of yer’s one thing, be’ind yer’s another. I don’ know wot yer dun ter ’im, but it fair broke ’im, an’ ’e weren’t ’spectin’ it from yer. Learned me summink abaht yer. Never took yer light arter that. Yer an ’ard bastard, an’ that’s the truth.” He took a breath. “But if yer want the swine wot done them women in Seven Dials, I’ll ’elp yer ter that. I in’t fussy ’oo I use. Go an’ ask Wee Minnie. Ol’ Bertha dunno nuthink. Find Wee Minnie an’ tell ’er I sent yer.”
    “She won’t believe me,” Monk said reasonably.
    “Yeah, she will, ’cos less’n I tell yer w’er ter find ’er, yer’ll be wand’rin’ around the rookeries for the rest o’ yer life.”
    “That’s the truth, so it is,” MacPherson agreed.
    “So tell me,” Monk said.
    Snaith shook his head. “In’t yer never scared, Monk? In’t it never entered yer ’ead as we’d cut yer throat an’ drop yer in the midden, jus’ for ol’ times’ sake?”
    Monk grinned. “Several times, and if you do there is nothing I can do now to stop you. I’m too far into St. Giles to yell for help, even supposing anyone would come. But you’re a