As dark fell that Saturday evening, Mr. Edwards left the clubhouse on Francis Street in ebullient spirits, finishing one last glass of wine in one swallow before dashing it against the building directly opposite and laughing as a few women standing nearby scurried away in terror.
He had received a message from James to meet him at the Black Dog at dusk, but he was in no mood for the alderman’s worrying all night. So he sent a boy to tell the alderman that he would catch up with him later in the evening, as he had a few important matters to attend to.
After walking the streets to take in the atmosphere for a while, he started to walk towards Temple Bar. He saw the people as he went, rushing from their work to home; those who were alone looked at him and anyone else who passed by with suspicion and fear. It was this whole fearful atmosphere that had Dublin so electric at the moment, and Edwards loved it. He imagined all these people of the lower classes rushing home and making love in case one of them was dead the next day, imagined the bottles of alcohol being drunk now in case there was no future to drink them in.
He stopped into a tavern on his way and met a few men he knew from his days at Trinity College; they spoke at length about the state of the Parliament and the new taxes being raised. These men would have, of course, been familiar with the news of the murders that had taken place, but they had no inclination to talk about it, as it seemed to only concern the lower classes, and those people never merited much conversation. How funny it would be, Edwards thought, if one of them was the victim tonight; that would certainly put the cat amongst the pigeons.
When he left them, he went to a gambling house on Crown Alley, where in about twenty-five minutes he lost what would be a month’s wages to a busy trader. He mingled with the crowd and watched others lose and some win, and he had a few drinks while he was there.
After this, he went to the brothel in the hope of finding Kate working. He enquired to Melanie, but he was disappointed to find his favourite girl was not there. When Melanie tried to placate him by saying she would send out someone to find her, he replied that he could do that himself and urged that Kate be here more often. He went to bed with Melanie then, as she would have to make it up to him to keep his custom. He knew she was well retired, but tonight he felt like punishing her for not having what he wanted. That happened at far too many places these days, he thought as he left her without paying, feeling the spite of her venomous eyes on the back of his head.
He finally met Alderman James at ten o’clock. The latter was skulking around on Fishamble Street; Edwards came upon him as quietly as he could and then spoke in a loud voice: “Anything to report so far?” He laughed at James’s reaction.
“Not yet,” James replied, looking at him with annoyance.
“How many men?” Edwards asked.
“Twenty over the normal patrol.”
“Twenty? That’s quite a lot!” Edwards exclaimed.
“They are not in uniform. I have them on certain streets, and I am walking the others.”
“Lying in wait, as it were?”
“Yes.”
“Just like he does?”
“He does not lie in wait, Mr. Edwards; he follows and then attacks when he sees his chance.”
“Or so we think.”
“What are you getting at?”
“Nothing, but all we know is that he attacked Mary Sommers from behind.”
“Plus the versions of the attacks on the guards at Newgate.”
“I suppose,” Edwards said, letting his tone convey that this conversation was becoming tiring to him.
In no fixed pattern, they walked the streets and alleys between the Coombe and the Liffey and from Hell to the Four Courts area. From time to time, they saw people coming and going, and James would ask them who they were and where they were off to. Though most people would lie about what they were doing or where they were going to the alderman, for fear of what he might say or do to them, none of them seemed suspicious to either James or Edwards.
Midnight came with no event, and Edwards regretted not staying longer in the gambling house or the tavern. The streets were now almost deserted, and there was none of the fun and excitement of Temple Bar. He hoped that he was not missing anything good at the clubhouse either. He stopped and looked at James, who also stopped.
“I’m very tired, Alderman. I think I will retire.”
“Fine, go. You are no use to me at the moment anyway. Perhaps if you had not spent so much time at your previous errands, you might have been better.” The alderman was angry at his drunkenness on a night such as this, and Edwards laughed at his simplicity.
“If something happens, let me know, but I don’t think our man is the type to write letters advertising what he is going to do, Alderman. Goodnight.” With that, Edwards spun on his feet and walked away, chuckling to himself at the stern, serious face of the alderman. How he has let this into his soul, he thought as began to walk back to the clubhouse.