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    The Revenge: from the Files of Inspector Thomas Waters
    The Revenge: from the Files of Inspector Thomas Waters
    The Revenge: from the Files of Inspector Thomas Waters
    Ebook57 pages52 minutes

    The Revenge: from the Files of Inspector Thomas Waters

    By Gail McGaffigan

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    About this ebook

    On a gaslit street in Victorian London, Inspector Thomas Waters trails a robbery suspect...but who is trailing Inspector Thomas Waters? Feel the chill of an authentic London fog in this true-crime, historic memoir of a British police detective.
    The perfect Christmas gift for the mystery-lover in your life!

    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherGail McGaffigan
    Release dateSep 17, 2012
    ISBN9781301498369
    The Revenge: from the Files of Inspector Thomas Waters
    Author

    Gail McGaffigan

    Isn't it hard to find something good to read sometimes? I know the feeling. It's tough to find a book that's clean, but not boring; with honorable characters with whom you feel a kinship. I am dedicated to creating wholesome, enjoyable books for you and your family, because I create them for my family, as well. If you're expecting to read about how it was always my dream to be a writer, you might be disappointed: I am sort of a reluctant author. My interest in writing grew from my fascination with mostly-forgotten American books of the 19th and early 20th centuries; not so much the great classics, but good dimestore, bread-and-butter-type books. Their material is so incredibly good, and I love the values, but much of it is not suited to the modern reader; so I think of myself as working "post-humorously" with authors of the past, restoring their intent. It's a lot like home renovation - Some will make it historically perfect, others will modernize everything...but some would rather restore the builder's intent, by synthesizing old and new to create something that's just right. Back then, authors felt that it was important to convey this message: It's worth it. All the struggle and the sacrifices we make to maintain our integrity and live with dignity are all worth it. This message is as vital today as ever, and I am honored for this chance to deliver it to you and your family. A New Jersey native and graduate of the Boston University School for the Arts, I now live in coastal New England with my husband, son, daughter, and a greyhound who has 19 lives. I am currently at work on her next book, as well as Classically Gail, my free, one-year online course in Music Appreciation. I may be contacted at either of her blogs, including http://www.classicallygail.blogspot.com

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      Book preview

      The Revenge - Gail McGaffigan

      From the Files of Inspector Thomas Waters:

      The Revenge

      By Gail McGaffigan

      Discover other titles by Gail McGaffigan at https://www.smashwords.com/profile/view/gailmcgaffigan

      Copyright 2012 Gail McGaffigan

      Smashwords Edition, License Notes

      This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

      Table of Contents

      1.

      2.

      3.

      4.

      About the Author

      Sample: The Mystery of the Blue Mill, 1913

      Sample: Hope for a Nobody

      To Joan Breen

      *****

      NOTE

      This work is based on an authentic narrative from the 1856 memoirs of London police detective Thomas Waters.

      *****

      The Revenge

      1.

      1841

      Splashed across the morning rags were sensational headlines about the Swiss felon, Levasseur, and his cronies. After sailing for the penal settlements, their convict-ship, the Amphytrim, had been lost in frigid waters off the French coast. The drowning of her crew and prisoners had created quite a stir in England.

      I read the account of the tragedy in the newspaper with mixed feelings: relief that Levasseur would not be returning to English soil in two years, after all, but regret for the untimely death of his co-conspirator, Le Breton, whom I regarded as more of a sheep than a scheming wolf.

      The paper went into the dustbin, soon to be as forgotten as the day's coffee grounds. Nearly a year of daily life would jostle the shipwreck from my mind, before a terrible fiasco would recall it, and I would receive a grim reminder of how like an ocean storm hate can be, when nurtured in a certain mindset.

      A robbery of a precious metal relics (silver chalices and whatnot) had been committed in Portman Square, with clever boldness that left no doubt that it had been a most professional job. Since the first round of detectives had failed to uncover the offenders, the many threads of the case were placed in my hands, to see if my renowned dexterity (or luck, as my fellow officers referred to it) would help me solve the crime.

      Witnesses' implicated a local ne'er-do-well named Martin (when he wasn't going by one of his many aliases), who had been lurking nearby the burgled house prior to the crime. A reward of fifty pounds was offered for his capture and conviction.

      I conducted the investigation with my usual energy and vigilance, without turning up a single new fact. I did not discover any clue to the missing property in the pawn shops or classified ads. The artifacts had successfully eluded all chances of recovery.

      The only hope was that an increased reward might get one of the gang to betray his confederates. The stolen goods were of great value, so this was done: one hundred guineas was offered for information leading to the recovery of the stolen articles.

      I went to the printer's shop to order the posters announcing the increased reward. After enjoying a long gossip with my old friend, Jencks, the printer, I was walking through Ryder's Court, Newport Market, at about a 10:15 PM, when a tall man passed me swiftly, holding a scarf to his face. There was nothing odd in that, as the weather was bitterly cold and sleety, so I walked on, thinking nothing of it.

      I was just leaving the court, moving towards Leicester Square, when swift steps sounded behind me. I instinctively turned; and as I did so, a vicious stab grazed my left shoulder, aimed, no doubt, at the back of my neck. It was the same tall person who had passed me a minute before! He ran off like a deer, the muffler still clutched to his face. The blow, sudden, jarring, and inflicted with a sharp instrument — a stout knife or dagger — sent my head reeling. By the time I recovered from it, all chance of successful pursuit had passed. I had the injury, a mere flesh wound, dressed at the chemist's shop in the Haymarket.

      Since reporting the attack would gain nothing

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