Page 41 of A Ruse of Shadows
Charlotte had been contemplating a break-in at the accountant’s office in order to see the transactions Mr. Underwood had routed through him—that is, until she’d learned that Mumble and Jessie were allowed to inspect those ledgers.
Still, Mr. Constable’s ready compliance was a little too…compliant. Charlotte glanced at the large brown paper envelope in the accountant’s hands and gauged that her question would not make it disappear. “I am very much looking forward to reviewing the transactions, sir. I will admit, however, a certain surprise that I am granted this privilege.”
Mr. Constable unwound the twine that held the envelope together. “Believe me, Mr. Herrinmore, I am even more astonished than you. But Mr. Underwood’s instruction, from the very beginning, was that the accounts should be open to anyone who wished to scrutinize them.”
So Mr. Underwood very much didnotwant his sponsorship of those young people to be viewed as a secret?
“Well, whatever his reasons, I’m glad of it,” said Charlotte. “Ready when you are, Mr. Constable.”
The accountant pointed at a date from the spring of 1884—more than three years ago—written in ink on the corner of the envelope. “That would be the first time Mr. Underwood called on me and explained what he wished to do. I didn’t see him for some time after that, until he came in again with the first installment of funds.”
He pulled out a ledger from the envelope and flipped it open. “You’ll see the sum recorded here.”
Six months passed between the first time and the second time Mr. Underwood came in to discuss business.
Mr. Constable then took out several small envelopes from the larger envelope and opened the first one, marked1884. “This is the receipt for that first sum—you see my signature. A duplicate was given to Mr. Underwood. Here’s his acknowledgment of my fees, which are also reflected in the ledger. With that subtracted, we arrive at the amount to be distributed. So I began distribution, leading to signed receipts from Mr. Giovanni Esposito for each of the two remaining months of the year.”
He collected all the slips of paper, returned them to the 1884 envelope, and then opened the next one, marked1885. “A new sum was wired by postal order. No signature from Mr. Underwood this time, but the postal order itself, specifying the fees to be paid to the firm and the amount to be subsequently distributed, is attached. Again, I signed for the amount due me. Here is one month’s receipt signed by Mr. Esposito and from then on, every month, receipts from all three of the boxers.”
So Mumble and Jessie joined the group in February 1885.
Mr. Constable laid out more receipts and referenced them back to the ledger. It was as Mumble had said, everything shipshape. Whenever a signature was missing, reasons and reasonable substitutes were supplied, such as the cables that came along with the wired sums that served as Mr. Underwood’s directive on how the money ought to be apportioned, and Jessie’s signature for Mumble’s stipend, the onetime he had to work late and could not go to the Unicorn of the Sea to receive it in person.
“Every penny was signed and accounted for, up to the very end,” said Mr. Constable, not without a trace of pride.
“Excellent record-keeping,” Charlotte concurred. “If you don’t mind, I’m curious to know whether this is all the work you’ve done for Mr. Underwood. Has he ever entrusted you with other tasks?”
The accountant scooped up the contents of the last small envelope and slotted everything back into the portfolio. “None whatsoever. I broached it with him once, when I saw him at the Unicorn of the Sea. He answered firmly that he did not require other services, and I did not raise the topic again.”
“So he didn’t ask you to direct funds to any other recipients?”
“No, indeed.” Having tidied his desk, Mr. Constable patted the rather thin portfolio with the satisfaction of one who loved order. He looked up at Charlotte, his plain face serious and earnest. “I’m not sure how I can make this clearer, Mr. Herrinmore, but I have shown you the entire extent of my business dealings with Mr. Underwood. I was willing to participate in his other ventures—provided they were reasonable and legitimate—but my participation was not needed, much to my disappointment at the time. Now, however, I’m grateful that he did not entrust me with more, given all the questions I’ve had to field.”
If Mr. Underwood did not use an intermediary to pay Mrs. Claiborne but instead footed her household expenses, etc., directly, then did that lend more credence, the possibility of the other woman notwithstanding, to Mrs. Claiborne’s account of the two as a close and loving couple?
But she was not going to get an answer to that question here. Charlotte shifted topics. “Mr. Constable, what do you think of Mr. Underwood as a man?”
“Well, his boxers are decent and hardworking, no doubt about that.” The accountant’s forehead furrowed. “Mr. Underwood himself—I’m a little less sure. I mean, as a client he was above reproach—untilrecently he sent money when he promised to and was courteous and reasonable in all ways. But other than that, he was a complete mystery.”
Mr. Underwood did seem to become more of a puzzle the more Charlotte pursued his disappearance: The knowledge she’d acquired arrived in disjointed pieces, and a partially filled-in picture with key sections missing raised more questions than a completely blank canvas.
“Do you by any chance remember what exactly Mr. Underwood said when he came in for the first time, in terms of what he wanted you to do?”
“From memory, not quite, but I keep a record of my meetings with clients and prospective clients. Let me find that particular entry.”
Mr. Constable went to a locked cabinet and brought back a large notebook with1884embossed in gold on the cover. “Aha, here it is. ‘Mr. William Underwood. Declined to give occupation and source of income. Stated only that he aimed to transfer funds to Mr. Giovanni Esposito, apprentice bricklayer, but not until further notice. In addition, he instructed that minutes of meetings and any future transactions be open to inspection by one and all.’ ”
Could Mr. Underwood have anticipated that so many parties would wish to plumb the depth of these accounts?
“Do you recall whether he mentioned the sponsorship of a boxer?” Charlotte asked. In the brief entry, there was no reference to the Unicorn of the Sea. Or to boxing.
“I would say no—something like that I’d have noted. I remember being surprised when we met the next time and he specified that Johnny was a boxer. Let me see.”
He flipped some pages. “Yes, indeed, in my minutes on our next meeting, I wrote that ‘Mr. Underwood informed me that Mr. Giovanni Esposito is a boxer he has decided to sponsor.’ I even jotted down at the bottom that I felt ‘trepidatious about the prospect of dealing with boxers. The reputation of the group as a whole is hardly sterling.’ ”
He gave a self-deprecating grin. “Obviously I overcame my qualms.”
“Would you mind reading me the entries from the other times Mr. Underwood called on you?”
