The Regency Detective by David Lassman Page B

you that he robbed, Fitzpatrick. Did you not tell Kirby, this?’
    ‘If I am to be honest, Swann, I could not be sure I saw the face of the man who robbed me. It happened so quickly. And I could not tell an untruth under oath.’
    ‘But why was I not called as a witness, or Mary?’
    ‘I don’t know. But I was only summoned at the last moment. I thought you had already given evidence.’
    ‘Does this happen a lot?’ asked Swann.
    ‘More often than I would desire, let us say.’
    ‘Is Kirby in Wicks’ pay?’
    ‘Again, that I do not know, but what will you do about this note?’
    ‘I think I would like to pay this Wicks a visit. Where does he reside?’
    ‘It is said he has interests in a public house called the Duke of York, down in the Avon Street district,’ replied Fitzpatrick, ‘and I believe he has at least one warehouse across the river. But I would not advise you going there, at least not alone. I can organise some men to go with you, if you desire it.’
    ‘Thank you, but I will go alone. I usually find it is more effective.’
    ‘As you wish,’ replied Fitzpatrick.
    ‘If you could provide me with directions as to how to find the public house though, I would be most grateful.’
    ‘I am about to leave for my morning constitutional and I pass nearby the area on the way, if you would care to join me,’ offered Fitzpatrick.
    ‘That would be most agreeable,’ replied Swann.

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
    The route that Fitzpatrick normally undertook for his morning constitutional was a circular one, taking in several of the architectural landmarks of the upper town. As Fitzpatrick had mentioned to Swann, however, it later passed through the outskirts of the lower town, where the Avon Street district and Wicks’ headquarters were located. The two men left Fitzpatrick’s office and headed out of Queen Square at its north-east corner into Gay Street, so named for the man on whose land it was built. The rain had eased and the sun was shining, causing the wet pavements to glisten in the morning light.
    ‘The writer Tobias Smollett stayed along here several times,’ said Fitzpatrick, having assumed the role of tour guide.
    ‘Although possibly not with the highest regard towards it, I would suggest,’ answered Swann. ‘You have read his Humphrey Clinker I trust?’
    ‘It is scornful of the city, I agree, but I have to confess, much of it is wickedly accurate!’ smiled Fitzpatrick. ‘I often feel “the noise, tumult and hurry” of this municipality, to quote Smollett, but what I do take umbrage with him over is his comments about our wonderful buildings. I, for one, certainly do not consider they were merely “contrived without judgement or executed without solidity”.’
    ‘Perhaps if he had been more successful in the establishment of his medical practice in the city, he might have been less scornful in his writing,’ concluded Swann, as they reached the end of Gay Street and entered what was known as the King’s Circus. Fitzpatrick stopped to allow Swann to take in the full majesty of the spherical structure in front of them.
    ‘It was designed by the elder John Wood as a residential equivalent to the Coliseum in Rome,’ announced Fitzpatrick authoritatively, ‘but unfortunately he died not long after laying the foundation stone and so his son completed it.’
    ‘Vespasian’s amphitheatre turned outside in,’ added a smiling Swann, as he too quoted Smollett.
    The two men stood for a moment, taking in the splendour of the vista, with its successive tiers of Roman Doric, Ionic and Corinthian half-columns adorning the facades of the thirty-three houses which comprised the King’s Circus. A roadway of cobbles radiated from the centre. The houses were grouped into three separate sections, each divided by an approach, but which was built in such a way that the observer of the whole had the effect of a continuous building.
    ‘Outstanding,’ said an impressed Swann. ‘I am only sorry not to have