‘She stayed with her over in Francis Street when she was close to the end. Ces couldn’t have had better care if she was her own daughter. I’d have set her up, looked after her, like. But she was too proud. So . . . here’s where she ended. I’m just here out of respect to Ces.’

‘This girl didn’t work for Ces in Francis Street using the name Nellie Byrne,’ Mossop said knowledgeably. ‘We knew everyone in that house. No Byrnes.’

Vanucchi grinned.

‘Very thorough on the detail as usual, Mr Mossop. You’re right. She was Helena Moyles when she came into the city from Wicklow. She started callin’ herself Mrs Byrne after she took up with a soldier of that name out of the Royal Barracks. They weren’t married, and he cleared off to India leavin’ her in the family way. The child died anyway.’

Swallow nodded. He could fit scores of young women’s names to the same story.

‘Helena Moyles,’ Mossop said thoughtfully. ‘I remember that name all right. She must have been the only person ever in that house without a criminal record. Any word out on the streets who might have done it?’

Vanucchi shrugged again.

‘Some disgruntled client. A maniac. Maybe some fellow who’s imitatin’ this Jack the Ripper character across the water.’

‘You making any inquiries, Charlie?’ Swallow asked. Not infrequently in his experience, the city’s criminal network was ahead of the police intelligence system.

‘Sure. First thing I did when I heard. But it’s got nothin’ to do with any o’ my lads. She was just a poor girl makin’ a livin’.’

‘If you hear anything, you’ll let us know.’

‘Of course, Mr Swallow. Apart from likin’ the girl, it’s a terrible thing for Dublin to have this sort of thing happen. God knows, there’s enough trouble down on this poor country as it is.’

Vanucchi was an occasional informant for Swallow. His criminal motivation being purely financial, he viewed all Fenians, Land Leaguers, Home Rulers, Gaelic revivalists and the like with something between bafflement and contempt. When information came his way, as it frequently did, on their activities, he considered it a commodity readily tradable for favours from G-Division. A blind eye turned here. A charge overlooked there. Charlie Vanucchi’s runners and bagmen sometimes wondered how he seemed to be able to get them out of difficulties with the police, at least on occasion, and generally on less serious charges.

‘You’re absolutely right, Charlie,’ Swallow agreed. ‘We have enough troubles as it is.’

Chapter 23

The investigation into the murder of Alice Flannery had ground to a halt. Geoffrey Bradley, the teacher from Synge Street School named by Dan Flannery as the witness who had met him on Huband Bridge, was questioned by Mossop and Vizzard. He confirmed Flannery’s claim that he was a mile away from the murder scene shortly before midnight.