'He
said that he would go back to his brother's house, Mr Bale.'
'That's
in Bedford Street, isn't it?'
'Number
seventeen,' confirmed the servant. 'That was the message he left for you. Mr
Redmayne was worried about his brother's condition. You're to meet him there.'
'Oh,
I see.'
Jonathan's
step had lost its spring by the time he reached the larger and more imposing
abode of Henry Redmayne. He hesitated before knocking, wishing that he could
speak with Christopher at the latter's home but necessity compelled him to
swallow his feelings of social awkwardness. Since he was still in his
shipwright's attire, he was looked at askance by the servant who answered the
door. Loath to admit him, the servant was amazed when Jonathan's name was sent
upstairs and brought Christopher tripping down them. Delighted to see the
constable, he escorted him into the house and up to his brother's bedchamber.
Henry
Redmayne was sitting up in his capacious fourposter.
'Goodness!'
he protested as the visitor was brought in. 'Am I some kind of peepshow that
you bring people in off the street to stare at me?'
'Mr
Bale is entitled to be here,' said his brother. 'He's the brave man who
captured one of your attackers and, I hope to hear, has tracked the other to
his lair. Is that correct?'
'More
or less, Mr Redmayne.' Hat in hand, Jonathan managed a polite enquiry of the
patient. 'How are you now, sir?'
'All
the better for the news of your bravery,' said Henry. 'Who are the villains?
And why did they have to pick on me when I was wearing one of my best coats? It
was sodden with blood afterwards.'
'They're
both in custody now, sir.'
'Excellent,'
congratulated Christopher, patting him on the arm. 'Tell us the full details.
Did you go to the Hope and Anchor?'
'Yes,
Mr Redmayne.'
Still
slightly embarrassed by the situation, Jonathan gave a much shorter account of
his movements than he might otherwise have done. Christopher was delighted and
Henry, restored by a solid meal and two glasses of wine, was pleased to hear
that the wheels of justice had rolled over the two men who had assaulted him.
'Where
are the devils now?' he wondered.
'In
Newgate, sir,' said Jonathan. 'I could get nothing out of Smeek when I
questioned him, but Froggatt was more talkative. I hit on the idea of putting
them in the same cell, knowing that they'd each accuse the other of committing
the murder. It was a wise move,' he said modestly. 'They yelled at each other
and gave away information without even realising they were doing it. When they
came to blows, we had to pull them apart. Even with one arm in a splint, Ben
Froggatt's a violent man.'
'Did
they say who put them up to it?' asked Christopher.
'They
don't know, Mr Redmayne, that's the pity of it. I got the name of the man who
hired them - Arthur Oscott - but he didn't organise the abduction. That was
someone else's doing.'
'How
can we find this character Oscott?'
'By
going to the house where Mrs Gow is held.'
'You
know where it is?' said Christopher, tingling all over.
'Not
exactly,' confessed Jonathan, 'but I managed to get some details out of them.
They were responsible for taking her there. The house is in Richmond, just off
the main road. Ben Froggatt said that it wasn't too far from the Palace.'
'We'll
find it!'
'Richmond,'
mused Henry. 'Who has a house in Richmond?'
'Anyone
on that list of names you gave me?' said his brother.
'Nobody
that I can think of, Christopher. And there must be several houses not far from
the Palace. It could take you an age to get round them all. Wait a minute,' he
said, hauling himself up gingerly. 'Yes,
he
used to have a property in
Richmond, if memory serves.'
'Who?'
'That
scurvy member of the merry gang.'
'Give
us a name, Henry.'
'Sir
Godfrey Armadale.'
'I
never agreed to be party to murder, Sir Godfrey!' protested his irate visitor.
'You swore it would never come to that.'
'I
never expected that it would.'
'Mary
Hibbert was a harmless young girl.'
'She
escaped from the house. She could have raised the alarm.'
'Does
that mean she had to be beaten to death?'
'No,
of course not. My orders were to bring her back.'
'What
went wrong, Sir Godfrey?'
'Smeek
and Froggatt lost their heads.'
'Ben
Froggatt, in particular, I daresay. As I know to my cost.'
Days
after the assault, Roland Trigg still bore vivid mementoes of his beating. He
had travelled to the house in a state of towering anger, still stricken by the
news about Mary Hibbert and worried about the consequences for himself. Sir
Godfrey Armadale let him rant on until the sting of his fury had been drawn
then he asserted his authority. He was a slim, elegant man in his late
thirties, fashionably dressed and wearing a brown wig that matched the colour
of his curling moustache. His face had surrendered its once handsome features
to long nights of revelry and indulgence. Deep lines had been gouged, pouches
had formed beneath the eyes and the skin had taken on a sallow hue.
'Have
you quite finished, Trigg?' he said at length.
'They
should have stuck to the plan, Sir Godfrey.'
'You
were the idiot who didn't do that,' accused the other bitterly. 'Your orders
were simple enough yet you couldn't obey them, could you? Why on earth did you
have to attack Froggatt like that?'
'To
get my own back.'
'And
lose me one valuable man.'
'Ben
Froggatt was a bad choice from the start.'
'Not
according to Arthur Oscott.'
'I
warned him against Ben but he wouldn't listen. They were supposed to ambush the
coach and shake me up a little. That was the plan, Sir Godfrey. Instead of
which,' he complained, 'Ben Froggatt sets about me with his cudgel as if he
wants to kill me. I'm not standing for that from anybody.'
'So
you throw the whole scheme into jeopardy.'
'No!'
'Yes,
you did!'
'Ben had
to be dealt with, Sir Godfrey.'
'Then
why, in God's name, couldn't you wait until this business was over before you
did so? You could have carved him up for dinner then, for all I cared. But no,
you couldn't wait, could you? Thanks to you,' he said with withering scorn,
'Smeek was taken and Froggatt is rotting beside him in Newgate.'
Trigg
was alarmed. 'They've been captured?'
'Yes,'
said Armadale, regarding him with disgust. 'Because of your hot blood, I had to
send Smeek to do a job that Froggatt would have done properly. Smeek blundered
and was arrested by that constable.'
'Jonathan
Bale?'
'We
underestimated him.'
'You
should have sent me to deal with Mr Bale.'
'After
the way you've behaved so far, I wouldn't trust you to do anything. If you'd
done as you were told, none of this would have happened. The whole thing
would've been over and done with and nobody would have been any the wiser.'
'I
did my share,' bleated the coachman. 'I kept an eye on Mr Redmayne and that constable.
Yes, and who was it who told you about Mr Redmayne's brother making those
enquiries?' 'You did,' conceded the other.
'I
worked hard, Sir Godfrey.'
'You
were very helpful at first. Until you lost your temper.'
'Ben
Froggatt was the one who lost his temper. Battering to death an innocent girl
like that. If I'd known about it when I gave him his own beating, he'd never
have got up again, I swear it.'
'That's
enough!' decreed Armadale, stamping a foot. 'Stop this ridiculous boasting. What's
done is done and there's no use worrying about it. There's certainly no point
in allotting blame all over the place. If we hold steady, the plan might still
work.'
'Might?'
'It
will work. Without doubt.'
'It
hasn't worked so far.'
'No more
impudence!' yelled Armadale, rounding on him with such rage that the coachman
backed away and cowered. 'Don't you dare say another word, you miserable cur.
It's not your place to criticise me. Remember who you are, Trigg, and what you
were when I first took you on. You owe
everything
to me.'
'It's
true, Sir Godfrey.'
'Then
follow your orders and keep your mouth shut.' Trigg gave a penitent nod.
'That's all you have to do, is that clear?'
'Yes,
Sir Godfrey.'
'Leave
the decisions to me,' insisted Armadale. 'I spent months planning this kidnap
and it's cost me a lot of money. Four men were hired, not to mention Oscott's
wife. And there were many other items of expenditure. I'm not going to have all
my careful work ruined by a hot-headed coachman who has to settle a grudge.'
There
was a long pause. Trigg stood with his head down.
'Sir
Godfrey?' he asked meekly.
'What
now, man?'
'They
will pay the ransom, won't they?'
'Of
course!' said the other with confidence.
'But
if they don't… what will you do to Mrs Gow?'
Sir
Godfrey Armadale took up his stance in front of the fireplace.
'Get
my revenge another way,' he said quietly.
It
was not the ideal way to hold a conversation. Jonathan Bale was too preoccupied
with staying in the saddle to hear everything that his companion was saying. An
indifferent horseman, he clamped his knees too tightly against the animal and
held the reins as if clinging to the edge of a precipice. He and Christopher
Redmayne were riding towards Clerkenwell at a steady trot. In the interests of
speed, Christopher had borrowed a horse for the constable from his brother.
Henry Redmayne's bay mare was far too mettlesome for Jonathan. He feared that
his mount would bolt at any moment. Amused at his discomfort, Christopher rode
beside him with practised ease.
'Try
to relax, Mr Bale. Let the horse do the work.'
'I
prefer to travel on foot.'
'We
must make best use of the last of the light,' said Christopher. 'And I think
it's very important to speak to Mr Gow. That became clear after my conversation
with Martin Eldridge.'
'The
other
Bartholomew Gow.'
There
was a note of censure in his voice. As they left the house in Bedford Street,
Christopher had told him about his reunion with the actor, confiding details
that he did not wish to reveal in front of his brother. Jonathan had been
shocked at Martin Eldridge's confession. It gave him no pleasure to learn that
his assumption about the house in Greer Lane had been correct. The realisation
that Harriet Gow, still a married woman, had a series of assignations with one
man while involved at the same time in a dalliance with the King and, it was
not impossible, with some of her other admirers as well, had offended his
Puritan sensibilities deeply.
'It
would not happen in my ward,' he asserted.
'What?'
'Using
a house for immoral purposes like that. The magistrate would be informed.
Action would be taken against the owner.'
'There's
no law against inviting people into one's home, Mr Bale. Who are we to say what
they get up to when they are left alone in a room? As for secret assignations,'
Christopher pointed out, 'I'll wager they take place every bit as often in
Baynard's Castle Ward as elsewhere.'