'Gentleman?'
Hartwell bridled. 'Not a rival for her hand?'
'I
think not.'
'Who
is the fellow?'
'Sir
Godfrey Armadale.'
'Sir
Godfrey?' said the other, scornfully. 'The filthy-fingered Mr Corrigan is more
of a gentleman than Sir Godfrey Armadale. He's the most frightful character
I've ever come across in my life and I wouldn't let him within a mile of my
nightingale.'
'Do
you know where he lives?' asked Christopher.
'Why
should it matter?'
'Because
I understand that he has information that could lead me to Mrs Gow. An
architect should attend to every aspect of the house, Mr Hartwell,' he
reasoned. 'That's why I'm so keen to assist you in your goal. I cannot imagine
that anyone could better decorate the interior of your new abode than Mrs Gow.'
'Build
the house
around
her.'
'I
will, sir.'
'Find
her, Mr Redmayne!'
'First,
tell me how I can locate Sir Godfrey Armadale. Is it true that he has a house
in Richmond?'
'He
has properties all over the place. Including one in Devon.'
'I
heard a rumour that he was going back to the West Country.'
'Not
when he can carouse the nights away in London,' said Hartwell, trying to flick
away a wasp. 'His main house is in Kew. A positively grotesque edifice, from
what I hear. And not to be compared with my own wonderful new abode. That's
where you'll find Sir Godfrey. At home in Armadale Manor.'
The
wasp tried to take up residence in the wig, throwing Hartwell into a state of frenzied
agitation. By the time he finally evicted the insect, he was too late to ask
how Sir
Godfrey
Armadale might assist the search for a missing actress. Christopher Redmayne
had already galloped away.
Roland
Trigg was given a poor welcome when he arrived at the house. Sir Godfrey
Armadale came bursting out of the door to confront him. He was dressed to ride
and an ostler was saddling his horse. Sir Godfrey hit the side of the coach
with his whip.
'What
the devil are you doing here, man?' he yelled.
'I
had nowhere else to go, Sir Godfrey.'
'All
you had to do was to remain where you were. That was the plan, you idiot. You
were ordered to stay where you were until Harriet Gow was released. Then,
because you felt you'd let her down badly by letting her get abducted, you
would resign from her service. I devised it all so carefully,' he roared. 'By
the time Mrs Gow worked out that you'd actually been an accomplice to the
kidnappers, you'd have been well away, spending your share of the ransom.
Instead of which, you make your escape and give the game away.'
'They
were closing in on me, Sir Godfrey.'
'Who
were?'
'Mr
Redmayne and that constable.'
'They
had no
proof
!'
'They
had Ben Froggatt. He'd have pointed the finger at me out of spite. I'm lucky
they didn't get me.'
'I'm
beginning to wish they had,' said Armadale harshly.
'You
don't really mean that.'
'Don't
I?'
'Smeek
and Froggatt may not know your name, Sir Godfrey,' warned Trigg. 'Neither does
Arthur Oscott. But I do, don't I?'
'Are
you threatening me?' howled Armadale, drawing his sword.
'No,
no. I'm just pointing something out.'
'What
is it?'
'We
need each other, Sir Godfrey.'
Armadale
made an effort to curb his anger. Putting his sword back into its sheath, he
used the whip to beckon the coachman down from his seat. Trigg was unkempt and
unshaven. Armadale could smell straw.
'When
did you leave?'
'Just
as it was getting dark.'
'Where
did you spend the night?'
'At a
tavern along the way,' explained Trigg. 'All the beds were taken so I slept in
the stables. Don't worry, sir. Very few people saw me. I arrived and left in
darkness.'
'The
coach might have been noticed.'
Trigg
grinned. 'I thought you'd like it back, Sir Godfrey.'
A
reluctant smile flitted across Armadale's face.
'I
do,' he conceded. 'I've waited too long to get it.'
'There's
something inside for you as well,' said the coachman, opening the door. 'Go on,
Sir Godfrey. Take that sack out.'
'Why?'
'Look
inside it.'
Armadale
prodded the sack with his whip then lifted it out of the coach to set it on the
ground. When he opened it to peer inside, he was dumbstruck. Trigg enjoyed
seeing the expression of amazement on his face. He smirked energetically.
'Well,
Sir Godfrey?'
'Perhaps
you're not as stupid as you look.'
'I
felt that Mrs Gow owed it to us.'
The
change of horses made all the difference. Christopher Redmayne rode the
high-spirited bay mare from his brother's stable and gave his own horse to
Jonathan Bale. The constable was far happier sitting astride a more obedient animal
with a comfortable gait. Though the long ride tested his buttocks, he willingly
endured the twinges of pain. Stopping at a tavern near Kew, they were given
directions to Armadale Manor. It was less than a mile away. As soon as it came
into view, Christopher saw what his client had meant about its grotesque
aspect. Even from a distance, Armadale Manor was ugly.
Built
out of sandstone almost a century earlier, it had none of the symmetry and
beauty of a typical Elizabethan country mansion. A new wing had been added with
hideous brickwork whose bright colour clashed with the gentle red hue of the
facade. The upper part of the house had been restored by a slipshod builder who
had made little effort to make his work blend in harmoniously. Other features
of the house were even more unsightly. The architectural values that
Christopher held most dear seemed to have been flouted.
'Who
could live in such a repulsive house?' he asked.
'A
repulsive man,' said Jonathan.
'At
least we know that this is the right place.'
'How
is that, Mr Redmayne?'
Christopher
pointed. 'Look at the coach outside the stables. Isn't that the one belonging
to Mrs Gow?' he asked. 'Trigg must be here.'
'Then
I'll be happy to meet him again.'
Careful
not to announce their arrival too soon, they tethered their horses among the
trees and proceeded on foot. Jonathan worked his way round to the rear of the
house. Christopher waited until his companion was in position before breaking
his cover and strolling up the drive to the front door. The sound of the bell
brought a servant into view.
'My
name is Christopher Redmayne,' announced the visitor, 'and I've come to pay my
compliments to Sir Godfrey Armadale.'
'The
master is not here at the moment, sir.'
'Oh
dear.'
'He
rode off a while ago and may not be back for some time.'
'I
see,' said Christopher, recognising the man's honesty. 'In that case, I'll not
linger, though I may spend a few moments looking around this magnificent pile,
if I may. I'm an architect by profession. Armadale Manor is quite unlike
anything I've seen before.'
'Do
as you wish, sir.'
The
man closed the door behind him. Christopher went past the stables and turned
down the side of the house. A yell of rage made him break into a trot. When he
reached the back of the property, he saw Roland Trigg lying motionless at
Jonathan Bale's feet. The constable glanced down at the prone figure.
'He
tried to make a run for it. I got in his way.'
'What
sort of a night did she have?' asked Sir Godfrey Armadale.
'Unsettled,'
said Oscott. 'We could hear her, pacing up and down in the room. She never
seemed to stop, Sir Godfrey.'
'She
must be exhausted after all this time.'
'So
are we.'
'You'll
get your reward, Arthur.'
'When?'
'Today.
I've told them where and how the ransom is to be paid. It's only a question of
collecting it and all our troubles are over.'
'There
weren't supposed to be any troubles.'
'I
blame you for those.'
Oscott
tensed. 'Me, Sir Godfrey?'
'Yes.
You chose Smeek and Froggatt. They were the blundering fools who let us down.
However,' he said, raising his whip to silence the protest he saw forming on
the other's lips, 'we must put that behind us. I don't bear grudges. Smeek and
Froggatt are out of this now. That means a larger share for you and your wife.'
'Oh,'
said Oscott, relaxing slightly. 'Thank you, Sir Godfrey. My wife and I are very
grateful. We've had to put in more work than we thought. It's been something of
a trial.'
'That
goes for all of us but we've come through it.'
'When
will Mrs Gow be released?'
'When
the ransom money is in my hands and not before.'
'She
still has no idea who organised the kidnap?'
'No -
and she never will,' said Armadale with a complacent grin. 'That's the beauty
of it. I get my revenge and make a small fortune into the bargain. Yet nobody
will ever know about it.'
The
mood of self-congratulation was immediately dispelled. Flinging open the door,
Oscott's wife ran into the room in a panic.
'There's
a coach coming, Sir Godfrey!' she warned.
'There
can't be.'
'See
for yourself.'
The
two men rushed to the window and looked out. Rolling up the drive and
scrunching over the gravel was a coach. Armadale recognised it at once and
glared up at the man who was holding the reins.
'It's
Trigg!' he yelled. 'What the devil is he doing here?'
He
and Oscott rushed out to welcome the coachman but there was a shock in store
for them. When the newcomer raised his hat, they saw that it was not Roland
Trigg at all but a complete stranger.
Christopher
Redmayne beamed down from his high eminence. After a glance at them both, he
turned his smile upon the shorter.
'Sir
Godfrey Armadale, I presume?'
'Who
are you?' growled the other.
'Christopher
Redmayne.' Both men reacted with hostility to the name. 'I've come to collect
Mrs Gow in her own coach.'
'Where's
Trigg?'
'Tied
up inside. He's coming back to London with us.'
'You're
here on your own?' said Armadale with disbelief, one hand on the hilt of his
sword. 'You're very bold, Mr Redmayne.'
'Trigg
assured me that there were only the two of you here,' said Christopher easily,
'and that poses no problem to me.'
'What
about three men?' Drawing his sword, Armadale turned to Oscott. 'Open the coach
and untie Trigg.'
Oscott
moved across to the coach and saw Roland Trigg inside, bound and gagged,
threshing about wildly. When he opened the door, however, he discovered that
the coachman was not the only passenger. Crouched out of sight on his hands and
knees, Jonathan Bale now reared up and launched himself at Oscott, knocking the
man to the ground before hitting him with a relay of punches. Before Armadale
could go to the man's aid, Christopher tore off the coat he had borrowed from
Trigg and hurled it into Armadale's face, drawing his own sword at the same
time and leaping down to circle his adversary.