‘He wrote poetry,’ said Tara O’Bryan in a wary way. ‘I don’t know if you’ve ever read any?’
Anthony, torn between truth and tact, chose tact. ‘I’m sorry, I don’t read a lot of poetry.’ It might have been his imagination, but Tara O’Bryan seemed relieved.
‘Terry Cavanaugh was a great supporter of Home Rule, too,’ said Anthony, steering the conversation back on track. ‘I was surprised how well informed he was, considering he was American.’
Tara O’Bryan laughed. ‘He might have been born in New York but he was Irish and proud of it. As I said, he was one of my father’s relations.’
That wasn’t a bad idea on Cavanaugh’s part, thought Anthony. If Cavanaugh really was on to something, it would make an investigation a lot easier if he posed as a relation rather than a chance-met acquaintance.
‘Anyway,’ she added with a shrug, ‘I liked Terry. He was different from anyone else I’d ever met. My mother thought the world of him at first.’ She shrugged once more. ‘Then it all went wrong.’
Anthony wanted to ask how but that sort of question wasn’t permitted. However, if Veronica realized that Terry Cavanaugh was using her to gain an entrée to Starhanger, then it could have all gone wrong very quickly, even without an affair with Tara.
For the first time he felt a twist of distaste for Cavanaugh. Whatever he’d done and whatever the motives, Tara O’Bryan had been upset. It seemed wrong to use this girl with her bright, intelligent eyes and sensitive mouth as a mere counter in a game.
‘I’m sorry he’s dead,’ said Tara. ‘I hate to think of dying so far from home. I suppose his newspaper would have informed his family – if he had one, that is,’ she added.
Anthony seized the opportunity. ‘He never talked about any family to me. He mentioned friends occasionally. There was someone called Frankie, I believe.’
Mrs O’Bryan’s fingers whitened on the magazine again. ‘Colonel Brooke,’ she said in a carrying voice. ‘If you are going to talk about my husband’s relatives, you might have the courtesy to include me. What’s all this about Cavanaugh’s friends?’
‘I wondered if they’d heard he’d died,’ replied Anthony politely.
Privately he was wondering if Frankie was a member of either the New York or London Hibernian charities. That would add up. Maybe Frankie had been a bit too free with his confidences to Cavanaugh and Veronica O’Bryan knew that. He was sure it was Frankie’s name which had prompted Veronica O’Bryan to stick her oar in. ‘I heard him mention a chap called Frankie. I wondered if Miss O’Bryan knew him.’
There was a glint of amused triumph in Mrs O’Bryan’s eyes. ‘I’m afraid we can’t help you, Colonel. Terry didn’t have many friends and I never heard of a man of that name. That’s right, isn’t it Tara?’
‘If you say so, mother,’ said Tara with a frown. ‘I don’t think he ever mentioned a Frankie.’
Anthony’s voice was casual. ‘I don’t suppose it matters,’ he said lightly as he could. Veronica O’Bryan knew something, and he was prepared to bet that one of the things she knew about was Frankie.
He got up and walked over to the coffee tray on the sideboard. He put his cup down and turned, knowing Sir Charles was watching, and gave him the very slightest of nods.
Sir Charles didn’t respond but Anthony knew he’d understood. General Harker rumbled something about forcing the Narrows – they were still talking about Gallipoli – and Sir Charles, as if struck by a sudden thought, beckoned to Anthony to join them by the hearth.
‘Here’s a man who can bear me out, General. My point is that the war won’t be won by mere military expertise, important though that is. It’s a question of industry and supplies.’
This time it was Sir Charles who gave an almost imperceptible nod. It was Anthony’s cue. ‘Now, Colonel, who would you say had the greater amount of natural resources at their beck and call? Us or the Central Powers?’
‘On the face of it, Germany,’ said Anthony. ‘However, as long as we can keep the shipping lanes open, we’ve got the resources of the whole Empire to call on, but we need to sharpen up. I’d like to see a great deal more sense of urgency in the government and powers-that-be. There are too many complacent types running the show.’
Sir Charles looked suitably shocked. ‘Complacent, Colonel? Have you got anyone in particular in mind?’
‘Not so much a particular someone but a particular something,’ Anthony answered. He took the wash-leather bag from his pocket and, reaching for a saucer from the sideboard, poured the diamonds onto the saucer in his hand.
Tara O’Bryan walked forward and looked at the soapy-coloured stones with interest. ‘What are they?’
‘Diamonds.’
Tara gave a little cry of astonishment. ‘Diamonds?’
‘Diamonds?’ echoed Josette Sherston. She and the other women in the room crowded round. ‘Are you sure, Colonel?’ she asked. She fingered her necklace absently. ‘They don’t look anything like my diamonds.’
‘Yours have been cut and polished, my dear,’ said Sherston. ‘How much are they worth, Colonel? Have you any idea?’
‘I’m not absolutely certain—’ began Anthony when General Harker cleared his throat.
‘I know a little about jewellery, Colonel. I knew a diamond-wallah in India.’ He reached out his hand. ‘May I?’
‘Please do.’
The General picked the biggest stone and held it between his thumb and forefinger. Anthony saw his eyes narrow. ‘They’re diamonds all right. Good ones, too, I’d say. My word, Colonel, you could be holding an absolute fortune in your hand.’
‘How did you get hold of them, Colonel?’ It was Tara O’Bryan.
‘I ran into a friend in London. I first came across him out in Africa. He’s a nice youngster by the name of Rycroft. His uncle’s a big noise in the mining world, I understand, and this boy, Martin Rycroft, had a bit of luck.’
Anthony picked up the diamonds and ran them through his fingers. ‘This is what I mean about resources. Rycroft’s found a rich field, or whatever you call it, that’s quite unknown. He found these in a river. It’s a bit off the beaten track, apparently, up in the mountains on the borders of German East. According to him it could do with being properly explored. It’d be different in peacetime but he got the wind-up a bit, being so close to enemy territory. There was a Dutchman, a Boer, in his party who he suspected of being pro-German. Rycroft reckoned that if he stayed, he’d have an expedition from German East around his ears in fairly short order, so he played it down and came back to London. He hopes he’s put the Boer off the scent but he’s not sure.’
Sir Charles looked at Anthony with puzzled, innocent eyes. ‘This is all very interesting, Colonel, but you complained about complacency. You’ll excuse me if I say I can’t see the connection between that and your diamonds.’
Anthony laughed dismissively. ‘It’s because of complacency that Rycroft lent me some of his haul. When he got back to London he went straight to the Foreign Office to report his find. He’s been shunted from pillar to post. That’s why he roped me in. He’s got it into his head that I know all sorts of people and might be able to galvanize someone into taking action.’
Tara looked at the saucer with her head on one side. ‘Why should the Foreign Office be interested in diamonds?’
‘Don’t be a fool, Tara,’ snapped her mother. ‘You might think of them as pretty stones but to the government they mean guns. That’s right, isn’t it, Colonel?’ she added defiantly.
‘Well, not absolutely, no,’ said Anthony. ‘I mean, I’m sure you’re right, Mrs O’Bryan, but there’s more to it than that. You see, industry needs diamonds, even diamonds which would be no good as jewels.’
Mrs O’Bryan’s eyes narrowed. ‘How?’
‘They’re used extensively in manufacturing,’ said Sherston. ‘They’re the hardest mineral we know.’
Mrs O’Bryan looked at the soapy-coloured heap in the saucer with more respect. ‘That’s interes
ting,’ she said quietly. ‘Very interesting.’
‘Anyway,’ said Anthony, ‘you see what I mean about complacency. As my friend Rycroft sees it, there’s thousands of pounds worth of diamonds lying around, and the Germans could invade across the border at any time. We probably wouldn’t even know they were there. As I said, it’s pretty wild country. Poor Rycroft’s driving himself nuts trying to get some proper action out of the stuffed shirts that run these things. As far as I can make out, he’s kicking his heels while a lot of mandarins decide which department he should apply to.’
Sir Charles, in his role as mandarin, tutted and shook his head gravely. ‘I’m afraid that story rings only too true, Colonel. Still, even African diamond kings have to follow the proper procedures.’
Anthony gave what he hoped was an ironic laugh. ‘Diamond king! He will be, if there’s any justice in the world. After all, he found the blessed things. It’s ridiculous to think he’s stuck in a third-rate hotel in Cheshire Place while he knows where enough diamonds are to buy the Ritz and take an option on the Savoy while he’s about it.’
Sir Charles looked affronted. He did it very well. ‘I appreciate your feelings on the matter, Colonel, but Whitehall has its own way of doing things and the proper procedures need to be followed. You can hardly expect His Majesty’s Government to rush an expedition into the wilds of Africa on some boy’s say-so.’
‘He might be young but he’s knocked about a bit and his family name should command some respect. Besides that, he’s got some impressive paperwork. I’ve seen it. Maps, geology, the lot, to say nothing of a couple of handfuls of diamonds.’
‘I could run a piece on him in the Examiner,’ said Sherston. ‘Rycroft, you say he’s called? How Fortune Favoured The Brave. That would make a nice headline. There’s a few angles I could use with a story like this. That would shake things up.’
‘I’m afraid that would never do,’ said Sir Charles quickly. Sherston looked rebellious. ‘I’m sorry, Sherston, but if the facts are as the colonel has related, then absolute secrecy and discretion must be our watchwords.’
He glanced round the group surrounding the table. ‘I must ask you all to keep this to yourselves. I imagine that the enemy would love to get hold of the location of an untapped diamond field. Now you’ve brought the matter to my attention, Colonel, I will try to expedite this young man’s cause in the proper quarters. After all, even as we speak, the Germans may be advancing and the opportunity could be lost.’
Josette came forward and reached out her hand for the saucer. ‘May I?’
Anthony gave it to her and she tipped the diamonds into the palm of her hand. ‘They look so dull at the moment. A rough diamond. I’ve said that lots of times but I’ve never thought about what it meant.’
She picked up the largest with a wondering smile and held it up to the light. ‘I wonder what this will be like when it’s cut and polished?’
Her smile became wistful. ‘I love jewels,’ she said thoughtfully. ‘They’re beautiful. There aren’t enough things which exist simply because they’re beautiful.’ She looked at Anthony, a tiny smile curving the corner of her mouth. ‘To see them like this is exciting.’
She put the stones back into the saucer and handed it back. With a jolt, Anthony felt her hand touch his.
Perhaps it was his imagination, but her fingers seem to linger on his outstretched palm for a moment longer than was strictly necessary.
‘They’re like people, you know? Some have all the glitter on the outside and some need drawing out and polishing to show what’s hidden.’
Anthony glanced away. It could be nothing more than imagination, but he thought she was referring to him. That little weed of hope started to grow.
SEVEN
Anthony put down his whisky and soda and walked quietly to the door. He had called into Sir Charles’s room for a nightcap and, by mutual consent, the two men had talked trivialities until they judged the rest of the household was safely in bed.
He opened the door a couple of inches, listening intently. In the distance he could hear the sonorous tick-tock of the grandfather clock below them in the hall, but it was the only sound in the quiet house.
‘All clear,’ he said in a low voice, settling back in his chair. ‘By the way, there’s a very useful creaking floorboard outside your room.’
‘I noticed that, too,’ said Sir Charles. ‘I think the diamond scheme went well. You dangled all the right clues very nicely. If Sherston really is our man, he surely can’t fail to follow up your lead to the third-rate hotel in Cheshire Place, as you very happily put it. If that comes off we’re really out of the slips and no mistake.’
‘Yes, it went well,’ said Anthony. ‘There’s something else I found out tonight. It’s about the Sons of Hibernia.’
Sir Charles sat up in his chair. ‘What is it?’
Anthony related the conversation in the drawing-room as concisely as he could. ‘There’s no doubt in my mind,’ he finished, ‘that Veronica O’Bryan knows a sight more than she should do. I think Tara O’Bryan’s in the clear, but if Mrs O’Bryan is involved with the Sons of Hibernia, then we’re really on to something.’
‘It sounds like it,’ agreed Sir Charles. ‘Veronica O’Bryan, eh? She’s someone we’ve never contemplated. Where does this leave Sherston? Do you think they’re in it together?’
Anthony rested his elbow on the arm of his chair, seeing how the light danced and reflected on the glass in his hand. He was trying very hard to be fair.
‘Sherston didn’t show any interest in my conversation with Tara O’Bryan,’ he said eventually. ‘He doesn’t seem to fit. I know Cavanaugh thought we were looking for a man. He said we’ve got to stop him. However, I wonder if our man isn’t a man but a woman.’
‘Veronica O’Bryan?’ asked Sir Charles.
‘Veronica O’Bryan,’ repeated Anthony. ‘Thanks to Sherston’s social connections, she’s in a position to pick up some very valuable gossip. Mrs O’Bryan might disapprove of Terry Cavanaugh for some family reason, such as Cavanaugh falling for Tara – Tara certainly liked Cavanaugh and might have had her head turned, despite him being so much older – or it could be more sinister. I’m sure Veronica O’Bryan knows who Frankie is. What’s more, when I said I was looking for a man called Frankie, she seemed very self-satisfied, as if she was congratulating herself I was on the wrong lines. It might be that Frankie’s a woman.’
‘A woman?’ Sir Charles sucked his cheeks in. ‘There’s no reason why Frankie shouldn’t be a woman, of course. Anything else?’
‘Only that Frankie may be associated with either the New York or London Hibernian charities. That’s a guess, but it might be right.’
Sir Charles sat back and drummed his fingers on the smooth leather of the chair-arm. ‘Take it that what you’ve said is correct. How did it all work?’
Anthony lit a cigarette and smoked it reflectively. ‘What I think happened is something like this. Terry Cavanaugh got involved with the Sons of Hibernia, the London equivalent of the New York Hibernian Relief Fund. He starts to uncover the Sons’ links between Ireland and Germany. At a meeting of the Sons he came across Veronica O’Bryan and her daughter, and gets invited here. Tara O’Bryan said Cavanaugh was a distant relation of her father’s. I’m assuming that’s a ruse on Cavanaugh’s part, as otherwise it’s too convenient for words. What that means, of course, is that he suspected Veronica O’Bryan and wanted to get closer to her.’
‘Or to Sherston,’ put in Sir Charles. ‘He could have suspected Sherston.’
‘So he could,’ agreed Anthony. ‘In any event, we know Cavanaugh fell from grace. He left Starhanger under a cloud and went to Germany. Mrs O’Bryan has his activities in New York investigated and, via Frankie, writes a letter to their friendly German pals, with disastrous results for Cavanaugh. For all I know, she is Frankie. She was certainly smug enough when I mentioned Frankie’s name.’ Anthony looked at Sir Charles. ‘Can you pick any holes in that?’
‘Why was there such a long delay?’ asked Sir Charles. ‘It was a good few months after Cavanaugh left Starhanger before he was killed in Germany.’
‘Maybe it took that long for them to be sure. You said Cavanaugh used another name in New York. Veronica O’Bryan might have suspected Cavanaugh but didn’t want to act until she was certain. If the Germans arrested an American who really was an innocent neutral, it’d be very awkward for them and their Irish partners.’
‘Fair enough,’ acknowledged Sir Charles. ‘What about Sherston, though? He had a down on Cavanaugh, too.’
‘Maybe he’s in on it. He could be, you know. After all, his middle name is Francis and if he’s Frankie, Veronica O’Bryan might well look smug at my description of him as a friend of Cavanaugh’s.’
Sir Charles raised his eyebrows. ‘If they’re in it together, that might explain something. Sherston’s surprisingly well-liked locally, when you consider the crowd here tonight are solid county types and he’s an Irish newspaper proprietor of humble origins. Everyone likes Tara O’Bryan, but no one can stand her mother. Mrs O’Bryan’s an expert card player, which should make her popular, what with bridge parties and whist drives and so on, but none of the ladies like playing with her. She’s got a sarcastic tongue, dislikes her neighbours and, in addition, has a real down on Mrs Sherston. Mr Moulton, quoting his better half, reckoned that Mrs O’Bryan thoroughly enjoyed running the roost and had her nose put out of joint good and proper when Sherston turned up with his glamorous new wife. General Harker agreed.’
This, felt Anthony, was getting onto dangerous ground. ‘Glamorous?’ he queried.
‘Good Lord, man, didn’t you notice? She’s outstanding. However, apparently Mrs Sherston is content to give Mrs O’Bryan her own way. The General said – quoting his wife – that Mrs Sherston is known for her generosity and kindness. Mrs Harker’s opinion is that Mrs Sherston is verging on sainthood for putting up with Veronica O’Bryan. The general opinion is that Sherston should make Veronica O’Bryan an allowance and, for his wife’s sake if not his own, issue his sister her marching orders. If they’re in it together though, he’d want her close at hand.’
Frankie's Letter Page 11
