“Blister it!” exclaimed Morris. “I hadn’t thought of that.”
“Never mind,” said Falcon. “We are aware of your limitations.”
Ignoring this barbed condescension, Morris asked, “Do you really mean to let him go unpunished, Ross? It don’t seem right. The truth should be told.”
“The truth!” Falcon gave a derisive snort. “I doubt we’ve come near to it.”
Morris said, “Near enough to know that Collington held some peculiar grudge against Sir Mark and tried to ruin him. And that Derrydene was a party to it.”
“Well, well. Our sage can think! If only for a short distance. Mayhap you can take us the rest of the way, Rossiter.”
Gideon stood and went over to pick up the decanter. “In confidence, a little way, perhaps.”
“Make an earnest effort to follow this, dear dolt,” said Falcon.
“I’d like to follow him,” said Morris, sotto voce, as Rossiter crossed the room to rather clumsily refill his glass. “Closely. With a lance in my hand!” Falcon glanced over at him suspiciously, and he added, “Tell us first, Ross. Which of them is this all-powerful Squire? Derrydene, or Collington?”
“I think neither. Those louts at the mill knew Collington, and one of them told Naomi no one has ever seen the Squire. Also, Camber, Naomi’s groom, was with the ruffians who searched Promontory Point and beat Tummet; and we know that Camber called at Derrydene’s house. For which piece of bungling Collington appeared to think Derrydene would be punished; presumably by the Squire.”
Morris groaned. “You mean there are more of the swine lurking about?”
“Two or three at the least,” put in Falcon. “You agree, Rossiter?”
Gideon nodded. “When Naomi overheard the pair who plotted in the Dowling ante room, they spoke of everyone being different. She thought they referred to the differences in people. To my mind, they spoke of the icons, and meant not everyone, but that every one of those objects is different.”
“Aye. And if you recollect,” Falcon put in, “they also said they couldn’t have a meeting because ‘six’ was lost. So the figures are very likely numbered.”
“Very likely,” agreed Gideon. “And each member of their little club, or whatever it is, has a number of his own and an icon for—identification, mayhap.”
“Stap me!” exclaimed Morris. “Six of the villains? All that planning and organization to ruin your father?”
“As a first step,” said Gideon thoughtfully.
Falcon and Morris exchanged startled glances. Falcon echoed, “First step? You think they plan more mischief?”
“I think ’twas indeed a conspiracy ’gainst my father. But when Collington had me trapped in the mill and thought I was as good as dead and could not repeat what I knew, he told me there was more to it. Besides, if you remember, the soiree plotters said that all their lives were at stake.” Gideon put down the decanter, and stood staring at it. “I know of only two crimes by which the life of a nobleman could be placed at risk.”
Morris said in awe, “Murder. Or—treason! Oh egad!”
Leaning forward, Falcon asked intently, “Do you say you suspect a plot ’gainst England?”
“What sort of plot?” demanded Morris. “How is it connected with all this rascality?”
Gideon hesitated. “Would that I knew.”
“But you do suspect,” said Falcon shrewdly. “Zounds! That would be a merry frolic! I wish I may see you try to convince the Horse Guards!”
After a brief pause, Morris said solemnly, “You’ll surely lose her if you do, Ross.”
“And fail his country if he don’t,” Falcon snapped, scowling at him.
“You cannot know that,” argued Morris.
Listening intently, Gideon said, “I think we’ve another caller.”
“The Earl of Collington, no doubt,” said Falcon. “Come to throw himself on your mercy.”
A yawning lackey, looking astonished and clutching a dressing gown about him, threw the door wide.
Two tattered, muddy, and shoeless scarecrows staggered into the room.
“Well, well,” drawled Falcon, surveying them through his glass. “A masquerade! How jolly.”
“Good God!” exclaimed Morris.
“Newby!” said Gideon.
* * *
It was noon before Naomi awoke, and she lay still for a little while, piecing together the events of the last two chaotic days climaxed by their triumphal return to the house on Snow Hill. Worn out, she had slept in Gideon’s arms for much of the journey. When they arrived, there had been so many welcoming faces: Katrina, hugging her and weeping unashamedly; little Gwendolyn, teasing her about being “such a sooty lady” even as tears trembled on her lashes; August, snorting with disgust at the emotional proceedings then scowling at Gideon, who was murmuring something in his ear. Sir Mark, beaming with joy and pride because his son had rescued her. Morris, Kadenworthy, Cranford, and Tio, all trying to explain at once exactly how everything had happened. And, above all, Gideon, filthy and scorched, even as she was, but his eyes radiant with love.
Not much else was very clear. She remembered Sir Mark calling for silence while he offered a humble prayer of gratitude for her safe return; briefly, she had wondered why her father was not there, but Sir Mark had explained that Lord Collington had gone off with his men, convinced she’d been taken to the south coast and determined to search there. For a while she’d been in a carriage again, before being delivered into the hands of a distraught and weeping Maggie. Very soon after that, the sheets had closed around her, she’d sunk into the soft feather mattress, and in the middle of her own grateful prayers, had fallen asleep.
She stretched luxuriously, looking around at the familiar room, hearing the familiar city sounds, wondering why she was here instead of at her father’s house. Maggie came tiptoeing in, then rushed to embrace her again, as though she must touch her to be sure she was really safe.
Breakfast was brought in, and a letter arrived by messenger from her father expressing his great joy over her safe deliverance, and his regret that a most vital matter demanded his immediate departure for Italy. She was finishing the letter when Katrina came in, to fuss over her and ask many questions. August, she complained, would only shrug and say he had arrived too late to do much more than help apprehend some of the kidnappers, and watch Rossiter pretend to be a hero.
“He was a hero, Trina,” declared Naomi, her eyes glowing. “When I saw his dear face looking down at me through all the smoke … Oh, I really thought I was going to die, and I longed so to see him, but never dreamed he had found me. And to think he climbed up that wheel, when he is so terribly afraid of heights! Truly, he must be the very bravest of men, and I would never have escaped had he not—” She broke off, blushing, because her friend was looking at her with such a fond smile.
“The ‘very bravest of men’ is waiting downstairs in great impatience,” said Katrina, laughing. “Indeed, I wonder he has not forced his way up here, he is so frantic to see you!”
Naomi squeaked with excitement. The breakfast tray was abandoned in a rush. Maggie was summoned, and the new white taffety gown with the bluebird embroidery across the bodice and on the underskirt was selected. Half an hour later, Naomi’s graceful descent of the stairs ended in a most unladylike run across the hall to the tall young man who had sprung up at her coming, and who now reached out eagerly to clasp her outstretched hands, and press each to his lips.
“Oh, your poor hands,” she said, resting a feather-light finger on the bandages. “Did you burn them when you tore off my petticoats?”
He saw a lackey stiffen, and murmured, “For the love of heaven, take me to a private room, else I must outrage all Falcon’s servants by kissing you here and now!”
She offered no objection to this most improper suggestion, and when the morning room door had closed behind them did not protest his even more improper behaviour. Some time later, sighing contentedly as she sat on the sofa clasped in his arm
s, she murmured, “This is very naughty, you know. ’Tis fortunate my father is gone away, else he would be most shocked, and likely name me a—guttersnipe…”
Gideon kissed her ear. “Gone away, is he?”
“I fancy your papa must have sent him word, because he writ me a very kind letter. I think I will not let you read all the things he says about your heroism! But something very urgent has called him back to Italy.”
“Oh,” said Gideon expressionlessly. “I hope he plans to return soon, for I mean to make you my wife, and must ask—”
“Do you, indeed?” she said, sitting up straighter. “Of all the presumption! Not so much as a declaration of affection, or a request to pay your addresses! I collect you think that because you make it a habit to save my life, and restore my stolen slippers, sirrah—”
“Fiddle,” he said. “A man is not to be commended for saving what belongs to him.” He put a finger across her parting lips. “And speaking of your slippers, lovely one, Newby has come home.”
She had learned of Newby’s treachery while they were driving from Promontory Point last night, and exclaimed excitedly, “Good heavens! With the jewelled men?”
“No. But with a most intriguing tale. As we guessed, he had tried to discover the value of the two jewelled men, and when he learned they were of far less worth than this Kendall-Parker fellow had offered, he rushed to Kensington to sell them to the worthy collector. He had his man, Delatouche, with him, and it seems that well-acquainted fellow recognized Kendall-Parker as a man of questionable repute, and relayed that fact to Newby. To render my brother’s story as short as possible, Kendall-Parker was all affability, and pressed refreshments upon him. Being fore-warned, Newby contrived to switch glasses, just in case. Kendall-Parker took about two sips of wine and collapsed.”
“Lud! What a villain! Was he dead?”
“No, but Newby thought he was. Kendall-Parker had sent his servant off—to order luncheon he said, but Delatouche was sure the fellow had gone for reinforcements. My brother had no wish to be mixed up in a murder case, so he snatched up the miniatures, and he and Delatouche fled. They were soon hotly pursued by a clutch of ruffians, and were unable to get back to Town. They racked up at some hedge tavern on Saturday night, intending to leave at dawn. Unfortunately, they both overslept, and didn’t take their departure until noon, by which time Kendall-Parker’s ruffians had found them.”
“How very silly of them,” said Naomi scornfully. “I suppose they were caught?”
“Yes, and properly mauled and robbed, then tied up and left miles from anywhere, sans purses, coats, or boots. They had a fine time freeing themselves and making their way back to Town.”
“Then this Kendall-Parker person has the two jewelled men, do you suppose? Or was he perchance an agent of the mysterious Squire?”
“The latter, I suspect. I wish him well of the accursed objects. At all events, my most precious sprite, you may dismiss them from your mind.”
“With the greatest of pleasure,” she said, smiling. “Faith, but I wonder Newby dared face your father! Whatever did Sir Mark say to him?”
Gideon’s lips tightened, and a frown crept into his eyes. “He was far more lenient and forgiving than I could be.”
‘Of course he was, foolish creature,’ thought Naomi. ‘Newby was ever his favourite.’ She said, “I have failed to ask about poor Tummet. How does he go on?”
“Very well, I’m glad to say. The old rogue is tough as whip leather, and ’twould take more than a broken rib to kill him! We are greatly beholden to him, beloved. Had he not let me know—”
He broke off as a scratch at the door was followed, after a discreet pause, by the appearance of the butler. One all-encompassing glance informed that elegant personage of the propriety of my lady’s position on the sofa, the calm poise of the gentleman who stood leaning one shoulder against the mantelpiece; and of the dainty enamelled earring which adorned the laces in the gentleman’s cravat.
“Your pardon, my lady,” said the butler with commendable gravity. “A sergeant is come from the Horse Guards. Captain Rossiter is requested to wait upon General Underhill. At once.”
* * *
Gideon leaned back in the chair in the small office, and watched General Underhill narrowly. Had he met the man on the street and in civilian dress, he’d have taken him for a haberdasher, or an apothecary perhaps. Certainly he’d never have suspected him to be a general, a man who had seen extensive active service, and who was reputed to be a splendid tactician. Of medium height, slight stature and quiet voice, he was almost timid in his manner, quite cast into the shade, thought Gideon, by Sir Mark, who was seated nearby.
It had been a peremptory summons, and the general began by apologizing for bringing them to Whitehall at such a scrambling rate. “It was necessary, gentlemen,” he said, smiling. “In view of the shocking kidnapping of Lady Lutonville, and because of a most unexpected event that will, I feel sure, greatly influence the Lord Chancellor’s committee meeting tomorrow.”
“Eh?” said Sir Mark, hopefully. “Have you been able to learn something, Sam? Jove, but you’re a good fellow!”
The general raised his hands. “No, no. Really, you must not give me credit. Your son is responsible, I believe. It has to do with Sir Louis Derrydene. I must tell you that the poor fellow has shot himself!”
“The deuce he has!” cried Sir Mark, leaping to his feet.
Gideon could see Collington’s handsome face and hear him saying, “Poor Derrydene will pay for that bungle.” He felt chilled, and asked, “When?”
The general looked at him sharply. “Well, you’re a cool customer, I must say. We believe ’twas early Saturday morning.”
“Do you say,” said Sir Mark, incredulous, “that Lady Derrydene drove away from that house, well knowing her husband lay dead inside? No, no! I cannot credit she would be so heartless.”
Gideon said thoughtfully, “We were given to understand he had gone with her. They wanted us to think that, of course.”
“I’ll wager he was alive when she left,” persisted Sir Mark. “Likely, he said he would follow her later.”
“Very probable,” said the general. “At all events, he left a letter. A full confession, my dear Rossiter! Admitting—in fact, boasting—that he planned and contrived the collapse of your financial empire; that he engineered the run on the bank, the loans that were not made good, the embezzlement. The fire at your shipyard was by his order, also!”
“Stap and split me!” gasped Sir Mark, sinking into his chair again. “How the man must have hated me!”
Thinking a great deal, Gideon frowned and was silent.
“The important thing is that you are exonerated,” said the general. “The committee will have no choice but to find you blameless!”
Overcome, Sir Mark put a hand over his eyes, and could not speak.
Underhill said, “Well? Well, Captain Rossiter? You say nothing!”
“I am delighted, of course, sir. But the complexity of it all baffles me. Is the general aware that I found one of the jewelled men at Derrydene’s home? Are we to infer that he himself was the wealthy collector? And that he engineered Lady Lutonville’s kidnapping? An odd coincidence if the two affairs are not connected.”
“An odd coincidence indeed, were it such a thing.” Underhill explained, “Your father was correct in believing this to have been a most fiendish plot, Captain Rossiter. Derrydene’s confession indicates a violent resentment of Sir Mark’s successes, and rage that he was not acknowledged as being the true genius behind the scenes.”
“Of course he was not,” inserted Sir Mark, recovering himself. “Since that was not the case!”
“He did hint a possibly more—er, compelling motive. He appears to have believed you were—ah, engaged in an affaire de coeur with his wife.”
Glancing at his father, astonished, Gideon saw the fine face redden.
Underhill grinned. “At all events, I fancy brooding and imagination did the r
est, and bred a seething hatred; a desire for revenge that built until Derrydene could no longer control it. He had evidently thought his triumph complete until Captain Rossiter began to stir things up again. He likely realized that with the passage of time heads were cooler, and another investigation could spell disaster. He tried to frighten you off, Captain, with the attack on you. When that didn’t work, your coach was tampered with.”
Gideon said grimly, “Had that pole snapped a minute or two earlier, I would have been out of his way. And Lady Lutonville, also!”
Puzzling at it, Sir Mark muttered, “I fail to understand. Newby and I did our possible to come at the root of the business. We hired investigators, we brought in Bow Street and the Watch, and Derrydene was not disturbed. What did Gideon manage that we did not?”
‘A home question,’ thought Gideon, and waited to see what the general would offer in reply.
Underhill linked his hands on the desk and said thoughtfully, “I think, firstly, he captured the public interest. Much as your family was held in abhorrence, Sir Mark, here is a fine young officer come home from the war having been badly wounded. That he had to face such shocking news, and was at once attacked and villified, caused a stirring of sympathy—the British tendency to side with the underdog. From there ’twas a short step for people to wonder if there might be something to what you had claimed, after all.”
Gideon stared at him. “No, really sir, you cannot think that was sufficient to cause him to—”
The general raised a hand. “He likely did not realize you actually suspected him until you broke into his house. The papers you stole may or may not have proven sufficiently damning to warrant another investigation. However, by a quirk of fate that must have infuriated him, you had no sooner set foot in England than you came into possession of a key article. An item he had to retrieve at all costs.”
“The jewelled man,” exclaimed Gideon. “That is what forced their—his hand!”
“Exactly so. In his confession, which is lengthy, Derrydene admits that he employed many men in his schemes to destroy your father, but the risk of blackmail was great, so he sent his instructions out by way of a trusted accomplice—a servant of a friend apparently, although he does not name the man. The accomplice had in turn to protect himself, so the instructions were delivered after dark, and the accomplice went masked, and always carried one of the jewelled men to prove his identity. You can imagine Derrydene’s consternation when a figure was lost. If it fell into the wrong hands no end of mischief could result.”
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