Christopher was unsure what to do. Direction soon came.
'Mr Redmayne,' snapped the old man over his shoulder.
'Yes, Sir William?'
'Stay out of sight.'
Hovering between deference and resentment, Arthur Oscott led him into the drawing room. Oscott's wife stayed listening outside the door. The newcomer slapped his whip down on a table.
'Is she secure?' he asked.
'Completely, sir,' said Oscott.
'No more escape attempts?'
'None.'
'Good.'
'Mrs Gow doesn't have the heart for it, not since we caught her maidservant. She's very low.'
'I hope you've treated her well, Arthur. I'll not have her abused by anyone. Do you understand that?'
'Yes, sir.'
'Does your wife understand it? Harriet Gow is a very precious commodity to us. We have to guard her with care. It's not long now. We'll soon be able to divide the takings and celebrate.'
'Will we?' asked Oscott sceptically. 'There's no sign of the ransom money yet. I'm beginning to wonder if it'll ever come.'
'Of course it will, man!' returned the other vehemently. 'They'll have to pay now. My second ransom note left them with no option. We'll have the money by dusk tomorrow.'
'I'll believe it when I see it.'
'What do you mean?'
'Well, I don't wish to question your judgement, sir, but you said that the money would be paid immediately. All we had to do was to kidnap Mrs Gow and hold her for a short time.' He looked straight into his employer's eyes. 'What went wrong?'
'Nothing.'
'You boasted they'd never dare try to find her.'
'I know, but they've paid for their impudence. Henry Redmayne was soundly beaten and Mary Hibbert's body was sent to them. Not that I authorised her murder,' he said rancorously, 'but it was an effective way of getting a message through to the Palace.'
'It wasn't that effective,' said Oscott sourly. 'It hasn't stopped them from trying to hunt us down. They're still on our tail.'
'They won't be after today. Smeek will see to that.'
'Smeek is under lock and key in Newgate, sir.'
The other man was stunned. 'Who put him there?'
'Jonathan Bale - that constable you sent him to attack. He wasn't such an easy target as Henry Redmayne, sir. In other words,' he said meaningfully, 'Mr Bale is still trying to pick up our scent. I don't like it. Neither does my wife. She wonders if we should cut and run.'
'Cut and run!' roared his companion. 'We'll do nothing of the kind. All we have to do is to sit tight until the money is paid. If they want to see Mrs Gow alive again, they must and will pay the ransom.'
'Unless we're tracked down first.'
'How can we be?'
'Smeek may talk. And if they've got him, they'll soon take Ben Froggatt into custody as well. Tongues can be loosened in Newgate.'
'So what? Smeek and Froggatt know nothing.'
'They know that I hired them.'
'Forget them.'
'They know where we took Mrs Gow the first time.'
'But they have no idea where she is now, do they? You're getting soft, Arthur,' he warned, snatching up his whip. 'That's dangerous. I need people around me I can trust - not cowards who start to shiver at the first setback.'
'I'm no coward!' asserted Oscott, hurt by the charge.
'Then stop sweating, man. We hold all the cards.'
'Do we?'
'Yes, Godammit!' snarled the other, striking the table with his whip. 'And we'll play this game through to the bitter end so that we can collect our winnings. Hear that, Arthur? Our winnings. Nothing can stop us. They'll pay up, mark my words. They have to.'
Martin Eldridge failed before he even started. Desperate to give of his best, he did quite the opposite. His mind was distracted. Instead of concentrating on Iago's lines, he was thinking about a missing friend. His timing was off, his gestures uncertain, his grasp of the role poor. He stumbled over every speech that he attempted. Standing in the pit, Sir William D'Avenant kept inviting him to try again. Eldridge took it as a sign of kindness at first then realised that the manager was deliberately prolonging his ordeal, enjoying the humiliation of an actor he never seriously meant to employ in the first place. When he forgot the opening lines of Iago's most famous speech, Eldridge did not wait for a comment. He ran off the stage and stalked out of the theatre.
Coming out into Portugal Street, he walked quickly past Lincoln's Inn Fields in the direction of Holborn. He was soon overtaken by a horseman who reined in his mount to block his path. Before Eldridge could complain, he had Christopher Redmayne's rapier at his throat.
'Don't run away from me this time, Mr Eldridge.'
'I can explain that.'
'That's what I'm hoping. And by the way,' he said, nodding towards the theatre. 'I'm sorry if my presence hampered your performance just now. I did my best to stay out of sight.'
Eldridge was horrified. 'You saw that travesty of acting?'
'Lysippus was a far more suitable role for you.' Christopher dismounted and sheathed his sword. 'Where shall we talk?'
'In the nearest tavern. I need some wine.'
'Lead the way.'
Christopher had no fear that he would bolt again. The disastrous visit to The Duke's Playhouse had taken all the spirit out of him. Eldridge said nothing until they were sitting at a table in the White Rose. Two glasses of wine were bought at Christopher's expense. The actor sipped his gratefully.
'Thank you, Mr Redmayne,' he said.
'Supposing that you tell me the truth?' suggested Christopher.
'I might say the same about you.'
'Me?'
'When you called at my lodging, you made no mention of the fact that Mary Hibbert has been murdered. I was shocked when I heard.'
'And how did you do that?'
'By talking to Roland Trigg.'
'So that's where you went when you raced off.' Christopher tasted his own wine before he continued. 'Yes, I did conceal certain details from you because I thought it best to do so. But if you know about the girl, you'll realise the predicament that Mrs Gow is in. Unless we can find her very quickly, she may end up on a slab next to Mary Hibbert.'
'Don't say that!' exclaimed the actor.
'I simply want you to understand that time is not on our side. Don't waste any more of it, Mr Eldridge. I think I know what you have to say. Watching you on that stage this evening, it slowly dawned on me.'
'Go on.'
'You were the man in Greer Lane, weren't you?'
'Was I?'
'He went by the name of Bartholomew Gow but he was far too handsome to be Mrs Gow's real husband. When the lady went for an assignation in Greer Lane, she was coming to meet Martin Eldridge.' He put his face close. 'Am I right, sir?'
'You might be,' conceded the actor.
'In other words, on the day that she was abducted outside that house you used, Mrs Gow was on her way to meet you.'
'But she wasn't, Mr Redmayne.'
'Then what was her coach doing there?'
'I've no idea. She called off the rendezvous with me.'
'Called it off?'
'Her coachman brought word early that same morning. It wasn't the first time we'd had to change the arrangements,' he said, staring into his wine. 'Harriet was often in demand elsewhere. I accepted that. What I didn't know was that a kidnap was being set up in Greer Lane.'
'You mentioned arrangements, Mr Eldridge.'
The actor looked up at him before spilling out the truth in a continuous stream. Christopher had no qualms about his sincerity.
'Harriet and I have been close for some time,' he admitted. 'I loved her dearly, that's why she trusted me. I couldn't give her the things that her rich admirers could: Harriet knew that. What I could offer her was tenderness and understanding. She told me that it was in short supply elsewhere. Naturally,' he emphasised, 'we had to be extremely discreet. She could not be seen having assignatio
ns with a lowly actor. To cover my tracks, I used a false name.'
'Bartholomew Gow.'
'It seemed appropriate in the circumstances.'
'While you were playing the part of her husband, you mean?'
'I've told you, Mr Redmayne. I loved her. And I believe that she loved me. Why else would she take the risk on such a regular basis? We met twice a month in Greer Lane at specific times. It may not sound much to you but it meant everything to me. And to Harriet. She insisted on paying for the room in that house.'
'Who else knew about this arrangement?'
'Nobody apart from her coachman. And he was discreet.'
Christopher was less certain about that but he said nothing.
'Why did you run out on me at your lodging?' he asked.
'Because of the situation,' said the actor. 'I didn't want to admit that we had assignations - and I'm relying on you to say nothing of them to anyone else. Please, Mr Redmayne. I beg of you.' Christopher gave an affirmative nod. 'Thank you. I shouldn't have bolted like that but I was in a panic, afraid that I was somehow responsible for the kidnap because I wasn't in Greer Lane when I should have been.'
'You were told not to go there.'
'I begin to see why now.' He took a longer sip of his wine. 'I was different from the others, you see. That's what Harriet liked about me. I wasn't just another part of her collection.'
'Collection?'
'All those wealthy admirers. Harriet enjoyed collecting them like pieces of porcelain. She's a wonderful lady, Mr Redmayne,' he said fondly, 'but she has her weaknesses as well. Harriet was so proud when she added the most illustrious admirer of all to her collection. Even then, she would still meet me for an hour in Greer Lane.'
'Didn't you mind sharing her with someone else?'
'Why should I? A tiny piece of Harriet Gow is worth far more than the whole of another woman. I never aspired to own her like the others,' he explained. 'That was something she could never be. The exclusive property of one man.'
'Tell me more about this collection of hers.'
'It was rather extensive.'
'We've already found that out.'
'Besides, I'm not the person to ask, Mr Redmayne. There's someone who knows far more about it because he had to stand by and watch his wife putting her collection carefully together. That's the Bartholomew Gow you ought to speak to. The real one,' he said with a twinkle in his eye. 'Not the impostor.'
Jonathan Bale was simmering with quiet excitement when he left Newgate Gaol. He was so eager to pass on what he had discovered that he all but broke into a run. When he reached Fetter Lane, however, he found that Christopher Redmayne was not there. Jacob suggested an alternative address.
'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 en
ough 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.'
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