‘This is shocking, Paul. Mr Cosgrove seemed such a decent man.’
‘He’s no mean actor himself. It turns out that he works regularly at the theatre and is always hanging about. In other words, he’s in a position to inform his friend about your movements. More worryingly, he’s been able to divert me on to the wrong track altogether.’
‘What are you going to do, Paul?’
‘I propose to do nothing at all.’
‘But you’ve evidence that he was party to the robbery.’
‘We know that, Hannah, but he doesn’t. If I apprehend him, I’ll throw away my chances of catching the others. I need Cosgrove at liberty so that he can lead me to them.’
‘That means he’ll still be spying on me.’
‘We must never give him the slightest hint that we’ve unmasked him. If you encounter him at the theatre, give him a polite smile.’
‘It will take a great effort to do that.’
‘Nonsense!’ he said, putting an arm around her. ‘You’re an incomparable actress, Hannah. Here’s your opportunity to prove it.’
On her return home, Charlotte was met with a surprise: Jan van Emden was there. Having gone to the hotel where he’d expected to find his wife, he’d been given the address to which she’d moved. Introduced to Charlotte, he was filled with gratitude.
‘I can’t thank you and your husband enough, Mrs Skillen,’ he said. ‘Clemency has been telling me what you’ve done for her. You’ve gone beyond the limits of … what is the word …?’
‘Hospitality,’ said his wife.
‘We owe you and Mr Skillen a great debt.’
‘There are other people involved as well, Mr van Emden,’ said Charlotte. ‘Clemency may have mentioned Jem Huckvale and Gully Ackford. Mr Darwood, an old friend of Mr Parry’s, has also been very helpful. All of us are anxious to learn the truth about Clemency’s father.’
‘You will be well rewarded for your generosity.’
As soon as she saw him, Charlotte could see what had attracted Clemency to the Dutchman. He was a tall, upright man, with a face that was far from handsome yet full of character. His hair was peppered with grey and he exuded a mixture of kindness and unforced authority. One glance at his rich apparel confirmed that he was a man of some wealth. His command of English was good, though his accent remained throaty. Charlotte had rarely met anyone with so much natural charm. Jan van Emden was a person in whom she felt she could place instant trust.
‘You must think me a terrible husband,’ he said, apologetically, ‘sending my wife off alone like that. The truth is that when Clemency heard of her father’s death, she boarded the next ship to England. I was in The Hague at the time, involved in work for the government that kept me there for days. As soon as I got home again, I sailed after my wife.’
‘You’re here now,’ said Clemency, ‘and that’s all that matters.’
‘I’m here and I’ll stay until we know the truth about your father.’
‘You’re most welcome,’ said Charlotte.
She felt a degree of relief at van Emden’s arrival. His unheralded appearance had not only cheered his wife, it would relieve Charlotte of the burden of being with her most of the time. As she looked at them now, they seemed an incongruous pair, the gap in age making them look more like father and daughter than husband and wife. Yet somehow they appeared to be ideally suited.
‘We can’t possibly impose on you,’ he said. ‘Clemency and I will move back to that hotel where she first stayed.’
‘I won’t hear of it,’ said Charlotte, emphatically. ‘You belong here and this is where you are going to stay. If I let the pair of you leave our house for a hotel, my husband would never forgive me.’
Because he’d spent the night on duty, Chevy Ruddock had been given most of the day off to recover. By late afternoon, he was ready to call at the Peacock Inn with his report. Yeomans and Hale were in their usual seats. When he got close to them, they drew back in horror.
‘Move away,’ said Yeomans, flapping an arm.
‘You stink as if you’ve been dead two weeks,’ added Hale.
‘Don’t start on me as well,’ pleaded Ruddock. ‘I’ve had enough complaints from my wife. I can’t help it if the stench got into my clothes and hair.’
‘Open that door and stay near it,’ advised Yeomans. ‘The fresh air will do us all a favour. Now, what happened last night?’
Hale chuckled. ‘We can smell what happened.’
‘Everything was fine,’ said Ruddock, ‘while Bill was smoking his pipe. The odour of tobacco filled my nostrils. It was very pleasant. Then he fell asleep and his pipe stopped glowing. The stench came back. If you want us there tonight, I’m hiding in the church porch. Bill Filbert can stay in that shed on his own.’
‘You should be with him to keep him awake,’ said Yeomans.
‘Take pity on him, Micah,’ said Hale. ‘If Chevy stays in the porch and curls up in a corner, he won’t be seen. Bill can stay in the shed on his own and puff away through the night.’
‘If anyone does turn up,’ said Ruddock, ‘I’ll be aware of them. I can rouse Bill within seconds.’ He yawned extravagantly. ‘Though I don’t expect anyone will come tonight. It’s far too soon.’
When he rode casually past the churchyard, the man glanced at the grave that had now been filled in. The burial must have taken place earlier in the day, he decided. Someone had left a few flowers on the mound of earth. The man sniggered. Another body was ready for collection.
CHAPTER TWENTY
Peter Skillen was glad that he’d decided to speak to Geoffrey Taylor a second time because he’d been given an insight into the world of engineering. On the ride home, he was musing on Taylor’s comments about the importance of patents and the advantages of monopoly. Peter was grateful that he didn’t work in a profession that had such cut-throat elements in it. To have thrived as an engineer, he realised, George Parry had needed more than a knack for inventing things.
When he reached the house, he discovered that the prevailing mood had changed for the better. Clemency had been transformed by the arrival of her husband. She was buoyant, even sparkling. Jan van Emden’s presence had given her confidence. No longer depressed or feeling the need of prayer, she was instead laughing gaily. Peter was introduced to her husband and, like Charlotte, was very impressed by his bearing and obvious intelligence. Jan van Emden was equally struck by Peter and an immediate bond was established between them.
‘I’m not simply here to look after my wife,’ the Dutchman explained. ‘I’m ready to help in any way I can. I can still fire a pistol and give a good account of myself with a sword. Call on me at any time.’
‘No, Jan,’ said Clemency, ‘you’re not to put yourself in jeopardy. Peter is an expert with all weapons and so is Jem Huckvale, his friend. Beside them, you are just a raw beginner.’
He laughed. ‘Do you hear that?’ he said. ‘My wife thinks that I know nothing of how to defend myself. My offer stands, Mr Skillen.’
‘I’ll not be taking advantage of it,’ said Peter, smiling. ‘With luck, weapons of any kind won’t be needed. If they are, Jem will be at my back all the time.’
‘You sound optimistic,’ said Charlotte.
‘It’s not out of place.’
‘You know what actually happened to Mr Parry?’
‘I’m certain of one thing,’ he replied. ‘He is still above ground.’
‘What makes you say that?’ asked Clemency, excitedly.
‘There are good reasons for keeping him alive.’
‘Then why was I told that he was dead?’
‘I’m still not sure about that,’ said Peter, ‘but my feeling is that you’re the victim of a conspiracy. You and your father were kept apart on purpose. What I need to know is where your father kept his records.’
‘He had a study at the house.’
‘Was it kept locked?’
‘Oh, yes, I was never allowed in there and neither was my mother.’
‘It was the one part of the house from which they were barred. My father told me that there were valuable documents in the study. Whenever he was at work in there, he’d lock himself in.’
‘It sounds as if he was afraid of something,’ said Charlotte.
Peter nodded. ‘I fancy that he had good cause.’
Chevy Ruddock was the first there. He had to wait an hour before Filbert eventually turned up. The old man was surprised that his partner had decided to hide in the church porch.
‘What’s wrong with the shed?’ he asked.
‘I’d rather breathe fresh air.’
‘Smoke a pipe the way I do.’
‘I’ve got no taste for it, Bill. I tried it once and I nearly coughed myself to death. My wife told me to leave tobacco alone in the future.’
Filbert smirked. ‘Do you always do what your wife tells you?’
‘Yes, I do.’
‘Then more fool you, Chevy.’
‘Agnes always gives me good advice.’
‘Then I’ll give you even better counsel,’ said Filbert. ‘Don’t ever let a wife feel that she can make you do everything she tells you. She’ll only get above herself. You’ll wake up one morning and realise that you married a shrew.’
‘My wife is no shrew,’ said Ruddock, scandalised.
‘Give her too much power and she’ll turn into one.’
‘Agnes is a kind, gentle, loving wife.’
‘They all start off like that.’
Feeling his temper rising, Ruddock moved the conversation swiftly to the matter in hand. He explained that the chance of having any visitors during the night was slim, but that he’d wake Filbert up from time to time so that both of them were alert.
‘I need my sleep,’ complained Filbert.
‘So do I, Bill, but we’re on duty. We must be awake.’
‘You just said that nobody would come tonight.’
‘I said the chances are slim, that’s all.’
‘Then we can snore away for hours on end.’ He slapped Ruddock on the back. ‘You sleep in the porch and I’ll sleep in the shed. That means both of us have a good night.’
‘Mr Yeomans will want a report in the morning.’
‘Then you’ll have to use your imagination.’
‘I’d rather tell the truth.’
‘That’s the last thing you do, Chevy. We must both tell the same tale. We heard noises in the night and, when we went to see what was happening, we met two men climbing over the churchyard wall. Before they escaped, we beat them black and blue. There,’ said Filbert. ‘Doesn’t that sound better than admitting we were asleep all night?’
‘I won’t tell a downright lie.’
‘Then leave the talking to me.’
‘I’m known for my honesty.’
‘Ask yourself a question: would you rather be praised as a hero for scaring off bodysnatchers or torn to shreds by Micah Yeomans for enjoying a good night’s rest? I know which one I’d choose.’
Having dined out again, Paul and Hannah strolled back to the hotel. Both were much more alert this time, but their vigilance proved unnecessary. Nobody came anywhere near them. Paul took her into the building.
‘There you are,’ he said. ‘I told you not to worry.’
‘As ever, you were right.’
Before they reached the stairs, however, the manager came over to them with a letter. It had been delivered by hand earlier in the evening and was addressed to Hannah. Seeing the fear in her eyes, Paul thanked the manager, took the letter from him, then led her upstairs. Once in their room, she looked at the missive with apprehension.
‘Is it from him?’ she asked.
‘I hardly think so, my love. This is a woman’s hand.’
‘Open it.’
‘But it’s addressed to you.’
‘I’d prefer it if you opened it for me.’
Paul obeyed and glanced at the name at the end of the letter.
‘It’s from someone called Henrietta.’
‘Which one? I know three or four.’ She took it from him and smiled with relief. ‘It’s from Henrietta Doyle.’
‘Isn’t she the actress who was taken ill?’
‘That’s right. She was cast as Celia, but had to withdraw at the last moment.’ Hannah rolled her eyes. ‘We both know who replaced her.’
‘What does your friend have to say?’
As she read the letter, she gave him a commentary.
‘Her husband was coming to Bath today on business so she asked him to deliver this message to me. Having performed here a number of times, Henrietta guessed that we’d be staying at the hotel closest to the theatre. As You Like It is one of her favourite plays and she’s going to make every effort to watch one of our performances. She sends her love and best wishes.’
‘It was kind of her to write.’
‘I was so afraid the letter came from that sinister highwayman.’
‘Instead of which,’ said Paul, ‘it’s from an old friend and it’s put you in good humour again.’ He saw her smile freeze. ‘What’s the trouble, Hannah? Has she said something to upset you?’
‘It’s what she hasn’t said that’s worrying me, Paul.’
‘Explain, if you will.’
‘Henrietta Doyle is an actress who, like me, comes fully alive onstage because she simply adores theatre. She writes excitedly about As You Like It, but doesn’t say a word about having been in the original cast. Nor is there any mention of the indisposition that made her drop out at the last moment.’ She passed the letter to Paul. ‘We’ve been deceived.’
A warm day in London had developed into a cooler night. Ruddock didn’t mind the breeze that had now started blowing. It helped to keep him awake and to dispel some of the stink lingering in his clothes. Even though it was the dead of night, the city was by no means silent. All sorts of noises came and went, whether it was the clattering of hooves on the cobbles or the distant bellows of a drunken argument. Ruddock had gone to the shed at one point to wake Filbert up but, when he heard the gentle wheezing of a tired old man, he didn’t have the heart to disturb him. The important thing was that one of them stayed awake.
It was hours later when he heard a different sound altogether. It was the chink of iron on stone. Ruddock strained his ears. Convinced that he might have heard a spade grating against the wall of the churchyard, he moved on hands and knees to the front of the porch. When he heard muffled voices, he knew that someone was there. Staying low, he crept across to the shed, let himself in and, for once, didn’t mind the reek that assaulted his senses. Putting a hand over Filbert’s mouth, he shook him awake. The old man reacted as if he’d been attacked, but he soon realised that it was Ruddock looming over him.
‘They’re here, after all,’ he whispered.
Filbert was still only half-awake. ‘Who is, Chevy?’
‘It’s them.’
No more words were needed. They’d already agreed that, if any bodysnatchers did turn up, they’d let them get on with their work. As well as tiring them out, it would distract them. The time to strike was when they were down in the grave, trying to manhandle the coffin. Everything was therefore dictated by Ruddock’s keen hearing. Two spades cut into the earth and scattered it uncaringly aside. Occasional curses came from the men. Ruddock even heard one of them spitting. Knowing that the spades could be used as weapons, he and Filbert had brought thick staves and the old man had also tucked an ancient pistol into his belt.
Ruddock waited until the sound of heavy panting gave way to the creak of a coffin lid as someone tried to prise it off. It was the signal to attack. Following the route they’d chosen the previous night, they dodged their way between headstones until they came to the open grave. Ruddock didn’t stand on ceremony. He struck one of the men across the back of the head, knocking him senseless. As the other tried to clamber out, Filbert jabbed him hard in the chest with his stave, then waved the pistol in his face.
/> ‘Drop that spade or I’ll shoot your eyes out!’ he yelled.
The man obeyed instantly. By way of thanks, Filbert felled him with the butt of the weapon. It was all over.
When she awoke that morning, Charlotte no longer felt that she had to get out of bed at once in case their guests needed her. Clemency was far more interested in basking in her husband’s love than in making any demands on the household. If either of them required anything, the servants would see to their needs, leaving Charlotte to enjoy some additional time in bed with Peter. She nestled in her husband’s arms.
‘I hadn’t realised that he’d be so important,’ said Peter. ‘Clemency never told us that her husband did work for the government.’
‘All that she could think about was her father.’
‘The two men can’t be far apart in age.’
‘We’ve only been in his company for an evening, yet I feel as if I’ve known Jan van Emden for a long time.’
‘Yes, he had that effect on me as well.’
‘What are you going to do today?’
‘The search will continue.’
‘Do you still think that Joseph Rafter holds the key?’
‘It’s more than possible, Charlotte, but there’s someone I’ve been forgetting. Rafter, it seems, did his job well and only fell out with Mr Parry when threatened with a reduction in wages. Abigail Saunders told us that. Rafter was a reliable servant. Even though he’d left Mr Parry’s employ, he was chosen to return to the house to supervise the disposal of its contents.’
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