‘A person? What do you mean by that, Gibbs?’
The butler looked crestfallen. He hardly knew how to describe the caller otherwise.
‘An official, Mr Cleveland, a Bow Street Runner named Watts. Very insistent he is, although I told him, of course, that all appointments should be made through Mr Peyton.’
He gestured diffidently towards the secretary, who had also paused in his work, looking up attentively. Peyton rose from his desk.
‘Shall I deal with him for you, sir? Some routine matter, doubtless, that you need not be troubled with.’
‘I beg your pardon, Mr Peyton,’ interposed Gibbs apologetically. ‘I have already intimated as much to the Bow Street man, but he insists on seeing Mr Cleveland in person. What are your instructions, sir?’ he added, looking doubtfully at his master.
Cleveland threw down his pen irritably. ‘Oh, very well, show him in,’ he ordered. ‘But if there’s much more of this kind of thing, I intend to lodge a strong complaint with the Home Secretary. Anyone would suppose this to be a police state after the manner of France.’
He glared coldly at Watts when the Runner was admitted. Peyton tactfully rose to quit the room but was waved back to his seat by his employer.
‘To what do I owe this intrusion?’ asked Cleveland brusquely.
‘Just a little matter in pursuit of our investigations into the murder of Marmaduke Yarnton, sir,’ began Watts in a respectful but firm tone. ‘If you would be so good as to answer a question or two?’
‘I consider that I’ve already answered questions enough,’ said the politician frigidly. ‘Sir Nathaniel Conant seemed satisfied at the time.’
‘With respect, sir, there’s a question which wasn’t put when we carried out our original interrogation.’ Watts was standing to attention in his old army style, his hat held beneath one arm. ‘It has become of interest since then.’
Cleveland made an impatient gesture.
‘Very well, ask it, my good man. Pray be brief, for my time is valuable, as you may perhaps know,’ he added dryly.
‘Yessir. It’s this — does the name Thompson mean anything to you, sir?’
He rapped out the question smartly so as not to give warning of what was coming.
If he had hoped to produce any reaction in either of his auditors — and he had carefully positioned himself so that both were under his eye — he was to be disappointed.
Cleveland gave a long-suffering sigh.
‘Should it?’ he demanded plaintively. ‘It’s a common enough name, I suppose. One of my constituents perhaps? Though what connection it can possibly have with your investigations, is, I must confess, quite beyond my comprehension.’
‘If I might prompt your memory, sir, deceased put much the same question to a group of guests on the evening of his murder. He seemed to think that someone in that group knew who this Thompson was. We would like to know too, sir.’
Cleveland frowned as if in an effort of recollection.
‘Did he? Oh, yes, I rather think he did make some cryptic reference to that name. But then he was addicted to cryptic remarks, you know. I would advise you not to refine too much upon it.’
‘So you don’t know who Thompson is, sir?’ persisted Watts.
‘No, I do not. And now, if you’ve quite finished, I’d like to be allowed to continue with my work. Reasonable co-operation with Bow Street I will always be prepared to offer, of course, but this I consider to be the outside of enough.’
When Watts had gone, Roderick Peyton looked interrogatively at his employer.
‘It would seem, sir, that Bow Street no longer suspects Lord Velmond of the murder.’
‘One cannot say. Naturally it’s their duty to cast around and examine other possibilities, since there is insufficient evidence so far to secure a conviction.’ He frowned. ‘One wonders why their attention should have been drawn to that particular remark of Yarnton’s, all the same. As I pointed out, the fellow made so many remarks of the kind, calculated to annoy or embarrass his hearers. This one seemed to me to have neither more nor less purpose than a score of others I’ve heard him make.’
‘It is interesting to have your views on that head, Mr Cleveland,’ Peyton said deferentially. ‘I must admit that the impression left on me by the remark at the time was of its being extremely pointed — tantamount to an accusation, in fact. But then, I was never before in company with the dead man, although I knew of his reputation, so I must consider you to be the superior judge, sir.’
‘Hm. Well, enough time has been wasted on the subject,’ said Cleveland peremptorily. ‘Tell me, have I any appointments for the remainder of the day?’
Peyton consulted his desk diary.
‘No, sir, nothing until tomorrow at eleven o’ clock, when you have an appointment with Mr Grey Bennet, whom you may recall —’
‘Yes, yes,’ interrupted Cleveland impatiently. ‘The Committee on the Police. I take it you’ve prepared a brief for me?’
‘Oh, yes, Mr Cleveland,’ replied Peyton with just a shade of reproach in his tone.
‘Of course, you’re a good fellow, Peyton. Well, since there’s nothing to detain me here, I have a little outside business to attend to. I’ll see you later.’
He crossed to the bell pull and ordered his curricle to the door. Presently he was driving along the crowded Strand and into Fleet Street. For once the morning was fine, so he left his vehicle at the Cock tavern and walked by way of Chancery Lane and Carey Street into the pleasant green of Lincoln’s Inn Fields.
Here he knocked upon the door of one of the houses surrounding the square and was at once admitted by an earnest young clerk to an office on the ground floor.
He never noticed that his perambulations had been followed by that same tiresome individual who had interviewed him earlier.
At about much the same time, Justin was seated opposite Dr Wetherby in the latter’s opulent consulting-rooms in Harley Street. Everything about the apartment spoke of good taste and affluence, from the thick Aubusson carpet underfoot to the ormolu clock supported by cherubs which stood on the marble mantelshelf.
‘I collect you do not wish to consult me about your health, Mr Rutherford,’ said the doctor in his measured tones but with an ingratiating smile.
‘No, nothing of that kind,’ replied Justin. ‘I’m happy to say that my health is of the rudest. For the benefit of those who may not be so fortunate, I promise not to take up too much of your valuable time.’
‘Not at all.’ Wetherby’s manner grew more expansive. ‘I have had the privilege of ministering to Viscount Rutherford’s household for some years now and deem it an honour to meet a member of that family as distinguished in the academic field as yourself.’
Justin bowed. ‘It is good of you to say so, doctor. A gentleman in your profession encounters a wider circle of acquaintance than most men, I think?’
The doctor nodded, his shrewd eyes studying his guest.
‘That is so, Mr Rutherford. Pray tell me if there is any way in which my knowledge might serve you.’
‘I’ll answer your question in the Scottish fashion, by asking another,’ said Justin, smiling. ‘Do you recollect the remarks passed by the unfortunate Yarnton on the evening of his murder — remarks concerning a certain Mr Thompson?’
The doctor’s eyes narrowed. ‘Ah, yes,’ he replied slowly.
‘Reports suggest that he appeared to be convinced that one of his auditors was quite aware of the mysterious Thompson’s identity. May I ask if his remarks struck you in that light?’
Dr Wetherby paused for a moment, evidently recapitulating in his mind what had passed. Finally he nodded.
‘Yes, I would say so. But Yarnton was an extraordinary character, you know. I mean that in the true significance of the word — out of the ordinary.’ A little of the lecture theatre manner crept into his voice. ‘There are men who seek to draw attention to themselves by sartorial elegance, such as Mr Brummell, whose star, alas, is no longer in the ascenda
nt. There are those who cultivate eccentricities of behaviour, such as Mr Byng, whose habit it is to drive about with a poodle up beside him in his curricle. With the unfortunate Mr Yarnton, it was a more objectionable form of exhibitionism. I need not expatiate, for you are well aware, my dear sir, of his particular weakness — fatal, as it turned out in the end.’
‘Of course.’ Justin tried not to show the boredom which understandably crept over him. ‘I collect that you, too, are of the opinion, doctor, that Yarnton was murdered because of his mention of the name Thompson?’
Wetherby placed his fingers together in a judicial attitude.
‘Ah. As to that, possibly one could be mistaken,’ he said carefully. ‘Certainly it would appear that one or another of his malicious remarks brought retribution in its train. Inquiry has so far established no other possible motive.’
‘Exactly. And for my money, this reference to Thompson wins hands down,’ replied Justin, flippantly. ‘Now, sir, may I ask you if you happen to know anyone of that name — say among your patients?’
There was a longer pause than usual. Evidently Dr Wetherby, like most members of his profession, was in the habit of considering his words carefully.
‘It is some years since I attended any patient with such an undistinguished name,’ he said at last. ‘You may be aware, Mr Rutherford, that I have the honour to attend some of the foremost members of the ton, not least among whom is your own respected family.’ Here he gave a little bow. ‘When I walked the wards at Guy’s, however,’ — with a shrug — ‘there may have been a Thompson, just as surely as there were Browns, Smiths, Greens and others of similarly humble names. I can only say that I have no clear recollection of any such at this distance in time.’
Justin nodded. ‘I see.’ He leaned forward and shot out the next question abruptly. ‘And you have no notion whom Yarnton was baiting of those among your group?’
Did he detect the faintest flicker of awareness in those shrewd, steel grey eyes? If so, it was gone in a moment.
Dr Wetherby shook his head.
‘None whatsoever,’ he answered steadily.
CHAPTER 9
Try as she might to nerve herself for the task, Lucy could not find the courage to confess the truth to her husband. Ever since that day when he had accused her of being unfaithful to him, he had treated her with coldness and reserve. He was seldom at home and even when he was, showed no inclination for her company. Had it not been for Anthea Rutherford’s friendship, she would indeed have been lonely and miserable. There are some things, however, which a married woman is reluctant to confide to a spinster friend; so although Anthea knew that Lucy had not so far unburdened herself to her husband, she had no notion how very wide the rift between them had grown. In consequence, she kept urging Lucy to tell Velmond the truth and secretly feeling a trifle impatient with her friend for shrinking from this.
‘But your own husband!’ she exclaimed on the last of these occasions. ‘Since yours is a love match, surely there can be no doubt that he will understand and forgive? The past is over and done with, Lucy — it’s the present which matters. You must surely see that. And it’s much wiser to tell him yourself, for then this fiendish blackmailer will have no further hold over you.’
‘I know you are right,’ said Lucy weakly, ‘but indeed, Anthea, it is not so simple as you suppose. I must choose a suitable moment, and there never seems to be one lately. It would be easier if I did not care for him so much,’ she went on in a desperate tone, ‘for then I would not fear so greatly to lose his affection — if, indeed, I haven’t already done so! Oh, pray do not tease me on this subject, dearest Anthea!’
At that Anthea desisted, doing her best not to bring up the subject again.
On the morning that Velmond had encountered Justin in White’s, the two girls had been out driving together and Anthea had been obliged to return home for an afternoon engagement, leaving Lucy to eat a solitary nuncheon. She was toying with a little cold meat and fruit for which she had no appetite, when Velmond burst into the morning-room, where the meal had been served on a tray.
One startled look at his face told her that he was in a very different frame of mind from latterly. She half rose from her chair, and he clasped her in a warm embrace.
‘Lucy, dearest! I was hoping to find you alone. There’s so much I want to say — but I’m interrupting your meal,’ he continued, a little disappointed that she did not respond at once to his ardent greeting. ‘I’ll join you. We’ll ring for some more provender, shall we?’
He pulled the bell rope, while she did her best to compose a welter of conflicting emotions within her. It was wonderful to see once more the love in his eyes, but how could she reciprocate as she would have wished with this dreadful weight still on her conscience? How much did he know? Could it be that Mr Rutherford had broken his promise to her and revealed her secret? Almost she hoped that this had happened, for then she would be relieved of the painful necessity of explaining matters herself.
The necessary interlude while the servants came and went did little to put her thoughts in order. She concentrated hard on practicalities, helping Velmond to food and trying to look as if she herself wanted to continue with the meal.
‘Didn’t realize I was so sharp set,’ he said, having speedily done justice to a large plateful of ham and beef and ignoring the wine which the butler had thoughtfully provided. ‘Have you quite finished, my love? Won’t you take some of this fruit? No? ’Pon my word, you don’t eat enough to keep a gnat alive! However, if you’re quite sure, we’ll have this cleared away and then enjoy a quiet little cose together on the sofa.’
It was a prospect which would have delighted Lucilla at one time but which now filled her with alarm. In desperation, she glanced at the clock.
‘I — I’m afraid I’m obliged to go out again in a little while,’ she said timidly.
His face clouded. ‘So soon? Cannot it be put off, my love?’
‘Well, I … the thing is, I’m due at Madame Tufane’s for a final fitting for my new evening gown. But, of course, if you wish me to stay —’
‘Oh, no, no such thing,’ he said hastily, not wanting to be selfish. ‘A new evening gown is more important than a chat to me — we can talk together at any time, after all. Besides, you will wish to have the gown ready for a small dinner party I mean to give on Saturday. It’s time we began entertaining, don’t you think?’
‘Who will be coming?’ she asked, seizing on this welcome change of topic.
‘The Rutherfords, of course, Bradfield and a few other of my close friends. Also anyone you may care to invite, naturally.’
‘Then perhaps Lady Quainton?’ suggested Lucy diffidently. ‘She has been so very good to me.’
‘By all means,’ he answered expansively, rising from the table and coming over to her chair. ‘Lucy, I mustn’t detain you now, I know, but I wish to apologize — humbly — for the unworthy suspicions I’ve been entertaining of you recently! How I could have been such a poor, deluded fool as not to realize that I could trust implicitly in your integrity — oh, what can I say to mend matters? Put it down, dearest girl, to my insane jealousy. Forgive me if you can, this once, and I promise never to err again! Only say you can forgive me, Lucy!’
She stood up, her knees trembling under her, and faced him with tears brimming her eyes.
‘Forgive you?’ she stammered, scarcely knowing what she said. ‘Oh, George, it is you who must forgive me! You don’t know —’
He placed a tender, protective arm about her.
‘There, now I’ve upset you, brute that I am,’ he said gently. ‘Run along to your appointment now, and we’ll talk later. That is, if you wish.’
He kissed her cheek softly, as though she had been a child, then held the door open for her to pass through.
Lucy went, her heart heavy with guilt and misery.
‘That particular exercise seems not to have advanced us any further,’ said Justin. ‘Did you gain the impression tha
t your man was holding anything back?’
‘Difficult to say, sir. Indignant in a restrained way, of course, at being subjected to more questioning, but that might be a cover for something else,’ replied Watts judicially. ‘Y’know, sir, attack’s the best method of defence. Could be nothing in it, though.’
Justin nodded. ‘And Peyton? Anything there?’
‘Deep one, I reckon. Don’t miss much and gives as little away as his master. I took it on myself to hang about a bit after I left the house and saw Cleveland come out shortly afterwards. I followed him, though I’d to be quick getting a hackney. He fetched up eventually at a lawyer’s in Lincoln’s Inn Fields. Brass plate on the door — Binns & Moody. Wondered if I should go in and make inquiries about what our man wanted there but decided against it. Thought I’d consult you first, sir.’
‘Hm. Tricky. Quite natural for a man to consult his lawyer from time to time. He might have been seeking advice over discouraging persecution from Bow Street, who knows?’ suggested Justin with a chuckle. ‘Anyway, it’s inadvisable to make a stir there, I think. Did he stay long?’
‘Not more than ten minutes. Only thing is, sir, he left his curricle at the Cock in Fleet Street and walked through to the Fields by way of Chancery Lane.’
Watts paused significantly.
‘Hm. Might mean anything or nothing. It was a fine morning, and a man like Cleveland don’t get much exercise when the House is sitting. All the same, Joe, since I’ve nothing pressing for you to undertake at present, why not make discreet inquiries about this lawyer? You may turn up something, and we’ve not much to go on so far. Discreet is the watchword, mind. We don’t want to scare our bird off, whoever he may be.’
‘Never fear, sir. I’ll see if I can find one of the clerks in a nearby tavern. A free pint of ale makes ’em open their mouths in more senses than one. What of the doctor, sir — anything there?’
Justin considered. ‘No, although I gained a strong impression that he knew something. Whether it would have helped us or not,’ — he shrugged — ‘I couldn’t say. He’s a shrewd man. Moreover, he’s in a stronger position to discover the secrets of others than the defunct Yarnton, or even — and this is a bold word! — the indomitable Runners themselves.’
A Reputation Dies: A thrilling combination of detective fiction and romance (The Rutherford Trilogy Book 1) Page 8
