‘Quite so, ma’am,’ he replied smoothly. ‘But I’ll not trouble you any further in this matter. I can readily enough see your stepson on his return to Town. I merely dropped in because I happened to be in the neighbourhood. Your servant, Mrs Peyton.’
He bowed and withdrew with what dignity he could muster among a group of curious, chattering children who came surging forward the moment the parlour door opened.
He adjusted his cravat, which had become slightly askew owing to the jostling of the children, and breathed a sigh of relief as he left the house to walk back to the Crown. Matters had gone more smoothly than he had anticipated. If Peyton had been at home, what possible excuse could have been given for seeking an interview with him here in Buckinghamshire, instead of in Town? The secretary was not quite so gullible as his stepmother, of that Justin was sure.
The real object of the visit had been to discover something about Peyton’s background, since Cleveland, when questioned, had shown himself disappointingly ignorant of practically everything concerning his secretary except the whereabouts of his parental home.
Now that Justin had visited that home, it came as no surprise to him that Peyton chose to spend his free time elsewhere. It would perhaps be useful to discover precisely where; Watts might be able to glean some information on that head from the pretty housemaid. Servants always knew everything.
Of course, he reflected later, over an excellent dinner at the Crown, if the plan they had concocted with Cleveland turned up trumps, no further investigation would be necessary, as the blackmailer would perforce reveal himself.
But the habit of disciplined, methodical research would not be set aside. There was one more line of inquiry which he intended to follow up while he was in this county. It would be trickier than anything yet, as he dared not approach the principals in the affair and had no notion who else might possess any information. Added to that, an interval of five years tended to make recollection uncertain. Nevertheless, he intended to try his luck in Missenden tomorrow.
He smiled to himself as he held his glass of claret up to the light. He had already formulated a theory about the Thompson affair. It would be interesting to see how close to the truth it turned out to be.
CHAPTER 17
Lady Kinver sat motionless in front of her bureau, staring at the letter in her hand as though she had never before set eyes on its like, instead of being painfully familiar with such missives over a period of years. It was always the same letter, apart from a variation in the postal receiving office, and it always produced the same effect upon her — shock, horror, confusion of mind.
Presently she rose from her chair to gaze heedlessly through the window, debating what action to take. She had followed her friend Cassie’s advice in confiding her trouble to Mr Justin Rutherford, but evidently so far not much good had come of it. She was still receiving demands for blackmail from the unknown Thompson. Who could he be? Who was it who could possibly know of that well-kept, dangerous secret?
A tap upon the door startled her from her reverie. Pulling herself together, she crossed quickly to the bureau and stuffed the letter into one of the pigeon holes. Then she called out permission to enter.
‘Dr Wetherby has called, milady,’ announced a liveried footman.
Lady Kinver hesitated a moment, then said, ‘Show him in.’
The doctor entered, bowed, and eyed her with a professional scrutiny.
‘How do you find yourself today, my lady?’ he asked in bracing tones. ‘Much improved, I trust?’
She shook her head, motioning him to a chair as she sat down herself.
‘A little, but not much,’ she replied in a dispirited tone.
He lifted her hand to take her pulse rate, but she pulled it impatiently away.
‘It’s not a matter of health, but of spirits, doctor.’
‘The one often reflects the other, dear lady.’ His tone was urbane. ‘And pray what is afflicting your spirits, may I ask?’
For a moment she looked him steadily in the eye, almost accusingly.
‘I had thought it possible that you would yourself know the answer to that question,’ she said acidly.
He raised his bushy eyebrows.
‘I, Lady Kinver? It would be of service to us both, if that were so.’
‘You cannot pretend to have forgotten the events of that November, six years ago?’
His brows came down in a heavy frown.
‘Ah — yes,’ he said slowly. ‘But that has long since gone by. There is no profit in thinking of the past.’
‘There is profit for someone,’ she retorted with emphasis. ‘Oh, yes, indeed, someone has turned my misery to good account! And that unfortunate creature Yarnton seemed to have a strong notion of the identity of that “someone”, too! Have you, Dr Wetherby?’
‘My dear Lady Kinver,’ he said soothingly, ‘it simply will not do to fret yourself into these agitated humours. It is the very worst thing for your depressed condition. Pray be guided by me and lie down upon your bed for an hour or two. I’ll send round a sedative immediately.’
‘A fig for your sedatives!’ she snapped. ‘You haven’t answered my question!’
‘Tut, tut.’ His tone was indulgent. ‘By all means vent your spleen upon me, my lady, if by so doing you obtain relief. As for your question, a moment’s reflection will show you that I cannot answer it.’
‘Cannot, or will not?’ she said challengingly.
He made no answer but shrugged his heavy shoulders.
‘You were the only person other than Nanny Barton to know my secret.’
‘A secret which I have kept, my lady.’
His eyes did not waver from hers. Her face crumpled suddenly, the defiance dying out of her expression.
‘At a price, Dr Wetherby?’
‘No price can be too high for peace of mind, surely, Lady Kinver. And now pray heed my advice — go and rest for a while.’
Justin reached home from his Buckinghamshire visit late on Monday afternoon to find that Watts had called upon him earlier. The Runner had left a note saying that he could be found at the Brown Bear when wanted.
The Brown Bear was a tavern in Bow Street which was known locally as the Russian coffee house. It was frequently used by the Runners for various purposes, occasionally even for housing prisoners overnight until more suitable accommodation could be found for them.
Justin at once dispatched one of his stable boys with a message to this hostelry, and by the time he had washed away the dust of travel, Watts had arrived in Albemarle Street.
‘All’s right and tight with Cleveland,’ he reported. ‘He fell in with our plan — well, not much choice for him, was there, sir? Returned home after the interview at Bow Street and gave it out that he’d been recalled to Town urgently. Nothing for folk to wonder at in that, seeing as he’s an MP. We were able to provide him with a wad of counterfeit notes we brought in last week from as neat a forger as we’ve seen in a long time, gone now to the Nubbing Cheat. He’s to send them off to this Thompson at Fleet Street receiving office to arrive by 11 April, as instructed by the demand letter. Agreed to it all, quiet as a lamb.’
Justin nodded. ‘Good. We didn’t anticipate any difficulty.’
‘The eleventh is Friday, sir, so I dare say you’ll want me at the Fleet Street office on surveillance from then onwards? After all, this should mean we can nab our man red-handed, so there’s not much need to go ferreting out any further clues to his identity.’
‘True. From speculation, we move to proof positive, unless matters go awry. Nevertheless, I may as well tell you what information I was able to collect on my travels.’
He proceeded to give an amusing account of his visit to the Peyton family home.
Watts laughed. ‘No wonder that young cully don’t spend his time there! According to Polly — that’s the housemaid at Cleveland’s place — he’s got a female in Islington, as she’s heard him direct a hackney there on a couple of occasions. All the same, t
hese females, sir! Heads stuffed full o’ romantical notions — breath o’ life to ’em! Not but what she may be in the right of it. He’s a handsome young blood, no mistake.’
‘Afterwards I took myself off to Missenden, the village where Lady Kinver’s sister, Mrs Hardwick, resides,’ continued Justin. ‘I’d judged it might be tricky to try and discover which families were on visiting terms with the lady five years since, but no such thing! I’d reckoned without meeting the landlady of the King’s Arms in the village, one of the most dedicated gossips I’ve ever encountered, and that’s a bold word! Without more than the gentlest hint, she divulged intimate details of the half dozen or so most prominent families in the neighbourhood.’
‘You’re not saying she knew about that business?’ asked Watts, lifting his eyebrows.
Justin shook his head. ‘No, but she did know who’d been dangling after whom for the past umpteen years and didn’t scruple to make her knowledge public. Much of it was of no interest whatever to me, of course, but she did mention several names besides that of Captain Tilsworth in connection with the Kinver girl.’
‘Any of ’em known to us, sir?’
‘Not as far as I can tell, but there could be relationships and so on of which we’re in the dark at present. One point of interest, though — a lady named Cardross who lives within a few miles of Mrs Hardwick is the elder sister of none other than Velmond’s friend Bradfield.’
Watts whistled. ‘Was this Mr Bradfield visiting there by any chance while the Kinver young lady was with her aunt?’
‘Annoying thing was, I couldn’t discover that, try as I might, without appearing to be too interested, for of course my role was that of the slightly bored recipient of these unwanted confidences. I did learn that Mr Bradfield doesn’t visit his sister as frequently as he used to do before his marriage, as seemingly Mrs Bradfield and Mrs Cardross don’t go along harmoniously. The good lady of the inn was a mine of information on such delicate matters. However, I dare say I’ll come by that information some other way.’
‘That’s if it’s needed, sir, and I’ll lay odds it won’t be, now,’ said Watts confidently. ‘If we can nab our man with the packet directed to Thompson in his possession, we’ll have all the proof we need of his guilt.’
‘At the risk of your thinking proverbs are my strong suit, Joe, I’ll quote you the one about many a slip between cup and lip,’ chuckled Justin. ‘Besides, there’s still the satisfaction of working out the puzzle for oneself. Who would you select from our list of suspects to put your money on, what?’
‘A few days since, I’d have said Cleveland,’ replied Watts promptly. ‘Seemed to fit the case on all points. Now, of course, he’s cleared, or at least he should be when his banker’s confirmed his statement, which Sir Nathaniel was to see after in the morning. As for the rest of ’em — well, who do you favour, sir?’
At that moment, there was a tap on the door. Justin called out permission and Selby entered. He tendered a note.
‘Beg pardon, sir, but this message has just been delivered for you.’
Justin took the note and dismissed Selby. He tore it open, quickly mastering the contents.
‘Lady Quainton desires me to wait on her urgently,’ he told Watts. ‘She adds that it concerns JK — I take that to mean Lady Kinver.’
‘Tell you what, guv’nor,’ said Watts excitedly. ‘D’you suppose the lady’s had another blackmail demand, same as Cleveland? You did say it was about time for one.’
Justin nodded. ‘Precisely. You may as well accompany me, Joe, for I don’t intend to stay long, and we’ll need to confer again afterwards.’
The visit was as brief as Justin had intended; but Lady Quainton omitted nothing of what she had learned from her friend, including the latter’s conversation with Dr Wetherby.
‘I must say it sounded very odd to me,’ remarked Lady Quainton. ‘Almost as if — but there, doubtless you’ll know what to make of it. And you may as well have this,’ — handing him the blackmail demand — ‘for I must tell you that Jane is quite determined to post off the money at once, whatever you may advise to the contrary. I tried to persuade her to wait until I’d consulted you on that head, but she simply refused to listen to reason. Poor dear, she is so petrified that the scandal will come to the light of day, and who can blame her? Justin, you will do your possible to conceal the truth, should you unmask this villain? Which, of course, I am confident you will do, for I dare say you’ve quite decided already who it must be.’
‘I’m grateful for your confidence, ma’am,’ he said with a little mocking bow. ‘But, yes, I have formulated a theory and now I hope to see it substantiated by proof. For Lady Kinver to dispatch the blackmail is the very thing to suit our purposes, as then a watch can be kept at the receiving office.’
‘Oh, yes!’ she exclaimed, eagerly, ‘and whoever collects that packet will be a self-confessed blackmailer! And Jane need not lose her money, for of course you’ll have him arrested before he can do anything with it! What a good thing I didn’t manage to dissuade her, after all.’
He agreed readily with this, and having thanked her for her assistance took his leave.
Watts awaited him outside, and soon they were back in Albemarle Street, comparing the two blackmail letters.
‘Print from the Gentleman’s Magazine, if I’m not mistaken,’ pronounced Justin, studying both documents under a magnifying glass. ‘That don’t help, as it enjoys a wide circulation throughout the country. I wonder, though, how he disposed of the mutilated copies? Back of the fire, I suppose — easy enough, too.’
Watts evidently regarded these speculations as being beside the point.
‘The thing is, sir, both these demands are for the same amount payable on the same day at the same office. That makes matters simpler for us. I’ll look in and see the postmaster, make arrangements.’
‘There must be nothing to set alarum bells ringing in our man’s head,’ warned Justin.
‘Lord love us no, guv’nor! I ain’t wet behind the ears,’ protested Watts in a pained tone. ‘Naught to frighten him off until he gets those packets in his bunch o’ fives, and then —’
Justin nodded. ‘There is a possibility of complications, though, so we’d best be prepared. We’ll need another Runner, I think, Joe, and I’ll remain on hand myself into the bargain.’
CHAPTER 18
Justin had been quite right to distrust the gleam in his niece’s eye when they had parted immediately before her short visit to the Bradfields’ house in Sussex. Anthea was determined to ignore his warning and to do her utmost to discover anything which might have some bearing on the mysterious Thompson’s identity. She had from the first seized upon the information passed on to her by Justin that Thompson was the name of Bradfield’s land agent. She felt convinced that there must be some connection and that a part, at any rate, of the solution to the mystery must lie here in Sussex.
She soon realized that it would be impossible for her to conduct clandestine searches in a house with which she was totally unfamiliar and which, moreover, was full of servants. It seemed equally impossible to question Mr Thompson himself, a man whom she saw only once briefly when their host was driving them round the estate and who looked eminently respectable.
Instead, she concentrated on listening attentively to any scraps of conversation which seemed to have the slightest bearing on what her uncle considered significant points. The only result of this was that she earned a totally undeserved reputation for being a good listener, something which would have astounded all her relatives.
She was due to return to Town with the other visitors on Thursday; by Wednesday afternoon she had learned nothing and was in what she herself would have described as a flat despair. Then it seemed that fate relented.
She was strolling in the gardens on her own soon after nuncheon, while the rest of the party were sitting indoors. It was one of those rare April days when at times the sun is almost at summer heat, and she sat down upon a bench behi
nd a tall, sheltering yew hedge in order to luxuriate in the unexpected warmth. Suddenly she heard voices from the other side of the hedge and identified them as belonging to her host and hostess.
‘I wish you will not return to Town with the others tomorrow,’ said Mrs Bradfield plaintively. ‘Why cannot you stay here with the children and myself?’
‘Oh, there are business affairs to be seen to, my love,’ he answered vaguely. ‘Besides, I might say the same to you. Why couldn’t you be content to remain in Town a little longer, instead of cutting short your visit to dash back here before you’d scarce had a chance to sample the pleasures of the season? Now, come back with me tomorrow, pray do!’
‘Oh, no, William! Leave the children so that they won’t see either of us? That would be monstrous — it would have the most deleterious effect on their development!’
‘You’re too anxious, my love. I seldom saw my own parents for more than an hour or so for weeks at a time when I was the same age as our brats, aye, and older,’ he said cheerfully. ‘And I can’t discover that it’s done me much harm, can you? Be truthful, now!’
‘How can one tell? Such matters often do not appear for many years,’ she replied in an obstinate tone. ‘Only consider how dreadful it would be if our dear little Jack were to turn out like poor Thompson’s son, for example!’
Anthea’s attention had been imperfectly fixed up to this point, and she had been on the verge of making her presence known; but now it suddenly sharpened at mention of that name.
Bradfield laughed shortly. ‘No fear of that, Anna, my dear. The fact is that young Giles Thompson was always a bad hat from the start. What’s more, far from neglecting him, his parents did their possible to give him every advantage in life. A gentleman’s education — he was tutored by the same cleric who performed the office for me eight years previously — then Tonbridge School and Cambridge. He absconded from the university with a large sum which someone had been fool enough to leave within his reach and was never heard of again.’
A Reputation Dies: A thrilling combination of detective fiction and romance (The Rutherford Trilogy Book 1) Page 15
