Murder on Charing Cross Road (17 page)

“I’d like you and Prance to go back there tomorrow afternoon, Coffen,”
Luten said. “If Morgrave is there, strike up a conversation with him. You could complain about losing your purse, Prance. If Morgrave is innocent, he’ll mention finding it in his pocket.”

“Yes, certainly I’ll drop in with Coffen,”
Prance agreed. "I noticed you said '
If
he's innocent.' Are you thinking he isn’t
innocent, Luten?”

Corinne scowled at her husband. “I think you should admit you were mistaken and ask Morgrave who had access to his pocket.”

“Anything is possible in this case,”
Luten said. “No harm to test him. I could have sworn it was him riding Smoker last night. The same build, the same general way of moving. I don’t know. I was sure it was him.”

“P’raps you saw what you were expecting to see,”
Coffen said

“If I’m mistaken, no harm done. You might call on Samantha again, Corrie, and see if you can find out — discreetly — where Morgrave has been spending his afternoons recently, specifically since the day after Prance’s purse was stolen.”

“Very well,”
she said stiffly. “But I doubt very much that Morgrave is guilty.”

Coffen sat listening and frowning. “What Hopley said about mor could be interesting as well. I’ll go back to talk to McRaney in the morning. See if he knows any chum of Bolton’s with some other letters to their names. Nor, or Mar, or something that looks like mor.”

“Yes, do that by all means.”
Luten drew out his watch and frowned at it, then went to the window and looked out. “Dash it, what’s keeping Black? He should be back by now. I hope to God nothing’s happened to him. I shouldn’t have sent him alone.”

“Somehow one never imagines Black getting into any trouble he couldn’t handle,”
Prance said.

“He got tied up like the rest of you last night,”
Corinne reminded them. Her annoyance with Luten put her in a sharp humour, for in the usual way she was one of Black’s greatest fans.

Luten ignored this jibe and said, “There’s one other point Hopley mentioned, but I’d like to wait until Black gets here as it involves his visit to Long Acre. We’ll have a glass of wine and see if anyone can come up with any other ideas.”

Before long Evans was at the door, announcing “Mr. Black.”
At such moments, Black’s heart swelled in glory. He was no longer just “Black, the butler.”
He was “Mr. Black.”
He would hardly have been more gratified if he had been called Lord Blackwell. All eyes turned to him in eager anticipation. He stepped in and Luten showed him to a chair.

“I’m afraid I had no luck,”
he said. “Smoker hasn’t shown up yet. The reason I’m so late, I’ve been to every dishonest stable I know. I’ve been thinking about it, and I believe I know the answer.”
He knew how Kean must have felt on the stage, with everyone on thorns to hear him.

“It’s the matter of disguising the horse, you see. Not likely they’d have got started on that till this morning. Then to get the right colour of dye, put it on and let it dry, brush it down. Say the colour wasn’t dead on first time, for it’s a tricky business, they’d have to doctor it up. I figure tomorrow’s the earliest we can expect to see Smoker at a stable. I believe I’ve pinpointed the stable he’ll turn up at.”

“If you don’t mind then,”
Luten said, “do go back tomorrow.”

“I’d ought to have remembered they’d need a little time before I went dashing off half-cocked, wasting the better part of a day,”
Black said with a rueful shake of his head.

“You’re not the only one who’s been wasting time,”
Luten said, and gave him a brief account of his trip to Hopley and Molton’s attack.

“Not Morgrave?”
Black cried. He reached his hand into his pocket and placed Prance’s stolen pocket watch on Luten’s desk. “Then how does it come I bought this off of Ned Sparks?”

There was a collective gasp of astonishment. Prance snatched up his watch and examined it for damage. “Well done, Black! Where on earth did you get this?”

“At Ned Sparks’s place, which is how I know what stable to go looking for Smoker tomorrow.”

“How did you come by my watch?”
Prance asked.

“Ned was using it. Ned was that proud of it he pulled it out two or three times to make sure I saw it. I praised it and asked him if I could have a closer look, for I wanted to make sure it was yours. Asked him where he got such a fine thing. He said a fellow traded it for a nag three days ago. Of course I asked him about the fellow
and
the nag. It wasn’t Smoker. But it was a Frenchie that made the trade, and the description sounded like Henri. Mind you a lot of them look alike,”
he added.

Coffen asked, “Did you pay him for it, Black, or did you snitch it? No offence.”

“I paid him ten pounds. I figured it was worth that much to you, Sir Reginald, as you’ve often regretted losing it.”

“It’s worth a hundred pounds to me, Black, for sentimental value alone.”

“Then you can give me ten pounds to buy Smoker tomorrow.”
He turned to Luten, and said, “I took the liberty of using some of your money to buy the watch.”

“I don’t have any money with me, but I’ll give it to you this very night,”
Prance said. “I’m most grateful to you, Black.”

“You don’t think Ned Sparks will find it suspicious if you go back there tomorrow?”
Luten asked Black.

“Nay, he knows I’m after a mount. He suggested I call on him again soon. He seems to do a pretty thriving business in stolen mounts. I spotted dyed markings on two others while I was there.”

“I think we must toast the new member of the Berkeley Brigade in champagne,”
Luten said. Prance was the only one likely to object, and even he had been won over by the return of his watch.

“And not the least valuable one either,”
Corinne added with a special smile for Black.

Black blushed like a schoolgirl and said, “I hardly know what to say. I’m greatly honoured, Lord Luten.”

“The honour is ours,”
Luten said. Then he rang for Evans. Corinne knowing that Coffen was always hungry, asked him to bring sandwiches as well. The refreshment was soon brought to the study.

Before the meeting broke up, Luten had a word with Black about his visit to Long Acre. “Hopley has suggested we might get a lead there as to who arranged for you to overhear their plans for that disastrous meeting last night. There’s no point in your going back since they recognized you. In fact, whoever goes must speak French fluently. Prance and I speak it fairly well, but aren’t familiar with the patois a gang of thieves would speak,”

“I can’t say I know any Frenchie I’d trust. I take it that’s what you have in mind? I never associated with them at all.”

“But would you know any Englishmen who do work with the French, not on spy business, obviously, but on lesser crimes? I’m asking you since you’re more familiar with that element than myself. I hope I don’t offend you by the question, Black. I know you aren’t actively involved in that sort of thing, but you have such an interesting circle of acquaintances.”

“No offence, as Mr. Pattle would say,”
Black laughed. “I don’t happen to know offhand, but I’ll certainly make some enquiries amongst former associates. I’m not proud of my past life, Lord Luten, but I’m proud that I’ve reformed. Proudest of all that you deem me worthy to —"

“We’re proud —
and extremely fortunate —
to have you,”
Luten said.

Coffen ambled over to join them. “What about me calling on McRaney tomorrow to ask about that mor business, Luten? Is that still on?”

“Do make the call as planned,”
Luten said. “Whoever stole Prance’s purse and planted it on Morgrave also used his watch to buy the nag. Or at least had one of his French friends do it. Hopley doesn’t think it was Morgrave. We have to find out who it was, if it wasn’t him.”

“Right. And Prance and I will go back to Arthur’s in the afternoon and quiz Morgrave if he’s there. One way or t’other we’ll catch the bleater. Are you coming home now, Black?”

“Black is accompanying me home,”
Prance said.

“Are you still afraid someone’s going to kidnap you?”
Coffen jeered.

“You forget I have to reimburse Black for retrieving my watch. I am so very pleased to have it back. You’ve no idea.”

Corinne drew Black aside to make a few enquiries about her house, and to compliment him on his good work.

“You’d ought to give him a pourboire,”
Coffen said aside to Prance.

“I know that! How much do you think ...”

“Finder’s fee of ten percent at least.”

Prance nodded. “And my eternal gratitude.”
He turned and called to Black. “Ready, Black?”

“Just coming, Sir Reginald.”

It occurred to Prance to ask him to drop the “Sir”, but he couldn’t bring himself to do it.

The committee in charge of refreshments for the Orphans’
Ball met in Corinne’s salon the next morning to finalize plans for the fast approaching ball. The wine had been attended to, but tickets were moving so quickly they had to arrange with Gunter’s to enlarge the order of sweets. The important matter of how many more petits fours, mille feuilles and crèmes glacées to order managed to take up nearly two hours, most of which, of course, was spent in the taking of tea and the enjoyment of gossip.

“I didn’t see you and Luten at Lady Alderley’s rout party last night, Lady Luten,”
Miss Addison said, with an arch, questioning smile. “Dare we hope you are increasing?”

“I’m afraid not yet,”
Corinne replied.

“I hear Mrs. Morgrave is in the family way. She is so happy. I hope it won’t deter her from helping us again next year?”

“Oh I’m sure it won’t. In fact, she’s been such a help I think we should invite her to join the committee next year. I have sounded her out and she is definitely interested.”

“By all mean,”
Lady Haversham said. “We need more youngsters like you and Samantha to take over. I, for one, am growing too old for all the running around.”

The others agreed. “Then I’ll tell her this afternoon,”
Corinne said. It made an excellent excuse to call on Samantha again. She felt certain Morgrave was innocent and had decided exactly how she could prove it, if indeed he
was
innocent.

Black decided that since he was now a member of the Berkeley Brigade it was time for a new jacket. He did not quite dare to go to Weston, even though he would be riding in Luten’s dandy black carriage. Unfortunately, he chose Stultz, who was famous for his padded shoulders and nipped waists. Black’s shoulders were in no need of broadening, but his waist could use a little minimizing. He was seduced by the glitter of brass into ordering buttons of a diameter that would stand Prance’s hair on end.

In the afternoon he returned to the stable of Ned Sparks, where he was highly gratified to find Smoker, now sporting only a small blaze on his forehead and two white stockings. “This is a good looking prad,”
he said to Ned, running his hands down the horse’s ankles to confirm the altered texture where the henna had been applied. The henna dye was a pretty good match but not good enough to fool his practised eye. They’d ought to have finished it off with a little oil, which would have softened the hair and made the dyed spots a tad darker. With Ned watching he didn’t use the bleach, or have to.

“This one wasn’t here yesterday, was he?”

“That come in late this morning. I’ll have no trouble getting rid of Long Acre.”

“Long Acre? That’s a funny name for a nag,”
Black said.

“It is. Hardly a name to be proud of either, but you can call him what you like.”

“You wouldn’t have come by Long Acre in any questionable way, now would you, Ned? I wouldn’t want to be hauled down and have a charge laid against me while riding on Rotten Row.”
He laughed to show Ned he was joking, but he knew why Smoker wore this name. It was where he had been stolen.

“Not a chance, Mr. Harper,”
Ned said, using the name Black had chosen for the transaction.

“Where
did
you
get him?”

“A fellow called Martin. A young buck. He had lost at cards and needed the blunt.”

“John Martin? I think I know him. A tall, good looking fellow, well built?”

“I didn’t get the first name, but that sounds like him.”

“What are you asking for him? Now don’t try to con me. I know Martin. I’ll ask him what you paid him.”

Sparks wasn’t fooled by this old trick. “I paid three-fifty, and a bargain if I say so myself.”

“Ho, three-fifty! A bargain for Martin. You must take me for a Johnny Raw. I doubt you paid two hundred.”

“Three fifty’s the price. I’ll have no trouble getting it.”

“You’ll have trouble getting it from me. What else can you show me?”
he asked and strolled along to another stall to conceal any particular interest in Smoker.

“I have a dandy filly, Lady Luck.”

“You showed me Lady Luck yesterday. Has she suddenly recovered from that knock-kneed gait? I told you, I’m after a gelding.”

After considerable haggling and denigrating Smoker and every other horse in the stable, Black paid three hundred pounds in cash and delivered Smoker home behind Luten’s carriage. He took him to Luten’s stable and had the groom scrub away enough of the henna to show the original markings.

* * * *

At ten o’clock Coffen took a hackney to call on McRaney, and was fortunate to find him at home. He had just arisen and was wearing a handsome blue robe.

“You’re an early bird,”
McRaney said. “Come on in, Pattle. I’m just making coffee. I had to let my man go. I’m looking after myself till next quarter day. I expect you’re here about Bolton. Any luck in finding the bounder who killed him?”

“Not really,”
Coffen said. “Morgrave doesn’t seem to be working out. What I was wondering is if I was mistaken about what he wrote. That mor, you remember.”

“Yes, I thought about it after you left, but I can’t think of anyone else with those letters that Bolton knew. Of course we weren’t what you could call bosom bows.”

“But what I mean is, maybe it wasn’t mor. Maybe it was nor, or mar — some other letters that look like mor, if you see what I mean. His writing was unsteady, as you can imagine.”