Murder on Charing Cross Road (12 page)

“The footman is waiting for a reply, madam,”
Evans said, so she had to read it, sort out the pro’s and con’s of various suggestions in a way that would alienate the fewest number of members of the sub-committee on renting and decorating the hall, then write her reply.

“I paid a call on Ted Vickers,”
Black said, as soon as the door was closed behind him. He felt like a Member of Parliament or a lord, standing chatting in Luten’s grand oak-lined office, with a desk as big as a dining table, and a chair like a throne behind it.

Luten sat down and waved Black into a chair by the desk. “Ted Vickers?”
he said, frowning at the name, that sounded familiar, yet he couldn’t put a face to it.

“The fellow who rescued Sir Reginald the night he was attacked.”

“Ah, with the little fellow, his son, wasn’t it?”

“That’s right. Tommy, a wide-awake little rascal. I figured they’d know who was who at Long Acre, and since that’s where Sir Reginald was taken to be attacked, it seemed possible the roughians were from that area, or known there at least.”

Luten just shook his head. “I should have thought of that. And did you get a line on them?”

Black blushed happily. “It turns out there’s a whole nest of Frenchies working out of Long Acre. From the names I got at the Sheepwalk and their description, Ted figured he knew the lads. He didn’t know where they live, but he knew where they went to wet their whistles. An awful dive in Long Acre, it was. I don’t believe it has a proper name but thereabouts it’s called Bessy’s place. I dressed up in some old clothes I keep on hand for such occasions and went along. Took a hackney part way and walked the rest as I didn’t want to give them the notion I was worth robbing. I couldn’t swear it was the lads from the Sheepwalk for I didn’t get to see them when I was staying there, but the descriptions fit to a tee. One of them was called Henri. And to clinch it, Morgrave’s name came up.”

Luten was so excited he nearly jumped out of his chair. “I
knew
it! Damme, we’ve got to teach you French, Black.”

“Alas, they were speaking the bongjaw for the most part. I’ve been reading up on it since this case, and caught a few words. As luck would have it, they named places in English. They kept talking about Somers Town, and saying something that sounded like meenyouee.”

“Minuit
—
that’s midnight. Somers Town makes sense. It’s a large French community now. Many of the French emigrants have hired houses there. There’s a deal of construction going on in that district. The Duke of Bedford took me out there one day. He’s selling ground leases for new houses to be built. They’re clearing away trees and bushes at a great rate. Did they mention a day?”
He rimed off the days of the week —
lundi, mardi, mercredi, jeudi —
? “

“The days of the week are in the second chapter of my French grammar. It was
joodi.
Thursday, that’s today.”

“So tonight at midnight,”
Luten said. “Well done, Black. I wonder what they have planned?”

“They were chattering like crows. My French isn’t good enough to follow what they were saying, but they were mighty pleased about it to judge by their crowing.”

“Then we’ll just have to go and find out. It’s a sizable place —
acres and acres.”

“They mentioned Grays Inn Lane, if that helps pinpoint it. And something about a
grand
something, meaning big. It sounded like arbour.”

“It helps considerably, Black. Coming from Long Acre, they’ll turn north off High Holborn.”
He went to a cabinet, drew out a map of London unfolded it on his desk top and studied the area. “There’s no arbour there, to my knowledge.”

“I could take a run out and look about, if it would help,”
Black offered.

“A good idea. I doubt you’ll find an arbour, but you could scout around and see if you spot a likely meeting place. Somewhere private. I wonder if they’re meeting in a building or in the open. Since they mentioned an arbour, it sounds as if they plan to meet outdoors.”

“Being Frenchies, they might not know what an arbour is,”
Black said uncertainly.”

“It
is
a broad term,”
Luten said, frowning.

Black disliked to be less than omniscient, but was eager to learn just what he was looking for. “No telling what they might take it to mean, then,”
he said, hoping for more details.

“Nowadays we usually mean some sort of covered walk, perhaps with a trellis and vines. It comes from the French for tree,
l'arbre.
I’ve heard my older relatives refer to a small planting of trees as an arbour. There is no large arbour there, but there might be some grouping of trees left standing.”

Black was eager to be off. “I’ll let you know what I find,”
he said. “Should I take your plain black carriage?”

“Of course. Consider it for your own use until we get this matter solved, Black. I’ll let my stable keeper know he’s to send it to you when you call for it.”

“That might save time,”
Black said, reigning in his euphoria. “I’ll report as soon as I get back.”

“Please do. I’ll let the others know we’ll need their help tonight.”

Corinne was frustrated to see Black leave before she could join him and Luten. As soon as she answered the note, she rushed to Luten’s study. He was just folding up a map. “What was Black’s news, Luten?”
she asked.

He was ready for her. “Oh he spoke to Ted Vickers, the fellow who brought Prance home the night he was attacked. Vickers tells him he thinks the French have a hangout at Long Acre. Black’s going to look into it. We were just studying this map to see exactly where Prance was abducted. I’ve given him the use of my hunting carriage for the time being.”

“He’ll like that,”
she said, pleased to see her old friend’s help being recognized in a way that would please him. She knew both Black and Luten well enough to suspect that their excitement had some bigger cause than Luten had told her. “Anything else?”
she asked.

“That’s a good start,”
he prevaricated, as he disliked lying to her, and rushed on to discuss how they could help Black after her house was rented.

She saw she was to learn nothing more from him and would have to keep her eyes open to discover what was going on.

Black was as good as his word. He was back before Luten sat down to dinner. Corinne was still abovestairs making her toilette. Luten had left word with Evans that Black was to be shown in the minute he arrived. If he was abovestairs dressing, Black was to be sent up. Black was deprived of this honour and was shown into Luten’s study, but not before Evans gave him a good roasting.

“You’ll soon be having your own key to the door, the way you’re running tame here,”
he said.

“Deep doings, Evans,”
Black replied importantly.

“He won’t want her to know about it. Keep your tongue between your teeth if she quizzes you.”

“No need to tell me my business, Evans,”
he said, with a broad wink to show there was no ill will.

Luten jumped up from his seat when Black was shown in. “Well? Any luck?”
he demanded.

“As you said yourself, there’s nothing in the way of a real arbour there. The whole place is a shambles, with trees coming down and houses being thrown up all over the place. There’s one spot on the southeast corner of Grays Inn Lane that still has a good stand of trees. It’s a handy spot to meet, just off the main road, but far enough in for them to hide from passersby. Not that there’d be many at midnight. I believe that’s the likeliest spot.”

Luten thought a moment, then said, “Even if they meet elsewhere in that area, it’s ten to one they’ll come from Long Acre by Grays Inn Lane, so we’d see them coming and could follow. I believe that’s our best bet. We’ll want to be there early. Around eleven-thirty. Let us say eleven. It’ll be a tedious wait, but we don’t want them to spot us arriving, if one of them should come early.”

“Do the others know?”
Black asked.

“I’ve spoken to them. They’re coming here at nine-thirty for final planning, then we’ll regroup at ten-thirty. I didn’t ask you this afternoon, is it likely they’ll be mounted? Do they have mounts?”

“No, not a horse between the lot of them, from what I saw. There’s no stabling nearby. I fancy it’ll be either shank’s mare or take a hackney.”

“Morgrave certainly won’t go on foot. You take my plain carriage. There’s a pistol in the side pocket. I’ll ride ahead and the others will follow. And, Black, I’d appreciate it if you not mention this to her ladyship, if she should be speaking to you.”

This put Black in a difficult situation. In the past it had been Lady Luten’s ruse to have him accompany her to the scene of action when Luten ordered her to stay at home while he was out on dangerous business. On those occasions Black enjoyed his alter ego of Lord Blackwell. But he was so eager to remain in Luten’s good graces, which he certainly wouldn’t if he took Lady Luten, that he said, “Mum’s the word,”
with hardly a qualm.

As luck would have it, he didn’t encounter her on his way out.

The group met in Luten’s study at nine-thirty, as planned. Corinne, strangely, was not in the drawing room when they arrived.

“Where’s Corrie tonight?”
Coffen asked. “Did you arrange some other activity for her? If not, she’ll be following us. You know how she hates to miss out on anything.”

Luten shot a glance at Black, who shook his head to indicate his innocence. “She doesn’t know we’re going. She’s abovestairs with Mrs. Ballard, playing Pope Joan. For pennies.”

“A cruel way to treat a bride, Luten,”
Prance said, with a smile that was half a smirk.

“Would you prefer that she be shot?”
Luten snapped. “Our main aim tonight is to catch Morgrave. If we can take some of his French cohorts, so much the better, but it is imperative that we catch Morgrave. Black has got a line on their hangout in Long Acre, so we might round them up later if they escape. Black has figured out where he believes they’re meeting. I’ll be riding Smoker and go in the lead, you follow closely behind. You’ll be going in my hunting carriage with Black. Leave the rig at the Gray’s Inn and walk the rest of the way.”

“Don’t you think it might be better if we all ride?”
Coffen said. “I mean to say, if they’re mounted and take off away from a road, we won’t be able to catch them in a carriage.”

“Black doesn’t think they have mounts, with the exception of Morgrave, of course, and I’ll handle him personally. A carriage will be better for taking them to Bow Street after we catch them,”
Luten said.

“I’d
prefer to take my own carriage,”
Prance said, thinking of all the preparations he had made. “It’s plain black as well, and I have a good, fast team.”

“Fine, take yours then,”
Luten said, “and the others can go with you.”
Prance made no demur at this. He knew Black and Coffen for good bruisers, if there should be trouble.

“Not a bad idea, in my condition,”
he said, wincing. In fact, his ribs did still bother him.

“I’ll take along the pistol from your hunting carriage,”
Black said to Luten, then added aside to Prance, “I’ll be at your place at ten-thirty.”

“I think that’s everything,”
Luten said. “I’ll go and rescue Corinne from the card table. Might be best if you all leave before she knows you’re here, or she’ll be suspicious.”

Prance went home to finalize his preparations.

“Care to drop in for a glass of wine, Black?”
Coffen said, hoping to be invited to Corinne’s old house for a bite.

“I would, Mr. Pattle. I surely would. I fear her ladyship might try to contact me, and I’d rather not be at home.”

“Ah, I never thought of that. Likely as not she’ll try me when you’re not at home. We’d best retire to a tavern where she can’t track us down. We’ve time for a quick wet. And a bite. I owe you a couple of meals,”
Coffen said.

* * * *

From her bedchamber that looked out on the square, Corinne saw them all leaving and knew something was afoot, had known it from the moment Luten said he had work to do in his study and suggested that she really should spend a little time abovestairs with Mrs. Ballard. If she had stayed behind, he wouldn’t have discussed the real business but made up some foolish story and arranged his business with the men in some other fashion, by note or some such thing.

If he said she looked tired and should retire early, she would watch the street to see what carriages left, and in which direction they went. She must also get word to Black. She hardly knew what to think when Coffen and Black got into Luten’s hunting carriage that was standing in front of her old house and drove off. Perhaps Luten wasn’t going out after all. He sent Evans upstairs to see if her ladyship had finished her card game yet. He was alone and would enjoy her company. She came down promptly.

“All alone, eh?”
she said brightly. “You should have joined Mrs. Ballard and me.”

“It’s cosier with just the two of us,”
he said, and led her to the sofa before the grate. To distract her, he said, “Let us plan a trip, my dear. We never did have a proper honeymoon.”

“Can you get away?”
she asked, surprised.

“The party will have to do without me for a week or two. I thought you might enjoy the Lake District. It should be pleasant this late in April.”

“I would love it of all things!”
she said.

Luten got out travel books and they discussed various locations for the better part of an hour. Around a quarter past ten, Luten began yawning and said, “I have a few papers to look over before retiring. You look sleepy, my dear. Why don’t you go on up and I’ll join you soon?”

“Yes, I am a little fagged,”
she said at once. “You won’t stay down too late, Luten?”

“Within the hour,”
he lied, already worrying about how he’d explain away his lack of appearing. But she’d be as thrilled as he when he told her he had caught Morgrave. A little duplicity was a small price to pay for capturing a traitor. He gave her a long, passionate kiss and accompanied her to the bottom of the staircase.

When Mrs. Ballard came tapping on her door to see if she needed help in undressing, Corinne sent her away. “No, I’m not retiring yet,”
she said. “I’ll look after myself. You go on to bed, Mrs. Ballard.”