'You
were seen dining with him at Locket's ordinary.'
'Ah,'
said the lawyer, taking offence. 'We're being spied on, are we?'
'Not
at all, sir.'
Obadiah
Shann eyed him with a blend of caution and dislike. Gaunt, grey-haired and
wearing a pair of spectacles, he was a tall man whose back had been arched by
many years of bending over a desk. Jonathan noticed the blue veins standing out
on the backs of his hands and caught the distinctive whiff of tobacco in the
room.
'I'm
sorry that I can't help you, Constable,' said the lawyer.
'Then
you may be compelled to, sir.'
Controlled
anger. 'You dare threaten me with compulsion?'
'No,
Mr Shann.'
'I
think it best if you leave, sir.'
'Not
until I know Mr Gow's whereabouts.'
'I
have a right to protect my client's interests. Tell me what this is all about
and I may be able to help you. Otherwise, depart in peace and let me get on
with my work.'
'I
need that address,' said Jonathan doggedly.
'For
what purpose?'
'A
most serious one.'
'You
have a warrant for his arrest?'
'No,'
admitted the other.
'You're
here on legal business of some kind?'
'Please
tell me where he is.'
'I'm
not sure that I should, Mr Bale.' 'You're withholding crucial information, Mr
Shann.'
'I
don't answer to a mere constable,' said the lawyer, removing his spectacles to
glare at his visitor. 'Who do you think you are, coming in here like this and
issuing demands? Goodbye to you, sir! It seems to me that you've overstayed
your welcome.'
Jonathan
moved to the door. 'I have, sir,' he conceded freely. 'I may be a mere constable
but I speak for a higher authority. Far higher than even an exalted lawyer like
yourself. I can see that I'll have to get a warrant to force you to help me.'
He gave a warning smile. 'Don't be surprised if it bears the name of the
Attorney-General.'
'One
moment,' said Shann, caught between alarm and disbelief. 'We're being too hasty
here. I've no wish to be obstructive, I simply reserve the right to protect a
client's confidentiality. Why are you so desperate to find Bartholomew Gow that
you wave the Attorney-General at me? Surely you can give me some hint of what
is in the wind.'
'A
matter of some gravity.'
'Involving
what?'
'Murder,'
said Jonathan flatly.
'Murder?'
echoed the other, jaw dropping.
'Among
other things.'
'But Mr
Gow is the most law-abiding man you could meet.'
'Then
he has nothing to fear from me, sir, does he?'
Obadiah
Shann hovered between surprise and suspicion. He wondered if Jonathan really
did have the power of a senior law officer behind him. His visitor tried to
nudge him along.
'Does
he, for instance, live in Greer Lane?' he said.
'Where?'
'Greer
Lane. It runs between Tavistock Street and the Strand.'
'No,
Constable. Bartholomew Gow doesn't live anywhere near there and, to my certain
knowledge, he never has.'
'Then
where
does
he live?'
Jonathan
eschewed politeness. The lawyer was needlessly delaying him. Searching for the
killer of Mary Hibbert, the constable was in no mood for the prevarications of
Obadiah Shann. His eyes glinted.
'Do I
have to come back with a warrant, sir?' he said.
It
took Christopher an hour to calm down Jasper Hartwell and convince him that
Harriet Gow was not in jeopardy, a considerable feat in view of the reality of
the situation. Wanting to call on his brother again before resuming his search,
Christopher accepted the necessity of soothing his visitor. Hartwell was, after
all, paying him a lot of money to design the new house and that bought him the
architect's indulgence as well as his artistic skills. There was another
salient point. Ridiculous as Hartwell's romantic ambitions were, they were
easily understood. It was at a performance of
The Maid's Tragedy
that
Christopher first met him and first came under the spell of Harriet Gow
himself. Though he had never succumbed to any fantasies about marrying her, he
had spent more than an idle hour savouring her beauty and singing her
melancholy song.
No
sooner had he dispatched one unwelcome visitor than a second came banging on his
door. Jacob answered the summons and a heated exchange followed. Guessing who
had called, Christopher interrupted the argument and detached his servant from
the doorstep but he had no intention of inviting Roland Trigg across it. The
coachman touched his cap in a courteous gesture and took the aggression out of
his voice.
'Is
there any news of Mrs Gow, sir?' he asked eagerly.
'None
to raise any optimism,' confessed the other.
'But
you're still searching for her?'
'Oh,
yes. In the light of recent events, with more vigour than ever.'
'Recent
events?'
'They
know that we are after them, Mr Trigg. So they did their best to dissuade us
from continuing our work. First of all, my brother Henry was attacked by two
men in Drury Lane.'
'Never!'
exclaimed Trigg. 'Why pick on him?'
'Because
he was helping me in my search.'
'Was
he badly hurt, Mr Redmayne?'
'Very
badly,' said Christopher. 'I suspect that the men who gave you a beating also administered
one to my brother. I don't need to tell you how proficient they are with their
cudgels.'
'No,
sir,' said the coachman ruefully. A grin formed. 'But I got my revenge on one
of them. I chanced upon the rogue in a tavern and gave him a taste of his own
medicine. He deserved it, too,' he added, pointing to his wounds. 'He was the
man who really set about me. So I showed him that I can handle a cudgel as
well.'
'Where
is he now?'
'Nursing
his broken bones, probably.'
'You let
the villain go?'
'I
had to, sir.'
'Why
ever didn't you capture him?' said Christopher irritably. 'If he was involved
in the kidnap, he should be arrested and held for trial. More to the point, he
could have been interrogated about Mrs Gow's whereabouts. It was madness to
release him.'
'They
gave me no choice, sir.'
'Who?'
'The
sailors who came out of the tavern. Half-a-dozen of them. When they saw what
I'd done, they gave me no time to explain. They came at me to tear me to pieces
so I took to my heels.' Angling for praise, he gave another grin. 'I paid him
back, sir. He won't be assaulting me, your brother or anyone else for a very
long time. Did I do well?'
'By
your own standards,' said Christopher drily, 'I suppose that you did. But I'm
annoyed that you let the man slip through your fingers like that. He should
have been apprehended. Why didn't you go for help?'
'There
wasn't time. He was leaving the tavern.'
'Which
one?'
'The
Hope and Anchor, sir.'
'Is
that down by the river somewhere?'
'Thames
Street.'
'What
took you there, Mr Trigg?'
'It
was only one of a number of places I went,' explained the other. 'That's where
their sort go, sir - the men who ambushed us. Hired villains with a taste for
violence. I had a feeling I might just stumble on one of them in a tavern along
the waterfront or, if not there, in the stews of Southwark. I was working my
way through them when I came to the Hope and Anchor and had some luck at last.'
A growl of a laugh. 'My good luck was his misfortune.'
'Thank
you for coming to tell me this, Mr Trigg,' said Christopher, keen to move him
on his way. 'I'm relieved to hear that there is one less villain on the loose,
though I would have preferred to see him behind bars where we could get some
facts out of him. I hope that my own hunt is as successful as yours. When I've
been to see my brother, I'll get back to it.'
'Let
me come with you,' urged the other.
'I
work more effectively on my own, Mr Trigg.'
'But
you need protection, sir. Look what happened to me and to your brother. These
men will stop short of nothing.'
'Not
even murder.'
'What
do you mean?'
'There's
something I haven't told you,' said Christopher sadly, 'because we need to keep
the details secret for the time being. But, given your position in Mrs Gow's
household, I think that you have a right to know. Mary Hibbert has been
killed.'
'Mary!'
His face turned purple with rage. 'They killed that young girl? I can't believe
it.'
'It's
true, I'm afraid. I've seen the body myself.'
'How
did they do it?'
'That's
immaterial.'
'Not
to me, Mr Redmayne, I want to know. I liked Mary Hibbert. She was always kind
to me.
How,
sir? Was she stabbed, strangled or poisoned? Did they put a
bullet in her head?'
'The
girl was beaten to death.'
Trigg
almost foamed at the mouth. 'I should've finished him off when I had the
chance,' he said vehemently. 'I should've done for him.'
'That
would only have led to your own arrest for murder.'
'Justified
revenge. An eye for an eye.'
'I
take a different reading from the Bible. "Thou shalt not kill".'
While
the coachman struggled to master his anger, Christopher was left to question
his wisdom in releasing the news about Mary Hibbert. He was glad when the man's
fury seemed to abate. Roland Trigg held out his hands to plead.
'I
beg you, Mr Redmayne. Take me with you.'
'That
won't be possible.'
'But
you can't do it all on your own, sir.'
'I
have Constable Bale to help me.'
'It's
not enough. You need a bodyguard. I'm your man.'
Trigg
straightened his shoulders and thrust out his chest. His strength could not be
doubted. The coachman had been assaulted by the same men who had put Henry
Redmayne into his bed for a week, yet he had already recovered enough to mete
out his own crude form of justice. Roland Trigg was resilient and, by his own
boast, seasoned in violence. Christopher could see his value as a bodyguard to
Harriet Gow but it was her predecessor who popped into his mind. He suddenly
recalled where he had heard a certain name before.
'You
served Sir Godfrey Armadale, didn't you?' he said.
'Yes,
sir.'
'How
long were you with him?'
'Some
years, Mr Redmayne.'
'Sir
Godfrey is something of a rake, I believe.'
'He
enjoyed life,' conceded the other, 'but he was a good master. He gave me no
cause for complaint. On the other hand, I was glad to be taken on by Mrs Gow -
until the ambush, that is. In one way, it was just as well.'
'Why?'
'Because
I like to be in London, sir. My roots are here, and all my friends. I couldn't
take to anywhere else so I'd have had to leave Sir Godfrey Armadale in any
case.'
'I
don't follow.'
'He's
moved away, Mr Redmayne.'
'Oh?'
'Quite
recently, they tell me.'
'Where
has he gone?'