'Money
changed hands in this case. That's the crucial point.'
'Can
you prove it?'
'Why
else would that woman provide the use of rooms?'
'You
can ask her,' said Christopher, 'because you'll need to go back to Greer Lane
before this business is over. My guess is that money changed hands for a more
sinister purpose. That coach was ambushed right on her doorstep. The likelihood
is that she was on the premises at the time and paid to look the other way.
That's of far more interest to me than whether or not she assists the course of
true love.'
'It's
hardly true love!' protested Jonathan.
'It
was in the case of Martin Eldridge. He worshipped Mrs Gow. I could see that.
And she must have loved him to take such a risk.'
The
bay mare gave a sudden lunge forward and caught Jonathan unawares. Rocking in
the saddle, he tightened his grip on the reins.
'Go
to Clerkenwell on your own, sir,' he advised.
'Why?'
'I'm
not enjoying this ride.'
'But
I need you to guide me, Mr Bale.'
'I
could give you directions instead.'
'Why
bother?' said Christopher. 'We need to go together. It's time we combined our
forces instead of acting independently. Besides, you've already met Mr Gow. He
trusts you.' He grinned as Jonathan's mare tossed its head mutinously. 'Rather
more than you trust that horse.' 'I'm not sure what else we can learn from Mr
Gow.'
'You
think the visit is a waste of time?'
'No, Mr
Redmayne,' said Jonathan. 'I just feel that we might be better employed
searching for that house in Richmond.'
'In
the dark? We'd never reach there by nightfall, especially if you insisted on
travelling on foot. I'm as anxious as you to find that house, believe me, but
we need more guidance.'
'Your
brother mentioned Sir Godfrey Armadale.'
'Yes,'
said Christopher, 'and it's a name I've heard in connection with Mrs Gow
before.'
'Then
the house may belong to him.'
'Let's
not jump to over-hasty conclusions. I have it on good authority that Sir
Godfrey Armadale is no longer living anywhere near London. He's moved back to
the West Country.'
'Who
told you that?'
'Roland
Trigg.'
'And
how would he know?'
'He
used to be Sir Godfrey's coachman.'
As
soon as he said it, Christopher realised that it was too great a coincidence to
ignore. Jonathan reached the same verdict. Both jerked the reins to bring their
horses to a sudden halt while their eyes had a silent conversation.
Carrying
a sack, Roland Trigg let himself into the house with the key entrusted to him
by Harriet, but he did not move about with the deferential tread of a servant
this time. Pounding up the stairs, he went into her bedchamber and looked
around for booty. Light was fading now but sufficient came in through the
windows to save him from needing a candle. In any case, he had other plans for
the silver candelabra. They were the first items to be placed in the sack. He
crossed to the table on which an ornate mirror was set. It was here that
Harriet Gow so often sat, but no beauty was reflected in the glass now. The
big, bruised, sweating face of Roland Trigg could be seen as he scoured the
table.
Most
of the jewellery was in the largest of the boxes. He feasted his eyes on the
contents, emitting a laugh of joy as he guessed at the value. A second box
followed the first into the sack then he found a third, a small, velvet-covered
box, hidden away behind a pile of books. Opening it with curiosity, he let out
a wheeze of surprise when he saw the ring that lay inside. Encrusted with
diamonds, the large ruby sparkled with fire. Trigg held it on the palm of his
hand to examine it. The ring was quite priceless. He suspected that it was a
gift from the King himself. That gave it additional value in his eyes. The
little box went into the sack, followed by the other items he scooped up.
Trigg
worked quickly. He had somewhere to go.
'Why
have you come to me?' said Bartholomew Gow irritably. 'I told Constable Bale
all that I knew.'
'Yes,'
said Christopher. 'He was struck by your honesty.'
'Why
bother me again?'
'Because
we thought you might actually be interested to know if your wife had been found
and released yet.'
'Has
she?' asked Gow with delayed eagerness.
'Unfortunately
not.'
'Where
is
Harriet?'
'I'm
hoping that you might be able to tell us, Mr Gow.'
'How
would I know?'
The
estranged husband was disconcerted when two visitors called at that time of the
evening. Forced to invite them into the shabby little house, he was determined
to send them on their way as soon as possible. Since there were only two seats
in the room, Jonathan Bale remained standing. Christopher took the chair
opposite his host. Sensing his reluctance to help, he tried to impress upon him
the gravity of the situation.
'Mrs
Gow is in serious danger, sir.'
'It's
not my doing.'
'Don't
you care?' he chided. 'Does your wife's safety merit no more than an
afterthought? Mr Bale may have told you about the abduction but there are other
crimes involved here.'
'There
are,' agreed Jonathan, signalled into the conversation. 'Mr Redmayne's own
brother was viciously assaulted and an even worse fate was visited on Mary
Hibbert.'
'Mary?'
said Gow. 'Harriet's maid?'
'She'll
not be able to serve your wife any more, sir.'
'Why
not?'
'She
was beaten to death.'
Gow
paled. 'She was
murdered?'
'Now
you see what we're up against, sir.'
'But
why? Who could want to kill a girl like Mary Hibbert?'
'Their
names are Smeek and Froggatt,' said Christopher, taking over again. 'Thanks to
Mr Bale, both of them are in Newgate, awaiting trial. But they're only hired
villains. We still don't know the name of the man who paid them to kidnap your
wife.'
He
gave Bartholomew Gow a few moments to absorb the new information. It made him
thoughtful and uneasy. He looked at his two visitors with a degree of welcome.
'How
can I help?' he offered.
'By
giving us some names,' said Christopher.
'Names?'
'Yes,
Mr Gow. We've been compiling lists of your wife's friends and enemies. To be
honest, we weren't quite sure which category you fell into yourself. Perhaps
neither.'
'I
want Harriet to be saved,' affirmed Gow.
'Then
we're working to the same end. The names we have were all suggested by people
at the theatre. We wondered if you might add one or two more to the list. I
know this must be embarrassing for you,' said Christopher delicately, 'and I
apologise for that. What I can promise you is that Constable Bale and I will be
very discreet.'
'It's
too late in the day for discretion,' said the other wearily. 'Why try to hide
it? Everyone knows that I'm the cuckolded husband of a famous actress. You want
me to identify my wife's lovers, is that it?'
Jonathan
shifted his feet, fearing what he was about to hear.
'I
understand,' said Christopher, 'that some of her admirers gave her gifts and
that she built up quite a collection.'
'That's
right. I was part of it once.'
'I've
told Mr Redmayne about your situation,' said Jonathan.
'I
was squeezed dry and cast aside,' returned Gow. 'I couldn't afford to keep
Harriet in the style she came to prefer so I was pushed out. Things went from
bad to worse after that. I made some unwise investments, lost most of what
little money I had, and am now reduced to living in this pig sty. It's
demoralising.'
'What's
your legal situation?' asked Christopher.
'I'm
still trying to find out. My lawyer, Obadiah Shann, assures me that I can make
a claim against Harriet but he's yet to explain how. I thought a wife was
supposed to be part of a husband's chattels. Not mine. I was the chattel in
that marriage. When she started to develop her collection, she tossed me out
altogether.'
'Tell
us about this collection,' encouraged Christopher.
'It
began with small gifts. Baskets of flowers and so on. Then we were invited out
together to dine but that didn't last,' he said ruefully. 'Harriet preferred to
dine alone with her admirers. After that, the gifts became much more expensive.
Sir Roger Mulberry gave her a necklace that must have cost all of two hundred
pounds. Lord Clayborne gave her jewellery worth even more. And so her
collection built until she had one of the most lavish gifts of all.'
'What
was that, Mr Gow?'
'Somewhere
in which to display it.'
'The
house near St James's Square?'
'That
came with royal compliments,' said Gow. 'How could a man of my means compete with
all that? Harriet had already worked her way through most of my money. I
couldn't buy her costly rings or fine clothes or a palatial house. And I
certainly couldn't afford to buy her a coach.'
'A
coach, sir?' said Jonathan, ears alerted.
'It was
something she'd always wanted. Harriet pined for her own coach so that she
could travel wherever she wanted. It was a gift that she cherished. He must
have been besotted with her to spend that kind of money on her.'
'Who?'
asked Christopher.
'Sir
Godfrey Armadale.'
'He
was one of your wife's admirers?'
'Among
the most ardent,' explained the other. 'But Harriet only teased him. Sir
Godfrey never got the rewards he was after from her. That's why his name
probably won't appear on any of your lists. When she had what she wanted,
Harriet discarded him.'
'Yet
she kept the coach?'
'Oh,
yes. And the coachman he'd provided.'
'Roland
Trigg?'
'That's
the fellow.'
Christopher
did not need to exchange a glance with Jonathan.
'Surly
beggar,' continued Gow. 'I had a few scuffles with him. When I tried to call at
the house, Harriet told him to move me on. Trigg enjoyed doing that. He was her
coachman and her bodyguard.'
'I
suspect that he was something else besides,' said Christopher, standing to
leave. 'Come, Mr Bale. I think we should pay a visit to Rider Street. Trigg has
some explaining to do.' He paused at the door. 'One final thing, Mr Gow.'
'Yes?'
'Abigail
Saunders met you in Locket's recently.'
'I remember,
Mr Redmayne. I was dining with my lawyer. He was paying or I'd have been eating
in a more modest establishment.'
'Miss
Saunders was much taken with a remark you made.'
'What
was that?'
'You
told her that she might have an opportunity to replace your wife because Mrs
Gow was going to be indisposed for a while. Do you recall saying that?'
'Yes.
But I was only passing on what I'd just heard.'
'From
whom?'
'Trigg,'
said the other. 'I called at the house that morning but he sent me packing in
no uncertain terms. And he warned me not to come back because Harriet would be
going away for a while.' 'Going away?'
'That's
all he said, Mr Redmayne.'
Christopher
and Jonathan left at speed. The visit to Clerkenwell had delivered far more
than they had dared to hope. As they headed off to their next destination,
Jonathan was even starting to enjoy the ride.