Death in the West Wind (37 page)

“To London,” John answered with gusto, and stepping into the coach, waved his farewells until he, too, was just a small speck in the distance.

Looking bereft, Jan van Guylder and the man who would have been his son-in-law had affairs turned out differently, walked into a nearby hostelry and there discussed the departure of all
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those who had been investigating the murder of the girl who had been so dear to both of them not even noticing the slight young man who rose from his place in the corner and headed outside in the direction of the Exeter coach.

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Once a week the London to Exeter stagecoach carried foreign mail bound for Lisbon, which was then taken to Falmouth and shipped out on a Saturday morning by packet, should such a vessel be waiting in Falmouth harbour. Consequently, passengers bound for the wild reaches of Cornwall could either change at Exeter and wait for this weekly stage, or catch it in London, preparing themselves for a monumentally long journey when they did so. Leaving the Gloucester Coffee House, Piccadilly, at four a.m. they could, if they were agreeable to sleeping in the coach and not putting up at an inn, reach Exeter just before ten o’clock on the following evening. However, this was not for the faint hearted and most passengers preferred to travel at a more leisurely pace, even though it took longer. Further, there were not many who elected to undertake the treacherous journey to Cornwall and the coach usually cleared out at Exeter. As for the return, the stage was often empty.

On this particular day, however, a Cornish sea captain and his wife, who desired to shop in Exeter, were aboard, and at Newton Abbot three more people got in. They were men, all rather rugged looking, in the driver’s opinion. None wore wigs, one having a head full of tight red curls, another very dark and slightly foreign in appearance, the third a big, blond, jolly fellow. When asked if they were going to Exeter the reply was negative.

“Put us down at the Halfway House inn. We’re to meet someone there.”

So they were duly dropped off, their dues having been paid in advance, and were last seen heading into that remotest of hostelries, carrying no luggage whatsoever. Sometime later, in fact during the morning of the following day, a young couple came by trap, hired from a Honiton farmer, and were deposited at the same place, where they paid the farmer off and went within. The landlord, delighted by this sudden rush of custom to his out-of-the-way establishment, supposedly situated half way between London and Falmouth, though nobody really believed that, was pleased when this group of strangers appeared to get on well together. Indeed, such a good companionship was struck up that they ordered refreshments to be served in his one and only private room, where he could hear them chatting whenever he passed the door, though the words themselves were not audible.

“Well, so far, so good,” said Joe Jago, rubbing his hands together.

“Were you seen at all?”

“Definitely not. We turned off the road just outside Exeter and proceeded to Newton Abbot via the rough country near Dartmoor. We crossed the river by horse ferry, one big enough to get the carriage on.”

“Where have you stabled it?”

“In Newton Abbot. What about yourselves?”

“We left the coach in Honiton in the care of Irish Tom. He’s a good man but gets too carried away in a mill so I thought it best to keep him at a safe distance,” John answered. He leant forward. “When do we put the plan into action?”

“Tonight. It’s my guess that they won’t hold fire once they think we’re all gone. You, Mr. Rawlings, and Runner Raven are to protect the widow, Dick and I will remain with Dmitri. Old Saul is to act as decoy by leaving the house and walking towards the tavern in a marked manner.”

“Supposing he is attacked?”

“Constable Haycraft has agreed to pose as a drunken fisherman sleeping it off on the beach. At the first sign of trouble he has been instructed to go to Saul’s aid.”

“Have we enough people? The Angels in force represent quite a lot of armed men.”

“We will have the element of surprise on our side. And remember that they can’t crowd into those fishermen’s cottages in a body. The buildings are far too small. With any luck we will be able to pick them off one by one.”

“I hope it happens tonight,” John said. “I want to get it over.”

“As do we all,” added Emilia with feeling. “You will be careful, won’t you. Everyone of you I mean.”

There was a chorus of not altogether convincing agreement, then her husband asked another question. “Jan van Guylder was aware of what was going on. You don’t think he will show up, do you?”

“I doubt it,” the clerk answered him. “He is only vaguely aware of the details. He knew that our leaving was a blind but was far from certain what the next step was. By the way, he has seemed much better of late.”

“That’s since his talk to my wife, who has had as good an effect as any tonic I could have prescribed him.”

Runner Raven, sipping canary, his dark eyes gleaming over the rim, said, “What did you say to him, Mrs. Rawlings?”

“Actually he did most of the talking. He was telling me about a Mrs. Kitty, a sailor’s widow who works in the brothel in Exeter because she has three young children to rear and has no other source of income. He told me that he loved her but could not make her his wife by reason of losing the good opinion of the society in which he mingles. Oh, in case you didn’t know, he was with her on the day Juliana was murdered.”

Joe grinned. “He did admit as much to me, under some duress I might add. Anyway, what did you advise him?”

“To marry her and take her and her children back to Holland with him where nobody would know anything about her. He has business interests out there, so I don’t see why not,” she added a shade defiantly.

“Good plan,” answered Joe succinctly. “It would give him something to live for. Let it be hoped that he has the good sense to defy convention and follow through.”

“He’s certainly thinking about it. He says there is nothing to hold him in Topsham any longer.”

Dick Ham spoke up. “What are our instructions if the attack happens, Mr. Jago? Do we shoot to kill?”
 

“No, to wound only. We must get statements out of them. We still don’t know if somebody financed Juliana’s killing. Further, light must be thrown on Richard’s suicide. A dead man can tell us nothing, remember. The only circumstance in which you can kill an attacker is if he is about to kill you. Now, as soon as it is dark we set forth. So not much more to drink, lads. It might spoil your aim.”

“How are we going to get there?” asked John.

“All arranged. William Haycraft is coming for us with his largest cart.”

“I think it’s exciting,” said the Apothecary.

“I think it’s frightening,” answered his wife.

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It was a little nerve-racking, John had to admit, as they left the hostelry aglow with candles and plunged down the treacherous track and into the darkness. Overhead, the great sweep of sky which seems to stretch forever in the mysterious county of Devon, was the colour of stained glass, the deep blue that comes just before it turns to ebony. The first star was out and other pinpoints of light were beginning to appear. In the distance he could hear the slow murmur of the sea, which, in his fancy, was singing to the stars, the mermaids joining in, calling on them to shine and light the waves. He was in far too poetic a mood, John felt, for a night that could, if the attacker rose to the bait, end in death and bloodshed. For despite all that Joe Jago had said, the Apothecary knew that his finger would tremble on the trigger if he discovered which of them had tortured a helpless girl and beaten her to her death.

They spoke in whispers, lying on the floor of the cart, concealed by sacks, these last pulled over their faces as William drove down the single street, past The Ship and habitation. Then the wheels crunched the shingle and drew to a halt.

“Best go on foot from here,” murmured the constable. “If the cart is parked too near the cottages it might arouse suspicion.”

“Is there anybody about?” asked Joe. “Anybody at all?”

“No, the place is deserted. The fishing boats are beached and they are all in the alehouse.”

“There’s nobody hiding?”

“No one at all.”

“Then, my lads,” ordered Mr. Fielding’s representative, “let us go.”

They piled out of the cart, landing on the wet sand, which clung round their feet. The tide was going out and there was driftwood and seaweed on the beach. Picking their way through it, the five men silently walked to where Sarah’s cottage and that of Old Saul blazed with candlelight, gleaming far more than they normally would, hoping to attract those sinister moths of the night who might later come out to see what was afoot.

Joe spoke very quietly. “Now, each of you to your post. William, where are you going to be?”

“Over by that rock. I’ve borrowed some clothes and have hidden some fish to rub on my skin.” He chuckled, a rather odd sound in the tension of that night. “I have to smell right if I am to convince anybody.”

“Indeed you do. Now, the rest of you round to the back. Sarah and Old Saul have left the doors open.”

Despite this, John gave a friendly whistle as he entered the widow’s house, not wanting to frighten her out of her wits.

“Is that you, Mr. Jago?” she called softly.
 

“No, it’s John Rawlings and Nick Raven, Mrs. Mullins. It is our pleasant duty to look after you this evening.”

“Then I’ll draw the curtains. Just wait a moment then step into the parlour.”

She had brought every candle she had into the room so that even through the drapery it would be obvious to anyone watching that she had not yet gone to bed, and John saw that she had prepared the table with bread, cheese and ale for a frugal supper. Knowing how poor she was, his heart went out to her. She spoke quietly. “What is the plan?”

“Soon Old Saul will say goodnight to Dmitri, making some noise about it. Then he will come in here as is his usual custom. After a short interval he will be on his way again, heading across the beach in the direction of The Ship. Should he be set upon, William Haycraft is out there hiding, ready to defend him. Once he has gone you are to blow out the candles and take one with you up to the bedroom. If the cottages are being observed, that is the moment when they will strike, when they think that both you and Dmitri have gone to bed.”

“Will it be the man with the tattoo, do you think?”

“He and his cohorts, I should imagine.”

“Do you have any idea who he is?”

“None, other than that he comes from Exeter and drives a coach with an inscription on the side, which puts him in the upper echelons of society. But then as the Angels seem mostly to be the sons of rich men, there is little surprise about that.”

Sarah smiled. “And to think he fears Dmitri so much that he is prepared to kill both of us.”

“It is the age-old situation of believing someone knows too much. Have you never, Sarah, been shunned by a person you once thought of as a friend because on some occasion they confided in you and now they fear you?”

She shook her head. “I can’t say that I have.”

“Well, I have observed it several times and have wondered at the stupidity of such behaviour.”

“Folks are very peculiar,” she answered.

“And can be very dangerous,” put in Nick. “Best keep our voices down.”

Duly reminded, they took to speaking in whispers, eating their simple supper quietly, John sitting on the floor as Sarah only had two chairs, two plates and two mugs, which they were obliged to share between them. With the meal finished they waited in almost total silence until they heard Old Saul’s voice ring out.

“Well, goodnight to you, Dmitri. I’m delighted with your progress but you still need plenty of rest. Don’t wait up for me. Get to bed soon. I’m going to The Ship for a while.”

His feet crunched over the pebbles that the sea had deposited on the path outside and a moment or two later the knocker on the widow’s front door sounded noisily. “Sarah,” they heard Saul call.

“Coming,” she shouted back and drew the bolts to let him in.

“Ha, my dear,” said the visitor heartily, then dropped his voice to nothing. “I saw a light flash briefly on the cliff. I think I’m being observed.”

“Excellent,” Nick Raven whispered.

“How kind of you to look in,” Sarah said loudly.

There then followed the most extraordinary conversation. In booming tones, Sarah and Saul discussed her health and progress and his plan to go to the alehouse for the evening. At the same time, in quiet murmurs, the Runner was briefing the old man as to exactly how he should behave if he was attacked.

“You are to call for help at once. William Haycraft is close at hand and will be at your side in a second.”

“Don’t worry, Sir, I have the means to protect myself should he be delayed.”

“I’d prefer you not to fire a gun which would frighten off the others.”

Old Saul chuckled. “No, this way is silent.” And he produced from his pocket a small knife shaped exactly like an arrow, the head of which had been smeared with some dark substance.”