The Man in the Green Coat (13 page)

“What, and set the tabbies’ tongues to wagging?” she mocked “The conservatory is the traditional place for such assignations, is it not?”

“So I believe, though I am not practised in the art. However, Mrs Albright has provided her conservatory with an operatic soprano, and I expect her audience would boo and hiss were we to talk there.”

“Suppose I challenge you to a friendly game of piquet? It will have to be for farthing points, for I am bound to lose. I can never remember the rules, so talking over the cards cannot spoil my play.”

They made their way to the card room. All the tables were occupied, so they reserved one and went on to the supper room. There they joined a group of friends and acquaintances who were making inroads on the magnificent buffet of cold hams and sirloins, jellies and creams, strawberry tarts and pigeon pies.

A waiter served champagne. Thirsty after her exertions on the dance floor, Gabrielle drank two glasses. She was used to wine, having been brought up on it in the French fashion, but the bubbles went to her head and made her giggle like a schoolgirl.

Mr Everett thought her enchanting, but sent for lemonade. He had no wish to take advantage of her condition to win at piquet, even at a farthing a point.

A servant came to tell them that their card table was free. When some of the gentlemen proposed to come and watch their play, Gabrielle—eyes sparkling—forbade them. How could she concentrate on her cards, she demanded, with doubtless well-meaning advice flowing from every quarter? She and Mr Everett escaped into the other room and settled down at a green baize table in a quiet corner.

As he unwrapped the fresh pack of cards, sorted and shuffled them, Mr Everett reminded Gabrielle of the rules. She listened intently, but as she then asked with considerable indignation why there were no trumps, he decided that she thought she was playing whist.

“Should there not be four players?” she said uncertainly.

“No, no, Miss Darcy, we are playing piquet.” He smiled at her and patted her hand. “Should you like to deal first?”

“Certainly. You must not think I am confused because of the champagne. I simply do not understand cards very well, I fear.”

“I look forward to an interesting game!” he said, laughing. “I hope you avoid playing with hardened gamesters? Wait—just twelve cards each.”

“What is your news?” she asked, picking up her hand. “You said I can discard five cards?”

“Yes, or fewer if you wish. One of my men has already tracked down the lawyer Hubble. Are you sure you mean to discard that queen?”

“I think so. It is not a trump, is it? What did he have to say about Hubble?"

“It seems the man is not known for his probity.”

“A knave?”

“No, that is a king. Oh, you mean Hubble. I hesitate to go so far when I have so little information, but I decided not to confront him in case he took fright. You have a quatorze, Miss Darcy."

“I thought four knaves must be good for something. What shall you do next?”

“I shall add up my points, and then we play for tricks. I ordered Ted to search Hubble’s offices for papers related to the Harrisons’ affairs.”

“Is that not hazardous for him?”

“I am not personally acquainted with Ted, but from Baxter’s hints I gather that he is an accomplished burglar.”

Gabrielle frowned as she lost the fourth trick. “I do not think you should expect your hirelings to take risks that you are unwilling to share. Bother, I meant to play my ace.”

“Don’t tell me what you have left in your hand! He is not likely to be caught and he has strict instructions to take nothing.”

“If he is a burglar by trade, he may not be able to resist temptation. You ought to go with him. Besides, he might be unable to recognise anything of importance.”

“He has worked for me before with every success.”

Mr Everett dealt for the second game of the partie.

“All the same, you should go with him,” said Gabrielle obstinately, picking up her cards.

“If you insist, Miss Darcy! There, I have a sequence of eight. Beat that if you can.”

They played in silence for a while, but it was obvious that Gabrielle’s mind was not on the game. She lost dismally, shuffled and dealt with an abstracted look. This time her cards were so good that no amount of inattention could make her lose. She took nine of the twelve tricks, and at the end was only fifty-five points behind her opponent.

“I’m sorry,” she said, as he dealt the last game. “I said you should not make your man take risks you would not take, but you are doing just that for me. Or at least for Madame.”

“Then I do not have to go?” He accidentally discarded a ten, which she picked up.

“Oh yes, but I will go with you.”

“No, you most certainly will not!” Mr Everett lost his composure, his concentration, and trick after trick.

“Yes, I shall. I shall borrow Gerard’s clothes again, as I did to cross France, so you need not fear that anyone will recognise me.”

“I shan’t tell you where it is nor when I am going.”

“I’m sure I can find out for myself, and if you do not give me the time, I shall go on my own. And as I shall not have an expert burglar with me, I daresay I shall be taken up by the watch and sent to Botany Bay!”

“Piqued, repiqued and capotted!” groaned Mr Everett, totting up the points. “I owe you tuppence ha’penny, Miss Darcy. Will you accept my vowel?”

“When do you intend to redeem it, sir?”

“If you insist, ma’am, two days hence at midnight, at Lincoln’s Inn!”

Chapter 11

The night mist crept up the river, under Blackfriars Bridge, and swirled across Thames Street. Sneaking down narrow alleys and passageways, it lost its way in Clare Market and wandered patchily, now hiding now revealing the dark, silent tenements.

It deadened the furtive footsteps of the small man, carrying a dark lantern, who hurried down Bird Lane and peered round the corner of the gin shop. Silently approaching the two figures waiting there, he tapped the larger on the shoulder.

Startled, the man swung around.

“Ted?”

“Right, guv.” Ted put his finger to his lips and winked significantly. “Let’s ‘ave a bit of ‘ush now, though,” he said in a hoarse whisper. “Y’reddy?”

“Ready? Yes. We’ve been waiting near half an hour in this confounded place.”

“Sorry, guv. ‘Ad a bit of a set-to with the missus. Wimmin!” He spat accurately into the fetid gutter running down the centre of the pavement. “’Ad to tell ‘er tonight’s business is fer King and Country. Wotcher bring the lad for, then?”

“She—he insisted on coming,” said Mr Everett drily.

“Shall we go?”

“Ri’chare, guv. T’ain’t far. Foller me.”

He dived into the maze of alleys and lanes. The others hurried to keep up, sure that if they lost sight of him they would never find their way out. An occasional lamplit window or torch guttering before a tavern compensated for the blowing mist, but left sinister corners of a deeper darkness where anything might have lurked. Gabrielle reached for Mr Everett’s hand.

“Sorry you came?” he whispered.

“Not in the least, only I should not like to find myself alone here! I cannot think how he finds his way.”

They emerged from a particularly noisome alley into a small, paved courtyard with a horse trough in the centre. The mist had not penetrated here, and the starlight was bright enough to show an iron railing running across the opposite side of the square. A beam of light from the lantern shone upon their guide, crouching towards one end and fumbling with the lock of a narrow gate. They heard the clink of metal on metal, then a grating noise, and a creak as the gate swung open.

“Quick!” hissed Ted, and closed the lantern.

Once again he seemed to know exactly where he was going as he led them between tall brick buildings, under archways, up and down steps. At last he paused in a street somewhat wider than most, peered around, and darted across to take shelter in a doorway no different from a hundred others.

Mr Everett and Gabrielle joined him. He spilled a little light onto a crooked sign and they read, "Hubble, Blayne and Hubble, Attorneys-at-Law.”

As Ted poked at the door lock, they heard a mournful cry in the distance: “One o’clock and all’s well! One o’clock and all’s well!”

A bobbing light rounded the corner of the street, and they pressed back into the shadows as the watchman trudged towards them.

The door swung open. Ted caught it with a not quite silent oath before it hit the wall. They squeezed past him into the pitch-darkness of a musty corridor, then the faint oblong of the doorway vanished with a click.

“That’s better!” breathed Ted. “’Arf a mo, just let ‘im pass and we'll ‘ave a bit o’ light in 'ere.”

Gabrielle, clinging to Mr Everett’s arm, held her breath as the thud of the watchman’s staff approached.

“One o’clock and all's well! One o’clock and all’s well!”

The sound retreated. Gabrielle stifled a desire to giggle with relief.

“’E'll be gorn a nower at least,” promised Ted, and slid back the panels on the lantern.

The corridor was grimy as well as musty, and the office into which he now let them with practised ease was no better. Gabrielle looked round in dismay at the row of desks with their tall stools, the piles of dusty documents, huge volumes bound in stained black leather, boxes undoubtedly full of yet more papers.

“Wherever shall we begin?” she gasped.

“Werl, you can fergit this lot to start wiv,” advised Ted, waving his arm around the room. “Won’t be nuffing instristing in 'ere, fer all the world to see.”

Mr Everett nodded agreement and opened the door into the inner chamber. Ted pushed past him, set the lantern on the desk and draped a filthy rag over the small window, then turned to survey Mr Hubble’s private office.

“You are the expert,” said Mr Everett. “Give us our instructions.”

“Whyncha tike the desk, guv. Better go through all the drawers. I’ll tackle the strongbox, seein’ as I’m good at locks. And that cupboard might ‘ave summat in it if you was to look, miss.”

With a minatory glance at Mr Everett, whose slip of the tongue had betrayed her disguise, Gabrielle opened the cupboard. A cloud of dust wafted past her, smelling strongly of mildew and making her cough.

“I don’t believe anyone has touched this stuff for years, she snorted. “No, wait, the top and bottom shelves have been undisturbed since the crusades, but this one in the middle is comparatively clean. I’ve never seen so much paper in my life! I can’t see much, though. Is there a lamp?”

Ted abandoned the cast iron strongbox, which seemed to be giving him some trouble, and found and lighted a lamp for her. She flipped unhopefully through pile after pile of close-written documents, peering at titles, headings, names. There was a heap of rolled papers, tied with red cotton, at one end of the shelf. She picked up an armful and dumped them on the desk to take a closer look.

“I’ll try these,” said Mr Everett. “There’s nothing of interest in the drawers.”

Gabrielle went back to her cupboard and moved some more rolls. Behind them was a smaller version of the strongbox with which Ted was still struggling. It was heavy, and she nearly dropped it as she pulled it out.

At that moment, Ted managed to open the lock. They crowded round as he opened the box, to reveal a sheaf of papers of every size and shape, from official-looking documents with seals to scrawled scraps.

Mr Everett took them and looked through them. “Promissory notes,” he grunted.

Ted was far more interested in what was underneath, lie plunged his hands into the box and drew them forth full of gleaming sovereigns. “Cor blimey!” he breathed reverently. “Me dreams ‘ave come true!”

“No!” Mr Everett’s voice was sharp and firm. “Not while I am employing you.”

“Just a couple of ‘andfuls, guvnor!” pleaded Ted. “’E’ll never miss ’em.”

“Not one. You are being well paid for this night’s work, and there will he others if you can restrain yourself now. You know well that in this kind of work it is essential not to arouse suspicions.”

Ted looked downcast and somewhat sullen, but let the coins fall with a ringing noise. “Fer King and Country,” he said, sighing heavily. “And wot ‘as the King done fer me lately, is wot I’d like to know?”

Gabrielle patted his arm consolingly.

“There’s another box in the cupboard,” she told him. “It’s too heavy for me. Will you get it out?”

“Ri’chare, miss.” He lifted it down onto the desk. Its lock presented no problems to his pick, and a moment later they were studying yet more papers.

“Good heavens!” said Gabrielle. “The Duke of . . .”

“Lady Bonner!” exclaimed Mr Everett. “I always wondered why . . .”

“Breach of promise . . .”

“Misappropriation of funds . . .”

“These go back to the South Sea Bubble! Hubble’s father must have . . .”

“I got nuffing but numbers,” complained Ted. “But this one ‘ere’s got 'Arrison wrote on it.”

“Let me see!” Gabrielle and Mr Everett spoke and reached in unison. Having longer arms, Mr Everett won. He sat down at the desk and she leaned against the chair, reading over his shoulder.

“Hubble’s been taking half the difference!” said Gabrielle a few minutes later.

“That’s what it looks like. He found out about Sir Oswald’s thievery three years ago and has been claiming his share ever since. Her ladyship has been receiving less than two thirds of what is due to her, if I understand this aright.” He heard a chink and looked up to see Ted’s hand emerging from his pocket. The burglar’s face, unnaturally innocent, paled before his gaze.

"I'll put ‘em back,” he said hastily. “I don’t want no trouble, guv, honest. Somefing come over me all of a sudden, like.”

"Here, put these papers back in and lock it up again,” said. Mr Everett resignedly. “And this little one, too. We’ve found what we needed. You’ll note that I am not taking it with me, though it would doubtless be useful. The knowledge that it exists will have to serve for the moment.”

“Right, guv.” Ted cheered up. “Now we knows as it’s ‘ere, we can come and get it any time.”

Mr Everett looked at him suspiciously, but decided to ignore the implications. “We must put everything back just as it was,” he said.