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Mr Cranbrook shuddered.
‘Well, he ain’t snatched her body,’ pointed out Mr Waggleswick.
John looked at him. ‘She must not know of this! It is ghastly!’
Waggleswick scratched his chin again. ‘I dunno as she need. She won’t be wanted as a witness – like you will, sir!’
‘Yes, of course: I know that! I am very willing. Has that monster disposed of many travellers in this frightful way?’
‘There’s no saying,’ replied Waggleswick. ‘Not above two or three since we got wind of it in Bow Street.’
‘And before? It is horrible to think of!’
‘Ah!’ agreed Jem. ‘Dear knows ’ow many went into that there copper afore us Runners come down ’ere!’
On this macabre thought, Mr Cranbrook retired again to his interrupted repose, if not to enjoy much slumber, at least to employ his time profitably in thinking out what plausible tale he would concoct for Miss Gateshead’s benefit in the morning.
4
They met in the coffee-room, still shuttered and unaired. Miss Gateshead was unbarring the shutters when John came into the room, and her comments on the lack of orderly management in the inn were pungent and to the point.
‘I tugged and tugged at the bell, and who do you think brought me a can of hot water at last?’ she said. ‘The tapster!’
‘It is too bad! But the thing is that they were cast into a pucker by the landlady’s being taken ill in the night,’ explained John glibly. ‘Should you mind putting on your bonnet, and stepping out with me to partake of breakfast at one of the other inns?’
‘Not at all!’ replied Miss Gateshead promptly. ‘I am very sorry for the landlady, but she almost deserves to be taken ill for keeping her house in such a shocking state! I will fetch my bonnet and pelisse directly.’ She paused, coloured slightly, and said in a shamefaced voice: ‘I am afraid you must have thought me very foolish last night! Indeed, I cannot imagine what can have possessed me to be so nonsensical! I never slept better in my life! Is it not odd what absurd fancies one can take into one’s head when one is a little tired?’
‘Most odd!’ agreed Mr Cranbrook, barely repressing a shiver.
The Duel
1
It amused him, entering his house so unexpectedly early in the evening, to know that he had disconcerted Criddon, his porter. He suspected Criddon of having slipped out to dally with a serving-maid at the top of some area steps. The rogue was out of breath, as though, having perceived his master sauntering up the flag-way in the light of the oil street lamps, he had scurried back into the house more swiftly than befitted a man of his bulk. As he took the silk-lined cloak, the curly-brimmer beaver, and the tall cane, he wore a faint air of injury. No doubt he felt ill-used because his master, leaving the ball hours before his carriage had been ordered to call for him, had chosen to walk home, instead of looking in at Watier’s, according to his more usual custom.
He told Criddon he might go to bed, and strolled to the side table, where a letter, delivered during the evening, awaited him. As he broke the wafer and spread open the sheet, his butler came up from the nether regions, but he waved him away, as irritated by his presence as he would have been angered by his absence. He threw the letter aside and opened the door into the dining-room. The room was in darkness, a circumstance which almost caused him to summon back the butler. It was his pleasure that lights should burn in every room which he might conceivably wish to enter in his great house, and well did his servants know it. But he did not call to Radstock, for his nostrils had caught the acrid smell of candles newly blown out, and he was indefinably aware that he was not alone in the room. Some of the boredom left his face: a turn-up with a housebreaker might relieve the monotony of his existence, and would certainly surprise the housebreaker, who would no doubt consider a seeming dandy in satin knee-breeches and a long-tailed coat easy game. He stepped back into the hall, and picked up the heavy chandelier from the side table there. Carrying this into the dining-room, he stood for a moment on the threshold, looking keenly round. The flames of half a dozen candles flickered, and showed him only the furniture, and the wavering shadows it threw. He glanced towards the windows and it seemed to him that one of the brocade curtains bulged slightly. He set the chandelier down, trod silently to the window, and flung the curtains back.
As he did so, he sprang out of range, and brought his hands up in two purposeful fists. They dropped to his sides. No housebreaker met his astonished gaze, but a girl, shrinking back against the window, the hood of her cloak fallen away from a tangle of silken curls, her frightened face, in which two dark eyes dilated, upturned to his.
For a moment he wondered if Criddon had hidden his doxy in the dining-room; then his critical glance informed him that the girl’s cloak was of velvet, and her gown of sprigged muslin the demure but expensive raiment of the débutante. His astonishment grew. He was so eligible a bachelor that he was accustomed to being pursued, and could recognize and evade every snare set in his path. But this seemed to go beyond all bounds. Anger came into his eyes; he thought he must have been mistaken in his assessment of the girl’s quality, and that a fair Cyprian had invaded his house.
Then she spoke, and her words confirmed him in his first impression. ‘Oh, I beg your pardon! P-pray forgive me, sir!’ she said, in a pretty, conscience-stricken voice.
Anger gave way to amusement. ‘What, ma’am, may I ask, are you doing in my house?’ he demanded.
She hung her head. ‘Indeed, you must think it most odd in me!’
‘I do.’
‘The door was open, so – so I ran in,’ she explained. ‘You see, there – there was a man following me!’
‘If you must walk through the streets of London at this hour, I should hope your footman was following you!’
‘Oh no! No one knows I am not in my bed! My mission is most secret! And I never meant to walk, but the hackney carried me to the wrong house – at least, I fear I gave the coachman the wrong direction, and he had driven away before I was made aware of my mistake. The servant told me that it was only a step, so I thought I might walk, only there was an odious man – ! I ran as fast as I could into this street, and – and your door stood open. Indeed, I meant only to hide in the hall until that creature was gone, but then your porter came in, and I was obliged to run into this room, because how could I explain? When I told that other servant where I wished to go, he – he –’ She broke off, lifting her hand to a burning cheek. ‘And then you came in, so I slipped behind the curtain.’
It occurred to him, while she offered this explanation of her presence in his house, that although she was agitated she was not at all shy, and seemed not to be much afraid of him. He said: ‘You intrigue me greatly. Where, in fact, do you wish to go?’
‘I wish – I have a particular desire – to go to Lord Rotherfield’s house,’ she replied.
