Chapter 25
Hadrian knocked on the door of the Redmaynes’ house with purpose. The summons was quickly answered by a butler in his late thirties with prematurely whitening hair and piercing gray eyes. His sharp nose was beak-like, and his long, thin legs also put the notion of a bird into Hadrian’s mind.
“Good morning,” he said evenly. “I’m Ravenhurst, and this is my associate, Miss Wren. It’s urgent we speak with Mr. Redmayne regarding his missing daughter.”
The butler’s eyes widened. “Do come in. Mr. Redmayne will be eager to see you. I’ll show you to the drawing room.
” He led them upstairs to a lavishly decorated room absolutely stuffed with curiosities ranging from far eastern art to a large pair of antlers affixed to the gleaming mahogany paneling over the sculpted stone fireplace.
The butler left them to fetch Mr. Redmayne.
“What an eccentric room,” Tilda murmured. “Do you suppose he collected all these things from his travels?”
“Perhaps. Or he’s doing his best to show he has means.”
“Ah, that makes sense.” Tilda regarded him with a shrewd glint. “You’re looking at things like a true detective now.”
Hadrian chuckled. “It’s hard not to in my present company.
And I wouldn’t have it any other way,” he added.
He glanced about the room, taking in the various items. His gaze froze on a photograph sitting on a table.
The subject was a young man dressed in garments that would have been fashionable more than twenty years earlier.
He quickly went to pick up the photograph. Because he still wore his gloves, he did not feel or see anything, nor did he need to for he recognized the man. “Tilda.”
She came toward him. “What is it?”
Satisfaction rushed through him as he met her gaze. “This is the man from the memory I saw from the smaller cap we found at Lady Priscilla’s. Redmayne is the younger man.”
“More proof of a connection between Redmayne and Spring-heeled Jack. Mobray could not have been the only kidnapper.”
Redmayne strode into the room, and Hadrian set the photograph down. He moved toward the man, whose blond hair was disheveled.
“Have you found Florence?” he asked desperately, the flesh beneath his eyes was dark and puffy.
“No, but we’ve come to ask you some questions that will help us do so,” Tilda replied.
Redmayne waved his hand. “I can’t do that right now. I’m on my way out.”
Tilda’s brows shot up, and Hadrian shared her surprise. “What could be more important than finding your daughter?” she asked.
Hadrian noted the edge of suspicion in her tone.
“How can your questions possibly help find Florence?” Redmayne asked sharply. “I need to go.”
“Why?” Tilda cocked her head. “Do you know something we don’t? We want to ask you about your patent for the Redmayne Gas Governor. Did that earn you any enemies?”
Redmayne’s brows snapped together, and his eyes somehow grew even more wild. “Why would you ask about something that happened over twenty-five years ago? I don’t have enemies. I’m well-liked and respected.” He glanced toward the door in agitation.
Hadrian could see how badly the man wanted to go. But why? Shouldn’t he want to do everything he could to help them find his daughter? Unless…
“You don’t have any enemies?” Tilda persisted.
A stocky man in a somber suit and wearing a highly distressed expression crept over the threshold of the drawing room. He looked nervously toward Redmayne and coughed. “Mr. Redmayne,” he said with just enough volume to be heard.
Redmayne pivoted, and the stocky man came toward him carrying a black case. He wordlessly handed it to Redmayne, then quickly retreated from the room.
Hadrian’s pulse picked up. “What’s in the case?”
“None of your business.”
“I think it’s a ransom,” Tilda said calmly. “Did you receive another note from the other kidnapper?”
Eyes rounding, Redmayne sputtered. “How do you know?”
“Because we’re aware you had an enemy regarding this patent. You’re either not telling us for some reason, or perhaps you simply don’t recall. As you said, it was many years ago. But I’m begging you right now, on your daughter’s life, you must try to remember,” Tilda demanded urgently.
Redmayne swiped his free hand through his hair, indicating how it came to be in its current state. “There was a man…we had a falling out over the patent. He wasn’t my enemy. None of that matters now. I must leave immediately.”
“Show us the note.” Tilda’s voice was cold and determined. “You cannot just walk into whatever the kidnapper has planned for you—for your safety and your daughter’s.”
Hadrian could see she was not going to suffer the man’s attempts at concealment. He would prevent Redmayne from leaving if he had to.
After a long moment in which he was clearly conflicted, Redmayne set the case down. He fished a folded piece of parchment from his coat and held it out to Hadrian, his hand shaking.
Tilda intercepted it, which Hadrian expected. He would have time later to touch it with his bare hand.
“How was this delivered?” she asked.
“It was left on the front step. The same as yesterday’s note.”
Tilda unfolded the paper and held it so Hadrian could read the note along with her.
It was very foolish of you to try to pay me with counterfeit bills! I know the Met was there, as well as those pesky detectives. I warned you to come alone! Never forget, I have your precious daughter or you will spend your days in misery lamenting your choices.
You have one more chance to see her alive again. Bring the ransom to the old railway construction store in the alley across from the railway depot in Nine Elms by noon—and no fakery this time! Come alone or Florence will pay the price for your arrogance.
Spring-heeled Jack
Hadrian glanced at Tilda. “The handwriting is the same as yesterday’s note which matches all the ransom notes.
That seems to indicate Mobray was never the author of the notes.
” He needed to think back to the memories he saw initially.
Perhaps he could recall something that would help them find this kidnapper and thus Miss Redmayne.
Tilda nodded. “You’re right. Though, this and yesterday’s note are very different from the others. As soon as we discovered Mobray was the man behind Spring-heeled Jack, things began to fall apart. Mobray fled and the notes changed.”
“And Mobray died,” Hadrian said.
She pivoted toward Hadrian. “Mobray was an actor. He performed as Spring-heeled Jack. We know his costume was made by Maud Brimley, his devices likely came from Larkin, and he apparently stored his supplies at the Albion. Neither Mrs. Brimley nor Larkin seemed to know anything about the kidnappings or Spring-heeled Jack and were shocked at the connection of their costumes and devices to him, but what if they were involved?”
Facing Redmayne once more, Tilda refolded the note. “You said you had a falling out with someone over the patent. Was that person heavily involved with the invention?”
“Why would you ask?” Redmayne’s neck flushed red. He appeared uncomfortable.
“Whoever wrote this note has your daughter, and they know you well enough to find you arrogant and to realize your daughter is ‘precious’ to you. They also have no problem seeing you suffer for the rest of your life.” Tilda paused briefly, then raised her voice.
“Who did you fall out with over the patent?”
As Redmayne hesitated, Hadrian recalled the emotions he’d sensed from the ransom note that had been left on Lady Priscilla’s pillow.
There had been fury and bitterness. Perhaps that had come from someone who’d lost something valuable, such as patent rights to something that had earned Redmayne a fortune.
Hadrian kept a tight rein on his patience, but only barely. “Answer the question, Redmayne. Your daughter’s life hangs in the balance.”
Redmayne flinched and his face flushed scarlet. “I worked on the gas regulator with a man named Lawrence. He was brilliant and could devise just about anything. But I had the appropriate contacts, and my family had the money we needed to support the work we were doing.”
Hadrian recalled the newspaper article he’d seen in the memory earlier. There’d been no mention of a man named Lawrence. “So, you cut Lawrence out of the patent? I’d say that would make an enemy out of anyone seeing as how you’ve profited.”
Tilda turned her head toward Hadrian. “I know who we’re looking for. Larkin is the only person who makes sense. He made these devices for Spring-heeled Jack. Redmayne just said his former partner could create anything, and Larkin is the right age.” She looked at Redmayne. “Did he have a limp?”
Redmayne shook his head. “Not then. But I suppose he could have one now.”
“Is Nicholas his given name?”
“Yes,” Redmayne answered almost breathlessly.
“What time is it?” Tilda asked Hadrian.
“Half eleven.”
Tilda took a deep breath as she turned her attention to Redmayne.
“Pick up the ransom, Mr. Redmayne. We’re driving you to Nine Elms where we’ll drop you off near the old railway construction store but not directly in front of it in case Larkin is watching.
Do you have a footman we can send to Cremorne Gardens?
” She glanced at Hadrian. “We must notify Teague so he can meet us there.”
“But I was told to come alone!” Redmayne cried.
“You will not,” Tilda said calmly. “Larkin—or Lawrence—has been waiting over a quarter century to exact his revenge. I don’t believe he has any intention of allowing you or your daughter to go free.
In fact, I wager he’s been planning to snare and kill you both whilst stealing a large portion of your fortune. What greater revenge could there be?”
Redmayne paled. “Good God.”
Tilda fixed a stern stare on Redmayne “Listen closely, Mr. Redmayne. You’re going to do exactly as we say. This is our one chance to save your daughter, and I’m not going to let it slip away.”
“We’re going to take this ransom to Larkin,” Tilda said.
Redmayne stared at her. “That’s what I wanted to do.”