Chapter Twenty
By two o’clock the excitement had died down and the house on Snow Hill was quiet again.
The men from Bow Street had departed; Lord Kadenworthy and Peregrine Cranford had taken Katrina and a fast-asleep Lady Naomi back to Falcon House, with Horatio Glendenning and Falcon riding escort.
Sir Mark Rossiter and Gwendolyn had long since retired, and all the windows were dark save for one.
In the book room a branch of candles still flickered to the intrusive fingers of the wind, and smoke from the small fire occasionally puffed into the room.
Comfortably settled on the sofa to the right of the fireplace, James Morris stirred, yawned, and blinked sleepily. Opposite him, sprawled low in his chair, chin propped on bandaged hands, long legs stretched toward the hearth, Gideon gazed blindly into the flames.
Morris peered at the clock on the mantel. Stifling another yawn, he muttered, “Must you make a decision tonight, dear boy? Appears to me you’d do better to get a bit of rest. D’you hear someone—?” He glanced to the hall. “Oh, it’s you, Falcon. Come back, did you?”
“No,” said Falcon pithily. “You behold my shade, Morris.” He waved a reassuring hand at Gideon, who had started up anxiously “Be à l’aise. She is perfectly safe, and fast asleep in bed at my father’s house. Am I to be offered a glass of brandy?”
Morris shrugged. “Ross is all fingers and thumbs, and I ain’t inclined to wait on you. Serve yourself, Lord Haughty-Snort. You can see the decanter.”
Falcon considered him grimly, but containing his instincts, went over to the credenza. Returning, glass in hand, he said casually, “I dropped in at Collington’s.”
Both men sprang to their feet.
“The devil you did!” exclaimed Gideon.
“I wonder he did not put a hole in you,” said Morris.
“Likely he would have done, had he been at home.” Sitting on the edge of the reference table, one foot swinging, Falcon said ironically, “The butler informed me that his lordship had been called back to Italy on a matter of great urgency. Can you believe that the heartless villain did not even wait to learn whether his daughter had been rescued?” He sipped his brandy and snorted. “Faugh!”
Morris was shocked. “It’s jolly good cognac, and it ain’t polite to criticize—”
Falcon groaned. “I was referring to his lordship, my blithering dolt.”
“He need not have fled the country had I perished,” Gideon pointed out. “He must know I survived, and likely knows Naomi did also.”
“No thanks to him, the merciless hound,” growled Morris.
Gideon sat down again. “’Tis very good of you, Falcon, to come all the way back here to tell me. You—er, did not mention Collington’s part in it to the others?”
“I said nothing, as you desired.”
“Well, if you ask me,” said Morris, “the bastard should have been reported to the authorities at once! Why on earth—”
“That is your considered opinion, is it?” sneered Falcon. “And with what does Rossiter charge our noble peer?”
“You know blasted well! Kidnapping for a start, and—”
“Kidnapping his own child?”
“Oh, do try to use your famous nous! Lady Naomi is of age. She was imprisoned ’gainst her will and damn near slain! And Collington tried to force Ross to hand over the jewelled men as ransom.”
“Did he really? Pray where is your evidence? Who witnessed Rossiter’s confrontation with the earl in that damnable mill?
No one. Who even saw Collington in the vicinity?
Only those rogues we apprehended, and they are obviously too terrified to speak.
One gathers transportation is less to be feared than the wrath of their legendary Squire.
Where are these allegedly so valuable jewelled figures? No one knows.”
“The ransom note!” exclaimed Morris triumphantly. “You can give ’em that, Ross!”
“I might, had I not stupidly allowed the earl to take it back when we were at his house.”
“Very stupidly,” murmured Falcon.
Irritated, Morris snapped, “At such a moment, only an insensate block of ice—”
“Or a Mandarin?” put in Falcon sweetly.
“Or a Mandarin—would be capable of rational thought!”
“And being such a notable judge of rational thought, Lieutenant, do pray favour us with your next edifying suggestion.”
“Well, I will! You read that blasted letter, and I saw the jewelled men. We could testify under oath that—”
“Rubbish,” exclaimed Falcon impatiently.
“Even did they not judge you a silly fribble—and I ain’t saying they wouldn’t!
—you served with Rossiter in the Low Countries and are known to be his good friend, and thus prejudiced.
I am scarcely acknowledged to exist at all, and was I graciously permitted to speak, my testimony would be disregarded.
And at the moment, Rossiter is even worse ton than I am.
Without some tangible evidence the authorities would either laugh at us, or clap us up in the Gatehouse on a charge of slander and malicious mischief ’gainst a peer of the realm. ”
Persisting stubbornly, Morris argued, “We all know Naomi was kidnapped. She herself will—”
“She does not know her father is involved,” interposed Rossiter quietly.
“And you don’t mean to tell her, do you?” said Falcon.
“I hope she will never learn of his part in it.” Rossiter looked at him steadily. “She has been hurt enough.”
Falcon smiled his mocking smile. “What you mean is, you’re afraid of losing her. She’d never wed you an she knew her father was instrumental in the ruin of yours.”
“Blister it!” exclaimed Morris. “I hadn’t thought of that.”
“Never mind,” said Falcon. “We are aware of your limitations.”
Ignoring this barbed condescension, Morris asked, “Do you really mean to let him go unpunished, Ross? It don’t seem right. The truth should be told.”
“The truth!” Falcon gave a derisive snort. “I doubt we’ve come near to it.”
Morris said, “Near enough to know that Collington held some peculiar grudge against Sir Mark and tried to ruin him. And that Derrydene was a party to it.”
“Well, well. Our sage can think! If only for a short distance. Mayhap you can take us the rest of the way, Rossiter.”
Gideon stood and went over to pick up the decanter. “In confidence, a little way, perhaps.”
“Make an earnest effort to follow this, dear dolt,” said Falcon.
“I’d like to follow him,” said Morris, sotto voce, as Rossiter crossed the room to rather clumsily refill his glass. “Closely. With a lance in my hand!” Falcon glanced over at him suspiciously, and he added, “Tell us first, Ross. Which of them is this all-powerful Squire? Derrydene, or Collington?”
“I think neither. Those louts at the mill knew Collington, and one of them told Naomi no one has ever seen the Squire. Also, Camber, Naomi’s groom, was with the ruffians who searched Promontory Point and beat Tummet; and we know that Camber called at Derrydene’s house.
For which piece of bungling Collington appeared to think Derrydene would be punished; presumably by the Squire. ”
Morris groaned. “You mean there are more of the swine lurking about?”
“Two or three at the least,” put in Falcon. “You agree, Rossiter?”
Gideon nodded. “When Naomi overheard the pair who plotted in the Dowling ante room, they spoke of everyone being different. She thought they referred to the differences in people. To my mind, they spoke of the icons, and meant not everyone, but that every one of those objects is different.”
“Aye. And if you recollect,” Falcon put in, “they also said they couldn’t have a meeting because ‘six’ was lost. So the figures are very likely numbered.”
“Very likely,” agreed Gideon. “And each member of their little club, or whatever it is, has a number of his own and an icon for—identification, mayhap.”
“Stap me!” exclaimed Morris. “Six of the villains? All that planning and organization to ruin your father?”
“As a first step,” said Gideon thoughtfully.
Falcon and Morris exchanged startled glances. Falcon echoed, “First step? You think they plan more mischief?”
“I think ’twas indeed a conspiracy ’gainst my father.
But when Collington had me trapped in the mill and thought I was as good as dead and could not repeat what I knew, he told me there was more to it.
Besides, if you remember, the soiree plotters said that all their lives were at stake.
” Gideon put down the decanter, and stood staring at it.
“I know of only two crimes by which the life of a nobleman could be placed at risk.”
Morris said in awe, “Murder. Or—treason! Oh egad!”
Leaning forward, Falcon asked intently, “Do you say you suspect a plot ’gainst England?”
“What sort of plot?” demanded Morris. “How is it connected with all this rascality?”
Gideon hesitated. “Would that I knew.”
“But you do suspect,” said Falcon shrewdly. “Zounds! That would be a merry frolic! I wish I may see you try to convince the Horse Guards!”
After a brief pause, Morris said solemnly, “You’ll surely lose her if you do, Ross.”
“And fail his country if he don’t,” Falcon snapped, scowling at him.
“You cannot know that,” argued Morris.
Listening intently, Gideon said, “I think we’ve another caller.”
“The Earl of Collington, no doubt,” said Falcon. “Come to throw himself on your mercy.”
A yawning lackey, looking astonished and clutching a dressing gown about him, threw the door wide.
Two tattered, muddy, and shoeless scarecrows staggered into the room.
“Well, well,” drawled Falcon, surveying them through his glass. “A masquerade! How jolly.”
“Good God!” exclaimed Morris.
“Newby!” said Gideon.
* * *