ever present. The fate of Pompeii may perhaps await us in the modern age.’
Sir William did not discuss his guests’ mission at all evidently he was now intent on waiting until James Beckford returned and neither Rennie nor James remarked on Mr. Symonds’ absence from the table. Although James had murmured to Rennie the reason for it as they went in, he was not certain Rennie had heard him. At last Sir William, sipping Madeira:
‘I wonder what has become of Mr. Symonds. Could he have been took ill? I do hope not, poor fellow.’ He did not seem overly concerned. ‘I sent one of my servants to knock on his door, but she told me just as we came in that there was no response.’
‘I think that perhaps he may be indisposed, indeed.’ James, politely.
‘Indisposed, James?’ Rennie, with a frown. Then he had not heard, after all.
‘Erm, yes .after a fashion.’
‘After a fashion ? Either the fellow is ill, or he ain’t.’ Rennie’s cheeks were flushed in the candlelight.
‘Very well, I will say it plain. He is dead drunk.’
‘Good God.’ Rennie stared at him.
Sir William merely raised his eyebrows a little, and nodded urbanely. ‘He caught my attention from the first, you know, as a man of uncertain temperament. High strung, I think. Choleric, and high strung. Naturally I will do all I can to assist you in your endeavours, gentlemen, as I have already said but I do not envy you your onerous duty in dealing with Mr. Symonds. He is--’
He broke off as sounds penetrated the dining room, of hooves and wheels on the cobbles, raised voices and the muffled, echoing commotion of arrival.
Sir William’s face lit up. ‘We are fortunate indeed, gentlemen. I believe that is Emma, come home early.’
CHAPTER SIXTY-SEVEN
Lady Hamilton and her mother, pleading exhaustion after a troublesome journey from the hills a horse had gone lame, and there had been a long delay went straight up to their private apartment, so that now Rennie and James would have no opportunity to meet the ambassador’s wife before next day at the earliest.
Rennie was not unduly disappointed, but James had been looking forward to meeting Emma Lady Hamilton. He had heard many things about her, most of them disreputable and some of them scandalous, and he was keenly interested to make up his own mind about her. There was a rumour that after the death of his first wife Sir William had bought Emma from his impecunious nephew Charles Greville, who was tired of her as his mistress and wished to find himself a rich wife. Another rumour was that Emma’s mother, Mrs. Cadogan, would only allow her daughter to go to Naples if she came with her as chaperone, and a certain amount was settled on them both, in advance.
It was true that Sir William was a great deal older than his second wife, and that he had not married her until several years after her arrival at Naples. James knew nothing more for certain, except that she was very comely. He dismissed all thought of Lady Hamilton from his mind when Sir William brought Mr. James Beckford into the dining room and introduced him.
Beckford was the key to the success of their mission. Both James and Rennie were sure of it.
They were surprised by the appearance of the man who now joined them. He was small, plain featured and physically unimpressive. However when he spoke his voice was measured, his eyes alert, and his manner attentive.
At once he asked: ‘Is Mr. Havelock Symonds with you, gentlemen?’
‘He is lying upstairs, Beckford.’ Sir William. ‘Evidently he has drunk too deep to join us this evening.’
‘Mr. Symonds is drunk ?’ Beckford.
‘Many gentlemen are drunk from time to time.’ Sir William gave a tolerant little shrug. ‘No doubt he will be sober tomorrow.’
‘Did he receive my letter?’ Beckford asked now, addressing his question to James and Rennie.
‘Letter ?’ Rennie glanced at James, who indicated ignorance.
‘Yes, I wrote to him as soon as his own urgent letter reached me. It came by the
packet boat.’
Beckford saw that neither Rennie nor James knew what he was talking about.
‘He had alerted me that he was coming to Naples at the earliest opportunity, after an unavoidable delay. I was obliged to write in reply that Marion Milson had left Naples.’
‘Milson has left?’ Rennie, aghast. ‘Where the devil has he gone to?’
‘I do not know.’ Beckford, shaking his head. He turned to Sir William. ‘I beg your pardon for not having informed you of my role in this, Sir William, but I--’
‘No, no, Beckford.’ Sir William, a nod. ‘It has all been made clear. If you will excuse me I will leave you gentlemen to discuss your difficulty. If I can be of further assistance I shall be in the drawing room, drinking my coffee.’
He left them, and James turned again to Beckford. ‘When did Milson vanish?’
‘Some three weeks since. I think that he may have had word that French agents meant to kidnap him. Naples is alive with rumour. As I understand it, Milson felt he could no longer trust anyone in the city.’
‘You have no inkling as to where he may have gone?’
‘I have made inquiry among my acquaintance across the city that is very extensive but I have had no intelligence as to his whereabouts.’ A breath. ‘He is not English, and so has no allegiance to England. I fear we may have lost him altogether.’
‘What is his native land? Where was he born?’
‘In Sweden, I believe. He is part Swedish, and part Russian. I think he may have been apprenticed to the Swedish naval designer Chapman.’
‘Chapman? At Karlskrona dockyard? Yes, I have heard of him.’ Rennie. ‘Could Milson have fled there, d’y’think? To Sweden?’
‘Nay, I don’t think so. I think that he may have left Sweden under a cloud. And Marion Milson is almost certainly not his real name.’
‘Damnation .’ Rennie, rubbing the back of his neck.
James frowned, then: ‘Which part of Milson’s invention did he give you to send on to England? To whet the appetite of the Fund? A printed page, a drawing?’
‘It was a diagram, and some notations which I did not understand. It may as well have been an anatomical illustration, in one of those medical books surgeons keep. I sent it to London, and received instruction to proceed.’
‘How did Milson come to approach you, in the first instance?’
‘Through a third party, a mutual acquaintance in the city.’
‘In course, you have met Milson subsequent, I suppose?’
‘Nay, I have not. I have dealt with him only through the third party.’
‘And that is a person you trust, entire?’
‘With my life, Sir James. I have known him many years.’
Sir William now appeared at the door of the dining room, his expression concerned.
‘Have you gentlemen seen Mr. Symonds?’
‘Nay, we have not.’ Rennie.
‘Ain’t he in his bedchamber?’ James.
‘My servants tell me that he is not in his bedchamber. The window has been left wide open, and the door. Either he has left the house of his own accord, which don’t appear likely given his condition or he has been took.’
CHAPTER SIXTY-EIGHT
‘Are you sure he was too drunk to walk, James?’ Rennie.
‘Quite certain. He fell and hurt himself, and I helped him on to his bed he was drunk and incapable.’
‘Then he was took. But how? How did his abductors gain access to the house, without being seen, and carry him out again without being seen?’
‘You said that your servants found his window open, Sir William?’
‘Yes.’ A nod.
‘And that window opens at a corner of the house, does it not?’
‘Yes.’
‘Then that is how they came in, and took him out. By a ladder, at the window.’
‘Yes yes, I see that is likely how they did it. But who? Who has took him, d’y’think?’
‘The same people that wished to abduct
Milson.’ Beckford. ‘Agents of the French.’
‘Unless .’ James held up a hand, and glanced at Rennie. ‘Unless you are right, and he was not drunk, after all.’
‘Eh? You just said that--’
‘Perhaps he pretended that he was, because he intended to leave the house of his own accord after our violent disagreement earlier today. Perhaps he felt that the only way he could find Milson and bring him to the ship was to proceed alone.’
‘Nay, but that is flat implausible, James. If you thought he was drunk, then in all likelihood he was drunk.’ A sniff. ‘In any case, how could he proceed alone? He knows nobody in Naples, he don’t know the city, and he had no notion where Milson was hid.’
‘Nor could he find and employ a ladder unaided,’ Sir William pointed out.
James shook his head, and: ‘What if there never was a ladder, nor abductors, neither? What if he simply crept downstairs and out of the house without being seen?’
‘It don’t make logic, James.’ Rennie, shaking his head in turn.
‘Perhaps it does not.’ Sir William. ‘In any case, it leaves us with a dilemma. What must we do to get him back safe?’
James was silent a moment, then half to himself: ‘Is it possible that Milson has in some way communicated with Symonds, since our arrival? And that Symonds has gone to meet him because he did not trust us, and wished to achieve his design entirely alone?’
‘How could Milson have done it, Sir James?’ Beckford, a dubious frown. ‘My intelligence is that he has fled the city. How could he know of Mr. Symonds’ arrival?’
‘In the same way you discovered Milson had gone. Intelligence received. A British ship of war has anchored in the bay. Men have landed and come to Palazzo Sessa. In course this information has spread across the city very rapid, because such news always does. Milson has only ever communicated with you through a third party, yes?’
‘Indeed, yes.’
‘A man with intimate knowledge of the city, and everything of moment that goes on here, day and night?’
‘Yes.’
‘We must meet this man.’
‘I don’t know that he will--’
‘You must persuade him.’ James, over him. ‘The time for caution and protracted dealings is over. If we are to stand any chance of finding Milson, and accomplish-ing our mission we must meet this fellow of yours without the loss of a single further moment.’
‘D’y’mean as early as tomorrow?’
‘I mean as early as tonight, Mr. Beckford!’
Beckford demurred. He was most reluctant to venture into that part of Naples where the third party resided.
‘I never go there where he lives most particularly not at night. It is a very perilous district. I always meet him at a cantina, or some other such place, elsewhere in the city.’
‘How are such meetings arranged?’ demanded James.
‘I leave a note for him at the door of a church, and he leaves a written reply, naming the time and place.’
‘That will not answer now. Do you know where he lives the house itself?’
‘I do, however--’
‘We will go there together. And we will go armed.’
‘Armed ?’
‘Captain Rennie and I are well used to defending ourselves. We will defend you, Mr. Beckford, should the occasion arise.’
‘I think you have no notion what we may meet in those streets, Sir James. Very dangerous men, that will see us as their natural prey.’
‘Then they must be taught the contrary, Mr. Beckford. Any man that attacks us, nor you, will be put to the sword, or pistoled, or both.’
Sir William now cleared his throat, and: ‘Sir James, I must agree with everything that Beckford has told you. I think this venture altogether unwise. Naples at night several districts of the city simply ain’t safe.’
‘Neither are the seas and oceans safe, Sir William certainly not in time of war. Yet here we are, Captain Rennie and I, living proof that danger is best confronted and overcome when that is called for. It is called for now, sir.’ He consulted his pocket watch.
‘Mr. Beckford.’
‘Sir James?’
‘We will set off in twenty minutes exact, if you please.’
CHAPTER SIXTY-NINE
‘Now you will have your chance to discover the city, William.’ James, with a grim little smile. ‘Your opportunity to plunge deep into its delights.’
They had assembled at the side of the house, in the shadows James, Rennie and Beckford. Rennie and James were wearing their swords, and carrying their pistols concealed under their coats. Sir William, reluctant to condone the expedition, had pressed Beckford at the door to take his pair of pocket pistols.
‘I have never used them, and likely never shall. Do take them, Beckford, I beg of you they may save your life.’
Beckford had declined. ‘I am not a man of action, sir, as you will understand. I would not know how to employ them, if I carried them on my person.’
‘Point them at your enemy, and pull the trigger.’ James.
‘It is a simple thing for you, Sir James, that have had experience of such matters.’ Beckford, stung. ‘My work is all letters, papers and monies, sir, and the husband-ing of resources. I am a man of business.’
‘And a man of the Fund ain’t you?’ Bluntly.
‘I receive intelligence, sir. And pass it on. That is all.’ Further stung.
‘Sir James will have his little jest, Mr. Beckford.’ Rennie, as they left the house.
‘There is no need for you to go armed. You will be quite safe with us.’
Beckford held them briefly in shadow at the corner of the house there was no ladder there then led them away from the residence, at first up a steady slope away from the heart of the city, through narrow foul smelling streets and tall houses, then down and away to the left, again through narrow streets, to a small square with an elaborate fountain and a church.
‘This is where I leave the notes, and receive his replies,’ he whispered as they passed the church in the subdued light of a street lamp. James glimpsed a carved and studded door deep in a shadowed stone arch.
At length they came to a district of low houses, near the waterfront. The smell of the narrow streets was here even more unpleasant, and they saw indistinct figures moving at the end of the one street and into the next. Rennie put his hand on the hilt of his sword.
‘We must be vigilant,’ Beckford whispered.
‘What manner of man is he, this fellow of yours?’ asked James. ‘Why does he live in a low district like this?’
‘He was a man of business, like myself.’ Whispering. ‘His master suffered a severe setback in a trading venture, and could no longer afford to employ him, and thus he was reduced to poverty. He makes his living buying and selling what he can.’
‘Including intelligence, hey?’
‘He buys and sells what he can,’ Beckford repeated. ‘I know him to be an entirely honourable man.’
James saw that he had angered Beckford, and that this was foolish.
‘I beg your pardon, Mr. Beckford. I did not mean--’
‘Shh! There is the house.’ Pointing down the narrow street. ‘We must approach with great care.’
‘Before we do ’ Keeping his voice low.
‘Yes?’
‘Thank you for bringing us here. You are a brave man.’
‘Hm, well, thankee .but I would rather be a living faintheart than a dead paladin.’
The house was a low, dingy dwelling at the corner of an alleyway. No light was visible at the windows.
‘Perhaps he ain’t at home,’ Rennie whispered.
‘He is always here at night.’ Beckford. ‘He barricades his door, and keeps the windows shuttered.’
They moved down the street, avoiding the foul gutter at the centre, and crossed over to the house at the corner.
‘He will not answer a plain knock, I think,’ whispered Beckford. ‘I will try tapping three times at the door, th
en three times again then pass this note beneath the door.’ He drew a folded note from his pocket.
James and Rennie held back at the mouth of the alley while Beckford crept forward to the low door, tapped three times with a ringed finger, waited a moment, then tapped three times more. Then he bent down to push the folded note quickly under the door.
As he did so the door creaked and edged inward on its hinges. Beckford straightened in surprise, the note still in his hand. The door swung slowly all the way open. Stale enclosed air wafted out.
Beckford turned and beckoned, and in the near darkness James and Rennie moved to join him. He had brought with him a small dark lantern. He opened the slide and held the lantern up. The candle lit the interior of the house with a faint glow. A slightly uneven stone floor. A table, a chair, and a dresser against the wall. And beyond a step lower the small kitchen, with a bench and a black stove, and onions hanging from the ceiling on twine. Slumped on the floor by the stove lay the body of a man, face down.
Beckford sucked in a sharp breath. He lifted the lantern higher. They all moved forward. The slumped body was more clearly revealed. Dark clothing. One arm caught underneath, the other stretched out. The balding head horribly broken and bloody, and a dark pool congealing on the stone.
‘Ohh Christ Jesu ’ Beckford.
James stepped into the kitchen, crouched by the body and put his hand to the neck. A nod, and he stood up.
‘Quite dead but not quite cold. This has been done not long since. Mr. Beckford?’
‘Yes ?’
‘Will you come here and tell me if this is the man? The man you have been dealing with?’
‘I I am sure it is. This is his house.’
‘We must be certain.’ Beckoning him. ‘If you please. I will hold the light.’
Reluctantly Beckford went forward and gave the lantern to James, who held it closer to the body as Beckford bent down to peer.
‘I I cannot see his face. I am sure it--’
James put his foot under the body and firmly tipped it over. A sigh of trapped breath as the body flopped on its back, and the face lolled into the light.
The Following Wind Page 26