by Joan Smith
Chapter Twenty
After receiving Richard's note, I was much inclined to delay my departure and go to London with him. By means of diligent dallying, I was still not ready to leave when Ketchen's rig pulled in next door thirty minutes later. Hennie sat with me in the saloon.
"There is Ketchen!” I exclaimed. “I wonder if he has any word on my silver. I believe I shall ask him.” I jumped up instantly to run next door.
Ruthven had put Ketchen in a little parlor to wait. Rather than shunt me aside to this inferior room, he brought Ketchen to the saloon, saying that Mr. Dalton would be down shortly. I asked Ketchen if there was any news of my stolen belongings.
"I fear you cannot hope to hear of them for weeks, Miss Denver,” he explained. “We'll not get a line on them until they show up at Stop Hole Abbey, or some secondhand dealer's shop. I have added your silver and picture to our list of stolen goods that we take around to the dealers. You might take a look at the description and see if it is accurate."
He handed me a distressingly long list of purloined goods. There at the bottom was a vague description of my silver and picture. “Place setting for twenty-four, sterling silver, rounded end with embossed design.” It would describe half the silver in the country. I knew then that my silver was gone for good. I ran my eye up the list of other stolen goods. Lady Castlereagh's name caught my eye. Right beneath it was a Mrs. Calhoun—of no interest herself, but she had been relieved of a “star sapphire ring, cabochon cut, edged in diamonds.” I emitted a gasp of astonishment.
"What is it, Miss Denver?” Ketchen asked.
A dozen thoughts battled in my mind. There could not be two such oddities in England. I knew where that ring was; what kept my tongue between my teeth was uncertainty as to where Linda had got it. From Harelson, she had said, but she swore Hennie to silence, which suggested some double dealing. Her strange flight to London still bothered me. The awful notion arose that she was a part of Tom's ring herself. She often complained of a lack of money. But she was not clever enough to organize the thefts herself. Was she in league with Harelson?
Or had Harelson learned of her crimes, and was trying to sever any connection with her? It was not a long leap from Linda to the idea that her brother was involved. Why else had Richard blandly accepted her dart to London alone on the stage?
"What is it?” Ketchen repeated.
"Imagine the gall, robbing the foreign secretary's house,” I said weakly. “I see the Castlereaghs were victims."
"Tom would rob the king himself without blinking."
I made a show of reading the list, to hide my confusion. I should tell Ketchen about that ring, but something held me back. Misplaced loyalty, perhaps. I had suspected Richard of duplicity regarding Lady Dormere's ring, too, but he had been telling the truth. I looked for the name Lady Dormere. After a careful scanning, I knew it was not on the list.
"Is this all of Tom's victims?” I asked.
"All that we know of,” he assured me.
"I see.” I rose on trembling legs. “I am in a hurry, Mr. Ketchen. I just wanted a word with you about my own lost items. I shan't wait to see Mr. Dalton. Good day."
I left and scuttled back home to think. I went into the garden; I sat on a bench, hidden by a wall of yews. It did not take me long to figure out that Richard had been making a game of me from day one. His object was to get my jewelry, and anything else that was not nailed down. He had either sneaked to London himself, or sent his minions to remove my Rembrandt. He was the only one who knew it to be a Rembrandt. I, like a fool, had played directly into his hands.
What bothered me much more was my jewelry, even now in his vault, unless he had already moved it. I must recover it at once, and what better time than while a Bow Street officer was in the house? I hated to do it, but I took myself by the scruff of the neck and headed back toward Dalton's. Ketchen was just coming out the door. I gave a shout and caught his eye. I led him into the garden, to avoid Hennie.
"Mr. Ketchen, you intimated last night that Mr. Dalton might be Tom, the burglar, if I am not mistaken?"
His ferretlike face grew sharper. “That I did. Right queer he is acting this morning, too. Sending for me, and when I call on him, he does not see me, but only asks for my list—that same list I showed you, Miss Denver. Very odd behavior."
"This may take a while. You had best remove your gig from in front of his house. I'll ask my gardener to run it around to the back. There is a road that leads behind the house."
I did this, then we resumed our conversation. I told him about the sapphire ring, and about Lady Filmore's sudden dart to London, and confessed that my jewelry was in Dalton's house. “What excuse did Lady Filmore give for going?” he asked.
"Her aunt, Lady Grieve, was ill. Dalton backed her up."
"They lied to you; Lady Grieve went to her estate in Hampshire a week ago. She always notifies Bow Street to keep an eye on her house when she leaves town."
"Then where did Lady Filmore go?"
"She was not on this morning's coach, for I was passing by as it was loading. I would have noticed her. That pair are up to something. I am very happy you notified me, Miss Denver.” He rose in some excitement.
"Are you going to get my jewelry?” I asked hopefully.
"You will get it back when Tom Cat is captured. He will be meeting up with his sister for some sly tricks. I shall have my rig ready to follow when he leaves."
"You'll never be able to keep up with him in your gig. Take my carriage,” I offered. “It is not as fast as Dalton's, but I doubt he will attract attention to himself by driving sixteen miles an hour."
"That is what I call cooperation!” He beamed.
"There is one condition, however. I insist on going with you.” I wanted to be there when Dalton was led away in manacles. That would teach him to call me his darling, and lie to me, and steal my goods.
"Now, there I fear I cannot oblige you, ma'am."
"Then you had best send off to the hiring stable, for I shall follow Dalton when he leaves."
"It could be dangerous."
"I hope you have your gun. Dalton carries one in his side pocket."
I rose and strode away. I found Luke weeding the garden, and sent him for my carriage, then I went into the house to tell Hennie of the change of plans. Ketchen followed me, trying to convince me to give him my carriage for his sole use.
Hennie could not resist a little jibe. “Why, you never mean it was your beau all along who is the thief, and here you thought it was mine?"
"I do not rule out the possibility that Brockley is in on the plot,” I told her, though I did not believe it.
"Do you want me to go with you?” she asked.
"Not two ladies, I beg of you,” Ketchen said.
I took this for capitulation that he would tolerate one, and told Hennie she need not put herself to the bother.
Ketchen went to get his pistol from his gig while I put on my bonnet and pelisse. We waited by the window to see when Dalton left. It was not two minutes before he came darting out of the house as if the hounds of hell were after him. He drove his traveling carriage, harnessed up with a team of four. John Groom had managed to get it home safely, with no harm to the horses. I recalled Richard saying he drove his coach and four last night to convince anyone watching that we were driving to London. He was pulling the same stunt today.
We let him get a little distance down the road before following after him. He drove east, not north toward London. I recalled that Naismith had mentioned Eastbourne, and mentioned it to Ketchen. “Could that be their headquarters?"
"It could very well be. We have been thinking, at Bow Street, that Tom has some out-of-the-way place he hides his loot until it is safe to sell it. Dalton used his connection with Townshend to ferret out news. He would not sell any item that was on our list, for fear of being caught."
"How does it come that Lady Dormere's emerald ring, which she says was stolen by Tom, was not on the list?"
"
If it was not on the list, then it was either not stolen, or she did not report it. The latter seems unlikely."
"Yes, it does.” I wondered how Dalton had got hold of her stationery to write me that note. Every word Ketchen uttered confirmed my suspicion that Dalton was the thief.
We had no difficulty following his carriage for the first few miles. There was just enough traffic that we could keep a few rigs between us, in case Richard was peering over his shoulder. On the far side of Rottingdean we hit a patch of road with no rigs, and he whipped his team up to a speed we could not match. His carriage began pulling farther and farther ahead, and finally disappeared around a bend in the road.
I feared we had lost him, for there was any number of side roads he could have taken. We assumed he was headed for Eastbourne, and bore on in that direction, eventually spotting him ahead of us again.
"I would give a goose to know what set him off,” Ketchen said, peering narrow-eyed through my carriage window.
"Perhaps Lady Filmore told him Mrs. Henderson saw the sapphire ring. He might suspect I had seen your list of stolen items when you remained behind last night."
"I daresay that is it. It don't account for Lady Filmore's sudden flight, though, does it?"
"No, it doesn't."
"Perhaps the young lady is innocent,” Ketchen suggested. “I mean to say, she let Mrs. Henderson see the ring."
"Yes, but accidentally. And that still does not explain her flight."
We continued toward Eastbourne. On a less nervous day, it would have been a pleasant drive. The ocean gleamed beside us, sparkling like a giant sequined gown in the sunlight. A fresh sea breeze blew through the carriage. It was getting on toward noon when we arrived at Eastbourne, a pleasant little seaside town, sheltered by the South Downs. Dalton slowly drove along the sea road that houses several inns. He made a brief stop at most of them.
I did not really want to see Richard captured. My heart was like lead throughout the entire morning. All my pleasant dreams were swept away, leaving before me the desolate knowledge of his treachery.
Several times Dalton stopped and looked all around. As he would recognize either Ketchen or myself, we set my groom the job of following him, and arranged to meet Topby in an hour at a tea shop. I cannot remember ever having spent such a futile, enervating morning.
Topby returned a long hour later to inform us that Dalton had made a tour of all the inns on the beach strip, and there was a large number of them. Topby proved an ingenious accomplice. He had given one of the inn clerks a pourboire to discover what Dalton was up to. “He is making inquiries for a young lady, blond, attractive."
"Lady Filmore!” I exclaimed.
"Aye,” Topby agreed. “And he is asking who she is with."
"Well now,” Ketchen said, and fell into a frown. After a while he said, “Miss Denver, it is possible you have led me astray here. Lady Filmore could be in on this business without her brother's knowing it until she sheered off on him. As he is looking for her, they have not conspired to meet."
I snorted. “If there was any leading astray, Mr. Ketchen, pray remember who first suggested Dalton as the villain!"
It seemed that Dalton had visited every possible establishment in the town—shops, hotels, three vicarages, according to Topby—before stopping for a bite at a tavern nearby.
"He must suspect she is making a runaway match,” I said.
"With young Harelson?” Ketchen asked sagely.
"Who else? She is engaged to him. We have come on a fool's errand, sir. If Richard is only trying to conceal Linda's romantic folly, I have no wish to interfere.” Nor did I wish him to know I had come hounding after him, filling Ketchen's ears with my unfounded suspicions. “Let us go home."
Topby cleared his throat in a meaningful way. “Harelson, did you say, miss? Lord Harelson?"
"Yes, what other Harelson is there?"
"I saw him half an hour ago."
"What? Where?"
"On a side street. He was just going into a house. There was no sign of Lady Filmore. I would recognize the house."
"Good God! Why did you not tell me?"
"You never mentioned Lord Harelson. I thought it was the Daltons you were looking for."
"Take us to the house at once, lad, and be quick about it,” Ketchen said, and we darted out to the carriage.
Chapter Twenty-one
"Wait!” I said, and gave the check chord a yank. “We should tell Mr. Dalton. If he is only looking for his sister—well, it is fourpence to a groat she is with Harelson."
"I never could believe he was Tom,” Ketchen had the gall to say, right to my face. I stared in dumb disbelief. “'Twas yourself accused him. I only wondered if Townshend was wise to tell him so much of our business."
"Go and tell him what Topby said,” I commanded stiffly.
"I am not your servant, miss!"
"Who do you think pays your salary? I am a taxpayer."
"Aye, you and every mort I try to help ends up throwing that in my face. What excuse can I give him for being here?"
"For God's sake, Ketchen, go, before he gets away."
"You'd best come with me, for to make some explanation."
I got out of the carriage and marched quickly down to the main street, just as Richard was giving his groom the office to leave. John Groom recognized me, and stopped. Richard looked out of the window to ask what was amiss, and spotted me. You would think he had seen a giraffe at least. He looked completely witless. “Eve, what are you doing here?"
I replied, “Are you looking for Harelson and Linda?"
He gave a shamefaced look and said, “Yes."
"My groom saw Harelson. We'll follow him."
I hopped into Richard's carriage and told Ketchen to tell Topby to lead the way. While we followed them, Richard said, “I fear the ninnyhammer has run off with Harelson. We had an argument last night. Linda told me a Cheltenham tale about his family cutting him off if he did not marry Agnes Carter. Agnes's engagement to some other fellow was in the papers a week ago. I told Linda so, but she would not believe me. She asked me to make her a generous marriage allowance. I refused. If Harelson cannot afford to keep a wife, he has no business getting married. I went to her room after Ruthven wakened me this morning, and saw she had hastily packed."
"What of Lady Grieve's illness?"
"I fobbed you off with that tale, to hide Linda's shame. I hoped to find her before they got the knot tied, and bring her home. I fear she and Harelson already have a special license."
"Why did you pick on Eastbourne?"
"Because Harelson comes here often. He has a friend who has a house in town, but I have not been able to discover it. Linda's note said she was going to London, so I knew that was the last place she would be.” Next came the question I had been dreading. “How do you come to be here, Eve?"
"I fear I have bad news for you, Richard,” I said, conning my mind for the least damning way to word my reason. “Linda accidentally showed Hennie a ring that Harelson gave her. I saw by Ketchen's list this morning that it is one Tom stole."
He looked positively blank. “You mean Harelson is mixed up with Tom?” he asked.
"It looks that way.” I said not a word about either Linda or himself being anything but a dupe. “He asked her not to show anyone the ring."
"When did he give it to her?"
"She has had it for months. How did he come to do such a foolish thing as to give her a stolen ring?"
"He was hot to marry her, when he thought she was wealthy in her own right. She was seeing another fellow at the time. I expect this was his way of securing her imaginary fortune. He thinks that by marrying her, he will force my hand to give her an allowance."
"And if he is Tom, or mixed up with Tom, he thinks you will not say so, when he is a part of your family."
As we spoke, the carriage rattled along, coursing up and down those pretty shaded streets of Eastbourne. Suddenly a “Hoi!” rang out, and the horses drew to a stop.
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From his perch, Topby pointed to a brick house, smaller than a mansion, but it had a fine entrance with a pediment and fanlight. It looked like a respectable tradesman's residence.
Dalton squared his shoulders. “You had best stay in the rig, Eve.” He removed the pistol from the side pocket, stuck it into the waist of his trousers, got out, and smoothed his jacket over it. Ketchen ran back to join us. They both insisted I remain in the carriage, so I did. It seemed wise to have someone outside to run for help, in case they did not come out.
They went to the door and knocked. No one replied, and after a moment's hesitation, they went in. The door appeared to be on the latch. I sat, watching and listening for perhaps ten minutes. I was on nettles, expecting to hear gunshots, or to see someone come hurtling out the door. When I could stand it no longer, I left the carriage and decided to sneak in by the back door. Imagine my astonishment to see, over the vine-covered fence, a wedding in progress.
Linda, as pretty as ever in a pale pink gown and the leghorn bonnet from her portrait, stood beside Harelson, who was rigged out in formal dress. A minister stood with the prayer book before his face. Another lady, a total stranger, completed the party. While Richard searched the empty house, Linda was being hitched for life to a man who was penniless at best, and at worst, was the infamous cat burglar. I opened the gate and rushed in, just as the minister said those fateful words, “Let him speak now, or forever hold his peace."
"Stop!” I shouted.
The little group turned and stared at me in alarm. The minister lowered his prayer book, and I found myself staring at the handsome blond man who had sold Lady Dormere's emerald ring to Parker in London. Clive Naismith, Grindley had called him. Robert, I thought to myself. A minister of the church stealing jewelry? A second thought told me it was more likely a thief was posing as a minister, performing a mock marriage. A “wife” would be easily led to conceal her husband's crimes.