The Blind Beak

by Ernest Dudley

  Mr. Bond could only attribute this frame of mind to the evident deterioration in the Blind Beak’s state of health. His arduous activities in his police court, where he daily spent hour after hour in the foulest atmosphere to be encountered in London, were at last sapping even his prodigious vitality. Still shaking his head, the clerk, with a glance over his shoulder in the direction of the sitting room, continued downstairs to his own office.

  Early that afternoon Nick raised his head from his arms spread upon the grog-shop table to snarl a curse at whoever had possessed the temerity to prod him awake. Again the sharp prod in his ribs, and, reaching out instinctively, his hand gripped a wooden stump and he drifted up out of the alcoholic depths bemusing him, opened one eye to meet that toothless grin.

  ‘You makes a handsome sight, Mr. Rathburn. As handsome a picture of an afternoon after the morning afore as ever I set eyes on.’ Ted Shadow glanced over his shoulder at the motley collection of rascals round the wretched boozing-den, hunched over their drinks, making sure he could not be overheard.

  ‘Have you done?’ Nick muttered. ‘Then adieu and rot you for waking me.’

  The other, pulling a chair close, his wooden stump sticking straight out before him, on which he hung his hat, bent his mouth close to Nick’s ear. ‘Wake your sodden senses, Mr. Rathburn. I have an item of news will earn you a handful of guineas.’ Painfully Nick opened an eye again. ‘A matter of employment for you and not so trifling neither. A crib to be cracked and no one better than you could do the cracking.’ Nick would have turned away once more had not the other’s hands gripped him, forcing him to listen. ‘And no risk at all, Mr. Rathburn, to your life or liberty.’

  ‘When?’ evincing a faint show of interest.

  ‘Tonight.’ Nick, groaning as if the tiny spark that had been fanned alive had died again, Shadow threw another cautious glance around the half-empty, sleazy den, then turned once more to his ear. ‘Just to fall through a window into a house where are pieces of jewellery to be took for the taking.’

  ‘Play the house-breaker? Is it that you have to tell me?’

  ‘Pox on your boozy wits,’ the other exclaimed, exasperated. ‘Would Ted Shadow take all this trouble running you to earth in this rat-hole unless to put in your way an operation of a particular sort?’

  ‘What sort, and you so sure I do not hold my neck in hazard?’

  ‘A certain gentleman in the town,’ whispering hoarsely again, ‘has in the past bestowed rich jewels upon a Covent Garden actress who became his doxy, you understand. This lecher now quarrels with the bitch, seeks to recover the gifts he made her. I learn he is casting about for someone to undertake this operation with cunning, not to say discretion, so who do my thoughts fly to?’

  ‘Who,’ Nick replied, ‘but a besotted gull who would pay you over-well for your information?’

  The other drew back and permitted himself the luxury of a stream of curses. ‘Of all the ingratitude, Mr. Rathburn,’ he exclaimed in hurt tones. ‘Would Ted Shadow, who has served you faithful this long since, try to wheedle out of you a price for an item and it not worth it?’

  ‘Yes,’ muttered Nick unequivocally, forcing himself upright, groaning the while and clasping his head in his hands at the agony the movement caused him. ‘What does this tight-fist lover offer as a price for the return of his knick-knacks?’

  ‘Twenty guineas.’ Nick jerked up his head. ‘I thought such a price would penetrate your skull.’

  ‘How much do you take?’

  ‘Five for myself, the rest all yours.’

  ‘And the danger all mine too,’ Nick grumbled, brushing the back of a hand across his bleared eyes.

  The other shook his head vehemently. ‘No danger in it at all. Do you not understand, Mr. Rathburn, this is to be a faked performance?’

  ‘Did you mention his name?’

  ‘A certain Lord Tregarth,’ Ted answered. Nick eyed him unblinkingly, his mind filled with the picture of the last time he had met Lord Tregarth. Cursing under his breath, his head sank once more in his hands, while the other observed with surprise the swift change in his mood. ‘What is it about his lordship twenty clinking guineas will not put right?’

  ‘We have met before,’ Nick said.

  ‘And if you have?’ the other grimaced impatiently. ‘Why, it should make it all that easier for you. You might squeeze an extra guinea or two out of him since you are acquainted. Come, Mr. Rathburn,’ placing an encouraging hand on his shoulder, ‘it is an easy crib as I have told you and you could make good use of the money.’ Idly he wondered what lay behind Nick Rathburn’s swift descent from the position he had once occupied, what twist of Fate had reduced him to circumstances no better than those of a wandering beggar without a roof over his head, his only shelter being the lowest brothels of St. Giles’s. Some wench, he hazarded the guess, was responsible. Shaking his head, he set about persuading Nick fifteen guineas so easily earned and not a jot risk to himself — he need barely stay sober even — was not to be sniffed at.

  Reminded of the lightness of his pocket Nick presently began to listen. According to Shadow, there was no time to be lost. Lord Tregarth was anxious for the return of his gifts of jewellery before his discarded light-o’-love disposed of them for cash, and was ready to discuss the operation with whoever would undertake it promptly, so it could be brought off that very night. ‘You can inform him I will present myself at his house at four o’clock and receive his instructions.’ Nick rasped his fingers over his unshaven chin. ‘By which time I will have visited the barber and the Turkish bath to put myself in the necessary frame of mind.’ Shadow nodded approvingly and recommended they should meet again at a coffee-house on the morrow, when Nick would hand over the other’s share of the money.

  After he had gone, Nick remained staring unseeingly before him. Then, gulping off a glass of brandy in an attempt to steady his nerves, he presently made his way to a bath-house in St. James’s Street, where, after being shaved, he found himself lying back in a tiled hot-steam room. Following a vigorous massage he was wrapped in a robe and, reclining on a couch, sipped hot black coffee and finally fell asleep.

  And while he lay lost in his dreams Ted Shadow, who had made his way not to Lord Tregarth’s address, but to Bow Street, was reporting the success of his interview to the Blind Beak.

  24.

  Lord Tregarth had appeared not to recognize Nick, who recalled they were masked on the occasion of their meeting at the Pantheon that night two years ago. Some quirk of humour impelling him to disclose himself: ‘Indeed, and I know not what to say,’ the other had mumbled, with a glance at Nick’s shabby coat and threadbare breeches, darned black stockings and well-worn shoes, albeit they had been newly polished. ‘How is it the same person to whom I was once introduced by the Comtesse de l’Isle should now be offering me his services in a somewhat disreputable enterprise?’

  ‘Do you distress yourself not unduly,’ Nick replied casually. ‘A man of my circumstances inclines to pursue a somewhat erratic career. At the moment my fortune lies at that low ebb I am obliged to accept commissions about which I might otherwise possess certain scruples.’

  ‘It distresses me to learn you presently find yourself in desperate straits’ — Lord Tregarth extended his gold snuff-box to Nick, who shook his head — ‘yet I must confess I find it more comfortable to take such as yourself into my confidence than some common thief I originally thought to engage.’

  Nick gave a sardonic lift to an eyebrow in acknowledgment of the compliment. They faced each other in the other’s library overlooking Grosvenor Square, the rich oak-panelled room lined with books, whose heavy leather bindings caught the late afternoon light that streamed through the tall windows. Lord Tregarth was attired in an elegant plum-coloured jacket in the latest fashion with an embroidered waistcoat and his cravat of gleaming whiteness edged with frothy lace of silver.

  ‘No doubt you will have witnessed Mrs. Devenish’s performances at the
Haymarket Theatre,’ Lord Tregarth was continuing. ‘She had attained some position as a player, being especially successful in breeches roles.’ Nick had several times admired curly-haired Peg Devenish enacting dashing young men in a roguish, somewhat strident style which showed off her lithe, boyish figure to excellent advantage. He had also been aware she was not averse to gaining the protection of whatever man-about-town was prepared to contribute most financially to the style of living she favoured, but which her playhouse-earnings proved inadequate to provide. ‘It is irrelevant to relate how the charming creature and I first became acquainted, sufficient that I became passionately devoted towards her and she appeared to return my affection, though I counted myself fortunate a person so young should reciprocate the love of one old enough to be her father.’ Nick revealed by no movement of a muscle what he was thinking, but retained a suitably grave expression. ‘I installed her in an elegant villa overlooking Marylebone Fields,’ the other went on, ‘where I visited her as frequently as I could to pass the time in her society. She set up her own carriage and a suitable retinue of servants, and also retired from the boards.’

  Lord Tregarth produced his snuff-box again and, Nick still not availing himself of a pinch, took a sniff to cover his evident embarrassment occasioned by his narrative. ‘My munificence towards her did not decrease by the lapse of time. Mrs. Devenish frequently received presents of jewellery from me, which marks of attention were constant as they were various.’ He sighed involuntarily, gazing pensively out at Grosvenor Square, beginning to grow hazy at the approach of an April twilight. ‘Then I encountered a young blade in her box at the theatre whom she introduced as her cousin. This arousing my suspicions, I decided to watch her more closely, bribing her servants to inform against her. The night before last, when she had excused herself from a supper-party in my company on the pretext she was feeling unwell, I received information acting upon which caused me to surprise her with her so-called cousin in circumstances placing doubt beyond question.’

  Lord Tregarth gave a delicate cough. ‘I have already acquainted myself of her young paramour’s circumstances which are such that, knowing Mrs. Devenish as I do, convince me she will be persuaded to dispose of her possessions in order to retain his affections. I find it a galling thought that the magnificent jewellery I gave her will be auctioned off to assure the continuation of her association with a young puppy who has supplanted me.’ His eyes flashed and his features suffused apoplectically, the veins at his temples standing out like wriggling snakes. ‘In brief — ’

  ‘I am to retrieve as much of the jewellery as I may,’ Nick concluded for him, ‘and return it to you?’

  The other nodded, touching his high-bridged nose with his handkerchief, and shortly afterwards Nick, having obtained several guineas on account of his fee for the successfully completed operation, was making his way from Grosvenor Square, idly turning over in his mind his instructions for gaining admittance to the villa by Marylebone Fields. And he had glanced back he might have perceived Lord Tregarth from behind the library-window curtains watching his departure with a speculative eye.

  There was a pale crescent of moon in the sky, obscured now and again by drifting clouds, and a light mist from a pond in Marylebone Fields across the way lent an eerie air to the scene. Standing in the shadows of some trees overhanging the garden of the villa, which lay back from the road, Nick glanced about him. He had made his way on foot after fortifying himself against the night’s adventure ahead of him with a beefsteak at Dolly’s Steakhouse in Paternoster Row and a couple of bottles of wine topped off with a good measure of cognac. The spring night was reasonably mild so it had been unnecessary to wear a hat or cloak which would have hampered his task. A carriage clattered past, by the light of whose lamps he glimpsed a woman attired in her elegant finery, no doubt proceeding to some fashionable gathering. His mind went back to his association with Casanova, the many grand assemblies at Madame Corneleys’s and that vividly remembered if brief appearance at Lady Harrington’s on the occasion of his first meeting with Chagrin.

  A bitter smile flickered across his lean, saturnine features as his thoughts clung to the past — so near and yet so far away it might have been a different world he had known. A sense of oppression descended upon him. Had he not just about reached the end of his tether? He asked himself, as he stood there in the darkness, the grey mists creeping about him like mocking wraiths, what was to be gained by going on? What instinct of survival beat so forcibly within him he could not even now give up hope that somehow lay a way which, if only he could strike it, would lead him upwards out of the hopeless abyss into which he had descended? With a tremendous effort of will he shook off the wave of depression threatening to drown his spirit, and emerged from the shadows.

  The villa was half hidden from the road by the trees, their branches rustling above him as they caught an occasional capful of wind. The tall railing either side of the gate joined a high wall at right angles, each of which enclosed the house and, as Nick knew from Lord Tregarth’s description, met an equally insurmountable wall at the back. A door was let in one side of the wall, securely bolted and barred, however. The windows were dark. Again Lord Tregarth’s information was that Mrs. Devenish would be at a supper-party, no doubt accompanied by her new lover, and was unlikely to return before the early hours of the morning. The servants would have retired to bed except for the personal maid, who would be dozing in her own room awaiting her employer’s return.

  The procedure Nick was to adopt in order to earn the remainder of his twenty guineas, less five to Ted Shadow, was straightforward enough. The gate uttered a slight complaining squeak. Closing it carefully behind him, he moved swiftly across the narrow lawn, and gained the protective shadow of the high wall on his right. His footsteps noiseless on the turf, he reached the side door in the wall, whose heavy bolts he could discern. Opposite him a few paces away was the villa’s kitchen door. He scanned a window above, opening, as he had been informed, on to the first-floor landing, where was situated Mrs. Devenish’s bedroom. Beneath this window ascended some rustic woodwork entwined in wisteria and a relatively simple matter, as Nick gauged at once, to climb, thereby effecting an entrance.

  He smiled thinly to himself. Lord Tregarth had not misinformed him so far as the means of access into the house were concerned and, pausing to listen to make sure no one within was stirring, he started to climb. In a few minutes he knelt on the window-ledge. Dexterously working the blade of a claspknife between the window-frame and the inside-catch, he was soon rewarded by the sharp noise of the latch snapping back. Quickly and silently he opened the window and swung himself inside, to drop lightly on to the landing. No sound of any movement in the house and he ascended the few stairs to the passage outside the bedroom which was his objective.

  A small candelabrum stood on a table next to the bedroom door, and behind him, beyond a narrow flight of stairs, another light glowed, presumably in the room where the maidservant was dozing. Nick, turning the door-handle quietly, went into the bedroom, leaving the door open behind him so the light from the landing would supply sufficient illumination by which to work. Expertly he rummaged through the ornate dressing-table backing on to the thick velvet curtains, which were closed, and, first taking out a pistol and black mask, placing them within easy reach, filled both side-pockets of his jacket with rings, bracelets, brooches, necklaces, earrings, everything of value upon which he could lay his hands. ‘Every gem she possesses,’ Lord Tregarth had told him, ‘is a gift from me.’

  His attention was of a sudden attracted by a noise, and cautiously drawing back the edge of a curtain he glanced out. The moon was shining brilliantly, unobscured by any cloud, so that the garden was clearly illuminated. That bleak smile touched the corners of his mouth as he recalled Lord Tregarth’s advice regarding the conclusion of the operation. ‘So long as you leave no doubt behind it is an outside coup perpetrated by some housebreaker.’ He was to exit the way he had come.

&nbs
p; He remained deep in thought, then picked up his pistol and mask and, selecting a comfortable chair, leaned back, nonchalantly crossing his legs, to await Mrs. Devenish’s return. He must have dozed off; at any rate he was suddenly awake, with no idea how long he had been sitting there. He was moving to the curtains again, as the sounds of the carriage-wheels outside stopped and there came the snuffling of a horse. Now the moon was hidden by a bank of cloud, but he could discern beyond the railings the carriage drawn up and in the glimmer of the lamps a shadowy figure entering the gates. A few moments later he heard the front-door bolts being drawn back, the door closed, and voices which he took to be those of Mrs. Devenish and her maidservant drew nearer, tones raised petulantly about the chilliness of the night and would a warming bowl of negus be prepared. He heard the commiserating reply as the other hurried off. He returned to the chair which was out of line with the door, waiting with pistol cocked. A hummed snatch of tune approached, the light outside moved and she stood in the doorway holding the candelabrum in her hand, failing to see him in the darkness and dazzled by the candlelight. Crossing to the dressing-table she saw him reflected in the mirror.

  ‘Do you cry out, it is the last syllable you will utter.’ His pistol covered her menacingly as she raised a hand to her mouth to stifle a scream. ‘Close the door.’ Her wide eyes were fixed upon him for a moment, then she moved quickly to obey him. ‘You will tell your maid you wish to remain undisturbed.’

  ‘What do you want?’ she asked him, low-voiced; facing him again, the door closed behind her. He grinned at her, rising nonchalantly to his feet. She threw a look at her dressing-table, some of the drawers of which gaped open, and as she framed the question he tapped his pocket.