'Nay, I don't. She is called Juliette, and he is infatuated with her. That's all I know.'
'Aye, Juliette. Madame Maigre. She should never have come. She is in mortal danger from Félix, as is the lieutenant, and all of us that have been party to the plot.'
'Well well, I am not averse to danger, you know.' Rennie, getting up on his legs. 'I have faced danger on many—'
'At sea, Captain Rennie.' Mr Mappin, over him grimly. 'You have faced danger at sea. But we are not at sea now. We are on land, in a great dark city, and in any doorway, round any corner, there may lie in wait deadly peril.'
'Then I am ready for it.' Rennie took up his sword.
Mr Mappin raised a finger. 'Lieutenant Hayter has two brothers, has not he?'
'Two older brothers, yes.'
'One of whom lives in London, yes?'
'You are right, by God, he does. He practises at law.'
'What is his name?'
'Thomas, I think. Nay ... Nicholas.'
'Where are his chambers?'
'At Lincoln's Inn, as I recall.'
'We must go there at once.'
'At night? Surely there will be nobody there at night?'
'There will be a watchman or a clerk that can tell us where Nicholas Hayter lives. Lieutenant Hayter may have gone to him to seek refuge. That is our best hope. I have a carriage. Let us go down. Nay, do not encumber yourself with that damned sword, Captain Rennie. You have pistols?'
'Pocket pistols, aye.'
'Bring them.'
*
They found Nicholas Hayter's chambers at Lincoln's Inn by asking directions of a watchman, in the open square, and a second watchman pointed them to the correct stair, but added:
'You will find no one there, gen'men. Chambers is all locked up a-night.' Holding up his lantern to show them the entrance. He allowed his staff to rest against the wall, an indication of his confidence that he was not about to be attacked by these late callers. His rattle jiggled at his waist.
'Surely there is a clerk?' Mr Mappin.
'Aye, but he don't sleep 'ere, sir.'
'Then where does he sleep?'
'He will not 'ppreciate being disturbed at night, gen'men.'
Rennie spoke now, in a voice tutored by command: 'We are officers in His Majesty's service. We must speak to this man at once. The matter is urgent. Show us where he lives.'
'Show you ... ?'
'Take us there, man!'
The watchman took them, grumbling under his broad hat, and coughing, and sniffing. Presently they came to the dwelling, a tenement house in a courtyard, and Mr Mappin knocked.
A delay of a quarter of an hour before the clerk could be brought from his bed, and persuaded to talk to the visitors. Rennie fretted, paced, swore. Mr Mappin fretted but was still. At last the clerk appeared in his nightshirt. Mr Mappin addressed him, having got his name from the watchman.
'Now then, Mr Baldry—'
'Baldock, sir. William Baldock. It is very late, and I—'
'We wish to know where Mr Nicholas Hayter lives.'
'Mr Hayter? Oh, I could not tell you. I could not say.'
'D'y'mean that you do not know?' Sharply.
'That is – correct. I do not.' To the watchman, who was preparing to return to his duty: 'Did you not tell them I don't know where he dwells, Hill?'
'They said it was urgent, Mr Baldock.'
'Well, I cannot say, all the same.' Nodding at Mr Mappin.
'I think you mean – you will not say.'
'I mean, sir, that I—'
And now Captain Rennie again felt obliged to take charge. Stepping forward to the doorway:
'I am Captain William Rennie, RN, and I wish to find and speak to Lieutenant James Hayter, Mr Nicholas Hayter's brother, on a matter of the greatest urgency.'
'Well, I – I know nothing of Mr Hayter's brother. I am only a clerk. I tell you, I do not know where—'
'So urgent that I have been given authority to pay for information.'
'Pay!' Beginning to be indignant. 'You mistake me if you think—'
'Ten guineas. Ten guineas in gold, payable at once, into your hand.' Taking his purse from his pocket, and shaking coins into his palm.
'Good heaven ...' Mr Baldock's eyes grew wide.
The watchman cleared his throat, and lifted his lantern the better to see the gold. Mr Baldock recovered himself, and assumed an expression of wounded dignity. Dismissively:
'It is of no avail, it is of no avail. Mr Hayter ain't even in London, he is away in the country, in Dorset.'
'Damnation!' Rennie, turning away.
'Wait, though.' Mr Mappin. 'Even if Nicholas Hayter is away, that don't mean his brother has not gone to his house in London. Eh, Mr Baldock?'
'I tell you. I told you. I know nothing of his brother.' The clerk closed his eyes, and shook his head.
'But you know where that house lies, do not you? What place, what street?'
Mr Baldock opened his eyes, sighed heavily, looked from one to the other, and at last: 'Will you give me a solemn undertaking never to trouble me again? Will you go away, and never come back – if I tell you?'
'We will.' Rennie, with authority.
'Will you promise never to mention my name in this distinction? Will you give me your word, solemnly give it, as to that?'
'We will. Here, take the gold.' Holding out the coins.
And Mr Baldock took the money.
*
They came to the house in the dead of night. There was no moon, and the carriage lamps did not well illuminate the lane outside. Mr Mappin had provided himself with lanterns, and he and Rennie each took one as they approached the house, leaving the carriage and driver waiting under the trees in the lane. As they approached along the path, Mr Mappin – in the lead – abruptly came to a halt, and Rennie came up against him.
'What is it? Why d'y'stop, Mappin?'
'Just a sense that all is not well here ...'
'What d'y'mean? You saw something?'
'Nay, nothing. But everything is too quiet, almost as if the darkness itself was holding its breath. In my trade I have learned that such a sense, such an instinct, should not lightly be ignored – and never at night.'
'I have seen nothing, nor heard nothing, neither. Ain't you being fanciful?'
They were speaking in very subdued tones, and now in spite of himself Rennie felt a shiver of unease run through him.
'I am never fanciful, Captain Rennie.' Mr Mappin. 'And if I am right ...'
'Then we had better raise the alarm, by God.' Rennie, pushing aside timidity and striding forward toward the house. 'I will pull the bell, and knock, and let them know—'
'Nay! Nay!' Mr Mappin, in a warning whisper, catching Rennie's arm. 'Do not!'
'What the devil d'y'mean?' Rennie, sotto voce, furiously. 'If my friend is in peril in that house, I will not stand by and allow him be slaughtered in his bed, d'y'hear?' Shaking his arm free of Mr Mappin's grasp. But Mr Mappin gripped it again, even more forcefully.
'Listen now, if villainy is afoot as I suspect, and assailants are attempting to gain entry to the house, they will likely do so at the rear. It will be better for us – and Lieutenant Hayter – if we go to the rear ourselves, and take them by surprise. Yes?'
Rennie was obliged to admit that this made perfect sense, and he nodded: 'Yes. Very well.'
'You have your pistols?'
'I have them.'
'Cover your light with your coat, and follow me.'
And Rennie did that very rare thing for him, after many years of command – he did as he was told, and followed.
They made their way cautiously down a side path to the rear garden, the bulk of the house dim on their right, their part-covered lights showing them only the ground immediately ahead. They came into the wide garden. There was no glimmer of light anywhere in the garden, nor from inside the house. Mr Mappin held up a warning hand, and whispered:
'Wait. Very, very still ...' A moment, and they heard a
clicking, fidgeting sound, coming from the rear of the house, subdued but clear in the hushed darkness of the garden.
They had reached a clump of bushes and paused there, and now Mr Mappin turned to Rennie and whispered:
'Wait here, will you? I am going forward to investigate.'
'Wait here? Nay, Mappin ...' But before Rennie could protest further Mr Mappin had slipped away in the darkness, leaving Rennie alone. Long, anxious moments, and Rennie crouched down, waited, and heard no more of the fidgeting, clinking sound. Presently, cautiously, he rose on his legs. And was at once struck a blow to the head from behind. A rocket burst of stars exploded in his skull, and he slumped senseless on the dew-moist grass.
*
When he woke it was in a well-appointed, well-lit room, to the sound of voices and the smell of coffee and tobacco. A tall, slim man was leaning over him, peering down with a cheroot in his hand. Smoke curled up against the light.
'Who are you?' Rennie demanded, and felt an instant searing pain in his head.
'I am Handy Sacheverell, and you are in my house, Captain Rennie.'
'Who? Where? Ohh ...' And he clutched at his head, felt a bandage, and was further bewildered. Had a block fallen from the rigging and struck him? But he was not at sea ...
Mr Mappin's concerned face now appeared beside that of Mr Sacheverell.
'Good God – Mappin. You are here, too.'
'I am here.'
'I – I begin to recall, now. We came in search of James.' The light blurring at the edges, the faces above him blurring, then clearing into sharp focus.
'Aye, we did.' Mappin's grim little nod.
'To a house at Lambeth ...' Concentrating on Mr Sacheverell's face. 'Your house, sir, did y'say?'
'In truth the house belongs to Mr Nicholas Hayter – but it is where I live, yes.'
'Where is James? And his companion?'
Now Mr Mappin shook his head. 'Gone.'
'Gone! Ohh ...' Again clutching at his bandaged head, which he felt would split under the bindings.
'They have been took. I was too late. By the time I reached the house the assailants had got in at a window, and dragged Lieutenant Hayter and Madame Maigre from their bed, and escaped through the front door of the house.'
'I fear I slept through it all.' Mr Sacheverell, with a little apologetic shrug. He puffed at his cheroot, and exhaled smoke. 'I sleep very sound in usual, I confess.'
Rennie sniffed camphorated tincture under the tobacco smoke, and knew the reason. And now he attempted to sit up, holding his fragile head.
'They cannot have gone far, surely. We have a carriage. Let us—'
'They have took my carriage.' Mr Mappin, very matter-of-fact. 'Clearly they had lookouts posted, who saw our arrival, and when we went to the rear of the house one of them followed us, and the other sprang upon my driver and overpowered him. I found him lying in the lane. He is dead.'
'Good God.'
'So y'may consider y'self lucky, Captain Rennie, that y'did not suffer the same fate. That you will live through this night with only a sore head.'
'My head ain't so damned sore that I cannot make some attempt to save my friend – and even that damned woman, that has got him into this trouble.' Sitting up properly, and fighting off waves of dizziness.
'We can do nothing before daylight. They have got clean away.'
'You made no attempt to chase? None at all?'
'My dear Rennie, they were escaping at the front of the house before I had even gained entry at the rear. You had been felled by what was clearly intended as a fatal blow. Only your hat saved your life. By the time I had found my coachman dead, and found and recovered you into the house, all hope of hot pursuit was lost. Indeed, for a time – while your head was being examined by Mr Sacheverell – I thought that perhaps we had lost you.'
'You bandaged my head, sir?' Rennie, to Mr Sacheverell.
'I have a passing knowledge of wounds.' A little shrug, a puff of the cheroot.
'You are a doctor?'
'Nay, I am not. I had some little experience of campaigning in the late American war. You should not get up on your legs just yet, you know. Rest is advised, after a severe blow to the skull.'
'I am very grateful to you, Mr Sacheverell, for your kindness. But we have no time for rest.' And he forced himself upright. As soon as he did so, he staggered, a wave of fainting weakness washed up from his belly into his head, and he fell back down on the sofa on which he had been lying. Presently, as the fainting spell passed, he heard Mr Mappin outside the room:
'I am nearly certain they will make for the coast, to take ship for France. May I leave Captain Rennie in your care, Mr Sacheverell? I must return to Whitehall at once, and raise the alarm.'
And Mr Sacheverell's reply: 'In course I am happy to oblige. I am only sorry we keep no horses here when Nicholas is away. He has took the carriage ... alas.'
'I will go on foot, running.'
'Running?'
'I was a champion at the paper chase in youth, and I am still very fast, even now.'
The voices receded, and there was the sound of the front door thudding shut. Rennie pulled himself up into a sitting position, and slowly got to his feet. The dizziness had passed, and he felt able to walk.
'I cannot wait here. I must proceed on my own. There ain't a moment to lose.'
TWENTY-ONE
'For God's sake release us from these bindings,' pleaded Juliette. 'We cannot escape from a carriage moving at such speed.'
She lurched on the seat as the carriage bounced through a dip in the road. The jingle of harness and the flinty clatter of hooves under the spinning rhythm of the wheels as they flew through the night. The night shut out by tasselled blinds at the windows, the interior lit by a single lamp.
'I have removed your gag, Madame Maigre,' said M. Félix beside her, 'so that you may reply to my questions. But I am not quite so gullible as to set you free altogether.'
All in French. M. Félix glanced at the seat opposite, where James lay bound hand and foot, and gagged. Only the movement of his eyes, from one figure to the other opposite him, indicated that he was alive and conscious. A gash on his forehead, that had bled into one eye, was evidence that he had not been captured without a struggle. M. Félix returned his attention to Juliette.
'Why are you with this inadequate man – this boy of a man – in England? Have you forgot that you are a citizen of France?'
'A citizen? Is that what I am? Is that what you are? A citizen of the revolution?'
'Yes, of course. That is the reality of life in France, now.'
'But – what of all our work, our mission? All of our painstaking planning and effort and risk, to help the king escape? Does it mean nothing to you?'
'Less than nothing, madame. Such things are beneath contempt, now.'
'So you are a turncoat and a traitor, then. It is you that is beneath contempt now, monsieur.'
She spoke the words almost softly, and allowed the scorn in her eyes to burn into his a moment, then turned her head away against the green upholstered back of the seat. M. Félix reached and gripped her chin with his strong fingers, and turned her head back toward him. In a lower, more intimate tone:
'Did you really think I could let you go just like that, Juliette? You know the depth of my feelings for you. That is why I am taking you back to France, where you will be safe, where I can make you understand and care for me, over time.'
'I will never care for you, monsieur.' Trying to twist her head free of his grasp.
'While he is alive ...' Aiming a sharp kick at James that caught him in the crotch. '... perhaps you are distracted a little by his boyish devotion. But when he has been dealt with, and despatched, and you have only me to contemplate and grow fond of ... you will change your mind then, madame. You will come to see me as the centre of your life, that saved you out of the deepest and fondest love and regard for you.'
'Love! When I am kidnapped at pistol point, bound and gagged and flung into
a carriage, and taken away a prisoner at night! You fool!'
And her eyes flashed all the Gallic scorn of that word. 'Idiot!'
For answer M. Félix smiled and kicked James again. James's eyes stared in fierce agony, and he grunted again and again through the tight gag. Sweat broke out on his forehead and mingled with the drying blood, and dripped on the upholstered seat.
'Where are – where are the other men, that came with you to the house?' Juliette, in an effort to distract M. Félix, so that he would cease his vicious assault on James. She succeeded.
'They have horses, they will follow us to the coast, my dear.'
'Where?'
'You will see the place when we get there. I have a vessel waiting.'
'Do not – do not you fear detection, if we arrive at a port in daylight?'
'The place is not frequented. It is on a quite remote part of the coast, on the empty sands. Nobody will see us arrive there, nor depart.'
'What will become of Lieutenant Hayter?' After a moment, very quietly.
'He will receive his reward for his part in the late abortive plot – when he has told me what I wish to know.'
'What can he possibly tell you? He was not—'
Over her: 'He will tell me the name of the man that is behind the English part of the plot. The man M. Mappin obeys, that calls into being all such things in England – spies, schemes, intrigue abroad. The man always with ample moneys at his disposal to pay for information in a dozen countries. The man that is at the heart of all British secret intelligence – who controls the Secret Service Fund.'
'And if he does not tell you?'
'Ohh ... ohh ... he will tell me, I assure you. Have not you observed, my dear? Lieutenant Hayter cannot endure even very moderate pain.' Leaning forward so that his face was near to James in the swaying, jolting carriage. 'He knows very well that I can provide far greater pain than the paltry twinges he has thus far experienced.' Lowering his voice to a menacing whisper. 'Pain so great, so piercing that the strongest man alive will whimper like a child in begging that it should cease. Yes, yes, indeed ... he knows it, poor wretched fellow.' Sitting back and turning to Juliette conversationally:
'And so you see, he will tell me almost at once.'
'Why have you turned against us so?'
The Gathering Storm Page 31