A Case of Blackmail in Belgravia (A Freddy Pilkington-Soames Adventure Book 1)

by Clara Benson

  ‘What do you mean, contained?’ said Amelia.

  ‘Never mind,’ said Blanche hurriedly. ‘It’s just my usual nonsense. Don’t pay any attention. Listen, darling: the less said about this whole business, the better, and if you have any care for me at all you’ll stay well out of it. The police don’t need your help, anyway—quite the contrary, in fact. You’ll just be in the way. Now,’ she said, rising from her seat, ‘the whole thing makes me sick, and I don’t want to talk about it any more.’ She refused to listen to her daughter’s protests, but looked at Freddy as he stood up. ‘I expect you understand,’ she said.

  ‘I think I do,’ he replied.

  She nodded, then paused at the door on the way out and threw him another look from under her eyelashes.

  ‘Come to tea soon,’ she said. ‘It’s been a long time. We can talk about the old days.’

  ‘Er—’ said Freddy uncomfortably. ‘Well, perhaps—’

  She smirked and left the room, and Freddy let out a silent sigh of relief.

  ‘What did she mean?’ said Amelia. ‘What was contained? I don’t understand what she was talking about.’

  Freddy saw that he could not avoid the subject any longer.

  ‘Perhaps I’d better explain,’ he said.

  ON FRIDAY AFTERNOON, Freddy found himself once more pacing up and down Caroline Terrace, wondering whether there were any way in which he could get hold of the evidence of Ticky’s blackmail activities. Weaver had as good as admitted that the proof existed, but had said that it was not to be found in the house—and someone had already attempted to find it by burgling the place, so it was useless to try that again. For a few seconds, Freddy pondered the possibility of bribery—but no, that was no use either, for Weaver had an ample source of income that would last him many years if he chose, and what could Freddy offer him to match it? Very little, of course. And now there was not only Cynthia to think of (she was still lying low, and had not been found in any of her usual haunts that week, much to Freddy’s exasperation), but also Blanche Van Leeuwen, the mother of Amelia Drinkwater. Amelia had been innocently unaware of Ticky’s criminal enterprise until yesterday, and had been shocked to find out the truth, but she proclaimed stoutly that she was sure her mother had not been one of Ticky’s victims—or, at least, had no secrets that could not be explained away by a misunderstanding. In view of his prior acquaintance with Mrs. Van Leeuwen, Freddy was careful to make no comment, and feared that Amelia was destined for disappointment at the very least; however, neither did he wish the blackmail to continue, and so he racked his brains, trying to find an answer to the problem. Of course, the surest way to find what he wanted was to watch Weaver day and night, for sooner or later surely the man would lead him to the hiding-place. However, Freddy had not the time to spare for that, since he had a job of work to do which required much of his attention. He had succeeded in arriving at his desk at half past eight every day that week, and had thus avoided the threatened carpeting from Mr. Bickerstaffe, but if he absented himself from the office too much, all his good work would be undone.

  Occupied thus in reflection, Freddy almost missed the sight of Weaver himself coming out of number 24, Caroline Terrace, and walking off down the street. He was not looking about him, and Freddy immediately hastened after him, hoping to shadow him unobserved. Alas! It was not to be, for just then, a young woman coming the other way addressed Weaver with some slight salutation, and when he looked up to reply he glanced around and saw Freddy. He smirked, shook his head, and hurried off. Freddy saw that his attempt would be useless, and grimaced to himself. He was frowning at the young woman and administering epithets to her in his mind when he suddenly realized he knew her from somewhere. After a moment’s thought, he remembered: it was the girl he had caught rifling through a cupboard at Marjorie Belcher’s charity reception.

  ‘Hallo, hallo,’ he said, as she drew near him. ‘If it isn’t the teetotal revolutionary. How are the war preparations going?’

  She looked up, recognized him and stopped.

  ‘Oh, it’s you,’ she said. ‘What do you want?’

  She spoke without rancour, and Freddy examined her with interest, for she looked completely different from when he had last seen her. On that day she had been dressed in a drab, dowdy frock and scuffed shoes, her hair flattened against her head and her skin bare of ornament, as befitted the rôle she had been called upon to play that afternoon at the grand reception. Now before him stood a smart young woman of seemingly quite a different class, for her attire was new and fashionable—not to say bohemian—while her hair curled and shone, her lips were coloured the deepest red, and her expression was all knowingness. Even her accent, which had been pure East End the last time he had spoken to her, seemed to have slid up a class or two. Had it not been for her dark, heavy eyebrows, in fact, he might not have recognized her at all.

  ‘Do you know that man?’ asked Freddy.

  Her mouth curled.

  ‘I’ve met him before,’ she said. ‘Friend of yours, is he?’

  ‘Certainly not,’ said Freddy. ‘But I’m interested in knowing more about him.’

  ‘Oh? What do you want to know?’

  ‘Where did you meet him?’

  ‘Sir Aldridge Featherstone’s. A girl I know is in service there, and I go in to help sometimes, when there’s a big dinner or evening-party. He was there once, and my friend pointed him out to me. Very free with his hands, she said.’

  ‘And was he?’ said Freddy.

  ‘I don’t know,’ said the girl. ‘I didn’t let him get close enough to find out. But we exchanged polite remarks once or twice, which is why I said hallo to him in the street just now. Why? What have you got on him?’

  ‘Why should you think I have anything on him?’ said Freddy, intrigued by her choice of phrase.

  ‘Because I know a bad ’un when I see one. Go on, then, what’s he done?’

  ‘He’s a blackmailer,’ said Freddy.

  She showed no surprise.

  ‘Yes, that makes sense,’ she said. ‘He looks the sneaky sort. Listens at doors and reads other people’s letters, does he?’

  ‘Almost certainly.’

  ‘It’s a nasty thing to do. Someone ought to thump him one. I can arrange it for you if you don’t want to do it yourself. How much has he got out of you? I can get that back too, if you like.’

  ‘Oh, it’s not me,’ said Freddy hurriedly, taken aback at the matter-of-fact way in which she had offered to solve his problem.

  ‘Who, then?’

  ‘Some friends of mine. It’s not quite as simple as that, though. I don’t suppose you’ve been following the Maltravers case in the papers?’

  ‘Chap who was poisoned at dinner?’ she said after a moment’s thought.

  ‘The very same,’ said Freddy. ‘Maltravers was the real blackmailer. Weaver was his man, and merely inherited the business from him.’

  She stared, then laughed.

  ‘So this Maltravers was bumped off by one of his friends, I take it?’ she said. ‘And now his servant’s willing to take the risk that they’ll come after him now? Rather him than me, I say.’

  ‘Quite,’ said Freddy. ‘Still, that doesn’t alter the fact that at present he has a large number of people in his power.’

  ‘And you want to stop him? How are you going to do that?’

  ‘I’m not sure,’ said Freddy. ‘But it seems to me the first step is to find whatever dirt he has on his victims and get it off him.’

  She immediately turned and looked up appraisingly at the windows of number 24, Caroline Terrace, then glanced around at the street itself.

  ‘Can’t get in in broad daylight,’ she said. ‘It’s too exposed. What’s round the back?’

  ‘Someone’s already tried,’ said Freddy. ‘The place was burgled on Monday. Whoever it was didn’t find what he was looking for—I can tell you that for certain, because Weaver told me so. He as good as said that he keeps the evidence somewhere else. I was about to
follow him just now when he spotted me.’

  ‘Was that my fault? Sorry,’ she said. ‘I didn’t mean to spoil everything.’

  ‘You weren’t to know,’ said Freddy.

  ‘What’ll you do now?’ she said. ‘You won’t find out where it is without spying on him, will you? And you can’t do that without standing in the street all day, but he’ll see you if you do that.’

  ‘I don’t have time to do it anyway,’ said Freddy. ‘I’m wanted at work at least some of the time.’

  ‘I could do it if you like,’ she said. She pointed at a house diagonally across the way from number 24. ‘That’s my berth at the moment. I reckon I’ll be there for another couple of weeks, at least.’

  ‘In service?’ said Freddy.

  ‘Not I,’ she replied with a snort. ‘I do it when it suits me once in a while, but never for long. No,’ she went on, ‘I’m by way of being an artists’ model—for now, at any rate. The two young chaps who live in the house have more money than they know what to do with, and they like to dabble, but to describe them as artists is a bit much, if you ask me. Still, the work’s easy. I can lie there and stare out of the window for hours on end and get paid for it.’

  ‘Ah, I understand,’ said Freddy. ‘You’ll be able to see when Weaver comes out of the house.’

  ‘That’s right,’ she said.

  ‘But pardon me, it’s not as though you can run out and chase him down the street if you see him, is it? I mean to say, what will your painter chappies think? And I presume you work in a state of—er—undress. Society tends to look askance upon that sort of thing in public, don’t you know?’

  ‘My painters won’t mind,’ she said. ‘We have an understanding. And I can get dressed in eighteen seconds flat, down to coat and hat. I’ve timed it.’

  Freddy forbore to ask the nature of the circumstances which had obliged her to acquire this ability, but instead regarded her thoughtfully. He had been half-thinking of employing some boy or other to watch the house, but now here was this young woman, offering to do it for him, and he was not the sort to turn down an opportunity if it presented itself. She was a strange girl, and he could not make her out, but he decided to risk it.

  ‘Do you think you could find out where he keeps the information?’ he said at last.

  She shrugged.

  ‘I can try. I can’t promise anything, but I’ll do what I can.’

  ‘All right then,’ said Freddy. ‘You’re on.’ He tore a sheet from his notebook and scribbled something on it. ‘Here’s where you can find me. If I’m not there, try me at the offices of the Clarion. That’s where I work.’

  She glanced at the paper.

  ‘Right you are, Mister Pilkington-Soames,’ she said. ‘Let’s see what I can do. I like an adventure, and this looks as if it might be a good one.’

  ‘I could do without that sort of adventure myself,’ he said. ‘You haven’t told me your name, by the way.’

  ‘It’s Valentina Sangiacomo.’

  ‘Ah, I thought there was something foreign about you, despite the accent,’ said Freddy. ‘Italian, is it?’

  ‘That and a few other countries,’ she said, but did not enlarge further.

  ‘Well, Miss Sangiacomo, I suppose I’d better give you something on account.’

  ‘Yes, I suppose you had,’ she said, and to his astonishment held up something he recognized immediately as his own pocket-book. She opened it, selected a note, and handed it back to him. ‘This’ll do to start with. You can pay me more later.’

  ‘What the devil—’ he said, patting his pocket and finding it empty. ‘Why, you little—’

  ‘Take it as a free lesson,’ she said with perfect unconcern. ‘You ought to look after your things more carefully. Anyone else wouldn’t have given it back. Count it if you like. I only took the ten.’

  He did so, and found she was telling the truth.

  ‘How do I know you won’t keep the information if you find it?’ he said.

  ‘You don’t, but I won’t. Blackmail’s a sneak’s trade, and I’m not a sneak. And neither are you, which is why I offered to help you. What time is it?’ she said suddenly, and craned her head to look at his watch. He put his hand on it instinctively, for it was rather a valuable one. ‘I’d better go. You’ll hear from me soon. Goodbye—and watch your pockets!’

  And with that she tucked his ten shillings into the front of her dress, flashed him her radiant smile and walked off.

  IF FREDDY HAD had any thoughts as to how best to recover the information Ticky Maltravers had held about his victims, they certainly had not entailed employing a young woman of questionable character to spy on Ticky’s manservant, Weaver. But now that the agreement had been made, he was not at all sure whether he had done the right thing, for this Valentina Sangiacomo seemed to be something of a law unto herself, and despite her professed dislike of blackmail, there was no saying whether she might not decide to keep the information if she found it—always supposing she did what she had been engaged to do at all, in fact. Still, the deed was done now, and all he could do was wait to hear from her. In the meantime, he had yet to speak to his mother about the missing silver flask. Since her house was just around the corner, he went and knocked at the door, although without much hope of finding her there. Mrs. Hanbury answered.

  ‘Hallo, Mrs. H,’ he said. ‘Is my mother at home?’

  She did not have time to reply before Cynthia herself came out into the entrance-hall, saw him and gave a little squeak of fear. She covered it up immediately and smiled briskly.

  ‘Hallo, darling,’ she said. ‘Where on earth have you been? I’ve been wanting to talk to you for days about the dinner-party next week. Now, you will come, won’t you? I’ve already spoken for you, so you’d better not forget to turn up, as you did last time. It was very embarrassing, especially since I’d been boasting to Dinah Hepworth about what a devoted and well-behaved son you are. You know all that trouble they had with their Edward—heaven knows how much they had to pay to get the girl to keep quiet, but I said at the time he wasn’t the sort to make a success of being a vicar, and I was right, wasn’t I? I told Dinah how lucky I was that you’re not generally the type to get into a scrape, but then I had to think of all sorts of excuses as to why you hadn’t turned up. Anyway, she’s coming again this time, so it’s probably best you keep to general subjects—no politics, or anything like that. And don’t mention the incident with the suit of armour at Great-Uncle Algy’s funeral. I know it was all a misunderstanding, but Aunt Ernestine was rather cross, because she’d picked a tremendously inspiring text for the reading, and the noise drowned it out completely. Anyway, I must dash. You won’t make a mess, will you?’

  ‘Oh, no you don’t,’ said Freddy, as she attempted to sidle past him and out into the street. ‘Don’t think you can get away that easily. I want a word with you.’

  ‘Why, darling, whatever’s the matter?’ she said, opening her eyes wide.

  ‘You know perfectly well what’s the matter,’ said Freddy. He lowered his voice and glanced around, to make sure Mrs. Hanbury was not within earshot. ‘What have you done with the flask?’

  ‘Which flask?’

  ‘Ticky’s flask, of course. I know you took it. What did you do with it?’

  ‘Why, I—er—’ she said nervously. ‘Look, I don’t have time for this at the moment. Do you mind awfully if we talk about it later? I was supposed to be in Bond Street half an hour ago, and it’s almost impossible to find a taxi at this time of day.’

  ‘Yes, I do mind,’ said Freddy. ‘You silly woman, can’t you see that if the police suspect for a second you took it, then you’ll be arrested for murder?’

  ‘Nonsense,’ said Cynthia. ‘The police know perfectly well that I had nothing to do with the murder. We had a pleasant little chat earlier in the week, and I told them Ticky was perfectly all right when I left him, and they didn’t give the slightest sign that they’d guessed what really happened.’

  ‘
But they’re looking for the flask,’ said Freddy. ‘There’s no other way Ticky could have been killed. The poison was in the flask, and they know he had it when he was in the taxi. Quite frankly, I’m surprised they haven’t been here to search the house yet. Now, confess it: you took it from his pocket, didn’t you?’

  She lowered her eyes.

  ‘Oh, very well,’ she admitted at last. ‘Yes, I took it. But you must understand, darling, that I was in a dreadful fright, and I didn’t know what to do. I mean, what was I to think when he drank from the flask, shouted “Poison!” and then died? First I was terrified they’d arrest me, and after that I started to think that even if they didn’t—even if I managed to convince them that it was nothing to do with me—they’d start snooping about, and find out about the blackmail, and then where would I be? So in the end I decided it was safest to pretend there was no flask at all, and hope they wouldn’t realize it was murder.’

  ‘But they were bound to realize it once we moved the body,’ said Freddy. ‘I only wish you’d called the police to start with, instead of dragging him all over the place and rifling through his pockets.’

  ‘I didn’t drag him all over the place,’ said Cynthia. ‘I believe that was you.’

  ‘Only because you took advantage of me,’ said Freddy indignantly. ‘I’d never have dreamed of doing it if I’d been in my right mind. I hope I’d have had the sense to leave him where he was and call for help without touching anything. Listen: if it weren’t for the fact that I might be arrested as an accessory at any moment, I’d leave you to stew, so you ought to think yourself lucky that one of us, at least, understands what a sticky position you’re in. As long as you have that flask you’re in terrible danger, and you were an idiot to steal it in the first place.’

  ‘All right, perhaps I was,’ she said crossly. ‘But there’s no need to be so superior. When was the last time someone dropped dead unexpectedly in front of you? I can’t help it if I’m not very good at keeping my head in an emergency, and I can see now it was probably a mistake, but I only did what I thought was best at the time.’