“I know this is no comfort, Miss Gale, but you will find out soon enough that Holzknecht was not at all what he appeared to be. He was a dangerous, violent man and your mother’s fears for your safety were well-founded.”
“What?” exclaimed Mrs Gale.
“We have evidence that Yardley and Holzknecht together tortured and then murdered a girl out at Whithorne last summer. She was induced to leave her family by Holzknecht promising her marriage.”
“No, no, no!” said Miss Gale. “No, you’re wrong. Why are you saying this?”
“Tortured!” said Mrs Gale, almost at the same moment. “Dear Lord.”
“What is the Resort, Miss Gale?” Giles said.
“It’s to the north of Walmergate,” said Mrs Gale. “You know it, sir, I’m sure, that awful run-down place hard by that great big manufactory that just went up, Morris’, or whatever it is. Funny sort of place to buy and fix up, if you ask me, but that’s Mr high-and-mighty Yardley for you!” She gave a shudder. “Murder, you say? Well, that doesn’t surprise me one bit!”
Giles frowned, annoyed he could not at once place it.
“By Walmersgate?” he queried
“Yes,” Mrs Gale went on. “It has great big walls all round it, and set back from the road, the gates are. Used to be a sort of pleasure garden – when my mother was a girl she said it was quite the thing, with wild animals and dancing and what not. When I was a girl they said it was haunted.”
“Oh, I know it,” said Giles, seeing it in his mind now. “Yes, that’s the place some people call the Gardens?” It was a bleak spot for a pleasure ground.
“I thought it belonged to Mr Bickley,” Mrs Gale said with a nod. “He told me he was planning to build houses on it.”
“No, he lost it at cards to Mr Yardley,” said Miss Gale. “Mr Bickley thought he was cheating, but Georg said it was simply that Bickley is a fool compared to Mr Yardley.”
“Oh, I see,” said Mrs Gale. “Well, that it explains it, why he was asking for Yardley that time. Seems he is as bad as I thought and a fool to cheat Mr Bickley, certainly. The dogs always know, sir, they always know,” she went on with a sigh. “Look at them now. They love you, Colonel or whatever you are.” They had both settled at Giles’ feet.
“Major Vernon,” Giles said, getting up, but not before caressing each of the dogs heads’ lavishly. They were really most attractive creatures, and he wondered if he should get another dog. “They certainly do know more than we imagine,” he added, thinking of faithful Meg’s noisy vigil at Lord Milburne’s door.
“I don’t believe a word of it!” said Miss Gale. “I don’t! I can’t!”
“No dearie, of course you can’t now,” said Mrs Gale, going to her and comforting her. “But it seems you’ve had a lucky escape.”
-o-
Resisting the temptation to go at once and visit the Resort without reinforcements, Giles made his way back to Silver Street. It was not a pleasant walk. The rain showed no sign of letting up and the streets were beginning to become difficult to negotiate due to the deep muddy puddles that were forming on the surface. What drainage there was in the city appeared not to be working.
Northminster had not flooded badly for some years, but given the growth of the population and of the various new mills and manufactories, there was always the risk that the delicate equilibrium between the river and the city could be upset. A few more hours of unrelenting rain and there was the severe danger of an inundation.
Returning, he was gladdened by the sight of Mrs Maitland sitting at the Professor’s desk, a cheerful fire behind her. She looked up from her reading and saw him standing at the threshold.
“The rain has not let up, I see,” she said. “You look somewhat sodden.”
“It is worthy of Whithorne,” he said, unfastening his macintosh cape and draping it across the newel post at the foot of the stair.
“I am praying that Whithorne is spared,” she said, as he came into the room. “Our poor roof could not bear it.”
“I hope this roof holds out,” said Giles, “and half the city bridges.”
“I think we have found what you wanted,” she said. Laid on the chaise, where the Professor used to lie, was a light-coloured frock coat and a straw top hat. “The coat seems stained in the lining,” she said.
Giles picked it up and examined it.
“Mr Carswell may be able to do something with this. Thank you.”
She gave a little shrug.
“I sent Miss Rivers to rest – she uncovered what we think may be Georg’s diaries and she was keen to get on with it, but she went pale as a sheet and almost fainted, poor child. She’s an interesting young woman. My son has good taste, and she has good sense to resist the onslaught. In other circumstances, I might even be happy that he was in love with her. But that is neither here nor there. However, this is,” she said, holding out a pasteboard-covered journal.
He flicked through it. The pages revealed dense blocks of tiny script, interleaved with drawings that ranged from detailed studies from life to obscene and violent caricatures.
“You were right to send Miss Rivers to bed,” said Giles.
“No, some of that is not fit for the eyes of a young woman,” Mrs Maitland said, “no matter how intelligent.”
“And I am sorry to pull you into this mire,” he said.
“You must use what resources you have in battle,” said Mrs Maitland.
“Do you happen to know if Mrs Connolly came home?” he said.
“No, she has not,” said Mrs Maitland. “Your man Holt – what an excellent fellow he is – he did not find her at her sister’s and asked me to tell you that he is looking about for her elsewhere. He went to the Roman church, and to Mr O’Brien’s print shop as well. He took the trouble to make me comfortable, and then went out again.” Giles did not answer at once, and she added, “That worries you?”
“Yes,” he said after a moment. “It is not like her.”
She nodded, and got up from her place.
“From what I gather,” she said, “she had many good reasons to return to the house within an hour or two at most. She told Anne, for example, that that afternoon they would be checking over the linen, and given she seems to be a most perfect housekeeper, that is not the sort of appointment she would miss.”
“Did Holt say he had spoken to Mr Carswell, or been to the office? She may be with him.” She shook her head. “That is the most likely explanation.”
“It is?”
He hesitated for a moment. “They have been living as man and wife.”
“Oh, I see,” she said, after a pause of her own. “Of course. Oh dear.”
Was she shocked to find him living in such a household and tolerating such an arrangement? She certainly seemed a little uncomfortable, and wondered if this information had clouded her view of him. That was perhaps a good thing – but he felt a strong urge to explain it all to her, and defend himself. He hated that she might think less of him, that his lustre had been diminished. He realised he had been taking great pleasure in her unconditional admiration – it was the wealthy relative of the pleasure he had taken in the fawning spaniels at Mrs Gale’s.
However, to command that power over a woman was not good for a man, no matter how delightful it might be. It was better that she know his faults and adjust her opinion accordingly. It was better, on balance, that she thought nothing much of him.
“I am going to take these to Mr Carswell,” he said gathering up the frock coat and the hat. “And if I may, I shall take you back to my sister’s. I cannot have you labouring so long at this wretched stuff.”
“I am perfectly content to do it. It needs to be done, after all. This passage I have been working on here – it is such a puzzle. It was written four nights ago, or at least that is what the date says, and there is drawing of a bear, and he keeps talking about a bear garden. Is there such a thing here?”
“There used to be,” said Giles.
“This is the
bear,” she said, laying the book open on the table. “The hungry bear, he calls it.” She tapped her finger on the open page.
“Does it say anything about the name of the bear garden? Or where it is?” said Giles.
“I had just got to this bit,” she said, going back and taking up her notes. “Excuse me, this is a very literal rendering – it says something like: cut work, and went to the bear garden. The bear is very amusing. We throw him a – I am not sure what that is – a cut of meat, or some such – and he howls for more, and more, but we shall keep him short until his dinner has come. She was easy to convince. Y –” She paused and looked at him. “‘Y’ being Squire Yardley, do we think?”
“Yes, I believe so,” Giles said. “How did you deduce that?”
“Miss Rivers found a letter from him. I’m sorry, I should have mentioned it at once.” She darted across the room and took it up. “There is a familiarity of tone in it which suggests an association between them.” She handed it to Giles.
It was addressed to the lodgings in Martinsgate that Mr Hardie had mentioned.
“This is excellent work,” he said. “Thank you.”
“Miss Rivers found it. It was well-hidden. She seems to have an instinct for where something might be concealed.”
“She might well do,” Giles said. “She is,” he could not help sighing, “far too quick-witted for her own good. What else do your notes say?”
“This is where it begins to puzzle me,” she said. “It says ‘she was easy to convince’, but it never says who she is. And then it becomes rather unpleasant. ‘Y says that we will toss for the pleasure of taking her maidenhood, but I do not care about it much, amusing though it might be. My heart cares only for one woman now, but she continues to run from me, like the hare from the hunter. But I believe she wants me to catch her. I can see it in her eyes. She is making me dance to her tune, and I know that I should not allow her to make such a fool of me, I will be the fool for her, as long as it takes, and then I will be her master forever. It will be worth the game to have her forever.’”
“And does he give any indication who this woman is?” Giles said, his heart sinking as a distinct possibility came to his mind. “Does he give her name anywhere?”
“Susann.”
“And is that the German form of Susanna?”
“Yes.”
“That is Mrs Connolly’s Christian name. Holzknecht had been pestering her. Well, more than that.”
“Is this her, then?” said Mrs Maitland, pulling out another drawing from the paper. It was a portrait of Mrs Connolly. Giles nodded.
“I need to find Carswell,” he said. “One can only hope that they are together.”
“But you think not?”
“I do not like to come to any sinister conclusions until I have some solid evidence, but she has been away from home too long.”
“You have a little evidence,” said Mrs Maitland, “given the state of Holzknecht’s feelings for Mrs Connolly. That came over clearly. He was utterly obsessed with conquering her.”
“Yes,” said Giles.
“Perhaps he told Yardley – given they seem to have been exchanging confidences.”
“Given that they have already acted together before,” Giles said, looking down at the stained lining of the coat. “And once Holzknecht is dead, what is left for Yardley but revenge against those who hurt him? And Holzknecht’s death will have hurt him. The father is dead, and who is left to take out his revenge upon?”
“Mrs Connolly, who spurned his friend,” she said. “Yes, go and see Mr Carswell, at once.”
“I will take you back now as well, before a flood cuts the town in half.”
They walked quickly down to the Northern Office and found the place deserted, except for Giles’ chief clerk, Williams. He stated that Mr Carswell had left at a little after two and had not returned, and Mrs Connolly had not been seen. Furthermore, all the other constables had been requisitioned by Captain Lazenby to assist with reinforcing the flood defences and rescuing those stranded. The river had almost broken its banks up at Whiteladies Meadows, and the western quarter of the town was in imminent danger. There was a note asking him to report at once to the Unicorn for further instructions.
While he was speaking to Williams, Mrs Maitland studied the large map on the wall of his office.
“Where might this bear garden be?” she said.
“I believe it is this property here,” he said, pointing out the area north of Walmersgate. The Resort.”
She nodded. “The bear – they said were starving the bear. Keeping it short, until –”
“His dinner comes,” Giles said.
“Is it like Mr Carswell to leave his work?” she said.
“He may have been called to some emergency at the infirmary. He has had some cases in hand there.” He turned to Williams and asked about it.
“No, sir, that can’t be it,” said Williams. “There was a message from them, asking for him. Two in fact. Oh, and Mr Holt came in and asked after him.”
Giles took from the locked drawer in his cupboard a pair of pistols, a flask of powder and a pouch of bullets.
Mrs Maitland observed him making these preparations without any show of alarm. Her calm demeanour was impressive.
They walked in silence up the steep hill to the Minster Precincts. They were not alone. Many people of the poorer sort had decided to take refuge in the Minster, a traditional right of the city folk in extremis. They were labouring up towards Stephensgate, burdened with what possessions they could carry. Everyone looked drenched and miserable.
“I am sure my brother-in-law will have all the braziers burning in the Minster by now,” Giles remarked.
At this moment a uniformed man on horseback came riding up. It was Captain Lazenby.
Giles called out to him, “Sir! I am sorry, I have not been to see you earlier. I only recently got your message. I have been pursuing something else. Where do you need me?”
“Down at Whiteladies. I need a reliable observer and someone to take charge. I am sure the bridge there will go in the next hour or so and I cannot leave here. The water is backing up at Hall Street as well. It is looking serious,” said Lazenby dismounting, and thrusting the reins of the horse into Giles’ hand. “Take her, and tell me what you think. Send one of the constables back with your report. I have set up another headquarters at the Golden Lion Tavern.”
“Of course, sir.”
“God willing the structure will hold,” said Lazenby, “but I am not at all convinced.” He turned and began to make his way briskly back along the street, against the tide of people.
Giles turned to Mrs Maitland.
“You will be able to get back yourself, I hope? It is only a little distance from here. I have my orders, you see.”
“Certainly you have,” she said, taking the reins of the horse from him, so that he could mount. “So you must go. And I shall go and make myself useful, if I can, up yonder.” So he mounted up. “And I am sure that is all that your friends are doing,” she went on, steadying the horse as he settled into the saddle. “Making themselves useful somewhere.”
“Yes, quite so,” he said, and reached out and caught her hand and squeezed it. “Good luck!”
“Good luck to you too!” she said, and turned and left him without another word. A few yards ahead he saw her stop to assist a woman with a struggling child.
Chapter Thirty-Eight
At a little after three in the morning, the rain stopped, and mercifully the bridges of Northminster were spared. However, the river had burst its banks at intervals and the great flood meadows to the south of the city were completely submerged. Some of the low-lying streets around the wharves had collected a foot or more of standing water. There were some unfortunates forced out of their houses but the warehouses at the wharves seemed to have taken the brunt of the damage.
Captain Lazenby’s management of the situation had proved eminently sensible, and Giles could not fault his
successor’s handling of the resources available.
“An impressive piece of work,” he said, as they met in the temporary headquarters Lazenby had established on the top floor of one of the warehouses.
“I hope you did not mind my issuing you orders,” Lazenby said, as they stood drinking scalding coffee in front of a brazier bright with coke.
“Of course not,” said Giles.
“I’m always conscious that you have laid such a sure foundation for me, Major Vernon,” said Lazenby. “I’ve only begun to take things a step or two further and that would not have been possible without your work. Never more so than over the last twenty-four hours. You don’t regret not being involved on an operational level any more?”
“I have operations of my own to keep me perfectly content,” Giles said. “Speaking of which, I am conscious I owe you a report or two regarding my investigations. We have established a significant link between the dead Germans and Yardley, and a possible address for the latter in Northminster.”
“That’s good to hear. What do you need in the way of men?”
“I will let you know. I want to do an assessment first. I also have lure in place to tempt him into the open. If that works, it will make matters much easier.”
“Let me know what you need, and when, Major,” said Lazenby. “From what you told me the other day, the man is a public menace, and the sooner he is dealt with the better. In fact, if I might take the liberty of issuing another order? Go back home and get some sleep. You will need your wits about you to deal with him, I suspect. Everything is under control here now.”
What Lazenby said could not be argued with. To seize an hour or two of restorative sleep would be sensible, and there was the added benefit of seeing that all was well at Silver Street. As he made his way there, he hoped that he would find Sukey and Carswell safe by their fireside.
But as he unlocked the door, and an exhausted looking Holt staggered into the hall, he found his optimism vanishing.
“No sign of them?” he asked.
“No, sir. And not for lack of trying. What’s the state of the river, sir? It didn’t look promising when I was out an hour or so ago.”
The Hanging Cage (The Northminster Mysteries Book 4) Page 34