“Excuse me, sir, but this must be yours. I believe you dropped it earlier.”
The man stopped and examined the coin. “A shilling? I do not think it is mine, sir, for I am well acquainted with the contents of my purse, and no such coin was in my possession. I thank you for your honesty, but perhaps it is your own?” And he winked at Alex, the invitation to pocket the coin unmistakable.
“I will enquire of the tellers, sir. Perhaps they may know who could have lost such a sum.”
Now that he could see the man’s face clearly, Alex could see that he was no ruffian, but a pleasantly featured man, and younger than he had supposed. He could not have been much above one and twenty. Beneath the great-coat he caught glimpses of a starched collar and immaculate cravat, and the accent was educated, not to say aristocratic. For an instant Alex wondered if the stranger might indeed be a highwayman, for there were numerous tales of nobility gone bad.
The man smiled and was on the point of turning away, and Alex could think of no pretext to keep him talking. From the other side of the room, the Marquess’s carrying voice was talking about an urgent need for pistols, and the banker was responding with “Yes, my lord,” and “Gracious, my lord!” and “Indeed, my lord, is that so?” The stranger’s attention was diverted, and he stood and watched, with open curiosity.
Alex thought quickly, determined to take advantage of the opportunity. “My friend is a great trial to me,” he said. “Always up to some caper. He is so easily bored. Do you know of any entertainment around here which would amuse a lord?”
The man eyed him with renewed interest. “Staying long, is he, this lordly friend?”
“The Marquess has not yet determined his plans,” Alex said, which was quite true. “You know what these great men are like — jumping here and there on a whim.” That was not strictly true of Lord Carrbridge, but the stranger was not to know that.
The man tapped his chin with a gloved finger. “There is a club not far from here, very exclusive. It might amuse your friend. Not what he is used to in London of course, but it might while away an evening or two, and make a change from — where are you staying?”
“The Queen’s Head.”
“Ah. A comfortable establishment.”
“As comfortable as an inn can ever be, which is to say, not very comfortable at all. Where did you say this club might be found?”
“I did not say, but it is in Water Street. Look for the lions beside the door. Here — show this card when you arrive and you will be attended to.”
“I am very much obliged to you, er…” Alex said, scanning the card hastily. “Mr Smith. My thanks to you. Here is my card. Alex Drummond of Wester Strathmorran, in Morranshire, and my friend is the Marquess of Carrbridge, of Drummoor.”
With a smile and a low bow, Smith turned and departed.
The Marquess was instantly at Alex’s side. “Quick! We must follow him!”
“That is exactly what we must not do,” Alex said. “He knows both of us now, and will certainly recognise us if he turns and sees us behind him. Besides, we do not need to follow him, for I know exactly where he is going.”
“He gave you his direction, then?”
“His name, his direction, his card. That man is Mr Smith from 17 Water Street. And he is running a discreet gentlemen’s club there.”
“Ah,” the Marquess said. “So that is where all the money comes from — the gaming tables. Good God, my betrothed’s dowry is gambling profits.”
~~~~~
Alex and Lord Carrbridge lost no time in apprising the Burford brothers of the results of their efforts.
“That does indeed make sense,” Mr John said. “There are few enterprises which could produce quite such high profits, week after week. So the mystery is solved.”
“Not entirely,” Alex said. “I am at a loss to understand the connection between a gambling den and the Miss Allamonts’ dowries.”
“That is simple enough, surely,” Mr Luke said. “The house is part of the Allamont estate, so the profits… oh, I take your point, Drummond.”
“Exactly,” Alex said. “The house was let, and the late Mr Allamont collected the rent in person, in cash, as was his custom. Why set up this account at all? Why is money from this establishment being set aside for the benefit of the Miss Allamonts? It seems most irregular to me.”
“It is indeed irregular,” Mr Luke said. “Dowries are typically settled when needed, as the estate can afford, or a sum may be set aside each year from surplus income. But this… I have never heard the like.”
“Then there is only one thing to be done,” the Marquess said cheerfully. “We must break into this house in Water Street and find the papers relating to the account.”
All eyes turned to him. “Break in?” Alex said mildly.
“Now, do not look so disapproving, Drummond. There is nothing to it — all one needs is an open window to climb through. It will be a rare piece of fun, I assure you.”
“It might be fun for you, my lord, because when the constables are sent for to lock you up and you appear before the magistrate the following morning, he will smile and shake his head and tell you not to do such a thing again. Whereas I am liable to be deported to the colonies.”
“Oh, do you think so? I am tolerably sure I could get you off, if it came to that.”
“And I, for my part, am tolerably sure that when Miss Allamont hoped that I would keep you out of mischief, this was exactly the sort of scrape she had in mind, my lord. I am certain you would not wish to upset her, now would you?”
“Oh, on no account! She is the sweetest little thing — not the least wish to upset her! But whatever is to be done?”
“Surely there is no need to be climbing through windows, my lord,” Mr John said. “You have been invited to this club, so why not go there? Have a look around, and perhaps ask this Mr Smith how it all came about.”
“That does not sound like so much fun, but Miss Allamont could hardly object, could she? A gentlemen’s club — that is a very respectable place to be. So are you up for it, Drummond? You had better come, you know, to keep me out of mischief and so forth.”
“Perhaps we might all go, my lord?” Mr Luke said. “If you have no objection, that is. Safety in numbers, you know.”
And so it was agreed. After Mrs Luke had fed them another splendid dinner, which made Alex wonder if the family would have to live on crusts of bread for months to compensate, they walked the short distance to Water Street. There were lights burning in number 17, but no sign of revelry or noise. A single lamp hung over the door, swaying gently in the breeze, so that the shadows of the stone lions executed a macabre dance. Alex rapped with the knocker, and the door was opened almost immediately by a footman.
“Mr Smith, if you please,” Alex said. “He gave us his card.” He held it out, and the footman took and gazed at it, as if he imagined they might fob him off with a forgery.
When he was satisfied, he stood aside and they strode in. Another footman waited in the hall with a silver salver where they placed their cards. He disappeared into the interior of the house. There was nothing about their surroundings to suggest that the house was anything but a private residence, although a murmur of voices in the distance suggested a party was underway. A few minutes later the footman returned with the butler, they were speedily relieved of hats, canes and gloves and led away past the stairs.
They were shown into an elegant saloon at the back of the house, bright with a multitude of candles. Scattered about the room were perhaps half a dozen tables with games going on, each with an audience gathered around it. One or two faces turned towards them curiously, before returning to their cards or dice. The newcomers were supplied with glasses of a rather good wine, and invited to wander around and choose a table to play at. The Marquess was soon swept into a game of faro, and Mr Luke settled to whist, but Alex and Mr John ambled about from table to table. There were enough others doing the same that Alex did not feel out of place. He had nev
er belonged to a gentlemen’s club, but he knew many who had and there were numerous stories about the excesses to be seen in some of them.
“Is it my imagination, or is this all rather subdued for a gaming room?” he said to Mr John Burford.
“So it seems to me,” Burford replied. “Even for a provincial club, this seems a little mild. My father plays for higher stakes than this, and he is by no means as wild as some. Yet the supper room seems very well provided, and the wine is good, would you not say?”
It was less than half an hour before the Marquess withdrew from his faro table. “Well, that was tame and no mistake,” he said in disgusted tones. “I have never yet been to any establishment that would refuse to increase the stakes upon request. Yet here no one wishes to play for more than pennies. Even a crown is too rich for them. So let us look about and find the real gaming room.”
“The real gaming room?” Alex said. “Oh, you think this is a front?”
“Of course it is! Somewhere we shall find the real action, I assure you. Upstairs, probably. Come on, Mr Luke, we are going to find a more exciting way to pass the evening.” He strode out of the saloon and back to the entrance hall, the others trailing in his wake like ducklings. “Upstairs, I think.”
The two footmen and the butler materialised in front of them, hands raised to bar their way. “I think not, my lord, gentlemen,” the butler said, in tones that brooked no disagreement.
The Marquess, however, was not accustomed to being denied access, and he simply laughed. “Oh, I think so, my good fellow. Four of us, and three of you — I rather fancy our odds.”
“Just a moment—” Alex began, but had no chance to say more.
The Burford brothers stepped forward until they were chest to chest with the three men defending the stairs. “Do you want us to deal with them, my lord?” Mr John said. “We both did a little boxing at Oxford.”
“Oh, a mill! Excellent!” the Marquess said.
The three servants were not deterred, wearing the sort of belligerent expressions that usually ended with blood spilt and furniture broken.
Alex said hastily, “There is no need for violence, I am sure. We are not here to cause trouble, but merely to find out something about this place. If we could perhaps talk to Mr Smith?”
“No one here by that name, sir,” the butler said, dismissively. “I think you had best leave now.”
The Marquess was not minded to leave until he was quite ready to do so, and the argument might have come to blows in the end, had a figure not appeared at the top of the stairs.
“Parrish, whatever is going on here?”
“Ah, Mr Smith!” Alex said with relief, recognising the man from the bank. “Just the person we need. May we speak with you, sir?”
“You may not. You should leave this house at once, before I send for the constables.”
Again the Marquess laughed. “By all means do so, sir. That would be most amusing, especially when I advise them to search this house from cellar to roof to find what you are hiding.”
“Why would you do so, may I enquire? This is a respectable establishment, as I am sure you have observed for yourselves. There is nothing hidden, nothing at all.”
“But of course there is,” the Marquess said scornfully. “Do you expect anyone to believe that you maintain this place on the profits of gaming for pennies? You have put on a good show for us, Mr Smith, if that is even your name, but we are not as gullible as you appear to believe. The real business of this house goes on out of sight somewhere, and I imagine you have far more to fear from the constables than we do. I might even wonder why you sent a man round to the inn to ask questions of my tiger. Yes, I know all about that. Intend to fleece me, did you? I am not so easy to bamboozle, I assure you. ”
Mr Smith hesitated, licking his lips.
“We mean you no harm,” Alex put in quickly. “We only seek information about your connection to Mr William Allamont of Allamont Hall. Once we have that, we will go away, I assure you.”
Smith looked from one to the other of them, his glance taking in the aristocratic bearing of the Marquess, and the Burford brothers with fists still raised ready to fight. Then his gaze rested on the Marquess again, a long, assessing look, as if calculating the risk of taking on a peer of the realm.
A quick nod. “Very well. Parrish, show his lordship and his companions to my office.”
16: Departures
The butler led them in stately procession up the stairs, and into a modestly proportioned office. The few book shelves were empty, while a desk was overflowing with account books and papers. There was only one chair, situated behind the desk, so they stood in a semi-circle to one side of the fireplace, while Mr Smith stationed himself composedly on the opposite side. He still seemed very young to be in charge of such an establishment, to Alex’s eyes, but without the hat and greatcoat, and with the curls of his wig about his face, he had a certain dignity.
“Shall I wait, sir?” the butler asked, but Smith dismissed him with a wave of one hand.
“If you hear screams or furniture smashing, you may come and rescue me, Parrish.” The butler bowed low and, with one last suspicious look at the four, withdrew, closing the door.
Smith looked from one to the other, then settled on the Marquess. “You must forgive my enquiries at the inn, my lord. I have met a number of so-called lords in my time who were no such thing, and trying to gull me. I wished only to determine if you were who you claimed to be.”
The Marquess was still inclined to take offence, but Alex said lightly, “If he is not, then he has stolen the Marquess’s curricle and all his monogrammed handkerchiefs.”
This made the Marquess laugh, and the moment passed.
Smith gave a half-smile. “Indeed. Now then, my lord, gentlemen, how may I help you?” He spoke calmly, for all the world as if he had not threatened violence or the constables just moments ago.
The Burford brothers both looked at the Marquess, who turned to Alex. “Drummond, be so good as to explain it to Mr… to this person.”
Alex nodded. “We are enquiring upon the matter of an account at Partridge’s Bank, which account was established by Mr William Allamont of Allamont Hall to the benefit of his daughters. It seemed to be an unexpectedly large amount, and continued to grow rapidly, a situation which occasioned some curiosity. His lordship determined to investigate.”
“And what have his lordship’s investigations discovered?” Smith said politely.
“That the increase in funds is deposited each week by yourself, sir, and appears to originate from this very house, which is a part of the Allamont estate and is let to a Mr Smith. Yourself, sir. So naturally, when we received an invitation to this house, we decided to take the opportunity to find out what we could about the matter.”
“And your connection to this Mr Allamont?”
“Mr John Burford is married to the former Miss Belle Allamont. Lord Carrbridge is shortly to marry Miss Constance Allamont. Mr Luke Burford is partner to the solicitor who manages the Miss Allamonts’ fund.”
“And your role, sir, if I may enquire?”
“I am charged with keeping his lordship out of mischief. So far, I have not met with great success.”
“Nonsense, Drummond,” the Marquess protested. “Not in mischief yet, am I?”
Smith’s lips twitched at this, but he answered with tolerable composure, “It seems to me that you do indeed have the right to know something of this business, so far as I am at liberty to disclose it. Do I have your lordship’s word that if I answer your questions, you will leave without fuss, and not set the constables loose?”
“Certainly,” the Marquess said. “Have we not already said as much? But it had better be the truth, Smith, or there will be mischief, you have my word upon it.”
Smith licked his lips. “Very well. I was not here when the account of which you speak was set up. It has been in existence for some years, as I am sure you are aware. In those days, the house was no more th
an a common brothel, but the rent was always paid on time, in cash, as Mr Allamont preferred it. Each year he would call to collect the rent and inspect the house, always on the same date, and of course the… erm, residents, shall we say, were kept out of sight. But one year, for some reason, he arrived a day early and discovered the secret of 17 Water Street. The proprietor of the time expected the worst, but on the contrary, Mr Allamont was mightily amused. He wanted a share of the proceeds, not for himself but for his daughters. He is reputed to have said, ‘They are the spawn of a whore, they will become whores in their turn, so they may as well profit from whoring.’ Not a nice man, by the sound of it, to speak of his wife and daughters in that way. He set up the account at the bank, and instructed the tenant of the property to pay one half of all proceeds into it.”
“That is a prodigious sum,” Mr Luke exclaimed. “Half the profits? Astonishing!”
“True. But my predecessor felt it was a reasonable arrangement, in that it allowed the business to continue without interference, and it also benefited the Miss Allamonts. When I took over, and converted the house to a more respectable manner of business, I too maintained the practice as a matter of honour, and will continue to maintain it, until the last portion is claimed and the account is closed.”
“Naturally there is nothing in writing to confirm this,” Mr Luke said in tones of disgust.
“As you have surmised, the agreement was a verbal one only,” Smith said smoothly. “There is a document relating to the letting of the house, but nothing else. Do you wish to see that?”
“I do,” Alex said loudly, before anyone else could speak.
Smith rummaged round in drawers and cupboards until he emerged, dusty but triumphant, bearing a single sheet of paper, yellowed with age. Alex read it carefully, before passing it to Mr Luke, who scanned it quickly.
“I see nothing untoward in this,” he said. “It is of a common form. It is unusual for the letting agent to be in a different town, but Liverpool is not so far away.”
“It is, I believe, where the previous owner originated,” Smith said. “I trust you are satisfied, my lord, gentlemen?”
Dulcie (The Daughters of Allamont Hall Book 4) Page 15