The Amorous Nightingale

by Edward Marston

  'No, sir, but it's towards the bottom. That's where the best lodgings are to be found and I told you he was a gentleman.'

  'Lodgings? He doesn't own the house, then?'

  'Oh, no. He had a room, that's all.'

  Jonathan squeezed every detail he could out of the man before thanking him for his help and moving off. When he got to the lower end of the lane, he began knocking on doors systematically in his search for Bartholomew Gow. The fourth house was owned by a big, fleshy woman in her thirties with a prominent bosom taking attention away from a podgy face that was pitted by smallpox. She opened the door with reluctance and was clearly displeased to see a constable standing there.

  'Good morning,' said Jonathan politely.

  She was wary. 'What can I do for you, sir?'

  'I'm looking for a Mr Bartholomew Gow.'

  'Then you've come too late. He moved out.'

  'When?'

  'Week or so ago.'

  'But he did lodge here?'

  'Yes.'

  'What sort of man was he?'

  'The kind that pays his rent. That's all I cared about.' She gave him a basilisk stare then tried to close the front door.

  'Wait,' he said, putting out a hand to stop her. 'I need to ask you something. A couple of days ago, there was an incident right outside your door involving a coach. It scraped along the front of your house.' He pointed to the marks in the brickwork. 'Were you in the house at the time?'

  'No, sir.'

  'Was anyone else here? Anyone who might have heard the noise and rushed out to see what was going on?'

  'Nobody, sir.'

  'What of your neighbours? Did they see anything?'

  'I don't think so or they'd have told me.'

  'There must have been some witnesses.'

  'I wouldn't know,' she said sourly.

  Jonathan became aware that he was being watched from the upper room. It was the second time he had been under surveillance from that standpoint. When he stepped back to look up, he saw a figure move smartly away from the window.

  'Did Mr Gow have the room at the front?' he wondered.

  'Yes, sir.'

  'Who lodges there now?'

  'Another gentleman.'

  And she closed the door this time before he could stop her.

  'You've saved me a journey, Mr Redmayne. I was just about to come calling at your house in order to see you.'

  'Why?'

  'Because I wish to get to the bottom of this once and for all.'

  'What do you mean, Mr Killigrew?'

  'Something is afoot, sir,' said the manager waspishly. 'A worrying turn of events has occurred. First of all, I get a letter from Harriet Gow to say that she's temporarily indisposed. Then your brother, Henry, barges in here with the same news and does his best to pump me about the members of my company. Word somehow leaks out about her absence and I'm harried to death by her admirers, that moonstruck idiot, Jasper Hartwell, among them. Next minute, I find your brother peering over my shoulder while I'm taking a rehearsal then he springs the biggest surprise of all by turning up at my theatre, covered in blood.'

  'It was good of you to convey him back to his home, Mr Killigrew,' said Christopher. 'That's one of the main reasons I called. To thank you for coming to Henry's aid and to give you a report on his condition.'

  'How is he?'

  'Weak but slowly recovering from his ordeal.'

  'I thought we'd lost him when he was carried in here. Let me be brutally honest, sir. There've been times in my life when I could willingly have taken a cudgel to your brother myself. Henry can irritate so. But I repented my urge when I saw him lying there,' he said, recalling the gruesome image. 'No man deserves to be battered to a pulp like that.'

  Thomas Killigrew was in a peppery mood when Christopher met him at the theatre. His visitor noted the disparity between this manager and the one with whom he had competed so strenuously for years. Killigrew had none of the easy charm of Sir William D'Avenant, the putative son of a humble Oxford innkeeper, who had risen to the status of a courtier and effortlessly acquired all the skills that went with it. The puffy Killigrew might have prior claim on the King's friendship but he lacked the studied grace of the older man.

  'Let's not waste words, Mr Redmayne,' said the manager. 'I want to know exactly what's going on.'

  'You have every right to do so, Mr Killigrew.'

  'Then please explain.'

  'First, let me offer an apology,' said Christopher. 'I feel that an unguarded remark of mine might have led Mr Hartwell to hound you here yesterday. He's developed a rare passion for Harriet Gow.'

  'Show me a man who hasn't.'

  'She's a remarkable woman. I count that performance of hers in The Maid's Tragedy as the most moving I've ever seen from an actress.'

  'Abigail Saunders ran her close.'

  'I'll come to Miss Saunders in moment.'

  'Your brother was showing an interest in her.'

  'Henry is not in a position to show an interest in any woman at the moment,' said Christopher sadly. 'It's all my fault for employing him to do a job that I was engaged to do myself.'

  'And what job was that?'

  Christopher saw no point in trying to deceive someone as worldly as the manager any longer. The disappearance of Harriet Gow had a direct effect on his takings at the theatre. It was in his interests to have her back on stage as soon as possible so that audiences would flock there again. That could be best achieved, Christopher judged, by taking the manager into his confidence. It would gain far more cooperation from Killigrew than Henry Redmayne had been able to secure by his more roundabout means. Swearing him to secrecy, Christopher gave a terse account of the situation. Killigrew was shaken to hear that his leading actress had been abducted and horrified to learn of the death of Mary Hibbert. When he fitted the attacks on Henry Redmayne and Roland Trigg into the picture, he saw how serious the predicament was.

  One thing puzzled the manager. He frowned in wonderment.

  'You're conducting this search on your own, Mr Redmayne?'

  'No, I'm working in harness with Jonathan Bale, a constable.'

  'An architect and a mere constable?'

  'We were able to be of service to His Majesty in the past,' said Christopher modestly. 'That's why he sent for us. But the principal reason for using two men in this investigation instead of two hundred is that we will not arouse attention. At least, that's what I thought until Henry was assaulted. The ransom note insisted that no attempt be made to rescue Harriet Gow. Because we disobeyed, Mary Hibbert was killed by way of reprisal.'

  'Doesn't that frighten you and this constable off?'

  'Quite the opposite, Mr Killigrew. I feel guilty that anything I may have done somehow led to the girl's death and Mr Bale is not the kind of man who's ever scared away. He knew Mary Hibbert as a friend and neighbour. Nothing will stop him tracking down her killers.'

  'How can I help?'

  'In many ways.'

  'Teach me what they are.'

  'The main one is to tell us more about Mrs Gow's private life. You must have had some insight into it. Henry made a start for me. He managed to compile a list of people who were either close to her or who might be suspect in some way.'

  'Do you have that list with you?'

  'Of course,' said Christopher, producing it from his pocket to give it to him. 'Please disregard the last name.'

  'If only I could!' said Killigrew, looking at it with disgust.

  'I interviewed Sir William D'Avenant myself. He's not implicated.'

  'He'd do all he could to seduce Harriet away from me.'

  'Would he condone violence and murder?'

  'He'd roast his grandmother on a spit in the middle of a stage if he thought it would increase his income at the theatre.

  But no,' conceded the manager, 'not murder. I think the old crow would stop short of that.'

  'What of the other names?'

  'Henry has worked hard. He's got most of Harriet's close fri
ends down here - and her enemies. In fact, there's only one person he hasn't put down and that's Martin Eldridge.'

  'A friend or an enemy, sir?'

  'Oh, a friend. No shadow of a doubt about that. Indeed, I have my suspicions that Martin Eldridge may have been elevated beyond the level of friendship by Harriet. She was deeply upset when I had to terminate his contract,' Killigrew said, lovingly caressing his moustache. 'She more or less pleaded with me to give Martin a second chance.'

  'Second chance?'

  'That's what Harriet called it. By my reckoning, it would have been more like a sixth or seventh chance.'

  'Was he a member of the company here?'

  'Yes. Martin was a clever actor - he might even have been a great one if he'd had the sense to apply himself, but he was too lazy. Too easily distracted. I'm a tolerant man, Mr Redmayne,' Killigrew announced with an intolerant scowl, 'but I'll not stand for wayward behaviour. I expect my actors to work at their craft. Martin Eldridge failed to do that.'

  'What is he doing now?'

  'What all unemployed actors do. Either look for work elsewhere, which means submitting themselves to that noseless monster who stalks The Duke's Theatre, or sponge off rich women.'

  'How would I find him?'

  'Talk to Abigail Saunders. She may be able to help you.'

  'I was going to ask your permission to speak to the lady, in any case,' said Christopher. 'It crossed Henry's mind that she might somehow be involved in the abduction of Harriet Gow.'

  'Abigail?' Killigrew shook his head. 'She'd never sink to that.'

  'Miss Saunders is the main beneficiary of her absence.'

  'But she isn't.'

  'Then who is?'

  'That rotting old lecher, Sir William D'Avenant. Can you believe that Abigail once granted him her favours? Well, yes,' he said with an oily grin, 'if you've the slightest knowledge of actresses, you can believe anything of them, I daresay. I certainly do. What a peculiar breed they are! Warrior queens with the faces of harmless cherubs.'

  'Is Miss Saunders a warrior queen?'

  'Decide for yourself, Mr Redmayne. Abigail should be here any minute for another rehearsal. She saved the day yesterday afternoon. And in view of what you've told me,' he sighed, 'she may have to come to our rescue for quite some time.'

  The man rode hard along the deserted road. By the time he reached the house, his temper was up and his horse was lathered with sweat. The woman greeted him with a token curtsey at the door. She had removed her mask to reveal plain features lit by a pair of gimlet eyes. Storming past her, the visitor went straight into the drawing room where the other guard was waiting for him, his own mask now discarded. The newcomer was inches shorter and far slimmer in build but he was not intimidated by the burly figure of Arthur Oscott before him. Snapping his whip hard against his thigh, he glared accusingly at the man.

  'Why did you let it happen?' he demanded.

  'I was only following orders, sir.'

  'Your orders were to keep both of them under lock and key.'

  'The girl escaped,' Oscott said. 'We couldn't let her get away or she'd have raised the alarm. She had to be stopped.'

  'Stopped and brought back here. Not beaten to death.'

  'They got carried away, sir.'

  'Carried away!' fumed his employer.

  'When they caught up with the girl, she screamed and fought back. Smeek said they had to shut her up.'

  'So they did - permanently.'

  'I'd blame Froggatt, sir. Too eager with that cudgel. Ben Froggatt doesn't know his own strength. He's the one who done her in. When they came back, I gave him the sharp side of my tongue, I can tell you.'

  'If I'd been here, he'd have had the point of my sword. Reckless fool! He could have ruined the whole plan.' He pointed the whip. 'And whose idea was it to deliver the body to the Palace?'

  'Mine,' admitted Oscott. 'You told me I was to use my initiative.'

  'That was when I thought you had a brain.'

  'We had to frighten them, you said. Force them into paying the ransom. What better way to show them we weren't to be trifled with than by sending a message like that?' Oscott was unrepentant. 'I was trying to turn the situation to our advantage, sir. Thanks to Froggatt, we suddenly had a dead body on our hands. We could hardly keep it here. Smeek has his boat so I got him and Froggatt to row downriver to the Palace under cover of darkness.'

  'Are you sure they weren't seen?'

  'They swear it.'

  'Where did they leave her?'

  'By the steps.'

  'And they got away safely?'

  'Yes, sir. They're well versed in their trade.'

  'I was told that you were as well,' snarled the other, 'but you let me down, Oscott. How on earth did that maidservant escape when two of you were guarding her all day long?'

  'Knotted bed linen. She lowered herself into the garden.'

  'Then the girl showed more initiative than you've managed.'

  'It may all turn out for the best, sir,' argued the other.

  'Mrs Gow was not to be harmed. I stressed that.'

  'I know.'

  'And I didn't just mean physical harm, you dolt! Think how she'll feel when she finds out what's happened to this Mary Hibbert. She'll be distraught. Keeping her locked up here is punishment enough in itself. There was no need to kill her maid.' 'It wasn't my fault,' said Oscott, thrown on the defensive.

  'Of course it was! You hired Smeek and Froggatt - and that other bully boy who helped us in the ambush. Choose reliable men, that was my instruction. Not imbeciles.' He walked around the room to calm himself down, tapping the end of his whip into the palm of his hand. 'Well, let's hope we can retrieve the situation. Who knows? It might even serve our ends. It might just scare the money out of His Majesty's purse.' He came to a sudden halt. 'Where is Mrs Gow?'

  'Sealed up in the bedchamber, sir.'

  'Safely?'

  'There's no way she can get out. The door is locked and the window has been boarded up. I saw to it myself.'

  'Closing the stable door after the horse had bolted.'

  'Mrs Gow is still here. She's the important one, isn't she?'

  'Yes,' agreed the other. 'Mrs Gow is the only important one. As long as we have her, we can put pressure on them to hand over the money.' He looked upwards. 'What have you told her about Mary Hibbert?'

  Oscott looked uneasy. 'Nothing, sir.'

  'Are you sure?'

  'We just let her know that the girl had been caught.'

  'And how did you do that?'

  'Mary Hibbert was wearing a brooch. We left it on Mrs Gow's bed.'

  'Why didn't you leave the dead body while you were at it!' roared the other, charging back to him. 'You've as good as told her that the girl will have no need for the brooch again. Was this another example of your famous initiative?'

  'It was my wife's idea.'

  'Oh, was it now?'

  'She thought we should punish Mrs Gow.'

  'Whatever for?'

  'Helping her maid to escape.'

  'Your wife's every bit as stupid as her husband.'

  'We've done what we're paid for,' reasoned Oscott. 'We set up the ambush and brought Mrs Gow here. That's what you wanted.'

  'Granted,' said the visitor. 'What I didn't want was the taint of murder on our hands. It was so unnecessary. Where are those two madmen now, Smeek and Froggatt?'

  'Gone back to London.'

  'Can they be trusted?'

  'Yes, sir. They know how to keep their mouths shut.'

  'I don't want any of this leading back to me.'

  'Smeek and Froggatt don't even know your name, sir,' Oscott reminded him. 'No more do I. That was your stipulation. You're safe, sir. None of this can be connected with you.'

  'It could if the trail led to this house.'

  'Only the four of us know where it is.'

  'That's two too many,' decided the other, rubbing his chin with the end of his whip. 'Smeek and Froggatt are liabilities. To be on
the safe side, I think we'll move Mrs Gow.'

  'Where to, sir?'

  'Another hiding place.'

  'But why?'

  'They worry me, Oscott, those two friends of yours with the over-zealous cudgels. If they don't know where Mrs Gow is being kept, they won't be able to tell anyone where it is.'

  'But they wouldn't do that, anyway,' insisted Oscott loyally. 'Smeek served in the Navy, sir. The man's as hard as teak and twice as reliable. Ben Froggatt's just such another. He knows how to earn his money. Have no fears about Smeek and Froggatt,' he said airily. 'They won't let you down.'

  The Hope and Anchor was one of the many inns along the river that catered for sailors. With so many ships moored nearby, it was doing brisk business and its taproom was full. Smeek and Froggatt pushed their way through the crowd until they found a corner where they could raise their tankards in celebration. Short but powerful, Smeek had the weather- beaten complexion of a seafaring man. Froggatt was bigger, broader and even more rugged in appearance.

  'We done well,' he said, drinking deep.

  'Arthur Oscott didn't think so, Ben.'

  'We shut the girl up for good. Pity we didn't have time to get some fun out of her before we did it, though. Pretty thing. I got a good feel of her body when we kidnapped her. I'd have enjoyed riding that little filly.'

  'So would I,' said Smeek. 'One thing, anyway.'

  'What's that?'

  'She got us to the Palace. Never thought I'd set foot there.'

  'Well, we did,' said Froggatt, jingling coins in his hand. 'And we got our reward from Arthur for doing it. He was pleased with us in the end. Leaving that body there would be another warning, he said.'

  Smeek looked down at the money in his friend's huge palm.

  'How long will it take us to drink through that, Ben?'

  'Let's see.'

  They shared a laugh, bought more ale then joined in the general revelry. The raucous atmosphere was home to them. Drinking heavily, they were quite unaware that someone was spying on them from the doorway. It was Froggatt who peeled off first to relieve himself. He made an obscene gesture to his companion then lurched out of the inn and around to the alleyway at the rear. Undoing his breeches, he broke wind violently then urinated against the wall.