One thing he had noticed was that the door to Blackwell’s shop had remained closed. No one had come out to watch the fight, which could mean either that nobody was there or that Blackwell had something to hide.
The thought that he might be watching an empty house made Tom restless. Irritably he wondered whether he could simply walk up to the shop and peer inside. He was seriously considering this option when another news-hawker came up behind him and asked if he would like to buy a postscript from The Post Man.
Tom was about to refuse, considering three half-pence an outrageous sum, when he recognized the boy’s offer for the chance it was. So he handed over more of St. Mars’s money for the opportunity to lean against a corner post and read his paper as long as the twilight would allow.
This was not very long, and he had begun to draw curious glances again, when the door to Blackwell’s shop finally opened. A boy, who surely must have been an apprentice, emerged and, without pausing, came running straight towards Tom. He swerved past him with hardly a glance, before turning at the corner and vanishing from sight.
Well, at least one of his questions had been answered, Tom thought with more hope. Someone was in the shop. And, if he was not mistaken, that person had sent the boy on an errand.
He began to be concerned that the boy might take greater note of the stranger lurking outside his master’s shop when he passed him a second time. But he need not have worried. The lad came back nearly half an hour later, leading a saddled horse, and it was plain from the trouble he was having that he had never dealt much horses. It was all he could do to get the horse to come, and he had no attention to spare for Tom, who had to dig his fingernails into his palms to stop himself from lending the boy a hand.
Clumsily, the boy eventually managed to tie the horse’s reins to a hitching post in front of Blackwell’s shop. He was about to rap on the door to announce his arrival, when the door swung in, and Mr. Menzies appeared.
Tom’s pulse gave a leap when he saw that arrogant face. All his anger towards the man returned in a rush, so that it was a few moments before he noticed that Menzies carried a pack and wore a riding wig.
He took a glance around, giving Tom no chance to duck, before tossing his pack behind the saddle. Tom didn’t think he’d been spotted. Night was nearly here, and he was standing in the shadow of a wall. He watched Menzies buckle down his belongings and check the girth. Then, he told the boy to move out of his way, and leapt into the saddle.
St. Mars’s had told Tom to follow Menzies to discover where he lodged. But, as Menzies headed east, Tom decided that he was making for London Bridge, which meant that he was probably on his way back to France.
There was not a moment to lose. Dropping the news-sheet in the street, Tom turned into the nearest alley and hurried as fast as he could trot down to the river. He hailed the only boat moored at Puddle Dock Stairs, jumped into it before its owner could untie it, and offered the waterman twice his usual fee if he could row him to Vauxhall Stairs in record time.
* * * *
When, feeling dejected and restless, Gideon returned from Ormonde House, he found Tom waiting for him at the dock.
“My lord, you’ve got to come quick,” he said. He shifted impatiently while Gideon climbed out of the boat and paid the man his fee.
“You’ve found him?”
“Ay, but he’s left. I saw him ride for London Bridge, and I think he’s heading back to France. You’ll have to be quick if you want to catch him.”
The urgency in Tom’s voice spurred Gideon like a tonic. At last there was something he could do! No more of this infernal waiting.
Taking long, fast strides, he headed up the river bank towards the house, with Tom nearly running to keep up.
He would ride after Menzies, and the longer and faster the ride, the better he would feel.
“Have you got Penny ready?”
“Ay, my lord. And I’ve saddled Beau, too.”
Beau would not be able to keep pace with Gideon’s horse, but Tom would not be too far behind, and Gideon still needed him to identify Menzies.
Reaching the house, and taking the stairs two at a time, Gideon took a second to reflect that, for once, he had not been made to suffer an argument with his groom. Amused, but gratified, by his servant’s planning, he wondered what exactly Menzies had done to earn Tom’s enmity. But that story could wait.
In his bedchamber, he removed his Quakerish coat and bob wig and threw them on the floor. He grabbed a black ribbon from his dressing table and tied his hair into a queue, before reaching for his boots.
Gideon sat to pull them on, just as Tom appeared breathless in the door. “I took the liberty of packing your lordship’s cloak and mask, in case you need them,” he got out. “They’re in the pack on your saddle.”
“And my father’s pistols?”
Tom blanched. “Do you think you’ll be needing them, my lord?”
With his boots put on, Gideon sprang to his feet.
“Strange things are going on,” he said. “It would be better for us to be prepared.”
“Yes, my lord.”
“You carry them, though. I’d rather not be burdened with their weight. And that way, if you come along and discover me in trouble, you’ll be armed.”
“Yes, my lord.”
Downstairs, Gideon found the horses, saddled and waiting in front of the house. He gave Penny a hasty greeting, before picking up her reins.
The noise they had made must have waked Katy, for she appeared in the door wearing her nightdress and holding a candle in her hand.
“Is there anything wrong?” she asked.
Before Tom could tell her to mind her own business, Gideon said, “There’s nothing at all. You’d best go back to sleep.”
“Yes, Mr. Mavors,” she said, and retreated back into the house.
When Tom bent to give his master a leg up, Gideon heard him give a miserable sigh. He grinned in the dark, as Tom threw him flying onto the horse’s back.
Then he had no time to think about Tom’s affairs, for Penny began to kick and prance. The elation that always accompanied activity filled him now, as he tightened his grip on the reins.
“How long since Menzies left?” he asked Tom, who had turned to mount his own horse.
“Since just about dark. We’ll have to ride like the dickens, my lord.”
Gideon grinned as he leaned forward to pat Penny on the neck. “You hear that, my love? Didn’t I promise you an entertaining ride?”
He turned her in the direction of the Kent Road and with a slight loosening of his reins, they were gone.
Chapter Seventeen
Presumptuous Man! the reason wouldst thou find,
Why formed so weak, so little, and so blind?
First, if thou canst, the harder reason guess,
Why formed no weaker, blinder, and no less?
Ask of thy mother earth, why oaks are made
Taller or stronger than the weeds they shade?
Or ask of yonder argent fields above,
Why JOVE’S Satellites are less than JOVE?
I. i.
A moon lit their way, as they twisted down the narrow lanes,
separating the neat, little market plots to the north and east of Spring Gardens. Gideon chose this route to avoid the parade of drunken revelers, who would be returning to the boats that had brought them. At this late hour, only wealthy strollers with their servants, thieves, and spies would be awake. Respectable farmers would long have been abed.
Once safely past Vauxhall, he followed Kennington Lane until it ended at a fork. There, he abandoned the road to ride across Lock Fields, not joining the Kent Road until he had skirted the turnpike north of Walworth Common.
As Gideon rode, keeping a watch for any sign of danger, he tried to reckon how far ahead his quarry might be, but soon abandoned the effort as useless. There were too many choices Menzies could have made. If haste was his object, as Gideon believed, he would ride fast and stop of
ten to change his mount. But if concealment played any part in his plan, he would pace his horse, stopping only where he knew he was safe.
This last thought gave him pause, for if Menzies had places in which to hide, he might turn off the main road anywhere or any time, making his trail easy to lose. Since he had availed himself of two—Lade’s inn and Blackwell’s printing shop—he could very well have others, which was why Gideon hoped to catch him before he changed his horse.
At least, Menzies had left Blackwell’s long enough before that Gideon could be certain he was ahead. Otherwise, they would have had to wait along the road until reasonably sure that the man had passed. But with an hour’s lead or more, Menzies would have had plenty of time to walk his horse to the Thames, cross the bridge, and make his way through Southwark, even at a walk.
There were a number of troublesome choices he might have made, but Gideon had placed his bet that Menzies would use the safer turnpiked road rather than risk crippling his horse in the dark.
By the time Gideon had finished this reckoning, the highway had taken a turn south, and Penny had begun to climb the high, chalk hills of the Downs, so he gave himself up to the pleasure of a fast midnight ride. He leaned over her muscular neck and soothed her with his voice and the lightest touch of his hands.
Penny galloped up the first great rise with the strength and exuberance her famous sire had given her. It was not Gideon’s intention either to lame her or deprive her of wind, so he tried to restrain her pace. Even so, her swiftness was such that he rejoiced in the freshness of the air against his face, the smoothness of her stride, and the challenge that staying on her required.
* * * *
Two hours later, the Downs had given way to the gentler hills and woods just north of Sevenoaks. Gideon had stopped to pay the toll, waking the toll-keeper to inquire if he had opened the gate for any other lone rider in the previous hour. The grumbling answer was, “Yes,” with curses mumbled about gentlemen who didn’t have the sense to do their journeying during the day and to leave good Christian souls at peace in their beds.
Gideon thanked them for his trouble with an extra coin to smooth the way, which had loosened the man’s tongue enough for Gideon to learn that he was gaining on Menzies. The quality of his mount was nothing compared to Penny, the toll-keeper told him, saying that Menzies would surely have to change his horse in Sevenoaks.
Penny was tired, but she was far from spent. Gideon hated to push her faster, but the knowledge that Menzies would soon have a fresh mount made it imperative. If he could not catch up with his quarry before the posting-house at Sevenoaks, then his next chance might not be before the Fox and Goose in Pigden—and, then, only if Menzies intended to stop there.
Before spurring Penny on, Gideon trotted her past the next bend in the road. And, there, he stopped to don the blue satin cloak and black half mask that Tom had strapped to his saddle. Then, with a pat on Penny’s neck, he urged her to her best.
Fortunately, the toll-keeper must have erred in his notion of time. Gideon was obliged to ride at a full gallop only a few miles before he was taken up short by the sight of a rider in front of him. He quickly reined in his mare, but he had no sooner crested the hill and caught a glimpse of the man on horseback than the rider heard the hoof beats behind him, and with a hasty glance over his shoulder, took a whip to his horse’s rump.
Gideon muttered an oath, before putting his heels to Penny’s flanks. He could not be positive that the man was Menzies, but neither could he afford to wait for Tom. Chance was in his favour, so he gave chase with every ounce of Penny’s breath. Her breaths were coming harder, but her stride never broke. Gideon prayed that he would recognize the signs before his demand could do her harm, but her heart was so steadfast that he knew she might collapse under him before she quit.
The rider in front of him was whipping his horse with all the fury of a man who was being pursued by highwayman. But his animal was spent. They had galloped less than a mile, with Penny gaining, when the horse in front stumbled and fell to its knees. The rider flew over the horse’s head and landed in a heap.
Gideon pulled hard on the reins, but Penny had already begun to slow, startled by the motion ahead. Gideon could not tend to her, for as soon as they caught up with the other horse, which was struggling to its hooves, and Gideon dismounted, the rider, who had already recovered his feet, pulled a pistol from his waist and aimed it straight at Gideon’s heart.
Gideon froze, cursing himself for leaving his pistols with Tom. It was only the greatest good fortune that the man he had chased did not shoot him on sight.
“I have no pistol,” Gideon said, showing both of his hands. “I did not come to rob you. Merely to talk.”
The gentleman, who had lost his wig in the fall, and stood with his shaved head bared, barked out a laugh between his gasps for air. “Excellent story. I’m sure that a magistrate would be quite entertained to hear it.”
“What I said is true—if you are the gentleman I’ve been chasing. If not, then I beg you to ride on your way—with an apology for any damage to your horse, of course.”
Gideon added this last, after a glance out the corner of his eye had revealed that the rider’s horse had developed a limp. It did not look severe, but it would require some care soon if the horse were not to be lamed.
“And who is this gentleman you are seeking?”
“His name is Menzies.”
The man reacted with a jerk. Even in the dark Gideon could tell that he had hit his mark.
“What do you want with him?” Menzies demanded.
Although Gideon was sure of his quarry now, it would be unwise to let him know why he’d been followed when he had a pistol aimed at Gideon’s chest. Especially if he was a murderer.
“I have questions I need to ask. They concern some acquaintances we have in common.”
Menzies gave a mocking laugh. “And then, I presume, we should each go our separate ways? I somehow find that hard to believe. It is far more likely that you were sent to kill me.”
Gideon opened his mouth to deny it, but Menzies interrupted. “Enough! You will be fortunate, indeed, if I do not shoot you first.”
With his gun trained on Gideon, he took a few steps towards his mount, but the exhausted animal saw him coming and shied away. Its lameness was even more pronounced than before.
Menzies swore.
Gideon thought of Penny. He looked behind him at the spot in the road where she had stopped. After that hard ride, she should have been walked until she was cool, and the night was turning chill. If she was not attended to soon, her muscles could cramp.
Menzies noticed the direction of Gideon’s gaze, for the next time he spoke, his voice held a satisfied sneer. “It appears that I shall have to borrow your horse.”
Gideon stepped angrily towards him, but he was forced to halt when Menzies flourished his pistol.
“I shouldn’t do that if I were you,” he said, sidling over to Penny and picking up her reins.
If she had not been worn out, she never would have let a stranger approach her so easily. Gideon felt a spasm of fear that he might lose his precious horse.
“A fine animal,” Menzies gloated. “I wonder who you stole it from.”
With his pistol still aimed in Gideon’s direction, he placed his left foot in the stirrup and hoisted himself up.
Surprised by the weight of a stranger on her back, Penny tossed her head and her eyes gave a flash. As Menzies worked to calm her, Gideon watched his horse with every muscle in his body tensed. He would have made a grab for Penny’s reins if he had been within reach, but Menzies was clearly no novice with a weapon, for his aim never slipped.
Gideon knew that fearing for his horse was hardly rational. Especially when the weapon was pointed at him and not at her. Still he could not bear the thought of losing his mare, and in her whipped condition, he did not have much hope that she would manage to unseat her rider.
Soon, she permitted Menzies to quiet her. S
he seemed even docile. Then, as Menzies relaxed, shifting his weight back in the saddle, her tail gave a swish, her ears turned back, and her head bent down.
Gideon’s heart made a lunge.
He took a step in the direction her tail was pointing. “You cannot mean to leave me here! In the road?”
Menzies twisted in the saddle to follow him, as Gideon had hoped. With Penny pulling with her head, he would not be able to keep both hands on the reins and his pistol aimed Gideon’s way. Then, Penny gave a hop with her hind legs, and Menzies was forced to turn even more.
But his fault was arrogance, and he could not miss an opportunity to sneer, “I daresay the authorities will want to know why you chose to ride out at midnight, and masked. I shall have to mention your location to the Watch in Sevenoaks.”
He was about to say more, when Gideon noted that Penny had raised one of her hind hooves and that both of her ears had gone flat against her head.
He lunged left. Menzies followed his movement, swiveling quickly to the right and throwing his body awry, just as Penny arched her back in a hump and her hooves lashed back.
She had a cunning angle to her buck, as Gideon knew, as if she could sense the very point of her rider’s balance. She had used it on him often enough, until he had learned to ride it. And, though he had cursed her for it a time or two, he couldn’t help being proud of her now, as Menzies went flying in one direction and his pistol in the other.
Gideon retrieved the weapon, before approaching his frightened horse. Even with her her head jerking in indignation, he could see that she was quivering, and the sweat drying on her coat worried him even more. As he advanced, he cooed gently, telling her what a good girl she was, and soon she stopped tossing her head and came to rest it against his chest. With her soft, warm nose blowing hard in his palm, he finally glanced at the place where Menzies had landed and watched him struggle to his feet. The wariness in his shoulders alerted Gideon to the fact that Menzies was calculating his next move, and that he had not yet ruled out a fight.
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