by David O'Neil
“Come on, lad, did you know the lady? Did she pay you to follow my friend? Speak up, lad, my arms are stiffening up. I’ll need to give them some work to loosen off properly.” With that he hit the bag hard, causing the man to lose his footing and swing with the force of the punch.
“Oy, I’m doing my best, give over.” He was sweating badly “No, I don’t know the lady. I was told to wait outside that French place and I would be give a job by someone. No names just lean on the wall and smoke my pipe. She come out and called me. ‘You want a job’? I said yes, she said ‘follow that man I think he is a cheat’. She slips me a quid and says more if I tell where you go.”
“Where have you arranged to meet her, and when?” Robert was becoming excited, but he tried to keep his voice calm.
“Same place – outside the club place at half past ten tomorrow.”
“Now tell me, laddie, was she English or what?” Walter’s voice was deceptively quiet.
“She had an accent, bit foreign like.” It seemed if anything Walter’s quiet manner seemed even more frightening to the man tied to the bag.
Leaving their victim they went upstairs to discuss this latest development.
“I think the lady needs to be followed by us to find out exactly where she lives, I do not like the absence of the real Comte D’Valle and of Mariette and her husband. It smacks to me of the work of the French agents. I have the feeling they have all three been abducted or in fact killed to keep them quiet. What do you think?”
Walter Smith scratched his chin reflectively, “You’re probably right, and the lady’s house sounds just the place to keep them out of sight, and if they have been killed, a nice quiet place to bury them somewhere in the grounds. What about our little man Nolly?”
“He seems to me to be just what he says he is, a runner for a gang, earning a little extra on the side.”
The two men discussed the situation and finally decided to let their victim go and hopefully keep his appointment tomorrow. With a little encouragement he might be persuaded to follow the lady to her home and report back.
After leaving Nolly Ward for a little longer to think about things, they let him go with the offer of a little work for them. Neither was surprised when he agreed.
He left after peering both ways to see if he was being observed.
There were several pairs of eyes on the entrance to the Salle the following day, and it was with a grim smile that Mr. Smith pointed the fact out as Robert passed on his way to his morning training session.
Within the chambers he swiftly changed and donned the protective clothes for his fencing bout. When he walked out into the long room he was surprised to find he was the only person dressed for combat.
The Master came over to him also dressed for fencing. “I understand from Master Bain that you have shown great application and that you are our most accomplished student. I have arranged to fence with you as an examination of you progress, Master Bain will fence my best student, and the others will look on and hopefully learn.”
Robert nodded shrugging, thinkingm ‘what is this? Is this a way of getting rid of me perhaps?’
The two men took their places on the mat and saluted, they took stance and the bout commenced.
The Comte had a light touch and the blades slid sibilantly counter and thrust, feeling each other out. The pace increased and it became more and more difficult to avoid the dancing point. D’Valle stepped back and dropped his point, and signalled a break. As he lifted his mask, the watchers applauded the two men. Surprised Robert saw the Master bow to the watchers and realised that the applause was for his efforts as well and bowed in turn.
Master Bain came into the Salon with another fencer and they went through the ritual of salute and started to fence.
D’Valle took Robert to one side.
“Sir Robert, I must tell you that Master Bain is correct, you are a truly excellent swordsman, as good as any I have seen here certainly. I do not think there is any more we can teach you. Just keep up the exercises and you should be a worthy opponent for anyone. I will have your account sent to your home in Albany?”
“No more practicing then?” Robert asked.
“No more, Monsieur, au revoir.” He bowed, turned and joined the polite applause for the efforts of the other student, in his match with Master Bain.
Thus dismissed Robert changed and prepared to leave quietly. He was interrupted by Master Bain who came in still wearing his fencing garb.
“A word Sir Robert, I have said nothing to Mr. D’Valle, except to let him know you are a natural, I am aware that you are a practiced and skilled swordsman and I presumed you had a reason to come here. I know nothing of any matter other than my teaching, but I am uneasy and I will not stay. Good luck with your enquiry!” He left the room as swiftly as he had entered.
Mr. Smith was intrigued but not concerned at Robert leaving the Salle d’Armes. As he pointed out, they knew who used the place and Nolly Ward had reported the address of the mysterious lady who was known as Madame Therese Clos. Northwood Manor, Highgate.
The local traders reported that she paid her bills promptly, and she placed generous orders for food and drink, indicating that there were several peopleliving at the Manor.
***
It was three days later that having secured the assistance of several members of the Bow Street Runners Sergeant Smith placed them around the boundaries of Northwood Manor grounds with instructions to stop anyone from within escaping. The Runners were well acquainted with this sort of operation and neither Smith nor Robert had any doubt of their skill and effectiveness. Accompanied by only two of Smith’s associates Robert and Mr. Smith quietly entered the park, climbing over the gate with a thoughtfully provided ladder.
At the gate house, they found the back door unlocked, and on entry found the gatekeeper and his wife, in bed.
The two unhappy people were passed over to the Bow Street party through the now opened gate while Robert, Smith and their two helpers walked quietly alongside the gravelled drive, on the grass verge to the front of the rather impressive Manor House.
Guessing once more that the rear would probably give the easier access they made their way round to the tradesmen’s entrance at the back of the house. The kitchen door was only on the latch and there was a light showing through the window. Though voices could be heard, no one was in sight.
Opening the door, Smith poked his head through and took a quick look. He withdrew his head and, putting his finger to his lips for silence, he opened the door wide and stepped in closely followed by Robert and their two men.
The lobby was empty but sounds through the partly open kitchen door made it clear there were at least two men and one woman within.
Looking carefully round the edge of the door, it was possible to see not only two but three men, one was sitting eating quietly, the two others were laughing at some comment made by the little woman who was obviously the cook.
Robert heard one say in French that he would enjoy giving the cook something to really worry about; he made a rude gesture grabbing his groin and laughing. His companion grinned and suggested she would eat him alive. The cook obviously didn’t understand the words but she got the message. The knife she waved under the man’s nose made it quite clear what she thought of his humour.
She spoke sharply to the other man, “Take this tray to the Comtesse quickly, she has had nothing since mid-day. Move yourself, you lazy great pillock.”
The man addressed understood the tone if not the words and with a surly grunt picked up the tray and left the kitchen.
When he closed the door, Smith stepped in. He was carrying a truncheon like those used by the Bow street runners. As he stepped in, he almost casually smacked the laughing Frenchman across the side of his head, causing him to stop in his tracks and fold over and collapse to the floor, like a closing book.
The seated man stopped eating and sat mouth agape until one of the Smith’s men stuck a pistol in his face, while his par
tner tied and gagged the man.
The cook calmly looked at the intruders, crossed her arms and said, “About time, too. What took so long?” she shook her head in disgust muttering “Walk about with their eyes shut half the time!”
Robert took a guess. “Where will we find Madame?”
“Where she always is at this time, resting before a light supper in the Drawing room, at the front of the house.”
“And the prisoners?” Robert continued.
“The Countess is upstairs in the first bedroom; the master is in the cellar with the Comte and his servant.”
“And who are you?”
“Who do you think? I’m the cook and nothing to do with this bunch of foreigners. They keep me here to feed them, but they make sure I can’t get out or I would have had them taken long since. Satisfied?”
Robert held his hands up in surrender and, looking at Smith, nodded and together they went into the hallway. There they split up. Robert and one man went upstairs and Smith and the other went through to the front of the house to the drawing room. Robert heard voices from the first room at the top of the stairs, a man and a woman. The man’s voice sneering, the woman’s raised in protest. The door was ajar, he heard the man speak and laugh. “Come on, then, give me a kiss and I’ll let you see your husband. He won’t last long anyway!”
“What do you mean?” The woman was anxious.
“We’ve just about finished here, so it’s either the Guillotine in France or a knife here for him. I might save you if you are friendly to me.”
Robert pushed the door open, the man from the kitchen stood in the centre of the room. To one side, by the table on which the tray had been placed, stood Mariette.
She saw Robert and her eyes lit up with hope. Sensing something was wrong the man turned and Robert hit him with all the anger that had built up as he’d listened to the conversation, The baton hit the man across the jaw, distorting his face with the force of the blow.
He dropped like a stone, his face distorted, teeth spilling from his ruined mouth; he hit the floor and did not stir. Mariette ran into Robert’s arms and clung to him. “Oh, Robertm thank God at last. I prayed someone would come, and it’s you of all people. Tell me, are my husband and Armand all right?”
“Let’s go and see shall we? Quiet now!” They went down the stairs quietly, meeting Mr. Smith coming from the drawing room, Madame was walking, hands tied, between Smith and his companion. As one they turned down the stairs to the cellars below.
The room below was a stocked wine cellar with an annexe to the right. It was within the annexe they found the three men. Armand was tied upright to a tall rack fixed to the wall. The other two were bound hand and foot and lying on the floor.
Mariette ran to Armand, calling, “Please, a knife; cut him down, he is not well!”
On the floor one of the men raised his head, and seeing the group, wept with relief, He nudged his companion, “We are saved, mon ami, saved!”
The other looked at the rescuers blankly, not quite understanding what was happening. The men were released from their bonds and sat trying to get the circulation .going in their limbs that had been constricted for far too long. It was painful process and while the attention of the rescuers was distracted Madame made her escape up the stairs, slamming the door at the top.
Smith ran up the stairs in pursuit to find the door locked. Exasperated he kicked it, them shrugged and turned to return to the party below. As he came down the stairs the door opened again and Madame stood in the doorway, swaying, before tumbling in a flurry of skirts and petticoats to the foot of the stairway. The little cook appeared at the top of the stairs with the rolling pin in her hands. “She was no lady, whatever airs she put on.” She turned and disappeared from view.
Smith twitched the disarrayed skirts to cover the exposed limbs of the lady, and said. “Let’s clear up, shall we? We still have the others to collect.”
A watch kept on the Manor disclosed no visitors through the night so at dawn the following day the party reconvened to place a discreet cordon around the Salle d’Armes.
Captain Robert Graham and Sergeant Walter Smith, dressed in full uniform each with sword and pistol, waited patiently in the premises of the tailor on the other side of the street, with a clear view of the Salle. To the rear of the establishment were stationed a group of Runners covering the back door.
The premises were opened by Master Bain at nine. He was followed by the servants who cleaned and took bookings and assisted generally. Finally D’Valle appeared accompanied by three friends known and recognised as regular visitors by Robert.
As soon as the group entered Robert and Smith crossed the road and followed them in, their two companions on their heels.
Inside the group were standing while D’Valle opened the normally locked office.
Not recognising Robert in uniform D’Valle said “I’ll be with you in a moment, gentlemen,” and flung open the door for his friends to enter.
It was while doing this his eyes met Robert’s and recognised him. He took in the uniform and his hand dropped to his sword hilt.
“Don’t do it!” Smith’s pistol was raised. Just then someone opened the door behind him and jogged his elbow. The pistol went off with a bang and the bullet went off into the air. The man, who poked his head through the door, hurriedly withdrew but the damage was done. Using the distraction, D’Valle drew his sword and leapt at Robert with a snarl of anger. Robert managed to draw in time to beat off the blade, but the space was too small to do other than defend himself any way he could. He flung the small hall table at D’Valle to give room and put him off, and lunged, causing D’Valle to step back, thus making space for Robert to swing his sword more effectively. The blades clashed and sparks flew. These were not fencing foils with buttons attached; these were the real things, killing weapons, and both were intent on doing the other harm.
D’Valle, seeing Robert as the enemy he hated who had discovered his secret; Robert with the thought of the betrayal of his friends and the attempt to hurt his country. He fought with a cold anger, ignoring the fact he was fighting a fencing Master.
The door to the fencing Salon burst open and Bain appeared. He saw what was happening and stood aside as D’Valle backed through. As Robert passed, he called out “Watch his hands he fights with both.”
Robert nodded and pursued the spy through the door, catching his opponent’s sword hilt and flipping the weapon out of D’Valle’s hand. Without stopping D’Valle reached up and tore a rapier from its wall mount and engaged Robert’s sword once more. Never was Robert more grateful for the training he had persisted with all his life, the sword he was using was the cause of his own scar and it had served him well for many years. He thanked god for the hours of practice that had made the sword comfortable in his hand. As the two squared up and the blades clashed Robert was aware he was fighting for his life. The rest of the group were battling the friends who had been joined by two others who entered when the first clash occurred.
For Robert the fight had become personal the moment Robert had found Mariette and her Uncle.
Back and forth, round the salon, the fight continued, neither prepared to give quarter. For D’Valle, it was a shock to discover just how accomplished Robert was; for Robert this was like any other battle, to be fought and won, and that was part of the determination that gave him an unthought-of advantage.
As Bain had warned D’Valle picked up his lost sword in his left hand, and started weaving the two blades into the clash with Robert. In turn Robert picked up one of the single sticks from the rack on the wall, and used it to parry on occasion. Robert slipped on the edge of one of the canvas covered zones used for fencing bouts, as he staggered slightly. D’Valle lunged with his left hand sword, at the same time lifting the right hand sword to parry Robert’s cut. Robert swung round, allowing D’Valle’s blade to pass between his body and his arm. Lifting his arm to clear the blade he did a complete turn gaining his balance once more and smashe
d the singlestick down on the left arm of D’Valle, causing him to drop the weapon to the floor. The single stick broke with the force of the blow and Robert threw it away. The fight seemed to have gone on for hours, though it was only a few minutes in fact.
The fury of the engagement made it deceptive. Now D’Valle was favouring his left arm which Robert hoped was broken, but it had not stopped the man and he caught Robert during the next flurry of action with a cut to the ribs that he could not quite avoid. The fight ended suddenly, and bluntly. D’Valle dropped unconscious to the floor, having been struck from behind by a truncheon wielded by the intrepid Mr. Smith.
“Sorry to spoil your fun, Captain, but the lessons are over for today.
Sergeant Smith turned to Bain, looking him in the eye, “Well, Sergeant McBain, what have you to say for yourself?”
“Hullo, Walter, it’s been a while since we last met. “ He held out his hand and Walter Smith shook it. “Given up the Donkey Wallopers (an Infantryman’s Reference to a cavalryman) have we?”
“Left the Dragoons after we returned from Portugal, took up this to pass the time and make some money. I was intending to leave and mebbie return home.”
The gather of people from the Salle d’Armes was regarded by Lord Mills as most satisfactory as he informed Robert before allowing him to rejoin his beloved ship. His parting words were that he was, “no longer needed at present!”
As Robert told Barbara when they were together again “I seem to have been released by that impossible man but I can never be sure. He has the irritating habit of popping up when I least expect or want him to!”
He had been chastened by Barbara who had not been told about the events of the past two weeks until his return. His wound, though it was minor, was another cause of dissention, Barbara’s contention being that if it was such a small affair how did he get injured. His explanation that there was an accident at the Salle d’Armes he was attending did not go down well.