The Hanging Cage (The Northminster Mysteries Book 4) Page 26

  “Excellent!” said Lambert. “Then come and drink tea with us, Mrs Maitland. We always have it at this hour. You will be more than welcome – as is any friend of my brother-in-law.”

  “Thank you,” said Mrs Maitland. “Excuse me, sir, for asking such a direct question, is it Fforde, spelled with a double F?”

  “Yes, it is,” said Lambert.

  “And, please forgive me, if I’m mistaken, but perhaps one of you gentlemen is the author of – forgive me, I cannot quite recall the exact title – but it was a history of the wars in France in the Middle Ages?”

  “That would be me,” said Edward Fforde with a bow. “Have you read, it ma’am?”

  “Only a little of it at present, I must confess, but my son knows it chapter and verse, so to speak. I gave it to him last Christmas. He did read out some passages on the Maid of Orleans to me – very memorable.”

  Edward Fforde looked suitably embarrassed and pleased.

  “Your son has excellent taste,” said Lambert smiling.

  “Surely the taste was mine for choosing the book?” said Mrs Maitland, and Giles laughed. He caught Lambert’s eye, and his expression was distinctly quizzical as well as amused.

  They went in, and Sally met them with her usual warmth. That she was alive to the novelty of his appearing with Mrs Maitland was not hard to read, but she did everything to put her at her ease. But in truth there was not much difficulty to be surmounted, whatever Mrs Maitland’s fears might have been. To have praised Edward’s work without having been prompted made her a heroine in all their eyes.

  -o-

  “Remember you are coming to dinner tonight, Giles,” said Sally, accompanying him to the door when he took his leave. He had had to force himself out of his chair, unwilling to leave the comfortable conversation that had broken out over the tea table. “And Mr Carswell?”

  “He accepted?”

  “Yes, for once. We are honoured. I am not sure what it is that keeps him away so much these days. Oh well,” she said, with a shrug. “And I shall ask Mrs Maitland and Lord Milburne as well, yes?”

  “Only if you care to.”

  “I will do whatever you like,” she said. “So shall I?”

  “Yes. He will enjoy talking to Edward. It will be good for him.”

  “And it will be good for you,” she said, laying her hand on his shoulder, “to have dinner with someone you clearly admire.”

  “I didn’t mean to be so transparent,” he said after a moment. “It is not that –”

  “I am imagining a coup de foudre,” she said, “that has struck you both.”

  “Then it is a sort of folly and it ought to pass. And perhaps ought not to be encouraged, given that –”

  “Time has nothing to do with these matters,” said Sally. “And she is such a delightful person! One can see that in a matter of minutes. There is no shadow in her character.”

  “Yes,” he said, simply. “Yes, indeed. But I am – well, Sal, you know what I am, of all people.”

  “You are a good man and you deserve a good wife,” she said. “Now go and do your work, and I will look after her for you, just as you wish.”

  With which she dismissed him.

  He crossed the Precincts, feeling that by the time he got back it would be a settled matter. Perhaps taking her to Sally had been been a mistake.

  In other circumstances he would have been ridiculously happy at such a prospect. But he wondered if he were actually suited to marriage any more, and if it was fair to ask any woman to share his strange life. His prospects were not glittering ones. Death and life were divided by such a narrow passage. Perhaps it was not wise to risk one’s heart so precipitately when uncertainty lay at every corner.

  Yet her heart, he felt, was already laid out for him, like a specimen on Mr Carswell’s dissecting slab, ready for him to butcher as he pleased. He did not know if he could be trusted with such a charge, and wondered if he ought not withdraw before any more damage was done. But perhaps this had happened already. She had told him that she had resisted pragmatic offers of marriage. She only wanted marriage when her affections were truly engaged, and it seemed he had engaged them, and profoundly so, even in such a short space of time. To walk away now would be too cruel, and yet...

  Perhaps I am mistaken, he thought; perhaps she is only amusing herself.

  He turned his attention to his work, as he walked down a narrow lane from the far side of the Precincts, and hastened his steps through the curious hinterland that this quarter of the city presented. One of the new railway lines ran through it, as well as a broad stretch of canal. It was not urban but neither was it rural, and the buildings were a mixture of the ancient and the starkly modern. Dirty cottages huddled together, overshadowed by formless workshops, thrown up to accommodate businesses that were growing fast.

  The gates of a large timber yard signalled he had reached his destination: the property of George Bickley. Although he had set a couple of men enquiring at the various livery establishments of the town for Yardley’s expensive horse, it had occurred to him that Bickley might have some information about Yardley himself. He was well known as a dealer in quality horses and it was more than possible that the two men had crossed paths. Yardley might even have arranged to stable his horse with him.

  Bickley was an interesting character, to say the least. He lived an existence on the fringes of legality, pursuing many lines of business that seemed to be more lucrative than they should be. Giles suspected him of a great deal of criminal activity, but he could never prove anything. He was clever and slippery. He never allowed anything to stick to him. He also had a reputation as the best horse doctor in the district, though Giles would never have trusted one of his own animals to him, feeling an example would be made of it. There existed a perfect state of mistrust between them.

  Giles had not had any direct dealings with Bickley for some time, and certainly not since he had set up the Bureau. But he had sent a man undercover as a day labourer in the yard for a while, and had begun to form a better picture of his enemy. It was still a very imperfect picture, however.

  “Yes?” asked the man set to watch the gate.

  Giles held out his card.

  “I’d like to speak to Mr Bickley.”

  The man went off without another word and returned a few minutes later.

  “You’re in luck,” he said, and signalled to Giles to follow him.

  Giles was pleasantly surprised to be led to the stables, from where Bickley ran his horse trading and doctoring operation. The stables were immaculate and the horses in the stalls were all objects of great beauty and power. But an initial glance did not reveal Yardley’s chestnut.

  Bickley was in his shirt sleeves, crouched down and vigorously massaging the flank of a stunning grey stallion. Nearby one of his men stood holding his coat, as if that was all he ever did.

  “Major Vernon, what can I do for you?” Bickley’s manner was perfectly civil, and Giles felt encouraged.

  “I wish I could say I was here to buy a horse,” he said. “This is quite impressive, to say the least.”

  “They don’t pay you enough, Major Vernon,” said Bickley, continuing to massage the grey. “A man in your position ought to be able to afford the best. Doesn’t look good for the city.”

  “What’s the trouble with this fellow?” Giles said, indicating the grey

  “A touch of arthritis,” said Bickley. “Mayhap his hunting days will be over. I’m hoping not, for he’s a grand ride. But he’ll still go to stud. I could let you have one of his foals in due course. All broken and ready for you. You could put some money down and pay me the rest when you can. I’d have no trouble with your credit, I don’t think.”

  “I still couldn’t afford it,” said Giles. “But thank you.”

  Bickley straightened, turned to the stable lad and handed him the cloth.

  “Keep rubbing in the mixture,” he said. “At least another quarter hour. And then I’ll come and look at him again.
”

  The attendant held out his coat and Bickley insinuated himself into it, for it was tight-fitting in the latest fashion, and it had been cut to show the man’s formidable physique. Bickley had been a noted-prize fighter in his youth and kept the tautness of muscle, even though his hair was now thin and grey. He adjusted his cravat and said, “So what can I do for you, Major Vernon?”

  “Have you had any dealings with a man called Briggs Yardley? He’s got an expensive taste in horses. I wondered if he might have bought from you.”

  “Briggs Yardley?” repeated Bickley. “Well, that’s an interesting question.”

  “Then you know him?”

  Bickley pursed his lips and said, “Let’s go into my office.”

  The room did not resemble an office and was dominated by a round table with seats for eight, in short the perfect spot for a game of cards. As Bickley offered him a chair, Giles could not help wondering who had last occupied the seat and how much they had lost.

  “Tell me about Yardley,” he said, hoping that he would get a good hand of cards.

  “Tell me why you want to know,” said Bickley, pouring two brandies. He put one in front of Giles. Giles pushed it away with a shake of his head. Bickley took it up again with a shrug and began to drink it himself. “What is he to you, Major?”

  “A problem,” said Giles. “I sense that he is that to you also, sir.”

  “You may be right,” said Bickley sitting down opposite him. “Cigar? – no, you won’t, will you?”

  “My apologies.”

  “Caution is never to be apologised for,” said Bickley. “Yardley – you want him?”

  “Yes.”

  “For what? Something serious, I’ll be bound.”

  “What makes you say that?” said Giles.

  “You only deal with murder and the like now, I’d heard.”

  “Seems to be so,” said Giles, not at all wishing to disabuse him of this impression.

  “So you want him for murder?”

  “Yes, and rape.”

  Bicker knotted his fingers and leant his elbows on the table.

  “And if I oblige you, Major Vernon,” he said, “what can I expect?”

  “The satisfaction of doing your duty,” said Giles. Bickley smiled with a distinct lack of humour. “These are serious charges,” Giles went on. “The man is dangerous. He needs to be dealt with.”

  “I can’t disagree with you there,” said Bickley. “After what he did to me, he deserves to feel it.”

  “So what was that?” Giles said.

  “Not so fast,” said Bickley. “You cannot come to this table empty-handed, sir.”

  “If you know some something I can use Mr Bickley, I advise you tell me, for your own sake. Concealing evidence in such a case is not advisable.”

  “A threat is not a favour, sir,” said Bickley. “I want a favour.”

  “You sound like a child asking for a sugar plum,” Giles said with all the flippancy he could manage. “And I shall not give you one. For your own good.”

  Fortunately the man laughed at it. “All right, I shall help you, but you will do something for me, Major Vernon,” he said, getting up from his seat. “You will not set any more of your men labouring in my yard. I won’t have any more of that.”

  “I have no idea what you are talking about,” said Giles. “As if I would stoop to such practices.”

  Bickley laughed and said, “Just mind you don’t do it again. My business is my business and if you want my help, you swallow that. I don’t care if you won’t drink my brandy, but I want you to swallow that.”

  Giles shrugged and said, “Very well. I shall promise to never again do something I have never done.” As he spoke he determined it would be done again, and this time with more finesse and circumspection. “Will that do, sir?”

  “It will have to,” said Bickley, sitting down again and beginning on the second glass of brandy. “And you are in luck, sir, in the quarry you have marked, because he has offended me. I shall be glad to see you hang him.”

  Chapter Twenty-nine

  “I don’t want to go,” Felix said. “I shall send my apologies.”

  “Of course you must go,” said Sukey, “when you said you would.”

  “I should stay here. The Professor –”

  “If there is any change, I will send Holt up to get you. Why don’t you wear your new waistcoat?” Sukey said, going to the press. “It’s about time it had an outing.”

  “I have no idea why I bought that,” said Felix, as she held it up. The plum and gold silk seemed in that moment much too fancy and feminine.

  “It suits you,” she said.

  He shook his head. “Major Vernon will despise me,” he said.

  She shrugged and put it on herself, over her dark dress. She fastened it up and went to the glass to look at herself.

  “I like it,” she said. “Yes?”

  “Yes,” said Felix. “Much better on you. In fact...” He went towards her, stirred by imagining her dressed entirely in men’s clothes. Standing behind her, he put his hands on her waist and bent to kiss the nape of her neck, knowing how hard she found to resist such an advance.

  “I don’t want to go out,” he said, punctuating his words with kisses, “because I want to stay here with you.”

  “Sometimes you have to put duty before pleasure,” she said, but she had relaxed in his embrace, and leant against him. He began to unbutton the waistcoat.

  “I would be happy to go if I could take you with me,” he said. “It is so unjust.”

  “The world is full of greater injustices, I should say,” said Sukey.

  “If we were married, they’d have to receive you,” he said.

  “No, they wouldn’t. They wouldn’t even ask you then. Nobody would. We would have to take a passage to New Zealand and probably even there... Oh, why are you even talking about this?”

  “Because – because – well, you know why.”

  She quickly disentangled herself.

  “You need to get dressed.” She finished unfastening his waistcoat and tossed it onto his bed, leaving the room without another word.

  Felix sat down on the bed, feeling a most unpleasant mixture of thwarted desire and fury. He was angry at her, but more angry at himself for mentioning marriage. Whenever he did, it never ended well, but he never seemed to learn his lesson.

  He hauled himself into his evening clothes, feeling increasingly truculent as he did so. By the time he went downstairs, he was on the verge of writing to excuse himself, especially when he saw that Major Vernon was talking to young Holzknecht in the hall. At least there was no sign of Sukey, but as he approached, he saw through the open door that she was in the sitting room with the Professor.

  “He seems a great deal better,” Major Vernon said.

  “Dr Pooley was most reassuring,” said Holzknecht. “Thank you, sir, for your recommendation,” he added turning to Felix and giving him a little bow. “And my father is much calmer now.”

  “We must go,” said Major Vernon consulting his watch.

  Felix had no wish to leave, especially since Holzknecht went into the sitting room after the Major moved towards the front door.

  “Mr Carswell?” the Major prompted.

  “We will be early,” said Felix, who was searching for a pretext to extract Sukey from the room, and failing to find one.

  “I need to talk to you first,” said Major Vernon. “If you would?”

  Felix followed him out into the street, and with great determination decided he would attempt breezy indifference. He reached for his cheroot case and found instead his fingers were clumsy with agitation as he tried to extract one, and ended up by dropping the case. The contents spilled out onto the pavement. At least that gave him the excuse to swear a little, as he retrieved them.

  “You have nothing to worry about,” Major Vernon said, as he stooped in the gutter. “You know that.”

  “I’m not worried,” Felix said, not at al
l consoled by his apparent transparency.

  “Of course, not,” said Major Vernon mildly. “Do you want a light?”

  For the Major, who was no friend to smoking, to make such a concession was equally humiliating.

  “Thank you, but that won’t be necessary. In fact, you’ll be pleased to know they are all spoilt,” said Felix, putting the muddy case back into his overcoat pocket. “So what was it you wanted to talk to me about?”

  “Yardley. I have had some good information. I went to see Bickley.”

  “That’s the horse doctor fellow – the one you think is managing some sort of vast criminal enterprise?”

  “I’m more sure of that than ever, especially after my visit there today, and he will have be dealt with soon enough. But, in the mean time, we shall let him be – for it won’t be easy to topple that edifice, I am sure of it. First we must get Yardley.”

  “Whom you thought might have had some dealings with him?”

  “Given his taste for expensive horses, yes. I was right. Better still, Yardley offended Bickley, and Bickley is not a man to offend. He was glad to let me take the trouble of hanging him.”

  “Offended him?”

  “Attempted to cheat him in some fashion. I’m surprised Yardley’s not dead already, to be frank.”

  “Do you think Bickley would go so far?”

  “I don’t know. His manner suggests he is ruthless – and I imagine he is not afraid to take violent action to maintain his position. But in the short term, it’s interesting in what it tells us about Yardley. It confirms what we suspected – that he likes to engage in risky behaviour.”

  “In crossing swords with Bickley?”

  “Yes, and those who take risks, always make mistakes and make themselves visible. Anyway, Bickley gave me some interesting information about what Yardley has been getting up to.”

  “Such as?”

  “Whoring, dog-fighting, ratting, betting. Nothing so surprising there. He’s clearly thoroughly dissolute. Obviously Bickley was a little vague on names – but he told me to look at the area about Bridle Lane, which is interesting, because Bridle Lane, as Holt and I have recently established, is possibly a criminal alias for Martins Lane, behind Bull Lane. So that is something we can begin with.”