Read Sergeant Verity and the Blood Royal Online

Authors: Francis Selwyn

Tags: #Historical Novel, #Crime

Sergeant Verity and the Blood Royal (31 page)

BOOK: Sergeant Verity and the Blood Royal
12.61Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
ads

'That's it, Mr Crowe! He knew we'd find our way here! He was sure of it! And he'd have got us all in one go!'

Forgetting even to thank Crowe for his timely warning, Verity strode to the stable entrance and ordered the guards to remain outside. He and Crowe took down the long stable-ladder from it’s hooks and began to climb to the beam. Preparing himself for shrill squeals of terror or muted sobs of gratitude, Verity detached the gag with great gentleness. The dark eyes slanted savagely and he froze at the volume of obscenities which the girl emitted. Even though they were directed, as a form of hysterical relief, against her absent tormentor, he was shocked by them. He detached the cord of the dead fuse where it ran round the slim thighs, the waist, between the legs and buttocks, over the belly and breasts. Prepared though he was for Dacre's homicidal cruelties, he was reduced to speechlessness by this.

'Now, miss,' he said at length, 'I gotta take you on my shoulder, fireman style. Just let your head and arms hang down my back, and don't worry. All set then?'

He held her by the slim brown waist, as though she had been no more weight than a child, and laid her over his right shoulder, his arm crooked protectively round her legs. He was uneasily aware of the smooth warmth of Miss Jolly's bare hip against the side of his face. She wriggled a little.

‘I don't need a hand just there,
thank
you!' she said shrilly, and then, 'Make him stop touching me like that!'

Sergeant Crowe, descending the ladder a few feet below, looked up.

'One more word,' he said angrily, 'and you'll get something that'll make you wish you were back with Lieutenant Dacre!'

This provoked the final release from shock, a deep ascending wail which burst into violent sobs. As they reached the ground and she was set on her feet, the trim dark beauty threw herself, howling, into Verity's arms. Instinctively he reached round her to hold her.

'Now, now, miss,' he said reassuringly, 'it ain't so bad as that. It's all done and over with.'

His left hand was against the back of her waist, his right palm lying round the left cheek of her bottom. Suddenly aware of this, he tried to withdraw, feeling her wriggle determinedly after him.

'Now, now!' he said, allowing himself the luxury of reproving her wantonness by an affectionate little pat. 'Now, now! There ain't no call for that at all!'

 

 

19

 

Sergeant Crowe stared out across the steamer's rail at the thin red and black strata of the tall cliffs of the Pallisades. As the cheers of New York faded on the morning air, the
Harriet Lane's
paddles beat up-river, carrying the Prince of Wales to the grand military review at West Point.

'Should have done it,' said Crowe bitterly. 'All the powder taken out into the open space behind, a torch set to it, and a blaze in the sky that Dacre could have seen wherever he was. That way, he'd count you, and me, and Miss Jolly as dead. And there might have been an end of the matter.'

'Best as it is, Mr Crowe,' said Verity firmly. He was standing with his big barge-shaped boots planted firmly astride, his plump face set grimly under the stove-pipe hat, as he scowled at the passing scenery of the Hudson.

'Best for who?' Crowe inquired.

'Mr Crowe, you having had less to do with Lieutenant Dacre than some, p'raps all you want is to see the back of
5
im. For some of us it's different. Three years since, I was bloody near dismissed in disgrace and tried for murder in Mr Dacre's place. You saw, last night, what he tried to do to that unfortunate young person. I saw what he
did
to her three years ago. More stripes 'n a zebra. I want 'im Mr Crowe - and I'm bloody going to have him too! The only way that can be is if he knows his devilish tricks at River Gate never worked and that he's gotta try again. Just let 'im, Mr Crowe, that's all!'

'You think he'll follow you back to England?'
'Risky, Mr Crowe. Risky. More like he'll try it here.'

'Not a chance, my friend. Every last place for the rest of the tour is checked tighter than a virgin's honour. They've got West Point sealed off at the landward end of the promontory. As for the two places where a man could come ashore across the river, there's not a chance for him there. On top of which, there's three or four hundred troops and cadets on the post!'

Verity frowned in disapproval.

'Mr Crowe, it 'as been observed before that there's no time for making fools of men so good as when they think themselves safe beyond question.'

As the mountains closed in on either side of the river and the current ran faster in its narrower channel, the paddles of the
Harriet Lane
beat hard and loud. Majestic cliffs crowned with woodland echoed the sound as the steamer broke the deep silence of the hills. Ravens, hawks and buzzards, startled from their wilderness, rose and wheeled high above the mastheads. Brown and ruby-coloured foliage seemed almost to reach the wisps of low October cloud, through whose haze the dimmed sun turned the light and shade of the hills to gold and purple. The calm mirror of the Hudson reflected and deepened the gorgeous tints. Sergeant Verity, deep in thought, glowered at the passing beauty.

It was just after one o'clock when the steamer came in sight of a promontory, above whose steep cliffs there appeared rows of buildings, the ground behind rising still higher to what looked like a ruined fort. Sergeant Crowe made signs of preparation as the telegraph bell rang for half speed and the steamboat nosed gently toward the little mole, which marked the southern landing of the United States Military Academy at West Point. Distantly and far above them, they heard the deep booming reverberation of a cannon which signalled the opening of a royal salute.

Taking their place in the rear of the party as usual, Verity and Crowe went ashore, standing well back, as Colonel Delafield, the commandant, welcomed his young visitor at the landing. The guard of honour, in cadet grey with frogged tunics and bell-crowned black caps, snapped into the drill of presenting arms with smacking precision. At this signal, the military band opened a preliminary drum roll and struck up a clash of cymbals.

God save our gracious Queen . . .

During the two anthems, Verity stood rigidly to attention, only his eyes moving as he took a survey of the place. High above the rest rose the casemented strongpoint of Fort Putnam. Lower down, on a plateau, were the main blocks, grouped round the parade ground. The cadet mess and the cavalry stables, as well as the riding hall, accompanied these. The impression was one of granite solidity and absolute control. Yet Verity had put himself in Dacre's position, and he could almost predict what must happen now.

Apart from motionless formations of the cadets, grey uniforms on a grey windy space, the breeze whipping and snapping at the flags of two nations, the central area was bright with the green and pink dresses of the young men's mothers and sisters, the dark suits of fathers and brothers, who were privileged guests on this grand occasion. With Crowe beside him, Verity once again stood back, keeping unobtrusive observation as the young Prince, in company with the commandant, rode forward on his bay horse. The cadet formations marched and countermarched with a balletic precision, swinging at last to pass the Prince in a formal salute.

The parade ended and the Prince accompanied his hosts to the superintendent's house, with its verandah and the deep richness of its creeper. Verity and Crowe assumed their places, at ease, with their backs to the building, on either side of the front door. They were to remain in position while the royal party took tea with the commandant, the superintendent, and the professors of the academy. It was about ten minutes after the two sergeants had taken up their guard that Crowe saw Verity killed.

It happened with such speed, and so little warning, that there was nothing which could have been done to ward off the attack. This time it was Crowe who heard the ominous
whizz! whizz!
of flying metal, and the rapid pattering of shot as it pitted the rendering on the wall behind him. He saw Verity thrown back against the wall, arms and legs out, as though by some invisible force. He watched the limp body slither down the rendered wall and topple over so that it lay on its back, arms flung out and eyes fixed glassily on the grey sky above.

Shocked into immobility for a moment, Crowe stared at the fallen sergeant and then sprang forward to the iron railings which separated the leafy garden of the house from the roadway beyond. There was no sign of the assassin, merely a few family groups in which individual cadets in their full dress strolled nonchalantly with proud mothers or adoring sisters. Regardless of his own safety, he ran across the road into the trees beyond and looked helplessly about him. It took no more than a few seconds before he was racing back to where the corpse of Sergeant Verity lay. He stooped over his fallen friend.

' 'ere, Mr Crowe!' said the corpse, still glassy-eyed. 'Did I do all right, Mr Crowe? Don't let yer lips move! Talk like I'm doing, 'e gotta think I'm dead, Mr Crowe. I twigged it as soon as I heard that shot in the air.'

'Damnation!' said Crowe, stiff-lipped and breathless with relief. 'What sort of game is this, for God's sake?'

'Into the house, Mr Crowe! Board and sheet! Let 'im see me carried in with a shroud over me. Bet yer a penny to a pound he'll be watching from somewhere!'

The tall Marine looked about him uncertainly. Then he moved quickly into the house. He reappeared in a few minutes with Major Teesdale and several officers of the commandant's staff. Verity was lifted on to the board with brisk precision, and then the procession entered the house once more.

'Right then,' said Teesdale irritably as Verity got to his feet, 'explain these absurd theatricals!'

'Bullet-marks on the wall outside, sir,' said Verity rapidly. 'Same caper as all along. Only this time I heard the shot pinging in the air and, like a flash, I thought I'd better show him what he wanted to see, sir. I'll lay odds it was Lieutenant Dacre. It can't be anyone else. They got no reason. After the
Fidele
and the other night, I half expected it, sir, so I went and threw meself down, like as if I'd been mortally hit.'

Teesdale regarded him sceptically.

'With what object, sergeant? A man fights back at his enemy! He doesn't fall down and sham dead at the first sound of battle!'

Verity coloured perceptibly at the imputation of cowardice.

'You never dealt with Lieutenant Dacre, sir, with respect, sir. We got one chance and once chance only. Take 'im off his guard, sir. He thinks he got me. Now there's only Miss Jolly that's held safe on the steamer. If Mr Crowe and the American officers got no objection, we might use her as bait again. Only this time we gotta be sure.'

'You have no reason to suppose Lieutenant Dacre to be alive or in America!' snapped Teesdale, but Oliphant intervened.

‘I guess you might just tell us what you have in mind, sergeant.'

'Yessir. First off, sir, 'ow did Lieutenant Dacre get into West Point?'

'Not through the cordon,' said one of the commandant's captains. 'No one but family of cadets met by the cadets themselves came through. As for the two landings, the guard on those has been even stricter. Your Lieutenant Dacre wouldn't last two minutes before being recognized once he got here.'

'No sir,' said Verity dutifully, 'once he got here he was safe enough. Reg'lar villains' paradise you got 'ere, sir. With respect, sir.'

The West Point captain's eyes widened.
'Sergeant,' said Teesdale coldly, 'you will explain that!'

'I reckon I seen Lieutenant Dacre today, sir. I reckon we all have.'

There was a chill silence in the room. 'Sergeant?'

'Where would you hide a leaf? In a tree,' said Verity softly, almost as though talking to himself. 'Where would you hide Lieutenant Dacre at West Point? Not in any hole or corner. Walking bold as brass in the full light o' day, dressed in a smart grey uniform and black cap, looking just the same as several hundred other young gentlemen!'

'Impossible,' said the West Point captain. 'He would never get in dressed like that. He would be held for being beyond the Academy limits in the first place.'

'No sir,' said Verity patiently, ' 'e never come in dressed like, of course. It's just how he was able to move round unchallenged when he got in. Easy enough to get a uniform tailored, being as famous as it is. Or p'raps there's some poor young gentleman lying senseless and stripped somewhere. What I gotta know quick is 'ow he could a-got in.'

'He couldn't,' said Teesdale peevishly, 'we have established that.'

'And them bullet-holes in the wall outside establish something else again, sir. With respect, sir.'

Verity turned to the West Point captain.

'Sir, you being a military gentleman, p'raps I might take advice from you. Supposing you was besieged here, as you might be, with a cordon round the limits, how would you get away?'

'My boat from the landings.'

'No, sir,' said Verity patiently, 'there's enemy guns there.'

'I might swim the river.'
'No, sir. There's marksmen watching it.'
'Then I don't see how.'
'So what'd you do, sir.'
The captain laughed helplessly.

'I guess I'd telegraph New York for reinforcements.' 'Would you just do that, sir?' asked Verity solemnly. 'Right away.'

With a frown of incomprehension, the captain went away and spoke to one of his subordinates. There was a delay of several minutes before the man came back from the telegraph office close by. The captain returned to Verity and the others.

'Unfortunately, gentlemen, the line to New York seems to be temporarily out of order.'

BOOK: Sergeant Verity and the Blood Royal
12.61Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
ads

Other books

Terms of Surrender by Leslie Kelly
Between Two Fires by Mark Noce
Moon Spun by Marilee Brothers
Warped Passages by Lisa Randall
The Poison Factory by Oisín McGann
The Imaginary Gentleman by Helen Halstead
IM10 August Heat (2008) by Andrea Camilleri
Psycho Killer by Cecily von Ziegesar