The Riddle of the Reluctant Rake (16 page)

“Is that what he meant when he said that something about Davis was ‘funny'?”

Burslem's rather hard eyes became very round. She threw a nervous glance at the door, and leaning forward said in a dramatically lowered voice, “What it was, Davis kept on filling up of his tankard, sir, and bragging about how well he'd done fer hisself. And how a cove with a brain in his head could make proper use of his chances and come up in the world. And the more he drank, the louder and more cocksure he got, till everyone in the tap was tired of listening to him, and some of the other customers started poking fun about Davis being like one o' them Indian nobbys—or whatever they is.”

“A nabob? It sounds as if he's come into money, certainly. It would be interesting to know how he earned this alleged ‘reward.'”

“He tells my Henery as he got it 'cause he done a real service for his master.” Burslem tucked in her chin and nodded solemnly. “But Henery ain't one as is easy gulled. ‘I don't believe a word of it, lass,' says he ter me. ‘Bin up ter no good, more like.' The other gents in the tap, they felt the same, and they laughed. Davis started to get ugly, and they says as how he'd best hang on to his ‘reward,' else sure as check it would all go 'fore he could wink a eye. On drink, they said, and fast women—if you'll excuse the expression—and the races. And Davis says not no one needn't worry about Wally Davis and his ‘reward' 'cause there was plenty more where that come from. And he started mumbling about ‘someone' who thought they'd seen the last of him, but they hadn't.”

Adair asked tensely, “Did Henry find out who is this ‘someone'?”

“He were curious, he said, sir, and asked Davis who he meant. But Davis seemed as if he'd got scared, and wouldn't say no more, and went off with a bottle, though he were already very well to live, as they say.” She shrugged and said apologetically, “It's not much, sir, and it mayn't be of no use, t'you, but my Henery knowed Wally Davis when they was boys, and wouldn't trust him then as far as he could throw him. And he says as Wally ain't changed; not a bit.”

In which case this unsavoury coachman could scarcely have been trusted to tell the truth in court. And if—as seemed probable—for some inexplicable reason he'd been paid to lie, his sudden affluence would be accounted for.

Encouraged, Adair said, “It is indeed of use. You've been a great help, Burslem, and I thank you. One last thing—will you tell me, please, where I can find the coachman's family? I was told he planned to visit his mother, so he's probably either with her or she can give me his direction.”

Burslem said regretfully, “Now that's what I can't do, Colonel. When old Mr. Davis went to his reward, years ago, that were, the widow had to move out of their house. Henery said Wally only come this way again to crow over his old 'qaintances, but where his mum and kinfolks live now, Henery's got no notion.”

*   *   *

“And that's dished me again, Minna.” Adair threw a ball for the spaniel pup that had presented it hopefully. “Each time I think to find a promising clue, I run into a brick wall!”

Walking beside him through the windswept gardens, Minerva said with ready sympathy, “How frustrating it must be when you have tried so hard. Do you mean to ride down to Brighton and talk to our groom?”

“Perhaps. Though I think Burslem told me as much as her Henry knows. There's another avenue that might be worth exploring. I learned that Mrs. Davis is a fine laundress. And that she takes in work for a castle somewhere in the southland.”

His cousin looked dismayed. “Good gracious, Hasty! There are castles everywhere! How would you know where to begin?”

“I don't know, of course. But I'd think the poor woman would have wanted to be somewhere near to where she'd lived for so long. Don't you agree?”

“I expect she would.” Minerva looked dubious, however, and said hesitantly, “Farnham is nearby. And there is Herstmonceaux. And Parham, perhaps?”

“I think we can eliminate the great houses. The fellow distinctly said a castle.”

“Oh. Well, let me see … There's Arundel, and Lewes, and Windsor, of course.”

“True. And yet I cannot think washing would be sent out from such illustrious old piles. Surely they'd have laundry maids on their staff?”

“Do you know, Hasty,” said Minerva gently, “I really think that would apply to any castle worthy of the name.”

He nodded. “Well, then, I'll just have to seek out some shabby old places that are
un
worthy of the name.”

“How dauntless you are!” With a responsive smile she said, “You won't fail. I know it!”

He took her hand and held it. “I wish I could tell you how much your loyalty means to me. And I am much in debt to Julius, you know.”

“What, because he has faith in you? Why should he not? I know some of the family don't exactly approve of him as my betrothed, or hold him in high regard, but he has very strong principles and he stands by his friends.”

“He certainly stood by me when Thorne Webber gave me this.” He touched his bruised cheek. “Despite the fact that it was in the middle of Town with many spectators. He didn't tell you?”

“Why—no. How very good of him. He said nothing of it.”

“Nor of the fact that he was attacked on our doorstep? I see he did not, and I have frightened you.”

She had turned pale and said falteringly, “He said he had slipped in the snow.”

“If he did, it was with the aid of a rock thrown at him because he dared call upon the untouchable Adairs.” Bitterness shadowed his eyes. “You'll have to keep him away from us, Minna. Or from me, at all events. I've no wish to bring disaster down upon you.”

They had reached the fenced dog runs. Minerva opened the gate and the spaniels came rushing to them, barking and leaping about joyously. Surrounded, Adair bent to stroke silken coats and caress the heads that were eagerly presented.

Watching him, Minerva breathed a sigh of relief that the exuberant animals had banished the grim expression she had never seen before.

“You've some jolly fine pups,” he said laughingly, and failing to dodge a long tongue, exclaimed, “But I've already washed my face, you rascals—down with you!”

Minerva was justly proud of her dogs and each one had to be presented to her cousin by name before she called to her kennelman to rescue Adair from his admirers.

“You've done very well with this hobby,” he said, closing the gate behind them. “Or has it become a full-fledged business venture?”

“It really has, you know. We call it Blackbird Kennels, and Uncle has had cards printed that I can give out. We seem to be earning quite a reputation, and I actually had two gentlemen bidding against each other at Christmas-time.”

“Splendid! You deserve it. One of these days, when I'm a staid married man with a home of my own, I'm going to ask you to save the pick of a litter for me.”

“Nothing would please me more than to see you happily wed,” she said fondly. “And you will be in deep disgrace if at least one of my dogs doesn't dwell under your roof.”

“You have my word on it. But for the present, m'dear, I must be off on my castle-quest, so I'd best go and say my farewells to my uncle.”

Her smile faded. “I doubt Uncle will see you, but don't worry. I'll say farewell for you.”

“Thank you. But why won't he see me? Never say I really upset him last evening?”

They had started back to the house but at this she halted and turned to look up at him in a worried fashion. “His man sent down word that Uncle had passed a restless night and would sleep late this morning. Why should you fear that you have upset him?”

“I interrupted him while he was working on his Lists, I'm afraid. He whisked them all out of sight, but one fell, and when I took it up, the poor old fellow practically had an apoplexy.”

“Oh dear! That silly hobby of his! I vow it is becoming an obsession, and he is more and more
secretive
about it! None of us even dares ask
what
he lists. Or why. Mama says it's his only toy.”

Adair grinned, and as they walked on said, “Perhaps it is, poor old fellow.”

“An engrossing one, certainly. But you know, Hasty, the more he keeps his precious Lists locked away, the more curious we all become. The boys think he is writing a book, and when they are here from school it's all Mama and I can do to keep them from invading his study and spying on him, the scamps!”

“Those wild brothers of yours! I can well imagine. Still, it's good that my uncle has such an interest, Minna. If it keeps him happy and occupied, where's the harm in it?”

The words were no sooner spoken than icy fingers seemed to slide down his back.

His slight shiver did not escape Minerva and she asked anxiously, “Are you cold? You should have brought a warmer cloak, dear.”

He said that it was delightful to be mothered, which restored the smile to her pleasant face.

But he knew that the sudden chill he'd felt had nothing to do with the weather.

*   *   *

The trouble with searching out less illustrious castles was, Adair soon discovered, that all too often they were either in ruins or depressingly dreary. On the second day of his quest he had made his way to the fourth historical edifice on his list, only to find that it had been turned into a foundling home where such luxuries as fine laundry were not likely to be indulged in.

It had been a dull day of wind and fast-scurrying clouds, with not one glimpse of the sun. Adair was weary, and even Toreador was less spirited than usual. The next name on the “likely list” was Greyrock Castle. The pedlar who gave him directions was a frivolous sort with a pair of eyes that seemed to hold an amused twinkle. When Adair asked if anyone was in residence at the castle, he answered, “Oh, there's folks there. Off and on,” then slapped the reins on his donkey's back and drove away chuckling to himself.

“Half-wit,” muttered Adair irritably.

This lane certainly was well travelled if not well kept, and following it towards a wooded hill he was fully prepared to discover an abandoned stone shell at the summit.

Toreador broke from the belt of trees, and Adair swore furiously. The pedlar had the last laugh, all right!

Greyrock Castle was not a castle at all, but a large and apparently thriving inn. Two coaches stood in the yard, and ostlers were poling up the team of a third. A stable-boy ran to take Toreador's reins.

“No!” said Adair angrily. But the light was failing, the wind was ever more chill, and he was quite ready for dinner. Greyrock Castle looked to be a fine house; the exterior half-timbered, the latticed windows clean, some already bright with lamplight, and smoke curling from a cluster of chimneys. The stable-boy watched him uncertainly. He said, “Oh, very well,” and swung from the saddle.

The boy grinned and with the air of an expert in such matters, said, “You got a very nice hack here, guv'nor.”

“Yes, and he is accustomed to the best of care,” warned Adair, a smile robbing the words of their severity.

“Then he come to the right house,” said the boy pertly. “Everything's prime here, sir. Be you staying overnight?”

“Possibly. If the host has a room for me.” And although he was in the wrong sort of castle, he said out of habit, “And if you've a fine laundress.”

“That we do, sir.” The boy checked as he started to lead Toreador off, then called, “Only I dunno if the Widder Davis be taking any work this week.”

9

There were only three occupied tables when Adair went down to dinner early that evening. He was in high spirits and he nodded cordially to the elderly gentleman with his two elderly ladies, and to the young couple at the window table, and exchanged a cheerful “good even” with two merchants who haggled over business even as they ate.

The serving maid brought him the wine he ordered and he was pleased to find it a good claret. He had to wait for his beefsteak, and occupied his time by recalling his incredulity when the stable-boy had tossed off that remark about the Widow Davis. The host had shown him to a small but clean room, while informing him that the inn was built over the ruins of the original Greyrock Castle. He verified that they had a washerwoman on the staff, and yes, there was also a local woman who occasionally did
blanchisserie,
or fancy laundering, if some person of Quality desired it. Adair said that he carried “a message” for the lady, and in response to the immediate look of curiosity lied that Mrs. Davis had once worked for his mother. The host accepted this falsehood and was so accommodating as to write down the widow's direction and bring it to Adair's table with the wine.

The directions were involved, but Adair did not doubt he'd be able to follow them. Tonight, the world was a brighter place and nothing could dim his optimism. He knew at last where to find the widow, and hopefully he would soon confront her unpopular son. By heaven, but he'd have the truth from the fellow if he had to choke it out of him! The General and those dunderheads in Whitehall would have to pay heed when he produced a perjured witness—as he was sure Davis was.

His dinner was plain but good, and after he had done justice to it and to the baked apple with cheese, followed by a glass of port, he went up to bed.

He'd been in the saddle all day, and physically he was tired, but his mind was wide awake. Try as he would, his thoughts kept reverting to the question of whom he had so antagonized that the trap had been devised which had so nearly brought about his death. And as always he wound up with no answers but only the unchanging and infuriating—
why?
He was not without enemies—he'd yet to meet the man who could claim to be universally liked. But it was hard to imagine anyone—even so sour-natured an individual as Thorne Webber—going to the trouble of arranging such a devious and complicated revenge. Most fellows with a deep grudge would simply have called him out; though, of course, a duel would entail personal risk. But if some madman lacked the courage to face him, would not an ambush, or a hired assassin, have presented a swifter and less risky way to put a period to him?