Prince of Secrets (12 page)

‘What a child you still are, my dear. She doesn't care what happens to him. They've have been at outs these many years.'

‘All the same—' Dinah began.

‘All the same nothing,' said Violet roughly. ‘Save your sympathy for those who deserve it.' She paused. ‘I don't suppose we've heard the last of this, you know.'

For all her charming ways, Violet was extremely hard-headed. When men talked of honour, and of preserving appearances, she was cynical enough to think that they were baying at the moon. She would have been surprised to know that her apparently innocent half-sister thought the same.

Dinah tackled Cobie about Sir Ratcliffe on the way home in the train. They, and Mr Van Deusen, were occupying a reserved first-class carriage. All the appurtenances of a wealthy couple living in society surrounded them: a picnic basket filled with gourmet food, as well as two bottles of champagne, rugs, cushions, flowers, hot-house peaches, chocolates, newspapers, magazines and books. Travelling in such luxury was still a novelty for her.

‘Is it true?' she ended.

Cobie said, with a small sigh, inwardly agreeing with Violet that to keep everything quiet in order to save the Prince was probably an impossibility, ‘I won't ask you who told you of this, Dinah, but you must understand that I cannot speak of it. I gave my word, and I cannot break it. And that must be the end of the matter.'

‘I think that Violet believes that it won't be,' remarked Dinah, thus giving away where she had gained her information, but she was sure that he knew who had told her. Her husband merely shook his handsome head. He was not to be drawn. It seemed that why Sir Ratcliffe had left Markendale so suddenly was to be added, with his theft of the diamonds, to the rapidly growing list of things which he would not discuss with her.

Mr Van Deusen returned at this point. He had left them to smoke in a small corridor off the compartment which the Grants occupied.

Dinah said naughtily, ‘What would you think, Mr Van Deusen, if I said that men were over-protective of their wives and daughters? Would you be shocked? Or would you agree with me?'

Mr Van Deusen was diplomatic. He saw the small smile on his friend's face, and replied cautiously, ‘The world is full of wolves in human form, Lady Dinah, and I think that most honourable men would wish to protect their women from them.'

Dinah thought that when it came to logic chopping he and her husband had been instructed in the same school.

‘I might have guessed that you would agree with my husband, Mr Van Deusen. I suppose that some day, in the distant future perhaps, it might be admitted that women have as much common sense as men.'

‘Hardly a matter of common sense,' remarked Cobie idly,
picking up
The Times
, and scanning the leader page. He was aware of Dinah's unhappiness and the reason for it, but he wasn't prepared to put her in a position where she knew so much that she might be in danger. Like Mr Van Deusen, he knew that the world was a jungle in which wolves—and worse—roved. He hoped to keep his innocent young wife from having to travel through it.

Dinah opened her mouth—and closed it again. He was adamant, she could see that. Her own will might be as strong as his, but if she asserted it against him, then even the trust which still lay between them might disappear.

Mr Van Deusen saw her expression and read it correctly. He said softly, ‘Long journeys are tedious, Lady Dinah. Would you care to play cards, or to converse? Jak…Jacobus tells me that you have finished reading the Gibbon which I gave you as a wedding present. I wondered what you thought of his magnificent cynicism, and, of course, the footnotes—the best part of the work, I sometimes think.'

Now this was clumsy, clumsier than Mr Van Deusen usually was, but well meaning, both husband and wife thought. Dinah began a lively discussion on Gibbon, in which all three of them joined, the contents of the bottles of champagne contributing to the liveliness, and shortening the journey.

Of course, Violet was right. What happened, or was thought to have happened, at Markendale, began as a whisper and ended as a roar. More, the various actors in the drama found themselves involved in ways which, had they thought about it beforehand, they could not have foreseen.

Some days after he had returned from Yorkshire, Cobie came home from the City to find the butler waiting for him with the news that a lady wished to see him, and on learning
that he was out had declared that she would wait until his return. She had refused to see Lady Dinah.

‘I have put her in the small drawing room,' he ended.

‘No name?' Cobie enquired, handing his greatcoat and top hat over.

‘Lady Heneage, sir.'

Lady Heneage. Now what in the world did she want with him? He was still puzzling a little over the possible reason for her visit when the butler opened the double doors and announced him.

She was seated by the window, a tea tray in front of her. But he saw at once that she had drunk nothing. She rose and walked towards him. She was more elegantly dressed than usual, and her thin cheeks had colour in them.

Cobie went through the rituals of politeness with her before asking her, ‘What may I do for you, Lady Heneage?'

Her smile was an odd one. ‘Oh, Mr Grant, it is not what you can do for me. I think that I may be able to do something for you!'

‘You intrigue me, Lady Heneage,' he said—which was no less than the truth.

‘First I must inform you that I have left my husband. I have been fortunate enough to have received a legacy from an aunt and, thanks to the Married Women's Property Act, I need no longer hand it over to my husband. I shall have enough to allow me to live with my sister in Scotland. But before I leave London I thought that I would pass some useful information on to you. You have always been kind to me, Mr Grant, and your young wife, too, particularly so at Markendale.'

She paused, and Cobie bowed in response to her compliment. He wondered what was coming. He was soon to find out.

‘My husband dislikes you intensely, Mr Grant. He thinks
that you have injured him in some way, and also that you were a prime mover in the affair at Markendale which has resulted in his disgrace. He has repeatedly sworn to me that you stole the Heneage diamonds, and that you have crossed him in some unspecified matter. Now, I know that you did steal the diamonds, for I saw you doing so…'

For once Cobie lost his usual fine control, his surprise showed, briefly, on his face. He could have sworn that the disguise he had used was impenetrable.

Lady Heneage gave him a sad smile. ‘Oh, yes. I would recognise you anywhere, Mr Grant, however you were disguised, although I don't think many would have done so. Do not ask me why—or perhaps you can guess. You are not nicknamed Apollo for nothing. No matter. For once, I believe my husband. That being so, and knowing, because a wife often knows more than she reveals, that his…tastes…are insupportable, I think I can guess why you pursue him so relentlessly.

‘Before I left him I searched his study and went through his papers, to confirm what I thought I knew. If you wish to discover more about my husband's secret and disgraceful life, Mr Grant, I think that you would find the addresses of these two men useful. A third man with whom he was involved died in a mysterious fire, I understand.'

How he kept his face impassive, Cobie never knew.

Lady Heneage said wearily, ‘I should have told the police what I suspected, Mr Grant, but he is…was…my husband, and he was not always the man you know. Besides, I have no real evidence to offer them. If I am right, however, then he has gone beyond my consideration. Here are their names and addresses, Mr Grant.'

She handed him a sheet of paper.

‘I leave for the North in the morning. He does not yet know that I have left him. He is with one of his toadies at
Brighton—and will return to find me gone. I do not think that you and I will meet again. I would only beg you to go carefully with him, for your sake, not his. He has some dangerous acquaintances.'

Cobie took the paper from her, and said, ‘I don't know how to thank you. My pursuit of him, as you call it, is not unreasoning, Lady Heneage. I, too, do not have enough evidence of what he has done to be able to inform the police.'

‘I think that you have your own methods, Mr Grant. You follow your own star. I am right, am I not?'

She rose, shaking out her skirts composedly. ‘Now I must leave you. One more thing. I think that he may be contemplating a lawsuit, an action for slander against those who joined together at Markendale to expose him. You—and the Prince of Wales—will be among those named. Knowing this, you should be ready when and if he acts.'

She was at the door, and he made no effort to detain her. She paused, when he moved to open it for her, and said, ‘I bid you good afternoon, Mr Grant. Pray remember me to your young wife. I wish you happy with her.'

Lady Heneage was gone, leaving behind her the faint scent of verbena—and the paper in his hand. He would give the names to Porter, and hope that they might start him on his way to trap Sir Ratcliffe.

How could he have guessed that the fleeting pity which he had felt for the sad creature whom Sir Ratcliffe mistreated would have brought him such a prize! The game was afoot again!

Ebenezer Bristow walked into the Salvation Army refuge off the Haymarket to find that Mr Dilley was waiting to see him. He was dressed in the masher's clothes which he had worn to entertain the children, not those of the splendid swell whom Bristow had first met.

Cobie registered the man's surprise, and said, ‘I have come to ask your advice again, Captain Bristow. It was helpful once. It may be so again.'

Bristow nodded him to a seat before sitting down himself. He looked tired. ‘What can I do for you, Mr Dilley? Before you begin I must tell you that the home you have financed for us is thriving. The extra money which you sent us recently is being banked to pay for apprenticeships in useful trades for the boys and girls as they reach the necessary age. Our gratitude to you is profound.'

Cobie nodded. ‘I have come to ask you how best to use some further money which has come to hand. The sum is large, larger than that I have already given you. I would wish it to be used productively, you understand me. Direct charity is not my object.'

If Bristow was surprised at this further munificence, he didn't betray it.

‘How large a sum are we speaking of, Mr Dilley?'

‘In the region of forty thousand pounds.'

This was part of the money he had gained from the theft of the Heneage diamonds. He had taken them to a fence recommended to him by someone from Hatton Garden in the honest trade, but who also knew those who would take diamonds from their setting, recut them slightly, so that no one would know of their true origin, and then sell them on the open market as gems brought in from South Africa.

Bristow changed colour. ‘You could found a small school for that, Mr. Dilley, if you were so minded.'

‘I am so minded. I shall send my man to you tomorrow. Together you will draw up proposals for such a school, and he will bring them to me for consideration. After that I will be in contact with you for their further development. Now I wish to ask you something more.'

He fished from his pocket the piece of paper which Lady Heneage had given him the day before.

‘Do you recognise these names and addresses, Captain Bristow?' and he handed him the paper.

Bristow read it, looked sharply at him, and asked, ‘Where did you get this?'

‘Nothing to do with you, Captain Bristow. Tell me what you know. Lives may depend upon your answer.'

‘That doesn't surprise me. Both men are dangerous. One, Mason, is a notorious pimp, the other, Linfield, is his enforcer. Rumour has it that Mason runs rent boys and worse for the gentry trade. Linfield is thought to have committed murder on his behalf—and got away with it.

‘Both of them were connected with Madame Louise's house, and with Hoskyns, who died in the fire at the place he started after Madame's was raided. You would do well to avoid them.'

‘So I would.'

Cobie rose and took back the piece of paper. ‘Thank you, Captain Bristow. You understand that whatever consequences may flow from what you have just told me, the Salvation Army and yourself will not be involved. I can promise you that.'

Bristow said, ‘I should like to know one thing, Mr Dilley. Where has the forty thousand pounds come from?'

Cobie gave him his sweetest smile, one Dinah would have recognised.

‘An unknown benefactor I think you would call him, Captain Bristow.'

Which was, of course, no less than the truth, he thought sardonically. If Sir Ratcliffe was the benefactor, he was certainly an unknown one, since he was not aware of what his diamonds were to be used for.

‘Not yourself?' Bristow was blunt.

‘No, indeed. Not this time. I am merely the…middleman. You will forgive me if I leave now. I am required elsewhere.'

‘I would like our thanks to go to this benefactor, Mr Dilley. The size of his donation being so large, it seems ungracious not to acknowledge it.'

‘Certainly.' Cobie's smile grew sweeter. ‘You may write such a letter, and give it to me. At a suitable time I shall let the person who supplied the cash know of your gratitude. Will that do?'

Bristow was dubious. ‘I suppose so.'

‘Then I will leave you with my thanks for all you have done for me in these various matters. By the by, I hope to be present at Christmas to help to entertain the children at their party. I have mastered a few new tricks which I think that they would enjoy. You will let me know of the date nearer December?'

He had gone, as noiselessly and quietly as he had come. Captain Bristow looked glumly at the wall. If only he could be sure that the money which Mr Dilley was pouring over him had been come by honestly!

‘Cobie, if it were at all possible I should very much like to visit Faa. I haven't seen him this year. I usually stay with him about now, before the autumn term begins.'