The Riddle of Alabaster Royal (33 page)

“Personally,” drawled Manderville, “I thought it was an improvement.”

He escaped in the nick of time, but with a crumpet flying past his head as he whizzed through the door.

*   *   *

Vespa was at his dressing-table putting the finished touches to his cravat when Thornhill returned. He met the valet's eyes in the mirror. “Who is it?”

“A person, sir.” Thornhill smoothed the set of the newly delivered dark brown coat across Vespa's shoulders. “An excellent fit, if I dare remark it. Though Monsieur Balleroy will have to allow more width here the next time.”

“He just took it in for me!” Vespa stood and inspected his reflection hopefully. “This coat fairly hung on me when I came home.”

“Aha!” exclaimed Thornhill. “Then you are regaining your health, Captain. I thought I had observed that you looked more fit. Although, of course, I have not been in your service a great time. Yet.”

Amused by the demurely uttered last word, Vespa said, “True. Now, who is this unidentified person?”

Thornhill said disdainfully, “I must confess I did not catch the name, although Harper apparently is acquainted with him.”

“Harper…?”

“Oh, my! Had I forgot to mention it, sir? I have succeeded in engaging a manservant.” The valet smiled expansively. “This house is in sad need of general cleaning, as you are aware, Captain, and Harper is extreme energetic, although, alas, lacking in that certain polish required of servants in a gentleman's home.”

Vespa picked up hat and gloves and said with a wry smile, “Another of your—acquaintances from the theatre, perhaps? Must I keep a pistol under my pillow?”

“Certainly not, Captain! We are acquainted only in that he has been—er—residing at the manor for some while, and—”

Vespa groaned. “Where?”

“The, ah, attic, I believe. But a good worker, sir. A former naval tar, I understand, and not dismayed by the—er—apparitions.”

“Well, that sounds more promising. Now what about this mystery caller?”

“He said he was expected, so I told him to wait in the kitchen. Corporal stayed with him.”

“On guard?”

“Precisely, sir.”

“Is Lieutenant Broderick still here?”

“He rode out while you were bathing, sir, and has come home, if I dare to make the observation, very low in spirits. Very low. He waits in the drawing room. It is my understanding that he has something he wishes to discuss with you.”

As he entered the drawing room, Vespa saw that Broderick was looking out at the persistent rain with an unusually grim expression. Apprehensive, he sat down beside his friend on the faded brocade sofa that Thornhill had somehow managed to make look presentable. “Trouble?”

With a wry smile Broderick admitted, “I'm in a bit of a pickle, to say truth.” He ran a hand through his hair, the nervous gesture at odds with his customary calm demeanour. “Don't like betraying a confidence. Especially this one.”

Vespa leant back on the sofa and waited, feeling the muscles under his ribs tighten.

Broderick stood restlessly, and wandered to the window. “You know,” he said, not turning, “that I've been—been seeing Miss Gentry.”

Vespa's taut muscles relaxed. He said gently, “I suspected you had ridden out with her a time or two.”

“Every single morning from the first day I set eyes on her!”

“With the consent of her brother?”

“No—dammit!” Broderick whirled and said harshly, “With
her
consent, which is all that weighs with me! And I've never done more than kiss the hand of that pure little angel. I swear!”

“My dear fellow, you've no need to swear to me. I've naught to say in the matter. But—aren't you rather—”

“Compromising the lady? Go on! Say it! It's what you're thinking!”

“It seems to be what you're thinking, certainly.”

Broderick groaned, and turned away.

Clearly, he was hit hard. Vespa said, “Toby, Lord knows I've no right to give advice, except perhaps as one who's walked that path. I know you're an honourable man, but if you're falling in love with her, be sure there's hope before you're both completely—”

“Well, there isn't! None! And I
am
in love with her!” Broderick paced to the end of the room and back, his face strained and his eyes glinting with desperation. “Ariadne tried to sound out her brother, for she feels as I do, bless her. Gentry was in his cups, or he'd likely have realized she wasn't joking. He laughed, she said, and told her his plans for her future don't include a well-nigh penniless half-pay officer! And—and the most
devilish
part of it is that, 'fore heaven, I cannot blame the beastly fellow!” He tore at his hair and demanded an anguished, “
Look
at me, Jack! What have I to offer? Nothing! And her such a—a vision of beauty, and with so pure and trusting a nature!”

‘And not a particle of spirit or common sense,' thought Vespa, recalling Marietta's quiet strength, and a ‘little old lady' who'd burst into a deadly room and helped him escape at great risk to herself. But he said only, “All right, I'm looking.”

He scanned a man who appeared to be utterly distraught and whose fair curls were comically dishevelled; but he saw a gallant soldier and a loyal friend, and he declared staunchly, “You've a great deal to offer! You're young and healthy and good-looking—most of the time. And you're well-born and carry a fine old name. In my opinion your greatest asset is that you've a brilliant mind, and when you decide what to do with it, you can only rise to the top of whatever vocation you choose. If your parent is displeased with you at the moment, he'll come around eventually; you know it. And I'd think Miss Gentry the type of lady whom any prospective father-in-law would embrace delightedly.” He thought, ‘For any fool could see she'd be utterly biddable and give him not a whit of trouble.'

Broderick stared at him for a moment, then stamped to the window again and with his back turned blew his nose noisily. Still wielding his handkerchief, he wandered behind the sofa and very briefly rested a shy hand on Vespa's shoulder. “My apologies, dear boy,” he said in a husky voice. “I'd not meant to drop all that in your dish. It's just—well you're the sort a fellow can talk to … you know.”

Touched, Vespa said, “Good. I wish I could offer you a sage solution, but all I can suggest is that since you really love the lady, your best course would be to approach Gentry and put all your cards on the table. And you have some damned good cards, no matter what you may think.”

“Thank you.” Broderick sighed heavily. “But that bird won't fly, I'm afraid. That's what I really meant to tell you. Gentry's leaving.”

Vespa came to his feet. “The deuce! Permanently?”

“Ariadne thinks so, and is heart-broken, poor sweet. All her brother will say is that their fortunes are taking a splendid upward spiral and that they'll be ensconced in an Italian villa before the month is out. So, if you really think Larson Gentry is involved in whatever's going on…”

“Then their plans must be almost complete,” muttered Vespa. “And whatever their plans are, it would seem that success will demand they leave the country. Jupiter! It must be an ugly business, indeed! But—what? You're the one with the brains, Toby. Put 'em to work!”

For a space the room was quiet as they both wrestled with the problem.

Vespa was frustrated by the feeling that he already knew the answer; that the solution was right before his eyes, only he was too dim-witted to see it. He cast his mind back to his arrival here, searching for any incident that might provide a clue to the puzzle.

A tentative cough awoke him to the realization that he was standing before the hearth, and that Broderick had gone.

“Be he interrupting of ye, sir? He waited, but—”

His temporary ‘guard' stood in the doorway watching him with that awful grin of fawning servility. Shocked by the realization that this must be the ‘person' Thornhill had told to wait in the kitchen, Vespa exclaimed, “Dicky-Boy! Good heavens! I am so sorry to have kept you standing about all this time. I was—er, preoccupied with another matter, I'm afraid.”

The youth came forward shyly, nodding his shaggy head, the eyes that seemed too small for their sockets darting from Vespa to the portrait of Sir Kendrick and back again. “Aye. He thought as ye was talking wi' that there gen'leman. Dicky-Boy don't wonder at it, neither. Such a great gent as he do be.”

“Yes,” said Vespa. “He is, indeed. You've seen Sir Kendrick, have you?”

The youth put his head on one side and giggled. “Oh, yessir! Dicky-Boy sees lotsa folk.” He winked in his odd, sly fashion, and giggled again.

Clearly, the poor fellow was not going on very well today. Vespa said briskly, “Yes. Well now, you've a report, I believe?”

At once the slouching shoulders pulled back, the head lifted and at strict attention the report was offered. There had been no further sign of intruders at the Jones cottage. “Not goin' in, leastwise. He seen a old lady go
out
yes'day morning along of old Mr. Watts.” His brow furrowed. “Dicky never see her afore, so she might be one o' they magic folks, like Mother Wardloe. Then he see Mr. Durham's boy take some meat to the back door. And then Mr. Castle, the priest, he called. And there was that there Left'nant Mandy-fil.” His eyes glowed with admiration. “Dicky-Boy see
him. Very
flash he be, and his horse be flash, too! Dicky-Boy goed to sleep then. That were all, Cap'n. Not no one else as shouldn't ha' been there, or Dicky-Boy would've seen. Sharp eyes, he's got. Mr. Castle, he says so.”

“I'm sure he's right,” said Vespa, handing over two shillings.

The boy's eyes became as round as the coins. “But—but, sir! Ye give him a shilling day afore yest'day.”

“Yes. It sounds to me as if you missed a lot of sleep, lad. You get on home now, and rest.”

“
Thankee,
Cap'n! Doesn't ye want him to watch no more?”

“Yes. Until Mr. Cobham can work again. Off you go now.”

The boy nodded and started away, beaming down at the coins in his palm, and mumbling, “Dicky-Boy'll be ready, sir. He'll have his sharp eyes ready for ye. He sees things what other folk don't see. Secret things.” He reached the door, but turned to look back at Vespa, who stood by the hearth, watching him. “Like—coaches,” he said, grinning.

His gaze had shifted. Glancing around curiously, Vespa saw that the seven small coaches he and Consuela had found were now neatly arranged across the mantelpiece. “Do you mean these?” he asked, taking one up. “What d'you know of them?”

His answer was a shrill scream of laughter. “He won't tell. Dicky-Boy, that's
his
secret.” Still laughing hysterically, he ran into the hall. A moment later, Vespa saw him lurching along the muddy drivepath, his laughter drifting after him.

‘Poor little devil,' he thought, and replaced the coach as Thorn-hill hurried in with his driving coat.

The rain had stopped, although the clouds were dark and threatening. The latest addition to his household staff was in the barn, talking to Strickley. He was a small man, bow-legged but powerfully built, his skin bronzed by years of exposure to wind and water. He spun around when he heard Vespa approach, and knuckled his brow respectfully, a tentative smile lurking in a pair of bright grey eyes.

“You're Harper, I take it,” said Vespa, pulling on his gauntlets.

“Aye, Cap'n, sir.”

Vespa looked at Strickley. “And you knew this man was trespassing in my house?”

“No, he never, sir,” put in Harper, quickly. “I'm very quick on me trotters, y'see, sir. Comes from years of running up and down the rigging of His Majesty's frigates. If I don't want to be seen, I ain't seen. If you mean to have me put in charge, I'll go quiet. But all I asks is work, sir. I'm a good hard worker, and I done no harm while I were here. That I swear!”

Vespa considered him appraisingly, and liked the steady way the man met his gaze. “I try not to interfere with Mr. Thornhill's decisions,” he said. “You understand that you'll be on a trial basis?”

A great grin lit the leathery features. “Aye, aye, sir!” said Harper. “Thank ye, sir!”

Strickley led the team forward, jerked his head, and Harper hurried off, pausing en route to the house to turn two fast cartwheels and shout an exuberant, “Hurrah!”

Vespa asked with a grin, “What d'you think of him?”

“Seems like he's got plenty of energy,” said Strickley. “We're gettin' a crew together, ain't we, Cap'n? We'll have the old house bright and shinin' in no time!” He glanced up at the sky. “More'n I can say fer the weather. Don't look none too promising, sir. I put the top up, just in case.”

Vespa had a carrot for each of his greys, and having petted them affectionately and agreed with Strickley's remark that they was “prime bits of blood and bone”, he climbed into the sleek coach and guided the team into the courtyard.

Manning admitted him when he arrived at the Jones cottage, and took him straight back to the studio. This unconventional treatment of a visitor did not surprise him, and when Consuela hurried in a moment later, he said, “I suppose you've whisked me back here so as to warn me not to say anything to upset the duchess.”

“Well, of course. Grandmama was fast asleep when I got home last night, thank heaven. Luckily, I'd told her that I was to meet my old governess at the Flower Show and might be obliged to dine with her. She's the most proper person you could ever imagine, but loves to talk, and goes on forever, so Grandmama wasn't surprised that I was late; though she didn't know
how
late! Now—quickly, tell me, what did you find in the snuff jar?”