Another Small Kingdom (24 page)

Macleod knew that any further appeal to her would be futile until somehow he had her full trust and the only way to regain her trust seemed to be to help her in the matter of Lord Melford. He didn't like it, but he could think of no other way.

‘How do you think we can find out?'

‘Oh, if only I knew that, Jean, all my troubles would be over.'

‘If he is working for the British then he will return.'

‘What makes you think so?'

‘If he wants what you have, and has come all the way from England to get it, one refusal will not stop him. He will return and try again. When he does, we must think of some way to make him prove who he is.'

‘Of course. How clever you are, Jean, and you must go to this man Bentley and find out in what way he is involved.'

‘How do you suggest I do that?'

‘Hurt him, hit him, use violence. You are strong. Make him tell you.'

Macleod was as much shocked by the calmness with which she spoke as by what it was she suggested.

‘Even assuming he is involved, I cannot just beat something out of a prominent local business man. This is Boston, for God's sake. Besides Bentley is strong and fit and I'm not sure that if it came to violence it wouldn't be me who might end up getting thrashed.'

‘Then we must think of some other way.'

But as it happened, very little actual thought proved necessary.

Chapter Forty-nine

M
olly was on her feet and Melford was lounging in a chair. Both were furiously angry and both were trying not to show their anger. Kitty leaned against a wall with folded arms taking no part in the exchanges. She was all too used to these scenes of falling out after some plan that couldn't possibly fail had misfired.

‘You're a fool, Melford, but what is worse you're an arrogant fool.'

‘Ah, the delegation of blame, how very prompt and how very predictable. I only did what I was told to do, but the fault for failure must be mine. For, if not me, then who else but you?'

‘Me? I wasn't the one who went to make the offer.'

‘No, I did. But I was told I should not try and be too clever because I would be dealing with a sharp character, a thorough professional, someone who didn't make mistakes. Make a good enough offer and he'll drop, you said. He's after money so give it to him, you said. Keep it simple, you said. So I did exactly as you said. The trouble was that when I got there the only simple thing was Macleod. If that man's an agent of any sort then so is my left boot.'

Molly's problem was that, whatever she might have said, she didn't think for one second that Melford was either a fool or incompetent. She also believed in his version of the events at Macleod's house. Why would he lie? She didn't understand. Either she had made a serious error of judgement or Macleod had put on an act for Melford worthy of any stage in London. But why the need for any act? If he held Marie de Valois for money why turn down a good offer?

‘Is he holding out for more, do you think?'

‘As far as I can see he isn't holding out at all. When he knew what I was there for he was all shocked sentiment and bluster. I could do nothing with him. He was all for throwing me out on to the street. It was her I had to deal with and, because I'd gone off on the wrong tack from the first, not surprisingly I got nowhere with her. Dammit, how can I be expected to succeed if I don't have accurate information behind me?'

‘Stow it, Melford, I want to think.'

‘And now, thanks to you, they know I'm here and what it is I want.'

Molly gave him a look which made him decide that enough had been said. He had made his point so he left things as they stood. Molly turned to Gregory who stood stolidly with his tall hat, as always, in his hand and his arms at his sides.

‘What about this Bentley?'

Gregory's good eye left off gazing at nothing and looked at her.

‘The boys took me to his house. Fine house, rich gent. Got business interests here and there, well thought of. Solid citizen. But I'd say there's another side that he don't care that people should know of.'

‘Another side?'

‘Gets visitors at night sometimes, people shy of being seen. Has a man called Darcy on a string, uses this Darcy to go on errands for him, long errands. Meets with this Darcy quite a bit but does no actual business with him that anyone knows of.'

Molly wasn't convinced.

‘Men in business can be secretive about their dealings and they can send people on errands rather than go themselves. Darcy could just be a particular friend. None of it may mean anything.'

Melford, however, wasn't so sure.

‘What do you think, Gregory?'

Gregory touched the side of his nose with a long forefinger.

‘I smell 'im as a wrong 'un, sir.'

‘You think so?'

‘I'd put money on it. In this present matter he was quick enough off the mark to look the young woman over and after he'd done that it was straight to this Darcy fellow for a long talk. As the lady here says, sir, each thing by itself may mean nothing but taken together I'd say he would bear watching.'

Melford agreed.

‘Then see that he's watched. Well watched.'

Gregory nodded and winked his non-roving eye.

‘Already done, sir.'

‘Good. So, Moll, what do we do now?'

While Gregory was speaking Molly had made up her mind.

‘I resurrect Madame de Metz and go to see Marie. She knows me from New Orleans so I'll tell her how things stand and then put my cards on the table. Kitty, you come and see if you can hook into the French hag in the kitchen. At all events spy out what you can of the house in case we need to crack it. You might as well come with me, Melford, and make your offer again if she decides to see sense. As far as Macleod or Marie are concerned you're the lead in this, you're the one with the money making the offer. Gregory, spy out the back of the house to see if there's a good way in.' Molly looked at each of them. ‘If we're doing it, let's do it right this time, and let's get started.'

About half an hour after Lord Melford had left Macleod's house another visitor rang the bell. Macleod answered it himself. He had become nervous of the kind of visitors he was getting and didn't want to wait for Amélie. It was Bentley.

‘Well, what is it this time?'

‘We need to talk, Macleod, you and I, without Madame de Valois present.'

‘About what?'

‘About your death.'

‘My death?'

‘Yes, some days ago in New Orleans.'

Macleod looked at him. He was sober and he was serious.

‘Explain yourself.'

‘Not on the street and not in front of any third party.'

Macleod desired no further talk with Bentley, nor indeed anyone, but Marie had given him the task of finding out his involvement so he stood to one side.

‘Come in. We'll go into the library.' Once in the room Macleod faced him. ‘Now, my death in New Orleans, what do you mean by that?'

‘A man was found there murdered, throat cut. Papers on him identified him definitely as you.'

‘And how did you come by this nonsense?'

‘Not nonsense, Macleod. If the person who sent me the message says a man identified as Macleod was murdered in New Orleans then it happened, believe me. How do you explain someone having your papers in New Orleans?'

‘If what you say is true, what is it to you?'

‘It is nothing to me, but it may be something to the Government.' Bentley waited but Macleod remained silent. ‘It seems then that you have indeed been to New Orleans and it looks as if someone has gone to considerable pains to make it look as if you stayed there permanently. That in fact you died there. Yet here you are, alive and well and with a young lady who speaks nothing but French. That she is your cousin I don't believe for a minute but that she comes from New Orleans I believe completely. I'm afraid I must insist on an explanation, not for me, you understand, but for those I serve.'

Macleod had no idea what to do or say. Any wrong or ill-considered words or actions he knew could lead to disastrous consequences for Marie. But if Bentley was indeed in the service of the American Government then surely he was the best hope of getting Marie to the General. He was spared making any decision by a renewed assault on his front door as the front door bell rang once again.

‘See who it is, Macleod, and send them on their way.'

Macleod went to the front door. Madame de Metz, Lord Melford and a maid stood there together. Madame de Metz beamed a smile at him and spoke in French.

‘M'sieur Macleod, how charming to renew our acquaintance which was so suddenly interrupted in New Orleans. How is the lovely Madame de Valois? She travelled with you, did she not?' Macleod was astounded by this sudden appearance at his front door of Madame de Metz. Was there no one, he asked himself, who was unaware of his presence here with Marie? Madame de Metz took advantage of his confusion. ‘Come now, sir, you cannot expect us to stand about here in the street.'

She pushed past him and entered the house before he could object with Lord Melford close behind who smiled and bowed slightly as he passed. Macleod at last regained enough possession of himself to speak.

‘You can't come in. I'm in a very important meeting. You must leave at once.'

Kitty slipped in behind him gently and closed the door. Madame de Metz, in the hallway, turned.

‘But as you see, we are already in, and I'm sure your visitor, M'sieur Bentley, will not mind our presence. It may well turn out that your business with him is identical to your business with us.' She stood in the hall and shouted. ‘M'sieur Bentley, please show yourself, there is no need for shyness.'

Bentley came to the door of the library.

‘Madame, I fear you have the advantage over me, you seem to know me but I do not know you.' He looked at Lord Melford. ‘Either of you.'

‘Then M'sieur Macleod, our host, will introduce us.'

They all stood looking at Macleod.

‘Madame de Metz, Lord Melford, this is a Boston business associate of mine, M'sieur Bentley.'

Bentley made no response. Lord Melford gave him a cold look and the slightest of nods. Madame de Metz again took charge.

‘Enchantée, M'sieur Bentley. Now, dear M'sieur Macleod, please lead us to Marie so that we can all sit down and discuss our business in a civilised manner.'

Macleod hesitated, but Marie herself appeared in the doorway of the living room and spoke to him from there.

‘I have heard everything that was said. Please ask them to come in. I agree, we all need to talk.'

And she disappeared again into the living room.

Madame de Metz smiled and spoke to no one in particular.

‘Listening at doorways, it is
not
ladylike. It is the habit of servants, but I think in this case dearest Marie has been wise to listen. Shall we go in, Messieurs?'

And without waiting for an answer, she led the way. Lord Melford followed her, and Bentley reluctantly fell in after them. Kitty alone remained. She curtsied nicely, smiled at Macleod and waited. Macleod gave up. It was his house but he felt anything but master of it. He left Kitty and joined the others in the living room.

Chapter Fifty

B
entley and Melford were standing either side of the large fireplace, the two ladies sitting, but not near each other. Each was in a position to see all the others. No one seemed anxious to begin. Macleod entered, closed the door and Madame de Metz broke the silence.

‘I see no one wants to speak first. In that case I will begin. Marie, you know me, you were my friend in New Orleans.'

‘Not your friend.'

‘As you wish, but we moved together among the same people. Earlier today Lord Melford came to see you. He explained his business and you sent him away. No matter, perhaps you were wise not to make a decision so quickly. Now, I intend to lay my cards on the table. Lord Melford represents the British, his offer is quite genuine. You will ask how I know this and I will tell you. Because I also am employed by the British. I was sent to New Orleans by … well no matter what the name is. I was sent to find out what I could about a plot organised by the French Government through one Monsieur Fouché, the French Republic's Chief of Police. I had my very strong suspicions of St Clair but my usual methods were of no avail. You, my dear Marie, know better than anyone else why that was so. While I was there I encountered dear Monsieur Macleod who, I freely admit, took me in completely. I watched him carefully. He was, like me, a new arrival who, also like me, wormed his way into the society where St Clair moved. I had been told to watch out for just such a one because he would almost certainly be an agent of the American Government. But as I say, he fooled me. I was convinced that his only interest was you, Marie, that you had captivated him. He made no attempt to get close to St Clair, only to your husband. That was his greatest cleverness. He appeared to avoid totally the man who was, of course, his main target.' She turned to Macleod. ‘M'sieur. I salute you.' Macleod ignored her. ‘Then St Clair and your husband were murdered and …'

Macleod's voice cut in.

‘Did you kill him?'

‘Me, M'sieur Macleod! Why would I kill him? He had the information I needed, information that I had travelled far and worked hard to get. What good would he be to me dead? I assumed that having somehow won Marie's affections, and again I salute you, I naturally assumed that it was you who killed St Clair and de Valois, or had it done by your accomplice.'

‘Me!'

Bentley interrupted.

‘The matter of who killed who in New Orleans may interest the rest of you but it means nothing to me. In fact the whole of this nonsense can be left to another time, which can be never, as far as I'm concerned. I won't be present to have my time wasted.'

‘Monsieur Bentley is right. To business.' Madame de Metz paused, making sure her next words had their full effect. ‘I am an agent of the British Crown working against the interests of America.' She looked round at her listeners and saw she had their full and undivided attention. ‘And I can vouch that Lord Melford also represents an agency of the British Government, an agency which is responsible for what we may call Britain's informal foreign policy.' Turning to Marie she continued. ‘Knowing what you now know and understanding, I am sure, the very parlous position in which it places both myself and Lord Melford, you can believe me, Marie. The offer is quite genuine.'

It was this last part of Madame de Metz's little speech which seemed at last to catch Bentley's attention.

‘What offer?'

‘Ah, Monsieur Bentley, that at least interests you? That, you do not regard as nonsense. Good. Now, we all know who I am and who Lord Melford is. Perhaps Monsieur Bentley, who so hates his time being wasted, will tell us who he represents. If so, I think great progress will have been made.'

All eyes turned to Bentley but none more interested than Macleod's.

Bentley reluctantly spoke.

‘I serve the American Government.'

Madame de Metz, clapped her hands.

‘Wonderful, then how fortunate for you to be here when Lord Melford and I called.'

‘Fortunate?'

‘But of course. You serve the American Government and I have confessed before witnesses that I am an agent of a foreign power. I have identified Lord Melford as also being an agent of that same power. I have stated freely that I work against the interests of your country on its very soil.' Listening to Madame de Metz speaking so brightly of their role as agents, Melford began to look somewhat uneasy, but Madame de Metz continued. ‘I confess freely that we are involved in a plot which threatens the American Government. It is not a British plot you understand, but a plot nonetheless. How it threatens America we do not yet know, but if Marie is sensible and accepts Lord Melford's offer, we soon shall. Now, dear Monsieur Bentley, would you be good enough to send out for officers to arrest us and we will all then be quite certain that you are what you say you are, a representative of the American Government.' But Bentley did not move and Melford visibly relaxed. He even went so far as to smile, this time a very genuine smile of relief. ‘Alas, it is as I thought. Monsieur Bentley is not quite what he says he is. So, once more, pray enlighten us, Monsieur Bentley, as to who it is you really represent.'

But Bentley still remained silent. Madame de Metz looked at Melford, giving him his cue, which he now felt comfortable in taking.

‘Then, Bentley, as you seem not to be entering into the spirit of our little gathering and seem to have nothing more to say, I think it might be time for you to withdraw, and let those of us who have business conclude that business.'

Before Bentley could reply Macleod stepped forward.

‘This is my house and I say who stays and who leaves.'

He looked around angrily. He was confused and totally at a loss to know where he stood with any of these people. Bentley, he now felt sure, had lied to him about serving the Government. Madame de Metz he mistrusted from experience and from her own words. Lord Melford, as a British aristocrat, he was happy to mistrust on principle, and it was Lord Melford who spoke.

‘You disagree that Bentley should leave, Macleod?'

‘Lord Melford, if you are indeed a Lord, though I personally don't give a damn one way or the other, I do think M'sieur Bentley should leave. And I think that you are no more than a low scoundrel and that you also should leave. As for you, Madame, I think it is a very ungentlemanly thing to do to lay the hands of violence on a woman, but if you don't leave of your own accord I'll take the greatest of pleasure in damn well throwing you out. Now get out the lot of you. Get out and stay out. If any one of you so much as knocks on my door once more I swear I'll answer with a pistol in my hand and blow whoever it is to kingdom come.'

There was a shocked silence in the room at this outburst. Then Marie stood up, went to the door and opened it.

‘I think Monsieur Macleod quite means what he says and I think, therefore, you should all leave.'

Bentley turned and strode out. Melford hesitated and looked at Madame de Metz for guidance but edged slightly closer to the door.

Madame de Metz rose slowly and gave a gracious smile to Macleod who glared at her.

‘Thank you for a most interesting and informative visit, Monsieur.'

Lord Melford left the room followed by Madame de Metz who, when she reached the door, paused and leaned across as if to kiss Marie who drew her face away.

She turned to Macleod, smiled and shrugged, then followed Lord Melford.

Macleod didn't move, his outburst had left him almost shaking with anger. But after a second he came back to life and went into the hall to check that they had all gone. When he returned to the living room Marie was again seated. The sight of her sitting there, frail, defenceless, beautiful, reignited his anger.

‘Damn and blast the lot of them, such a collection of lying, cheating, devious …'

‘Yes, Jean, I agree with you and I thought you were magnificent,' she paused as Macleod let his anger subside.

‘Well, the way they behaved …'

‘Was exactly how they should have behaved. They are people from that secret world of intrigue which you and I must try very hard to understand. Now they have gone and we must decide what it is we are to do.'

‘Do?'

‘Yes, Jean, do. I have information. Obviously it is very valuable information, perhaps even more valuable than I at first thought but, if so, it is also more dangerous. We need help and those people might be the ones who can help us.'

Macleod stood for a second as her words sank in.

‘I hadn't thought of that.'

Marie gave a small sigh.

‘Think of it now, Jean.'

‘Yes.'

‘And tell me, who is this man Bentley? Who does he really represent? Is he dangerous or might he help us?'

‘I don't know.'

‘Do you think he might work for the Americans?'

‘I don't know.'

‘Do you think you could find out?'

‘I don't know.' Marie gave another small sigh. ‘I'm sorry, Marie, I lost my temper. It was seeing them all there like carrion crow waiting to peck over you. And when that damned British coxcomb of a lord started to behave as if this was his house, well, I just lost my temper.'

‘Never mind, what has passed has passed, but we have learned a little more. I think Madame de Metz and Lord Melford really do represent the British and, if that is so, their offer is almost certainly genuine. The question we must ask ourselves is: who does the man Bentley represent and could we, perhaps, get a better offer from him?'

On hearing her mention money again Macleod went to a chair and sat down. He was out of his depth in almost every way he could think of and had no more idea of how to proceed than the chair on which he sat.

‘I think, Jean, I must make contact again with Madame de Metz and you must make contact with your Monsieur Bentley. Do you not agree?'

No, he did not agree.

‘Marie, I think today there has been more than enough contact. In fact I feel I have had enough contact to last a considerable time, probably the rest of my life.'

‘Of course, I did not mean today. We must leave them for a time. Keeping them uncertain about what we intend will, I think, improve the offers we can get.' Marie stood up. ‘Shall I go and tell Amélie that she can start to prepare lunch now? She must be wondering what all the coming and going has been about.'

‘Yes, Marie, tell her to prepare lunch, but before she does, ask her to bring me the tray.'

‘The tray?'

‘The whisky tray. She'll know.'

‘Of course, Jean, it has been a busy morning, you deserve a little refreshment.'

Marie left and Macleod sat, staring into space, thinking. It had indeed been a busy morning, although what it had all achieved he had no idea. Was Marie safer or not? He didn't know. What should he do next? He didn't know. Was Bentley a friend or enemy? He didn't know. Was there anything he
did
know? He thought about it and finally came to a conclusion. He didn't know.