Marigold Chain (35 page)

Alex thought
for a moment before he spoke.

‘
So.
Tomorrow night should see the end of it. Arlington will have to be
warned .. and Giles, if he cares. Can you - - ?’ He stopped
abruptly. ‘Or no. I’ll go myself. I need some fresh air and you’ve
earned a rest.’

Eyeing him
sardonically, Matt got up. ‘I’m not so old I can’t cope with a bit
of a ride and trip across the river both. I’ll go – and, if you’ll
take my advice for once, you’ll go to bed with a glass of brandy
for company.’

Mr Deveril
smiled crookedly.

‘
I can’t.
If I start to drink, I might not stop.’ He paused. Then, ‘I suppose
it might be as well if you went. If I see Giles, I’ll probably let
him provoke me. Again.’

‘
Will he
try? It doesn’t sound like Mr Giles.’

‘
No. My
fault, I expect. And he has a slight handicap. I’ve told neither
him nor Arlington that our man is Simon.’ Alex looked into his
friend’s shrewd black eyes and added, ‘So it’s all going to be a
beautiful surprise.’

*

Next morning
saw Matt up with the lark and off to Seething Lane, hard by the
Tower, to watch the Naval Office. Shortly after noon he was back in
Southwark, his relief that Alex’s prediction had proved accurate
hidden beneath a mask of dour satisfaction.

‘
He
came,’ he told Alex dryly, ‘then after no more than ten minutes, he
was away again. And he wasn’t smiling. Almost, you might say, as
though he’d had a nasty disappointment.’

‘
Very
well,’ said Mr Deveril. ‘Goring House and King Street again for
you. I imagine we can count on Simon waiting until it’s completely
dark – but Arlington and Giles should be inside well before then.
And myself, of course.’ He paused, then said, ‘See Arlington first.
I hope he’ll have arranged it so we don’t have to break in – and
then, when you have the details, you can inform Giles of them on
your way back here.’

‘
You’re
certain,’ said Matthew, ‘that the daisified beau-trap’ll go
himself?’

Alex smiled
faintly. ‘If I read the situation correctly, he has no choice. You
don’t build a cover as good as his by confiding in your underlings.
It’s possible that Vine is the only one who knows his identity. And
that,’ he concluded, ‘brings us to your part for tonight.’

Matt folded his
arms. ‘I’m to have one, then?’

‘
Naturally. Did you think I’d leave you out? While I am
dealing with my cousin, you will be picking up Samuel Vine – but
not until you know that Simon has entered the Office. I leave the
details to you but get some men from Arlington. I doubt Vine and
his crew will give up peacefully and whichever of them broke in
here nearly tore my arm from its socket.’

Mr Lewis did
not look impressed.

‘
You mean
you gave him the chance? Damn me, but I thought you were better
than that.’

*

It was half
past eight that evening when Chloë, just back from her spell of
attendance at Whitehall, walked wearily into the parlour to find Mr
Deveril preparing to go out – and not, if appearances were anything
to go by, to a social engagement.

He had
dispensed with all the trimmings of fashion and was soberly attired
in a coat of serviceable blue cloth over a shirt worn open at the
neck and without a vest; soft boots of supple leather had replaced
the usual silver-buckled shoes and, although he wore no sash,
thirty-five inches of double-edged steel lay across his palms as he
stood examining it carefully in the light from the window. He
looked tired, but his face was grimly purposeful in a way that she
had never seen and matched the sword which, despite its latticed
and scalloped basket-guard and its copper-wired grip, was anything
but a toy.

Chloë walked
towards him, her throat constricting.

‘
Don’t
tell me,’ she said. ‘It’s the gardening season and you’re off to
hack down a few weeds?’

He raised his
eyes and his expression lightened a little.

‘
Something like that.’ He restored the sword to its sheath
and laid it on the table before picking up two folded sheets of
paper which he stowed carefully in his pocket. ‘But not in our
garden, I’m afraid.’

Able to hazard
a guess as to his plans for the evening, if not his destination,
and knowing equally that it was pointless to say so, Chloë smiled
and concentrated on keeping her voice bright. ‘And Matt is going
too – armed with a hoe?’

‘
Not
quite. He’s hoping to catch a pigeon.’ He gave a sudden, brief
laugh. ‘It’s Giles who is bringing the hoe. He uses it for sorting
out principles – usually mine.’ He paused as though searching for
words. ‘I caused you some trouble the other night – on top of a
rather unpleasant few hours during which you displayed quite
uncommon fortitude for no thanks that I can remember making. I
wanted you to know that - - ‘

‘
I do
know. It’s all right You thanked me quite adequately.’ She
stretched out a hand to touch the swords voluted quillons,
discovered that it was shaking and withdrew it again. ‘I haven’t
seen this before.’

‘
No.’
Alex looked down at the weapon, his eyes hooded and unreadable. ‘It
belonged to my father. I rarely use it.’

‘
But
tonight is a special occasion?’

‘
You
could say so.’ He picked it up and stood staring at it as if unable
to make up his mind to go.

Chloë looked at
his hands, their hard beauty outlined against the dark scabbard,
and wished she had the right, just this once, to storm the barriers
and say what she meant. Then the silence was broken by Matt’s voice
from the doorway saying, ‘Mr Alex – you haven’t forgotten the
time?’

The air of
indecisiveness vanished and Mr Deveril nodded.

‘
I’m
coming.’ He looked at Chloë and smiled. ‘I’m sorry. I have to
go.’

‘
I know.’
She tried to think of something witty to say but couldn’t. Instead,
she heard herself saying, ‘You’ll be careful? I think I’d sooner be
annulled than widowed.’

An oddly
desperate look lit the blue eyes and was gone.

‘
Don’t
worry,’ he said lightly. He strolled to the door, then turned back
to fix her with an enigmatic smile. ‘
Time
shall moult his wings away ere he shall discover, In the whole
wide
world again, such a - -
‘ He stopped. ‘Or no. You wouldn’t believe it, would you? And
who could blame you? Goodbye, Marigold.’ And on this cryptic note,
he was gone.

*

With the
gathering dusk, the small-windowed rooms of the Naval Office were
already dimly shadowed as the Secretary of State ushered Alex and
Giles swiftly in through the rear entrance.

His lordship,
thought Mr Beckwith, watching him peer through the door before he
closed it, was experiencing a precarious pleasure in his adventure.
Having arrived at the end of the lane in his own blazoned carriage,
he had stepped out into the stifling August evening with his hat
pulled low over his eyes and a heavy black cloak enveloping him
from chin to ankle and then made a nervous beeline for his
destination, jerking his head every few seconds to see if he was
being followed.

‘
And
after behaviour furtive enough to give any qualified spy an ague, ‘
thought Giles irritably, ‘it’s a miracle that he
wasn’t.’

Mr Deveril was
engaged in checking that the building was empty while
simultaneously amassing a collection of candles and lamps. Giles
perched on the edge of desk and let him get on with it, thinking
that here was someone else who was enjoying himself. Then Alex came
back and in the deepening light Giles looked into his face and knew
that he was wrong.

There was no
levity there – no enjoyment, no anticipation. Only tiredness and a
fixed, single-minded resolve that blocked out everything except the
things that had to be done and that made Giles realise suddenly
that if one of them was blinded by mistaken attitudes and motives,
then it was not Alex, but himself. Not a pretty thought – and still
less so if one acknowledged that its root lay in sickening,
pointless envy.

‘
It seems
that I owe you an apology,’ he said lightly. ‘I think I may have
been misjudging you.’

For a second,
Alex looked at him and then, quite suddenly, he smiled.

‘
No more
than usual. And I expect I deserved it.’ He held out his hand and,
as Giles took it, said with a rare note of sincerity, ‘But it’s
good to know that I don’t have to face this thing on my
own.’

Mr Beckwith
eyed him searchingly. ‘What is it you’re afraid of?’

‘
That
I’ll kill him,’ replied Mr Deveril flatly. ‘You were right not to
trust me, you see.’ He glanced to where Arlington was flattening
himself against a wall to squint into the street and then looked
back at Giles with a tremor of uncertain laughter. ‘Oh Christ! He’s
like a child playing at soldiers.’

‘
Just be
grateful his disguise didn’t run to a false nose.’

‘
I am –
oh, believe me, I am. And will be more so when he stops flitting
about like a gadfly. Are you going to tell him – or shall
I?’

Mr Beckwith
politely explained to his lordship that since they would be given
no warning of the gentleman’s arrival, it was necessary to make
their preparations and then wait in silence if they were not to
scare him off. To this, Alex added a couple of tersely-worded
instructions of his own before they disposed themselves in the
positions he requested. Giles stood to one side of the window,
obscured by the curtain; Lord Arlington occupied a tall-backed
chair in the remotest corner of the room; and, behind the door, Mr
Deveril leaned negligently against the wall in the shadow of a
large cupboard.

The time passed
slowly while they watched the twilight gradually fade into
darkness; and then their test of waiting truly began as the
interminable minutes ticked by, became an hour and moved on into
the next. Alex and Giles remained silent and motionless. His
lordship, at first nervously excited, became rapidly bored and
finally irritable. From time to time he stirred, altering his
position in the chair and once he got up, intending to walk about
the room.

‘
Sit,’
came Mr Deveril’s voice, soft and disembodied in the
gloom.

Lord Arlington
sat and did not get up again.

It was Alex who
first caught the faint sound of a footfall on the stair and, with
one precise snap of his fingers, warned his companions that the end
of their vigil was at hand. Then he took no more notice of them but
stood poised and alert, his eyes fixed on the door-latch and his
ears on those light, approaching footsteps.

They reached
the door and stopped. Then, very gently the latch quivered to the
touch of a hand and was quietly raised. The door swung slowly back
in front of Alex, obscuring his view, and then the footsteps moved
on into the room. It was all he had been waiting for. Gently,
unhurriedly, he shut the door and leaned against it, arms folded
and smiling coldly at the visitor as he wheeled sharply to face
him.

‘
Welcome,
Cousin,’ said Mr Deveril.

And as if on a
signal, light flickered from a flint as Giles began to light the
candles.

Simon Deveril,
resplendent in violet satin and silver lace, looked back at Alex;
he was a little pale and breathing rather fast but he said nothing.
Then, in the next instant, his opportunity was lost as Lord
Arlington erupted violently from his seat.

‘
My God!’
he said, stunned. ‘Deveril! I wouldn’t have believed
it!’

Without
removing his eyes from his cousin, Simon answered him
composedly.

‘
Dear me.
I seem to have stumbled on a plot. But just what is it that your
lordship would not have believed?’

‘
That you
are a traitor, sir!’ snapped Arlington. ‘A paid agent of His
Majesty’s enemies.’

Simon turned
then and smiled slowly.

‘
Not I,
my lord,’ he said significantly. ‘It seems that His Majesty should
have investigated you more thoroughly. I wonder what you are doing
here now – gathering information perhaps? And you, Cousin.‘ He
glanced back at Alex. ‘Seeking to build a fortune and a career in
Dutch employ since you have failed to do either by honourable
means? You should have put away your resentment and come to me, you
know. Pride is a luxury that beggars can’t afford. And yours is
about to send you to the headsman.’

‘
Well
done,’ said Alex cordially. ‘You’re as good as a play.
Unfortunately, it won’t work. We’ve been waiting for
you.’

Simon laughed
but his eyes were watchful. ‘Really? And on whose authority, may
one ask?’

‘
On
mine,’ said Arlington.

‘
And on
that of Prince Rupert,’ added Giles, ‘who five months ago asked us
to find him a traitor.’

In a waft of
heliotrope scent, Simon produced the inevitable lace handkerchief
from his pocket and shook it, his gaze resting meditatively on Mr
Beckwith.

‘
Well, if
that is so,’ he said at length, ‘you have a made a very poor job of
it – for I am not he. I know no harm of you, sir, and am therefore
willing to believe you honest – but you are plainly misguided for
you have confided in the two persons that it appears you set out to
unmask.’

‘
No,’
said Giles simply. ‘Not so.’

‘
Check,’
said Alex. ‘My move, I think. Perhaps you would like to tell us why
you came here tonight?’