Murder Is Come Again (13 page)

“Pity it ain’t a duke I’m meeting, and he’d be thrilled to death at being caught up in something so daring, so long as he’s only my second, and not the victim.”

They didn’t bother stopping at Nile Street but went straight back to the Royal Crescent. Sir Reginald had not yet returned, but before long they heard a knock on Coffen’s door and Reggie came in. “I’ve had an excellent evening with Boo and Tony. I was able to give them a few suggestions for the play — Good God! Why are you wearing that outfit, Coffen?”

“I told you I’m disguising myself as one of Luten’s footmen instead of wearing the wig and beard. It didn’t work.”

Prance sank down on the edge of the bed. “What do you mean? What didn’t work?”

“The livery.”

“Good God! Not another attempt at murdering you?”

“An indirect attempt,” Black said, and outlined their experience at the Shoreham Inn.

“You mean Cripps actually insisted on meeting a
footman?
It’s monstrous. You shan’t do it, of course.”

“We were wondering if you could get me out of it on a technicality. The
Code Duello
...
”

“I don’t have my copy here, and I doubt it would deter Cripps in any case. He’s obviously determined to kill you.”

Black rubbed his chin and said with an air of abject apology. “There’s one other little point, Sir Reginald. I’m afraid I took your name in vain.”

Reg gave a gasp of alarm. “In what way, Black?”

“I’m to be Mr. Pattle’s second. I gave your name, hoping such a famous name might cause him to back off, but it didn’t.”

Prance was much mollified by that “such a famous name,” especially as Black was only the second in the matter. No disgrace in that, rather dashing, actually, and he wouldn’t even have to be there. “No point crying over spilt milk, Black. What we must do is figure how to get Coffen out of this mess. Does Luten know?”

“Not yet,” Coffen said.

“Let us go, then. We haven’t much time. The duel is to take place at dawn. When are the seconds to meet, or did Cripps dispense with that necessity in his eagerness to kill you?”

“He said here, at one a.m. Oh, and I called myself John Jones, but it didn’t fool them. We have an hour. It’s pretty late to call on Luten. They might have retired.”

“Then Evans will have to wake them up. This is an emergency. Let us go. Dare we walk, do you think, or will Cripps be out waiting for another chance?”

“I doubt it,” Coffen said. “He’ll be home oiling his pistol to shoot me tomorrow morning.”

They went out and walked the short distance to Luten’s house, looking over their shoulders every few steps. No one accosted them. When they arrived, the many lighted windows told them the Lutens had not retired.

Luten and Corinne were having a cup of chamomile tea before retiring. The long case clock in the corner began emitting twelve dolorous chimes. Before the last note sounded, the door-knocker rattled peremptorily. Corinne and Luten exchanged a weary, resigned glance. “Sounds like all three of them,” Luten said, as the footsteps advanced towards the drawing room.

“Good gracious!” Corinne exclaimed when she saw their worried, apologetic faces. “What brings you all here at this time of night?”

“A thousand apologies,” Sir Reginald said, “but we felt you ought to know.”

“Afraid there’s a bit of a problem,” Coffen said in his usual blunt way, and ambled in to sit down. “I’m to meet Cripps for a duel tomorrow at dawn.”

Corinne turned pale, Luten just stared, then rang and asked Evans to bring brandy for Mr. Pattle, and wine for the others. “How did this come about?” he asked in a reasonably calm voice.

Evans poured brandy for Coffen and Black, wine for Prance while Black gave a brief but full account of their evening, even revealing his use of Sir Reginald’s name, and the reason for it. Evans lingered as long as possible to hear every word. He was green with envy of Black, and hoped to think of some plan to worm his way into the Brigade, as he had on another never-to-be-forgotten occasion. When he could dally no longer, he had to listen to the rest from outside the door.

“And Cripps insisted on meeting a footman?” Luten asked in disbelief. “What was he thinking?”

“He was pretty bosky,” Black said. “His friend Jasper egging him on every step of the way.”

“He knew perfectly well Coffen wasn’t a footman,” Corinne said. “Cripps is no better than our footmen himself, come to that. In fact a good deal worse.”

“Footmen do not have duels,” Prance sniffed. “They poke one another on the nose and go back to their duties. And a sensible thing it is, too.”

“Well, it seems Cripps was in the Peninsula for a spell, so perhaps he passes for a gentleman in Brighton,” Luten said. “And of course he knew perfectly well Coffen isn’t a footman.”

“What a farce it is,” Prance scolded. “And the
Code Duello
is no use. He’s obviously not interested in following any rules but his own. And by the by, Jasper is calling on Black at one this morning to settle the details. That gives us less than forty-five minutes to come up with something.”

“No,” Luten said. “The duel is not till dawn. We can go along with this farce till then. Black will have to be back at the hotel at one, but that won’t take long. It still gives us close to five or six hours. What about pistols?”

“I have a pair in London,” Coffen said. “I didn’t bring them.”

“I have a pair here.”

“That’s not important,” Corrine said. “Coffen is not meeting him. On top of everything else, if Brown gets wind of this he’ll lock Coffen up. You must
do
something, Luten. Tell Brown. He’ll put a stop to it. Duels are illegal now. Oh dear, I daresay we can’t tell Brown as dueling is illegal.”

Coffen shook his head and said, “He’d jump at a chance to get me back in gaol. He warned me to watch my step.”

“Cripps would only start shooting at him again when he got out,” Luten said. After a frowning pause he added, “We could kidnap Cripps, but that involves finding some place to stash him, and someone to keep an eye on him.”

“Coffen should go back to London,” Corinne suggested.

“No,” Coffen objected. “That’s what he wants, to get at my house without me here to watch it.”

“I could take care of that for you, Mr. Pattle,” Black offered.

“Kind of you, Black, but they’d only take to killing you then.”

“You mentioned Brown, Corinne,” Prance said. “No, I don’t mean report the duel. I was thinking it would be a neat solution if we could get Cripps arrested. Preferably till we can find what’s hidden in the house.”

“How can we? We don’t even know where he lives,” Coffen said.

“We’ll find out that much at least when we follow Jasper after he calls on you, Black,” Luten said. “He’ll certainly go back and report to Cripps.”

Black thought this over a moment, then said, “You plan to disable his pistols?”

“That is irrelevant, since Coffen is
not
going to meet him,” Corinne said firmly. “He’s obviously determined to do away with Coffen, and an ex-soldier would know how to shoot to kill. I think Coffen should just disappear. A better disguise, or — I don’t know. Something.”

“He’ll think I’m afraid,” Coffen said. “Just the sort who’d broadcast it all over town. Ruin my reputation.”

Corinne turned to her last resort in times of crisis. “Black, can you think of anything?”

“I did have one little idea. I don’t know what you all might think of it.” They were all keen to hear what he had to say. “You mentioned kidnapping Cripps, Luten, and the bother of keeping him locked up. But if we just kidnapped him till after the duel, wouldn’t that kill the duel?” He turned to Prance.

“It would forfeit the duel, certainly,” Prance said. “I remember a case a few years ago where Rawlins got so drunk he couldn’t make it, and had to forfeit the duel. Cripps may disregard the rules, but I fancy Sir Reginald Prance might insist on that point.” He turned a coy smile on Black. “What say you, Sir Reginald?”

“I’m all for anything that works.”

“You can afford to be lenient and give Cripps an hour to show up, since we know he won’t be coming at all. That establishes your bona fides.

At that point you turn to Jasper in disgust and say you consider the duel won by Mr. Pattle –”

“Jones,” Coffen said. “I called myself John Jones.”

“Won by Mr. Jones by default,” Prance continued, “as Cripps has forfeited it by not coming. Jasper may try for another date, but you tell him Mr. Jones has better things to do with his time than to dally about some godforsaken meadow cooling his heels. It’s not a permanent solution, but it will give us time to think of another plan.”

“There’ll be repercussions when Cripps is set free,” Luten pointed out. “We’ll have to make sure he doesn’t get a look at our faces.”

“I doubt he’ll ever admit he was kidnapped,” Black said.

“And by a footman at that!” Prance said, smiling.

Luten turned to Coffen. “It’s your decision, Coffen. What do you say?”

“I’ll meet him. Feel a coward if I didn’t.”

He was loudly talked down by them all. It was Corinne’s reason that turned the trick. “If he kills you, you’ll never find out who murdered Mary,” she said.

“I daresay you’re right, Corrie. I forgot about poor Mary. Kidnapping will have to do. Now how do we go about nabbing him, and what do we do with him?”

“Since he’s so fond of Nile Street, why don’t we lock him up in the cellar there?” Prance suggested. “A nice unoccupied space, securely locked and guarded. We have every excuse to be there. No one will question it if we go in from time to time.”

“That points straight at Mr. Pattle,” Black objected.

Prance looked all around. “He’ll know Pattle was behind it in any case. Has anyone a better idea?”

“Some vacant house,” Luten suggested. “We’ll send Flora a note tomorrow afternoon where to find him.”

“That’s it, then,” Corinne said. “You’d best get back to the hotel to meet Jasper, Black. Who is to follow him when he leaves, Luten?”

“Myself for one.”

“Coffen and Black will be at the hotel,” Prance said. “You and I can linger outside and follow him, eh Luten?”

“Fair enough. What does Jasper look like, Coffen? We don’t want to follow the wrong fellow.”

“He’s young, good looking in a foreign way, wide cheek bones, dark hair, tall, well set up. Cripps is fair-haired. A boyish look about him, but a good build as well.”

Black added, “They were both wearing blue jackets with brass buttons as big as saucers and cravats up to their ears. Jasper wore a bright yellow waistcoat.”

“A pair of dandies, in fact,” Prance sniffed. “Jasper shouldn’t be hard to spot at the Royal Crescent. They don’t cater to that sort.”

“You’d best leave now,” Luten said, glancing at the clock. “We’ll meet at the hotel after to decide how to go about kidnapping Cripps.”

“No, come here,” Corinne said. “You’ll need ropes and things to tie him up.”

It was agreed they’d meet back at Luten’s house. Black and Coffen rushed back to the hotel. Prance and Luten whistled for a hackney and followed them a few moments later. “We’ll wait outside in the cab,” Luten said. “A hackney standing by is a familiar sight at a hotel. Jasper shouldn’t suspect anything. If he’s on foot, we’ll get rid of the cab.”

They had the hackney park across the street from the hotel. Two other cabs were already parked on the nearer side. They hadn’t long to wait. Jasper was easily recognized from the description they had. He was on foot but they kept the cab in case he hired one when he came out. He was in the hotel for approximately ten minutes. When he came out, he set off at a brisk pace on foot. Luten paid off the cab and they got out to follow him from a discreet distance on the other side of the street.

He didn’t look behind him, but hurried straight to a cottage on Market Street and rattled the door knocker. A young man with fair hair fitting Cripps’s description opened the door at once. Jasper was ushered inside.

Luten said, “I’m glad he lives in a cottage. It’ll be easier spiriting him away from there than from a flat in a busy building. We’ll wait to see if he comes out. It would help if Cripps is alone.”

Within a quarter of an hour Jasper came out and hastened back the way he had come. “Let us go,” Luten said.

They found a cab at the corner and hopped in.

Their mission accomplished, Luten and Prance returned to Marine Parade. Coffen and Black were already there, entertaining Lady Luten (and an eavesdropping Evans) with a description of Jasper’s visit.

“Did you find out where the scoundrel lives?” Black asked Luten.

“In a cottage on Market Street.”

“A cottage, you say. That’s a bit of luck, more private than napping him from a rooming house. Did Jasper stay on?”

“No, he left.”

“Good. I feared he might stay the night to keep Henry’s spirits bucked up.”

“Jasper,” Coffen scoffed. “He was all talk, egging Cripps on to fight but not putting up his own fives.”

Luten said, “Never mind Jasper. What we must do is find a spot to stash Cripps.”

In London, this would have been a job for Black. He felt badly about failing them and said, “The trouble is, I’m out of my miloo here. From the little I’ve learned about Brighton, I can tell you the Dyke Road is where a deal of havey-cavey goings on take place, but I’ve no contacts there. Then there’s the Brithelmston, but we can’t take him there. Too public.”

“Half the houses owned by Londoners are still empty,” Corinne said. “Most of the owners stay in London till after the fourth of June, when the King’s birthday officially closes the Season. I happen to know the Norval’s house is empty. Lady Norval hasn’t sent any servants down to prepare it as she’s having her ball this week.” She gave one of her roguish smiles and said, “I also happen to have the key. She asked me if I would mind having Evans look in and see that the conservatory hasn’t been leaking. He has assured me it isn’t. You recall they had some windows replaced last summer, Luten. We could put Cripps in the cellar, or attic.”