The Riddle of Alabaster Royal (41 page)

BOOK: The Riddle of Alabaster Royal
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Consuela whispered, “He is
not
your son?”

“The Lord forbid,” said Sir Kendrick. “Oh, I grant you I kept up the illusion. Though at first, I was so enraged I wonder I did not strangle Lady Faith—who was, of course, faithless.”

Jack said sharply, “As you were?”


Touché!
But she drove me to it, my dear boy. You know she did. And when she learnt I had set up a mistress, she avenged herself by taking a lover. I know it is a familiar scenario in our social order. But I have my pride, you know, and your mother was so embittered as to dally with the one man I loathed above all others! A top-lofty fool of a hypocrite, judged by the ignorant to be
sans peur et sans reproche,
and who turned my stomach! Our mutual dislike was well known. So to avoid providing the
ton
the joke of the decade, I frightened your mother into keeping her silly mouth shut—on this subject, if on nothing else. And I played the part of your proud and fond father. No mean task, when you became more and more like him, so that each time I looked at you—which was as seldom as possible— I saw
him!

For an instant, Sir Kendrick's eyes flashed rage. Then, he smiled his brilliant smile and said, “I marvel at my forbearance, no, really I do. The only thing that made it endurable was that everyone thought you such a credit to me. My friends admired your athletic achievements, and even that fool Wellington took a liking to you. Besides, Sherry was fond of you, so—”

“Sherry—knew?” asked Jack, the knife in his chest turning again.

“Unfortunately, he did. He saw your father once, and damn near fell off his horse in the middle of Hyde Park!”

Lord Alperson said in his sneering voice, “I must admit that these familial revelations have been very entertaining, Kendrick. But it's cold down here, and damp. Let's have done with it.”

“What d'you mean—‘have done with it'? What are you going to do?” The new voice startled them all. Very wet, but still elegant, Sir Larson Gentry stood in the mouth of the passage, a dismayed expression on his handsome face.

“Enter one drowned rat,” sneered Alperson. “You've kept us waiting long enough, Larson.”

“I arrived in time to have heard this,” said Gentry. “You surely don't mean to kill them both? Lord! I didn't bargain for all this violence!”

“Just for a large share of the profits,” snorted Cramer.

Sir Kendrick said, “None of us intended that any lives would be lost. And they needn't have been had Jones and my pseudo-heir kept their noses out of our business. We won't have to, ah, dirty our own hands in this matter, however. We'll simply leave them here and brick up the entrance to this section again, and they'll—”

“Starve to death?” said Gentry, aghast. “You
can't!
Not the girl, surely?”

“Don't get into a lather,” said Alperson. “From the look of you, my buck, it's coming down cats and dogs again. The river's been getting higher for days. Another good storm and it'll rush through here like a cataract. They won't have to wait for starvation.”

Jack felt Consuela's cold little hand slip into his own, and he held it tightly and made himself put his personal tragedy aside and concentrate on getting her to safety.

There were four of them, and Alperson and his fath- —Sir Kendrick—held loaded pistols. Poor odds. He had just one card. It might throw them off balance, but it must be played carefully.

He said, “May the condemned man be granted a last request?”

Cramer gave a scornful grunt. “Ain't he taking it like the brave little soldier!”

“It would be illuminating to observe your behaviour under like circumstances,” said Sir Kendrick caustically. “By all means, John. We're in no great hurry.”

“Except,” said Alperson, “that my feet are getting wet.”

All eyes scanned the floor.

Cramer gave a yelp. “My Gawd! The river's gone over the top! Let's get out of this!”

“Idiot,” said Sir Kendrick. “If it reaches our ankles, we'll run to the upper level. Till then—your request, John?”

“It is that I be told the identity of—my real father.”

“Request denied. So I'll give you another chance. Ah, but I think I know what you will ask. To what extent was dearest Esmeralda Stokely involved in our scheme? Right? Well, she was not. Exactly. She has been my woman for several years. I shock you, I see. I rather suspect Sherborne might have been a trifle annoyed, but—it is so. After his death she had it fixed in her mind that she was my great love, and that you were a threat to our future happiness. Such ridiculous self-delusion. As if I would marry such a strumpet. But she believed it enough to do as I asked in the matter of your—er—abrupt departure from the Flower Show. There, I've answered your questions, and I'm afraid we must now resort to the crude necessity of keeping you and the girl immobilized. Durward, tie them up.”

Cramer stared at him. “With what?”

“Rip up your neckcloth. It should do nicely.”

“Devil I will!”

Alperson leered, “The chit wears a petticoat, no doubt. Let's have it off.”

Consuela said in a voice that shook, “Filthy lecher! Come near me and I'll claw your ugly face!”

His lordship laughed softly, and moved towards her.

Jack stepped between them. “I should tell you, gentlemen, that I know why Alabaster became so very valuable, and why you all expected to make a fortune with your rights-of-way and leases and so forth.”

Alperson checked and turned his head to look at Sir Kendrick narrowly. “You
told
him? Are you gone daft? If he's passed it to his friends—”

“I told him nothing!” Sir Kendrick frowned. “And he knows nothing.”

“I know why Preston Jones was willing to risk his life to find out what you were up to,” said Jack.

Consuela put in, “He said it was evil! Is it?”

“It would be, if it succeeded. It will not.”

“He's bluffing,” growled Alperson.

“Even if you managed to sell the property to the government,” said Jack, “how can you think their surveyors would not find these tunnels?”

Alperson let out a howl of rage.

Gentry gasped, “By God! He
does
know! Then—who else has he told?”

As flushed as Gentry was pale, Sir Kendrick said softly, “I really think you must answer that, my dear boy. As you will see, I've turned your pistol on Miss Jones. No—don't move! If you do not at once explain yourself, I will put a bullet in the lady. I mean it.”

Jack hung his head. The water was rising over his boots. As if utterly defeated, he sighed, “Very well. You know that I was an aide to Lord Wellington. In that capacity I was present when his lordship and other officers were discussing Napoleon's threat to invade England. Wellington said that, among other things, plans were under way to build a subsidiary arsenal far from Woolwich. Yesterday, I met a military friend in Tunbridge Wells, and a chance remark he made set me wondering about the alleged philanthropist who wanted to put an orphanage on my estate.” He looked up. “You—gentlemen—have evidently used your influence to provide Alabaster Royal as a logical site for the new Arsenal.”

It was a shot in the dark, but the outburst of cursing confirmed his suspicions and caused Consuela to clap her hands over her ears.

“Have done!” shouted Sir Kendrick, his voice a whiplash. “Very well,
mon capitaine.
So you know. Who else knows?”

“What difference does it make? You'll never get away with it. The instant government surveyors find these tunnels, they'll know the ground above is unstable, and your scheme will fail.”

“What a trusting nature.” Sir Kendrick shook his head. “Commendable, I suppose. But so very unrealistic. The truth is, John, that many of our government ‘servants' are wealthy men. Some, I grant you, had personal fortunes before they got into the game. As for the rest, did they amass their riches from their puny salaries? Of course not. It is done with the aid of graft, my boy. Graft and corruption. And there are palms in Whitehall today that have been so well greased, your beloved Alabaster Royal might be the Rock of Gibraltar!”

Consuela cried in horror, “But—but you
cannot!
To build great storehouses on this land would be to invite disaster! What if the tunnels should cave in under the weight?”

“They probably will,” said Alperson with a shrug. “But we'll be far away by then, m'dear. And richly rewarded! Oh, we all share in the bounty, as the gallant Captain said.”

“A share with which you two greedy vultures could not be content,” murmured Sir Kendrick, shaking his head at Gentry and Cramer. “I cannot but wonder, my dear Larson—or Mr. Harrison, was it?—just what you planned to do with those wretched paintings had I not come up with you.”

His face red, Gentry said airily, “Exactly what you did. Destroy them. As I told you. What did you suppose?”

“To my sorrow, I supposed that you meant to keep them hidden and at some future time either attempt to sell them, or, in the unhappy event we should ever be found out and arrested, use them to turn retribution away from yourselves and towards me.”

“I protest!” Gentry drew himself up, and trying to appear outraged succeeded only in looking very nervous. “Damme, but you've a nasty suspicious mind, Vespa. I am shocked and—and most offended.”

“And dear Signor da Lentino is dead,” said Consuela. “You must count on large returns, Lord Alperson, to allow murder to besmirch your fine old name!”

“Very great returns!” Alperson rubbed his hands and chuckled. “Trust a woman not to see it. There will have to be roads built, you see, across my lands, and Gentry's. The rights-of-way will be extreme costly. They may even have to buy us out. Lovely.”

“But—you can't have
thought,
” persisted Consuela. “If explosives are stored here—if heavy cannon and shot and black powder are massed, and there is a cave-in and an explosion—My God! It could wipe out the entire village! How could you live with yourselves if—”

Cramer shrieked, “Look at the water! We've got to get out!”

Startled, they all looked down.

It was the moment Jack had waited for. He shouted, “Consuela,
run!
” and hurled himself at Cramer as the man made a lunge for the main tunnel.

Consuela hesitated, then obeyed.

Jack and Cramer collided violently. Cramer was flung against Sir Kendrick, knocking the pistol from his hand and sending him staggering. Jack steadied himself against the tunnel wall and whipped around to find Alperson before him, a large horse-pistol aiming steadily, and a lusting grin distorting his unlovely features.

“Don't fire that blasted great cannon!” howled Sir Kendrick. “You'll bring the roof down on us, you fool!”

“Well, this won't!” Gentry sprang forward, his clenched fist flying.

Jack dodged aside and Gentry mouthed shrill curses as his knuckles made contact with the wall.

Alperson's pistol butt flailed viciously. Jack's vision blurred and he reeled to the wall, sickened with pain, feeling blood streak down his cheek.

Someone was shouting, “Catch that damned chit! If she gets away we're all ruined!”

“I'll get her,” yelled Cramer. “But I'll need a lamp!”

Dimly, Jack saw the approaching light, and as Cramer rushed past he kicked out with all his strength. The lantern flew into the water, hissed, and ceased to glow.

“Damn and blast!” raged Sir Kendrick. “
Hold
him, you idiots! Get
after
her, Durward! The doxy can't see, either! We'll finish here!”

Cramer swore and ran out.

Gentry lunged at Jack.

Snarling with fury, Lord Alperson aimed his horse-pistol.

The knowledge that this time he would fire lent Jack the strength of desperation. As Gentry's fist flew at him, he dodged, seized the man's arm, and sent him spinning into collision with Alperson.

His lordship's
“Whoof!”
was deafening, and his eyes seemed about to pop from his head.

Jack sprang forward, seized the horse-pistol and whirled about.

Gentry had started for him again, but shrank back as the large muzzle waved his way.

“Well, well, well,” murmured Sir Kendrick. “One has to admit that Lord Wellington chose wisely. His stellar aide-de-camp has bested the lot of us! But I would point out that you've only the one bullet, dear lad.” Smiling, he stepped forward.

Jack clenched his teeth. “Sir, don't make me fire.”

Another sauntering step. “Never hesitate, John. You're a crack shot, as I recall. Shoot straight if you please, and spare me the disgrace of”—his eyes darted to the tunnel entrance—“Aha! You caught the wench!”

Jack jerked his head to the entrance.

The shot and the impact were as one.

He was smashed back. The horse-pistol, suddenly too heavy to hold, slipped from his numb fingers.

He was on his knees, leaning against the rockpile, bitterly aware that he'd been taken in by a very old trick.

Alperson let out a triumphant howl.

Gentry looked faintly aghast.

Sir Kendrick sighed. “What a pity. But I do believe we must say adieu, dear boy. You won't be disturbed, I promise. We'll seal the upper tunnel carefully before we leave.”

Watching dully as Alperson groped around and found his pistol, Jack knew that he should try to stop them, but he was so tired now … so very tired. The water was icy cold, and it was rising fast. He wondered absently where he'd been hit. He couldn't feel much yet. But he was getting weaker. He wouldn't be able to hold on to the rocks much longer … and once he fell into that black, surging water, he'd never get up.… They were leaving, taking the light with them. It was very dark. He'd always hoped he would die out under the sky somewhere. Not that it really mattered. He coughed, and his head sank onto his arms.

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