crinkled into a tired smile. 'Stick to architecture, my friend. You're too honest to be a spy.'
Christopher was lost for words. A servant appeared in the hall.
'Please show Mr Redmayne out,' ordered D'Avenant crisply.
'Yes, Sir William,' said the man.
'Oh, and Gregory…'
The servant paused. 'Sir William?'
'Make sure that you don't let him into the house again.'
Jonathan Bale soon found the exact spot. The brickwork of the house had been deeply scored where the coach had scraped against it. The hasp that Trigg had been repairing was only one of the casualties on the vehicle. Jonathan ran a finger along the shallow grooves that had been gouged out of the brick. The impact must have been hard. He looked up and down the narrow lane, wondering yet again why such a route had been taken and seeing how perfect a place it had been for an ambush. Standing in the middle of the little thoroughfare, he tried to reconstruct in his mind exactly how it happened but his cogitations were interrupted by a sound from above. He glanced up quickly. The figure darted swiftly away from the upper window but not before the constable had caught sight of the man. Jonathan was being watched. He sensed that it was a hostile surveillance.
'There must be something we can do, Mrs Gow,' said Mary Hibbert.
'If only there were!' sighed her mistress.
'Have you tried to reason with them?'
'How can I when I'm not even allowed to speak?'
'What have they said to you?'
'Very little, Mary. When I asked a question, the man warned me to hold my tongue. I didn't argue with that raised fist of his. When the woman brings my food, she never says a single word.'
Mary was alerted. 'There's a woman here as well?'
'Yes, she's been keeping an eye on me.'
'All I've seen is one man. He wears a mask.'
'So does the woman. Her face is completely covered.'
'How many other people are here?'
'None, as far as I know.'
'Then we may have a chance.'
Mary crossed to the window. They were still alone together in the bedchamber. Reunited with Harriet Gow, Mary had recovered some of her willpower and all of her obligation to serve her mistress. She looked down at the garden below. It was empty. Open fields stretched beyond it to the horizon. The other woman joined her.
'It's too long a drop, Mary,' she said.
'There may be a way around that.'
'No, it's far too dangerous.'
'It's no more dangerous than staying here, Mrs Gow. They locked me in a dark cellar. It was horrifying. I'm not going to spend another night in there. I could hear a rat scampering about.'
'At least I've been spared that.'
'You're the person they need to look after,' argued Mary. 'That's why you have a proper bed and a woman to see to your needs. I'm glad of that. But I'm only a servant. They don't need to bother with me.' She stared through the window again. 'I've got nothing to lose.'
'What if they catch you?' 'I'll take that chance.'
'But what will you do, Mary?'
'Run as fast as I can to fetch help.'
'But we could be miles from anywhere.'
'Anything is better than staying here, Mrs Gow. I'm not asking you to come with me. You're safe enough here. They're treating you quite well because they know they have to. My case is different.'
'I'd much rather you stayed. You're such a comfort.'
'How long will they let us be together?'
Harriet Gow pondered. A woman of independent spirit, she found it galling to be deprived of her liberty. She was desperate to escape but she had grave doubts about the plan suggested by her maidservant. Getting down into the garden involved sufficient danger in itself. The chances of discovery seemed high. Even if Mary did get clear, she would be pursued as soon as her absence was noted. Harriet shuddered when she thought of the possible repercussions. She reached out to enfold her companion in protective arms, but Mary Hibbert was decisive.
'I'm going to try, Mrs Gow. It's our only hope.'
'But you could get hurt.'
'I'm not afraid.'
But Mary was trembling with fear and excitement. Feeling obscurely responsible for the predicament in which they found themselves, she wanted to do all that she could to get them out of it. She was young, fit and resolute. All she needed was a modicum of good fortune.
'It will work,' she promised.
'Will it?'
'It has to, Mrs Gow. Or we've no hope.'
'Somebody may come for us.'
'Who? Nobody even knows where we are.'
Harriet Gow nodded sadly. It was true. Her kidnappers had been swift, efficient and merciless. They would have covered their tracks.
Mary Hibbert held out her hands to her.
'Give me your blessing,' she said. 'Please, Mrs Gow.'
'I'll give you more than that,' replied the other, taking the brooch from her dress to hand it over. 'Have this as a keepsake, Mary. It may bring you luck.'
She kissed the girl impulsively. Mary pinned the brooch to her own dress. The two of them were soon knotting the bedsheets together.
Christopher Redmayne found time in a busy day to ride back to the site in order to assess progress. Neither Jasper Hartwell nor Lodowick Corrigan was there, though the bustling commitment with which the men were working suggested that the vigilant builder was not too far away. Satisfied that all was well, Christopher continued his round of calls before ending up in Fleet Street. It was early evening and he had arranged to meet up with Jonathan Bale outside the Lamb and Flag. A clock chimed, a distant bell boomed and the constable walked into view, arriving exactly on time.
Christopher dismounted from his horse to trade a greeting.
'What sort of a day have you had, Mr Bale?'
'Tiring.'
'Yet productive, I hope?'
'To some degree. What of you, sir?'
'Oh, I think I can claim to have made some headway. I've been looking more closely at some of the names on my brother's list. Sir William D'Avenant was the first.'
'Is he implicated in any way?'
'No, no, Mr Bale, I'm certain of that. But he taught me things about the theatrical way of life that shed much new light. It was well worth passing the time of day with him.'
He told the constable about his visit to D'Avenant's home, Rutland House, and his subsequent calls on some of the actors identified by his brother as possible sources of information. Jonathan was a good listener, absorbing salient detail and requesting clarification from time to time. He could see how assiduous Christopher had been and that pleased him.
When he finally paused, the architect pursed his lips in concentration.
'I still believe we must look to the theatre,' he said at length. 'That was Harriet Gow's world and that's
