The Amorous Nightingale

disparity between this manager and the one with whom he had competed so strenuously for years. Killigrew had none of the easy charm of Sir William D'Avenant, the putative son of a humble Oxford innkeeper, who had risen to the status of a courtier and effortlessly acquired all the skills that went with it. The puffy Killigrew might have prior claim on the King's friendship but he lacked the studied grace of the older man.

    'Let's not waste words, Mr Redmayne,' said the manager. 'I want to know exactly what's going on.'

    'You have every right to do so, Mr Killigrew.'

    'Then please explain.'

    'First, let me offer an apology,' said Christopher. 'I feel that an unguarded remark of mine might have led Mr Hartwell to hound you here yesterday. He's developed a rare passion for Harriet Gow.'

    'Show me a man who hasn't.'

    'She's a remarkable woman. I count that performance of hers in The Maid's Tragedy as the most moving I've ever seen from an actress.'

    'Abigail Saunders ran her close.'

    'I'll come to Miss Saunders in moment.'

    'Your brother was showing an interest in her.'

    'Henry is not in a position to show an interest in any woman at the moment,' said Christopher sadly. 'It's all my fault for employing him to do a job that I was engaged to do myself.'

    'And what job was that?'

    Christopher saw no point in trying to deceive someone as worldly as the manager any longer. The disappearance of Harriet Gow had a direct effect on his takings at the theatre. It was in his interests to have her back on stage as soon as possible so that audiences would flock there again. That could be best achieved, Christopher judged, by taking the manager into his confidence. It would gain far more cooperation from Killigrew than Henry Redmayne had been able to secure by his more roundabout means. Swearing him to secrecy, Christopher gave a terse account of the situation. Killigrew was shaken to hear that his leading actress had been abducted and horrified to learn of the death of Mary Hibbert. When he fitted the attacks on Henry Redmayne and Roland Trigg into the picture, he saw how serious the predicament was.

    One thing puzzled the manager. He frowned in wonderment.

    'You're conducting this search on your own, Mr Redmayne?'

    'No, I'm working in harness with Jonathan Bale, a constable.'

    'An architect and a mere constable?'

    'We were able to be of service to His Majesty in the past,' said Christopher modestly. 'That's why he sent for us. But the principal reason for using two men in this investigation instead of two hundred is that we will not arouse attention. At least, that's what I thought until Henry was assaulted. The ransom note insisted that no attempt be made to rescue Harriet Gow. Because we disobeyed, Mary Hibbert was killed by way of reprisal.'

    'Doesn't that frighten you and this constable off?'

    'Quite the opposite, Mr Killigrew. I feel guilty that anything I may have done somehow led to the girl's death and Mr Bale is not the kind of man who's ever scared away. He knew Mary Hibbert as a friend and neighbour. Nothing will stop him tracking down her killers.'

    'How can I help?'

    'In many ways.'

    'Teach me what they are.'

    'The main one is to tell us more about Mrs Gow's private life. You must have had some insight into it. Henry made a start for me. He managed to compile a list of people who were either close to her or who might be suspect in some way.'

    'Do you have that list with you?'

    'Of course,' said Christopher, producing it from his pocket to give it to him. 'Please disregard the last name.'

    'If only I could!' said Killigrew, looking at it with disgust.

    'I interviewed Sir William D'Avenant myself. He's not implicated.'

    'He'd do all he could to seduce Harriet away from me.'

    'Would he condone violence and murder?'

    'He'd roast his grandmother on a spit in the middle of a stage if he thought it would increase his income at the theatre.

    But no,' conceded the manager, 'not murder. I think the old crow would stop short of that.'

    'What of the other names?'

    'Henry has worked hard. He's got most of Harriet's close friends down here - and her enemies. In fact, there's only one person he hasn't put down and that's Martin Eldridge.'

    'A friend or an enemy, sir?'

    'Oh, a friend. No shadow of a doubt about that. Indeed, I have my suspicions that Martin Eldridge may have been elevated beyond the level of friendship by Harriet. She was deeply upset when I had to terminate his contract,' Killigrew said, lovingly caressing his moustache. 'She more or less pleaded with me to give Martin a second chance.'

    'Second chance?'

    'That's what Harriet called it. By my reckoning, it would have been more like a sixth or seventh chance.'

    'Was he a member of the company here?'

    'Yes. Martin was a clever actor - he might even have been a great one if he'd had the sense to apply himself, but he was too lazy. Too easily distracted. I'm a tolerant man, Mr Redmayne,' Killigrew announced with an intolerant scowl, 'but I'll not stand for wayward behaviour. I expect my actors to work at their craft. Martin Eldridge failed to do that.'

    'What is he doing now?'

    'What all unemployed actors do. Either look for work elsewhere, which means submitting themselves to that noseless monster who stalks The Duke's Theatre, or sponge off rich women.'

    'How would I find him?'

    'Talk to Abigail Saunders. She may be able to help you.'

    'I was going to ask your permission to speak to the lady, in any case,' said Christopher. 'It crossed Henry's mind that she might somehow be involved in the abduction of Harriet Gow.'

    'Abigail?' Killigrew shook his head. 'She'd never sink to that.'

    'Miss Saunders is the main beneficiary of her absence.'

    'But she isn't.'

    'Then who is?'

    'That rotting old lecher, Sir William D'Avenant. Can you believe that Abigail once granted him her favours? Well, yes,' he said with an oily grin, 'if you've the slightest knowledge of actresses, you can believe anything of them, I daresay. I certainly do. What a peculiar breed they are! Warrior queens with the faces of harmless cherubs.'

    'Is Miss Saunders a warrior queen?'

    'Decide for yourself, Mr Redmayne. Abigail should be here any minute for another rehearsal. She saved the day yesterday afternoon. And in view of what you've told me,' he sighed, 'she may have to come to our rescue for quite some time.'

    The man rode hard along the deserted road. By the time he reached the house, his temper was up and his horse was lathered with sweat. The woman greeted him with a token curtsey at the door. She had removed her mask to reveal plain features lit by a pair of gimlet eyes. Storming past her, the visitor went straight into the drawing room where the other guard was waiting for him, his own mask now discarded. The newcomer was inches shorter and far slimmer in build but he was not intimidated by the burly figure of Arthur Oscott before him. Snapping his whip hard against his thigh, he glared accusingly at the man.

    'Why did you let it happen?' he demanded.

    'I was only following orders, sir.'

    'Your orders were to keep both of them under lock and key.'