The Amorous Nightingale

Chapter Eleven

    Jonathan Bale was a methodical man who liked to do things in correct sequence and at a steady pace. Punctual by nature, he was disconcerted to arrive at Ludgate precisely at noon and see no sign of Christopher Redmayne. Since he had abided by the exact time and place of their agreed meeting, he simply could not understand why the architect was not there as well. It was almost half an hour before the latter appeared on horseback to shower him with profuse apologies. Jonathan waved them away.

    'I've no time to waste, standing around for you to come, sir. I could have been off elsewhere, doing something useful.'

    'I know, I know, Mr Bale,' said Christopher, dismounting. 'But I got so engrossed in what Abigail Saunders was telling me - she's the actress who has replaced Mrs Gow - that I lost all purchase on time. I've so much to tell you about my visit to the theatre but I want to hear your news first. Where have you been?'

    'My day began in Cornhill Ward, talking to Peter Hibbert.'

    'Poor lad! How did he take it?'

    'Not well, sir.'

    Jonathan explained in detail how he had spent the morning. His attempt at tracing Bartholomew Gow had failed, but it had led him to an interesting discovery. It was one which the constable felt a little awkward about passing on. He lowered his voice.

    'I knew that there was something odd about that house, sir,' he said darkly. 'The woman who answered the door to me was very evasive. She claimed that there was nobody in the house when that coach was ambushed right on her doorstep, but there's been somebody there the twice I've been to the lane. He's watched me from the upper room.'

    'Bartholomew Gow, by any chance?'

    'I don't think so. The landlady said that he didn't lodge there any longer but I'm wondering if he ever did live under her roof.'

    'That innkeeper told you he did.'

    'Only because Mr Gow called into the Red Lion from time to time. But that doesn't prove he was lodging in the lane.'

    'I don't understand.'

    'Neither did I until I watched the place, sir,' said Jonathan heavily. 'I kept out of sight in a doorway farther up the lane and just waited. A couple of hours, all told.'

    'That is devotion to duty.'

    'I wanted to be sure.'

    'Of what?'

    'My suspicions. It was the way that woman behaved. I could see that the last person she wanted outside her door was a constable. She hurried me quickly on my way.'

    'But you lingered.'

    'It was worth the wait, Mr Redmayne.'

    'Why?'

    'I saw a number of coaches stop there in all. A woman got out of the first and slipped into the house. A man soon followed her in the second vehicle. He left almost an hour later on his own. Soon after that, a third coach arrived with a man and a woman in it. They were let into the house as well.' He pursed his lips in disapproval. 'And so it went on.'

    'What did?' said Christopher innocently. 'The landlady had a series of visitors, that's all. What's so unusual about that?'

    'The way they took care not to be seen, sir. Those coaches stopped right outside the house so that the occupants could step straight in through the front door. I was only twenty yards away but I didn't get a proper look at any of them. They made sure of that.'

    Christopher understood. 'I begin to see your reasoning, Mr Bale.'

    'Mr Gow may never have lodged there.'

    'Except for short intervals, that is.' 'Exactly, sir,' said Jonathan, ridding himself of a discovery that obviously disgusted him. 'The house is a place for covert assignations. Tucked away in that lane, it's very private, allowing people to come and go without being seen. It's an address of convenience. In my view, that's why Mr Gow used the premises occasionally. I think he had a rendezvous with a lady.'

    'Not his own wife, surely?'

    'That's not for me to say.'

    'It would explain what her coach was doing in that lane.'

    'Mr Trigg refused to comment on that.'

    'He was only trying to save Mrs Gow's blushes, I fancy. On the other hand,' he remembered, 'he was very hostile towards her husband. Trigg more or less accused him of being behind this whole business. It seems unlikely that he'd deliver her into his arms like that.'

    'Perhaps he didn't know who was waiting for her inside the house. Mrs Gow never told him. I shouldn't imagine a woman like that confides in her coachman, especially one such as Mr Trigg.'

    'Well done, Mr Bale!' congratulated Christopher. 'I think you've stumbled on some valuable evidence. If that coach really was taking her to a tryst with her husband - bizarre as that seems - Mr Gow has to be implicated in the ambush.'

    'All we have to do is to find him.'

    'I managed to take a big step in that direction. That was why my talk with Abigail Saunders was so useful. She saw Bartholomew Gow less than a week ago.'

    'Where?'

    'At Locket's ordinary. Do you know the place?'

    'Only from the outside, Mr Redmayne. I can't afford to eat there.'

    'Mr Gow can. He was dining with his lawyer, apparently. That may be our best way to find him - through his lawyer.'

    'Did you get the man's name, sir?'

    'Shann. That's what Miss Saunders said and you may be sure she got the name right. Actresses have excellent memories - it's part of their stock-in-trade. The lawyer was called Mr Shann.'

    'Let me chase him down,' volunteered Jonathan. 'I visit the courts all the time and I've many friends there. One of them is bound to have heard of a lawyer called Shann. It's not a common name.'

    'I embrace your offer,' said Christopher gratefully. 'While you're doing that, I'll get on the trail of Martin Eldridge.'

    'Who, sir?'

    'A close friend of Mrs Gow's. And an intimate one, according to Mr Killigrew. Nobody in the company knew her as well as Martin Eldridge. He could prove a most helpful witness.'

    'Do you have an address for him, sir?'

    'Old Street.'

    'Then I may be able to help there as well,' said Jonathan, pleased that his contacts were proving so useful. 'I know one of the constables in Shoreditch. Talk to him and he might save your legs a lot of walking. If there's a Mr Eldridge living in Old Street, the chances are that Jeremy Vye will come across him.'

    'Thank you. I'll speak to Constable Vye this very afternoon, when I've paid another visit to my brother.'

    'How is Mr Redmayne?'

    'Still in some pain, I daresay. Several ribs were cracked.'

    'Your brother was lucky. I saw what they did to Mary Hibbert.'

    'Henry doesn't know about her yet,' said Christopher sombrely. 'I'm not sure that he should; it would only