Armadale made an effort to curb his anger. Putting his sword back into its sheath, he used the whip to beckon the coachman down from his seat. Trigg was unkempt and unshaven. Armadale could smell straw.
'When did you leave?'
'Just as it was getting dark.'
'Where did you spend the night?'
'At a tavern along the way,' explained Trigg. 'All the beds were taken so I slept in the stables. Don't worry, sir. Very few people saw me. I arrived and left in darkness.'
'The coach might have been noticed.'
Trigg grinned. 'I thought you'd like it back, Sir Godfrey.'
A reluctant smile flitted across Armadale's face.
'I do,' he conceded. 'I've waited too long to get it.'
'There's something inside for you as well,' said the coachman, opening the door. 'Go on, Sir Godfrey. Take that sack out.'
'Why?'
'Look inside it.'
Armadale prodded the sack with his whip then lifted it out of the coach to set it on the ground. When he opened it to peer inside, he was dumbstruck. Trigg enjoyed seeing the expression of amazement on his face. He smirked energetically.
'Well, Sir Godfrey?'
'Perhaps you're not as stupid as you look.'
'I felt that Mrs Gow owed it to us.'
The change of horses made all the difference. Christopher Redmayne rode the high-spirited bay mare from his brother's stable and gave his own horse to Jonathan Bale. The constable was far happier sitting astride a more obedient animal with a comfortable gait. Though the long ride tested his buttocks, he willingly endured the twinges of pain. Stopping at a tavern near Kew, they were given directions to Armadale Manor. It was less than a mile away. As soon as it came into view, Christopher saw what his client had meant about its grotesque aspect. Even from a distance, Armadale Manor was ugly.
Built out of sandstone almost a century earlier, it had none of the symmetry and beauty of a typical Elizabethan country mansion. A new wing had been added with hideous brickwork whose bright colour clashed with the gentle red hue of the facade. The upper part of the house had been restored by a slipshod builder who had made little effort to make his work blend in harmoniously. Other features of the house were even more unsightly. The architectural values that Christopher held most dear seemed to have been flouted.
'Who could live in such a repulsive house?' he asked.
'A repulsive man,' said Jonathan.
'At least we know that this is the right place.'
'How is that, Mr Redmayne?'
Christopher pointed. 'Look at the coach outside the stables. Isn't that the one belonging to Mrs Gow?' he asked. 'Trigg must be here.'
'Then I'll be happy to meet him again.'
Careful not to announce their arrival too soon, they tethered their horses among the trees and proceeded on foot. Jonathan worked his way round to the rear of the house. Christopher waited until his companion was in position before breaking his cover and strolling up the drive to the front door. The sound of the bell brought a servant into view.
'My name is Christopher Redmayne,' announced the visitor, 'and I've come to pay my compliments to Sir Godfrey Armadale.'
'The master is not here at the moment, sir.'
'Oh dear.'
'He rode off a while ago and may not be back for some time.'
'I see,' said Christopher, recognising the man's honesty. 'In that case, I'll not linger, though I may spend a few moments looking around this magnificent pile, if I may. I'm an architect by profession. Armadale Manor is quite unlike anything I've seen before.'
'Do as you wish, sir.'
The man closed the door behind him. Christopher went past the stables and turned down the side of the house. A yell of rage made him break into a trot. When he reached the back of the property, he saw Roland Trigg lying motionless at Jonathan Bale's feet. The constable glanced down at the prone figure.
'He tried to make a run for it. I got in his way.'
'What sort of a night did she have?' asked Sir Godfrey Armadale.
'Unsettled,' said Oscott. 'We could hear her, pacing up and down in the room. She never seemed to stop, Sir Godfrey.'
'She must be exhausted after all this time.'
'So are we.'
'You'll get your reward, Arthur.'
'When?'
'Today. I've told them where and how the ransom is to be paid. It's only a question of collecting it and all our troubles are over.'
'There weren't supposed to be any troubles.'
'I blame you for those.'
Oscott tensed. 'Me, Sir Godfrey?'
'Yes. You chose Smeek and Froggatt. They were the blundering fools who let us down. However,' he said, raising his whip to silence the protest he saw forming on the other's lips, 'we must put that behind us. I don't bear grudges. Smeek and Froggatt are out of this now. That means a larger share for you and your wife.'
'Oh,' said Oscott, relaxing slightly. 'Thank you, Sir Godfrey. My wife and I are very grateful. We've had to put in more work than we thought. It's been something of a trial.'
'That goes for all of us but we've come through it.'
'When will Mrs Gow be released?'
'When the ransom money is in my hands and not before.'
'She still has no idea who organised the kidnap?'
'No - and she never will,' said Armadale with a complacent grin. 'That's the beauty of it. I get my revenge and make a small fortune into the bargain. Yet nobody will ever know about it.'
The mood of self-congratulation was immediately dispelled. Flinging open the door, Oscott's wife ran into the room in a panic.
'There's a coach coming, Sir Godfrey!' she warned.
'There can't be.'
'See for yourself.'
The two men rushed to the window and looked out. Rolling up the drive and scrunching over the gravel was a coach. Armadale recognised it at once and glared up at the man who was holding the reins.
'It's Trigg!' he yelled. 'What the devil is he doing here?'
He and Oscott rushed out to welcome the coachman but there was a shock in store for them. When the newcomer raised his hat, they saw that it was not Roland Trigg at all but a complete stranger.
Christopher Redmayne beamed down from his high eminence. After a glance at them both, he turned his smile upon the shorter.
'Sir Godfrey Armadale, I presume?'
'Who are you?' growled the other.
'Christopher Redmayne.' Both men reacted with hostility to the name. 'I've come to collect Mrs Gow in her own coach.'
'Where's Trigg?'
'Tied up inside. He's coming back to London with us.'
