The Amorous Nightingale

    Christopher blinked. 'Already aware?'

    'Harriet Gow sent him a letter of apology.'

    'When?'

    'An hour before I arrived.'

    'How could she do that when she's being held by kidnappers?'

    'I think I've worked that out, Christopher,' said the other, pouring brandy into his empty glass. 'They must have forced her to write the note in order to throw Tom Killigrew off the scent. If he suspected for one moment what had happened to her, he'd raise a hue and cry.' He sipped the alcohol. 'Is this the best brandy you have in the house?'

    'What did the letter say?'

    'I need something stronger than this.'

    'Tell me, Henry,' said his brother, shaking him by the arm. 'Did you actually see this letter from Harriet Gow?'

    'No. It stayed in his pocket.'

    Henry recounted his interview with Killigrew in detail, making much of the discomfort he suffered and the skill he'd had to employ in order to lead the manager astray. The letter of apology from Harriet Gow was what weighed with Killigrew. Christopher was reassured to hear that his brother had not, after all, betrayed his pledge to maintain strict secrecy. He was also pleased that the visit to the theatre had thrown up some interesting new names for consideration. Henry passed over a crumpled list.

    'I recognise some of these,' said Christopher, perusing it with care. 'They are mostly members of the company. Who is Abigail Saunders?'

    'An actress of sorts.'

    'Of sorts?'

    'A pretty enough creature who uses the stage to advertise her charms rather than her talents, perhaps because she has an ample supply of the former and a dearth of the latter. Abigail Saunders is a young lady of high ambition.'

    'Why have you drawn a circle around her name?'

    'She will replace Harriet Gow in The Maid's Tragedy.'

    'So she stands to benefit.'

    'Greatly.'

    'And is Abigail Saunders another nightingale?'

    'More of a vulture,' opined Henry. 'An attractive one, I grant you, but she is all claw under those delightful feathers.'

    Christopher was amazed to read the last name of the list.

    'Sir William D'Avenant?'

    'That was Tom Killigrew's suggestion.'

    'I thought that you didn't discuss the abduction,' said Christopher in alarm. 'How did it happen then that the manager is identifying a suspect?'

    'By doing so without even realising it. Now stop harassing me,' said Henry before downing the contents of the glass. 'Talk to Tom Killigrew and Sir William's name comes into the conversation time and again. It's inevitable. They are the only two men with patents to run theatres in London so they are deadly rivals. Tom Killigrew has the edge with The King's Theatre but Sir William D'Avenant has had many triumphs at The Duke's House. They'll stop at nothing to secure an advantage over the other. What's the worst thing that could befall Tom Killigrew?'

    'The disappearance of Harriet Gow.'

    'Which theatre manager would profit most?'

    'Sir William D'Avenant.'

    'Exactly. That's why I put his name on the list,' Henry said smugly.

    'Is he capable of such desperate measures?'

    'A man with no spectacles is capable of anything.'

    'No spectacles?' Christopher could not follow this. 'Sir William?'

    'Yes. The old lecher contracted syphilis so often in the past that it's eaten away his nose. He'll never balance a pair of spectacles on it, no matter how bad his eyesight.'

    'Be serious, Henry. We're talking about kidnap here.'

    'Then Sir William D'Avenant must be a suspect.'

    'I wonder,' said Christopher doubtfully. 'Let's assume, just for a moment, that you may be right. Why should Sir William send a ransom note to the King when it ought more properly to go to the rival manager? He's the one who might be expected to buy her release.'

    'Hardly!' said Henry with a harsh laugh.

    'What do you mean?'

    'Tom Killigrew's finances are in a worse state than the King's. Worse even than my own, and that's saying something. He had to beg, borrow and steal to raise the money to build his playhouse. Every penny that Tom had is sunk in The King's House.'

    'Couldn't he find the ransom money somehow?'

    'That would be a miracle beyond even him, Christopher.'

    'I still cannot believe that Sir William D'Avenant is implicated.'

    'Then you don't know him as well as some of us do.'

    'Is he such a villain?'

    'Try asking Miss Abigail Saunders.'

    'Why?'

    'She was his mistress.'

    Henry took up his list and went through the names one by one, fleshing them out with detail and adding speculative comment. His knowledge of the theatrical world was impressive, his insight into the private lives of its leading members even more astonishing. When he had delivered his cargo of scandal and supposition, he sat back in his chair and used the back of his hand to suppress a yawn.

    'I'm exhausted by all the effort I've put in today. Deception is such a tiring business. You always have to remember which lie you've told to whom and for what purpose. But enough of my travails,' he said as he reached for the brandy once more. 'What of you, Christopher? Have you spoken to the grim constable yet?' 'Yes,' sighed the other. 'For all the good it did me.'

    'Did he not rush to the aid of a lady in distress?'

    'Not exactly.'

    Christopher gave him an edited version of the conversation that took place in Addle Hill, playing down Jonathan's rejection in order to rescue him from Henry's scorn. What he did talk about at length was the unexpected visit of Roland Trigg, the truculent coachman. Henry was troubled to hear of the second abduction.

    'The maidservant taken as well?'

    'So it seems.'

    'This is a bad omen, Christopher.'

    'I prefer to see it as a good one.'

    'What goodness can there be in the kidnap of a young woman?'

    'A little, I hope. I take it as a sign of consideration towards Harriet Gow. She must be in a state of absolute terror. Her kidnappers are at least providing her with some company to still her fears. She and Mary Hibbert are very close. Trigg kept telling me that.'

    'He told you a great deal, apparently.'

    'Some of it was very revealing.'

    'If the fellow can be trusted.'

    'Try to get behind that forbidding appearance of his,' suggested Christopher. 'The man might yet turn out to be a useful ally. Roland Trigg deserves the credit for one thing at least.'

    'What's that?'

    'Providing us with a name to go at the very top of our list.'

    'Who might that be?'

    'Bartholomew Gow.'

    Henry was chastened. 'Her husband?' he said, eyes glistening. 'I never even considered him. He and his wife have lived apart for some time. I'm not even sure that Bartholomew Gow is still in London.'

    'What manner of man is he?'

    'An odd one. A fellow of moderate wealth and peculiar disposition. Content to hug the shadows while Harriet courted the light - at first, that is, but he grew resentful. Never marry an actress, Christopher. They would tax the patience of a saint and Mr Gow is assuredly no saint.'

    'Would he stoop to the kidnap of his own wife?'

    'I don't know him well enough to form a judgement about it.'

    'What does your instinct tell you?'