The Amorous Nightingale

    'Peter has something to tell you, sir,' said Jonathan.

    'Does he?'

    'It's about his sister.'

    'Then I'm eager to hear it.'

    There was a long wait. Peter Hibbert was far too nervous to speak at first. Over-awed by Christopher and the fine house in which he lived, Peter's confidence dried up completely. He began to lose faith in the tale he had to tell. His eyes darted wildly. Jonathan tried to rescue him from his tongue-tied embarrassment.

    'Go on, Peter,' he nudged. 'Say your piece.'

    'You've come all this way to do it,' encouraged Christopher. 'I'll be interested to hear what you have to tell me about your sister.'

    Hands knotted together, the boy stared at the floor and tried to summon up enough courage to speak. When the words finally came out, they did so in an irregular dribble.

    'Mary - that's my sister, sir - is in service with Mrs Gow - Mrs Harriet Gow - she's a famous actress. They live in a big house near St James's Square. Mary is very kind to me, sir. She looks out for me.'

    He came to a halt and shot a look of apprehension at Jonathan.

    'Tell the truth, Peter,' said the other. 'Exactly as you told me.'

    The boy nodded. 'I'm apprenticed to a tailor, sir,' he continued, aiming his words at Christopher via the carpet. 'It was my father's occupation though I'm afraid that I lack his skill. I'm poorly paid for my work so I get into debt quite often. Mary gives me money. I'll pay it back one day,' he said with a touch of spirit, 'but it may take time. Anyway, I arranged to call on Mary this afternoon, to collect some money from her. But when I got there, the door of the house was wide open and there was no sign of my sister.'

    'A most unusual circumstance,' observed Jonathan. 'When her mistress is absent, Mary has responsibility for the security of the house. She would never leave it unguarded.'

    Christopher had heard a version of the story from Roland Trigg, but he was grateful for corroboration. Peter Hibbert had come to the same conclusion as the coachman. Mary Hibbert was in some kind of terrible predicament. A creature of habit, if she made an arrangement to meet her brother, she never let him down. Mary knew how much he needed the regular gifts of money from her.

    'What did you do, Peter?' said Christopher.

    'I ran all the way to my uncle's house in Carter Lane, sir. I knew that Mary had called on him earlier in the day because he's been very ill. I wondered if she might still be there.' He shook his head. 'But she wasn't. Mary left hours before.'

    'I can vouch for that,' added Jonathan. 'I was in Carter Lane myself this morning and I spoke to Peter's sister as she was leaving her uncle's house. We're old friends, sir. The Hibbert family used to live in my ward.'

    'Let me hear it from Peter,' said Christopher gently.

    'I was more worried than ever, Mr Redmayne, so I went back to the house. Mr Trigg was there. He's the coachman.

    When I asked him where my sister was, he told me she'd gone away suddenly with Mrs Gow and that I wasn't to fret about her. But I do fret, sir,' said the boy, kneading his fingers. 'And I'm not sure that Mr Trigg was honest with me. He had these bruises all over his face and a bandage around his head.'

    Christopher chuckled. 'That doesn't mean he was lying to you,' he said easily. 'As it happens, I've spoken to Mr Trigg myself and I accept his word. He's in the best position to know where your sister is, after all. Jacob!' he called. The servant was in the room instantly. 'This is Peter Hibbert. He looks very hungry to me. Take him into the kitchen while I talk to Mr Bale in private. Feed him well.'

    Understanding the situation, Jacob whisked the boy off before the latter could protest. The kitchen door was shut firmly behind them. Christopher's relaxed manner evaporated at once. He lowered his voice to talk to Jonathan.

    'The boy's fears are all too real,' he admitted, 'but he mustn't know that. We don't want him to spread the alarm or have his uncle and aunt getting anxious. Peter must think that his sister has gone out of London with Mrs Gow for a short while. Even though the plain truth is that she was most likely abducted from the house this afternoon.'

    'Is that what the coachman said, sir?'

    'He had no doubts about it.'

    'Then the life of an innocent girl may be in danger.'

    'Two lives are at risk here, Mr Bale,' corrected Christopher. 'I won't waste time arguing which of the ladies is the more innocent or guilty. Both need immediate help. The manner of their kidnap shows how bold and uncompromising the men who snatched them really are. They gave the coachman a sound thrashing.'

    'I've changed my mind,' said Jonathan, getting up suddenly from his seat. 'I'm sorry that I had to refuse your invitation earlier on but matters are different now. I knew the Hibbert family well. I watched Mary and Peter grow up. Their father, Daniel, was a fine man and a good neighbour to us.' He thrust out his jaw. 'If his daughter is in the slightest danger, I'll help to rescue her.'

    'That offer is music to my ears.'

    'Just tell me what to do, Mr Redmayne.'

    'The first thing is to calm young Peter down.'

    'Leave that to me, sir.'

    'It's a happy accident that you actually know one of the victims. You may be able to tell me things about her which supplement what I've already heard from Trigg.' He looked down at the table. 'Talking of whom, there's something you can do for me right now, Mr Bale.'

    'What's that, sir?'

    'Take a look at this map. It's rather crude, I fear, but I'm an architect and not a cartographer. Come over here - what do you see?'

    Jonathan was impressed. 'A map of London, sir,' he said with a wheeze of admiration. 'As neat and tidy as you could wish. But that's London to the life, no question. You've moved one or two of the roads about by mistake and Fleet Street bends a trifle more than you've allowed. Otherwise, as far as I can judge, it's more or less accurate.'

    'St James's Square would be up here in the corner somewhere,' said Christopher, marking the place with a cross. 'Now, if you had to drive a coach during the day from there to the Palace of Westminster, which route would you take?'

    'The most direct one with the best roads.'

    'And that would be?'

    'Straight down to Charing Cross here,' said Jonathan, pointing with his finger, 'then south along King Street.'

    'That was my feeling. Yet Harriet Gow was abducted when her coach was stopped in this narrow lane off the Strand - right here.' His own finger jabbed down. 'If Trigg was taking her to the Palace, why did he go by such a peculiar route?'

    'Did he mean to call in at Drury Lane on the way?' suggested Jonathan. 'Perhaps she had business at The Theatre Royal.'

    'The coachman assures me that she didn't. His mistress had an assignation with someone though he refuses to tell me with whom. Given the circumstances, I naturally assumed that it was with His Majesty.'

    'I've no comment to make on that, sir.'

    'He and Mrs Gow have been very close of late.'

    'Please keep me ignorant of such detail.'

    'But it's critical, Mr Bale. You agree with me that there's only one sensible way to travel from St James's Square to Westminster. That leaves us with two alternatives.'

    'Does it?'

    'The coachman may have misled me.'

    'Or?'

    Christopher looked up from his rudimentary map of London.