The Amorous Nightingale

    'Too close, in my view!'

    'Why?'

    'Harriet did tend to gather young men around her, I'm afraid. We all like to do that to some extent, of course, but she took it to extremes. Martin was one of her attendants, always running errands for her. It was demeaning,' she said irritably. 'I told him so but he wouldn't listen.'

    'What other young men did she have in her train?'

    'I'm past caring.'

    'So you did care at one point?'

    'Mr Redmayne,' she retorted, 'I've a life of my own to lead and it gives me little time to pry into the affairs of others. Especially when one of them is Harriet Gow. I'd simply never be able to keep track of all her admirers. Harriet has changed,' she said ruefully. 'She's changed so much. I remember her when she first came into this cruel profession. Harriet was a nice, quiet, friendly girl with a husband she adored. Bartholomew went everywhere with her in those days - until she found him an inconvenience.'

    'You sound as if you're sorry for him.'

    'No husband should be treated like that. Somehow, he's managed to survive. Indeed, parting from Harriet may turn out to be a blessed release. When I saw him recently, he looked almost happy again.'

    His ears pricked up. 'You saw Mr Gow?'

    'Less than a week ago.'

    'Do you remember where?'

    'Of course. At Locket's ordinary in Charing Cross. I was dining there with a friend. Bartholomew Gow was sitting at the next table with his lawyer - a Mr Shann, as I recall. Bartholomew did introduce me. We only exchanged a brief word,' she said, 'but one of his comments made me burn with curiosity. Especially as his prediction turned out to be absolutely true.'

    'Prediction?'

    'Bartholomew told me that opportunity was at hand, and urged me to be ready for it. Harriet would soon be indisposed, he said, and I'd be asked to replace her if I'd studied her roles.'

    'Were those his exact words?'

    'More or less.'

    'Did he say why his wife would be unavailable?'

    'I didn't care,' she said coldly. 'Chances come along so rarely in this profession that you have to seize them with both hands. I'm very grateful to Bartholomew Gow.' She gave a dazzling smile, and added: 'He told me that his wife might be unable to appear on stage again for quite some time.'

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.'