The Amorous Nightingale

    'Do you know what will happen to you?' said Jonathan.

    'Who cares?'

    'You should. Gaol can break most men.'

    'I've never found one that broke me,' boasted the other.

    'You'll only be held here until the trial. Kidnap is a more serious offence than assault. Doesn't that worry you?'

    'No.'

    'It should.'

    'Nothing worries me, Mr Bale.'

    'Not even the thought that you'll be tried for murder?'

    'Murder?' There was a first note of alarm in his voice.

    'A girl called Mary Hibbert was beaten to death,' said Jonathan. 'I viewed the body so I know exactly the kind of monsters they were. Mary Hibbert was a friend of mine and I have a personal interest in bringing these monsters to justice. The men who killed her will hang.'

    'I wasn't involved.' 'Are you sure?'

    'I swear it!'

    'Yes,' said the other with heavy sarcasm, 'and you'll swear that you didn't attack a man called Roland Trigg. Nor one called Henry Redmayne, to say nothing of myself. It wasn't you, was it? Your cudgel has a life of its own. It did all that damage by itself.'

    'I did not kill the girl!' protested Smeek.

    'We'll prove that you did.'

    'No! I'll answer for what I did, but not for someone else's crime.'

    'You were involved. That's enough for me.'

    'Not in the murder, Mr Bale. You must believe me. I went after the girl, I admit,' he said, wiping the back of his hand across his mouth, 'but only to track her down. That was our orders: to catch Mary Hibbert and take her back to the house. But she fought agin us. That upset Ben. He tried to quieten her down.'

    'I saw how she was quietened down,' said Jonathan grimly.

    'Not by me!' insisted the other. 'I hardly touched her.'

    'Then who did?'

    Smeek clammed up. He sensed that he had already said too much.

    'Who did?' repeated Jonathan, stepping right up to him. 'You called him Ben, didn't you? Ben who? Tell me the name of the man who beat Mary Hibbert to death. Ben who?'

    The prisoner regained some of his bravado. He folded his arms and leaned his back against the wall of the cell. He taunted Jonathan.

    'Don't ask me, Mr Bale,' he said innocently. 'I swear that I don't know anyone by that name. Do you, sir?'

    The house was smaller than the first one in which she had been confined. Harriet Gow wondered why they had transferred her. The new prison was also situated in open countryside. When she peered through the cracks in the shutters of the bedchamber, she could see nothing but a herd of sheep grazing in the fields. Her two guards were marginally kinder to her. The man and the woman still wore masks and still refused to answer her queries but they were less brusque with her. Harriet was handled with a little more respect. It was as if they had been reprimanded and told to treat her differently. She could see that they resented the order.

    Mary Hibbert's fate still dominated her mind. Fearing the worst, she found it impossible to rest, still less to sleep. She kept thinking about her maidservant, remembering how willing and dependable she was, how proud to work for a renowned actress. Those days seemed to have gone for ever. Harriet knew in her heart that Mary Hibbert would never serve her again. Guilt stirred once more. It was only because of her that the girl had been thrown into jeopardy in the first place. Had she remained in her former employment, she would be alive and well.

    When the door was unlocked, the woman brought in some food on a tray. Her husband remained in the doorway to make sure that the prisoner did not make a run for the exit. Harriet crossed over to the man.

    'How long will I be kept here?' she asked.

    'Until the ransom is paid,' he said coldly.

    'And what if it isn't?'

    He waited until his wife left the room before he answered.

    'Then you won't leave here alive, Mrs Gow.'

    Christopher Redmayne was forced to cool his heels at the house in Addle Street before Jonathan Bale returned. The constable was pleased to see him for once and grateful that it was far too early for him to have taken over the daily reading from the Bible to the two boys. When Sarah had taken them out of the parlour, Jonathan was left alone to exchange news with his guest. The constable came as near to expressing real excitement as he could manage.

    'I caught him, Mr Redmayne,' he said with pride.

    'Who?'

    'One of the villains who wielded a cudgel. He tried to use it on me but I got the better of him near Paternoster Row. The fellow is in custody and will not trouble us again.'

    'Tell me all,' urged Christopher.

    He was thrilled to hear of the arrest, though his great delight was lessened by the fact that the prisoner had failed to confess or provide them with the names of his accomplices.

    'One thing I know,' boomed Jonathan, recalling his visit to Clerkenwell. 'Those accomplices did not include Bartholomew Gow.'

    'You found him?'

    'Eventually.'

    'And?'

    'It was rather a sad tale, Mr Redmayne.'

    Christopher listened to the comprehensive recital of facts, admiring Jonathan's methodical approach but wishing that he could be more succinct. At length, one suspect was eliminated from their enquiries.

    'How odd!' he commented. 'The landlord of that inn was so certain that Mr Gow lived in Greer Lane.'

    'So was the woman at that house,' said Jonathan. 'She assured me that he'd lodged there until quite recently. I still believe that he only used her premises on occasion but the fact remains that he denied even knowing where Greer Lane was.'

    'Did you believe him, Mr Bale?'

    'Implicitly.'

    'Then I trust your judgement.'

    'Thank you, sir,' said Jonathan, settling back into his chair. 'What of your own investigations in Shoreditch? Have you made progress?'

    'Unhappily, no.'

    'Why not?'

    'I was badly hampered,' said Christopher. 'Before I could leave my house, I was cornered by Mr Hartwell, my client, a man with a legitimate claim on my time. And as he left, Mr Trigg arrived to ask how we were getting on and to pass on some rather startling news. And then, worst of all, when I was least ready for him, my father chose that moment to arrive from Gloucester to pay a call on me.'

    'You mentioned startling news.'

    'Yes, from the coachman.'

    'What did he say?'

    'You were not the only one to meet a man with a cudgel.'

    Christopher's account was swift and concise. Jonathan's eyebrows lifted with interest when he heard that the other probable killer of Mary Hibbert had been brought out into the open.

    'Why didn't Mr Trigg get help to arrest the villain?'

    'He was more interested in revenge.'

    'The man he assaulted must have been the accomplice to the rogue who attacked me. I'll wager he answers to the name of Ben. What was the tavern where this happened?'

    'The Hope and Anchor.'

    'Then we may be in luck, Mr Redmayne.'

    'Why?'

    'I know it well from my days as a shipwright. The place is not unused to brawls but it's not often that someone is beaten senseless on its doorstep. Someone will know who the victim was. I'll ask around.'

    'Let me come with you,' volunteered Christopher.

    'I'd rather go alone, sir. No disrespect,' he said, looking at his visitor's smart apparel, 'but you would not exactly blend in with the patrons of the Hope and Anchor. Seafaring men can be suspicious of outsiders and that's what you are. I'll go myself tonight, though not in the office of a constable. I'll find out what I can about the beating that Mr Trigg claims that he handed out.'