Sir Marcus was droll. ‘Perhaps he has come to confess to some terrible crime,’ he said. ‘Even his mother has begun to despair of him.’ He got to his feet as George Vaughan came into the room. They shook hands. ‘How are you, young man?’
‘I didn’t expect to find you here, Uncle Marcus,’ said the other, ‘but I’m very glad that I did so. You should hear what I have to say.’
‘I understood that you wished to speak to me,’ said Tallis, stiffly.
‘That’s right, Superintendent. I have to report a heinous crime.’
‘Of what nature is it?’
‘A young woman has been brutally assaulted by a man.’
‘Report that to the nearest police station, Mr Vaughan. It’s not the sort of crime that we deal with, as a rule. I take it that the two people involved were well known to each other?’
‘Yes, they were.’
‘Then it’s a domestic matter in which we don’t usually get involved.’
‘I’ve seen her,’ said the artist, earnestly. ‘He beat her to a pulp and threw her out of the house. Doesn’t that arouse at least a scintilla of compassion in you?’
‘Go back to your earlier remark,’ said Sir Marcus, interested. ‘Why were you glad to find me in here with the superintendent?’
‘You know the man, Uncle. He’s a friend of yours.’
Puffing on his cigar, Sir Marcus fell back on pomposity. ‘My friends do not assault defenceless young women.’
‘This one does,’ insisted George Vaughan. ‘If he can batter his mistress like that, imagine what he might do to his wife.’
‘What are you babbling about?’
‘Who is this person to whom you refer?’ asked Tallis.
‘His name is Clive Tunnadine,’ said the artist, spitting out the name, ‘and he is destined to marry my cousin, Imogen.’
‘That’s a preposterous allegation,’ roared Sir Marcus, ‘and you ought to know better than to make it. Really, George, I’m ashamed of you. Withdraw that charge at once, then leave us to deal with more important matters.’
‘What I have to tell you has a direct bearing on these so-called more important matters, Uncle Marcus. Imogen has been kidnapped and we all wish her to be released very soon. But what is the point of liberating her,’ he went on, gesticulating, ‘if you’re going to chain her in marriage to a monster who resorts to violence?’
‘Leave the room at once. I’ll hear no more of this.’
‘No, wait,’ said Tallis, intervening. ‘Since your nephew is moved to come here, we must listen to his complaint in full. Like you, Sir Marcus, I do not believe that Mr Tunnadine is capable of the assault described to us, but then, I doubt if your nephew would take the trouble of coming here unless he has incontrovertible evidence to the contrary. Do you have such evidence, Mr Vaughan?’
‘I do,’ replied the artist, trying to compose himself. ‘I apologise for bursting in like this but I implore you to hear me out. It’s high time that both of you became aware of the true character of Clive Tunnadine.’
The letter was slipped under the door of the hotel room. By the time that Alban Kee had flung the door open, the messenger had gone. He picked up the missive and handed it to Tunnadine then he shut the door and locked it. Kee watched as the other man opened the letter and read it.
‘It’s from the kidnappers,’ said Tunnadine. ‘They’ve specified the time and place.’
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
It was remarkable. Lady Paulina Burnhope began to improve. Weakened by illness and racked by grief at the disappearance of her daughter, she somehow found the strength to rally. The key to her recovery was the presence of Percy Vaughan. His mother had done her best to comfort her sister but Cassandra’s gifts did not run to tenderness and the long bedside vigil tested her patience to, and almost beyond, the limit. Her elder son, on the other hand, had an inexhaustible supply of sympathy and understanding. When he talked, he knew exactly what to say and he also sensed when silence was the best medicine. Cassandra had brought a kind of subdued truculence to bear on her sister’s condition. The Reverend Percy Vaughan was altogether more serene, sensitive and practical.
‘I can’t thank you enough,’ said Paulina with a first smile in days. ‘I feel so much better.’
‘That’s good to hear, Aunt.’
‘You have a skill that your mother lacks — and, I must add, your brother.’
‘George has other skills,’ he said.
‘None that can rival yours — you are curate, doctor and magician rolled into one. Your parishioners were blessed when you came among them.’
‘It’s true, Aunt Paulina, but not for the reasons that you’ve just given. I am praised in North Cerney simply for being there. The rector has an extraordinary capacity for being elsewhere on Sunday. Baptisms and burial services are always left to me. When I’m ordained as a priest, services of holy matrimony will also be solely mine. Oh, I’m not complaining,’ he said, raising a palm. ‘In fact, I enjoy being so fully involved in the care of the parish. It’s a labour of love.’
He was sitting beside the bed in which she was resting on large pillows. A Bible stood on the table nearby but he’d had no need of it because his favourite passages were engraved on his memory and could be produced whole whenever they were required.
‘You always were such a thoughtful boy,’ she said, admiringly. ‘All that George ever thought about was running around and playing pranks. Yet, for some reason, he was the undoubted favourite of your father.’
‘It was right that he should be, Aunt,’ said her nephew, hiding the sting he felt at the reminder. ‘George was the younger and smaller son. He needed more attention.’
‘God decided that we had only one child, alas, and I fear that we gave Imogen far too much attention. Well — to be candid — I certainly did. It’s taken this terrible situation to make me fully aware of it,’ she went on. ‘I kept her on a leash, Percy. I controlled everything she did and everywhere she went.’
‘You were only doing your duty as a mother.’
‘I wonder. My sister gave her children more licence and more freedom to grow. You, George and Emma have blossomed into maturity whereas Imogen is still a child at heart. The fault lies with me.’
Percy Vaughan made no reply. His aunt had finally recognised something that had been abundantly clear to him for years. She’d penned her daughter in and now felt guilty that Imogen was so unprepared to face the real world and cope with the ordeal in which she now found herself.
She grabbed his arm. ‘Imogen will come through this, won’t she?’
‘I’ve prayed for her continuously.’
‘What are they doing to her?’
‘One can only guess, Aunt Paulina.’
‘I’m so frightened.’
‘I understand your fears.’
‘How can I still them, Percy?’
‘Have faith in God’s mercy and trust in Inspector Colbeck.’
Releasing his arm, she eased herself back and closed her eyes. The curate thought that she’d dozed off and he waited quietly at the bedside for several minutes. When he felt certain that he was no longer needed, he rose to steal away. Instantly, she opened her eyes.
‘May I ask you something, Percy?’
‘You may ask anything you wish.’
‘Do you think that Imogen should marry Mr Tunnadine?’
He was taken by surprise. ‘My opinion is immaterial,’ he said. ‘The only person who can answer that question is Imogen herself. I assumed that she was very happy with her choice.’
‘The engagement owed much to my husband. There’s nothing amiss in that, of course,’ she added, defensively. ‘Parents have a perfect right to shape their daughter’s destiny. We felt that it would be an advantageous marriage to both parties.’
‘When it takes place,’ he said, masking his displeasure, ‘I’m sure that it will be everything that you and Uncle Marcus wished for.’
‘But I’ve been having second thoughts, Percy.’
‘Indeed?’