Don Gutteridge - Desperate Acts

Nestor had to be helped to his room.

***

While Cobb went off to the near-dress rehearsal of The Dream Sequence (in style via taxicab with a donkey’shead tucked underneath his arm), Marc prepared to have theextortion-notes delivered. First of all, at Beth’s suggestion, Marcdisguised himself by borrowing a large overcoat and tradesman’s capfrom Jasper Hogg next door. Further deception was provided byJasper’s horse and buggy, the latter having a leather canopy underwhich Marc and Nestor could huddle and remain inconspicuous. Nestorhimself was suited up in a pair of Cobb’s overalls, a cotton shirtand a wool sweater. The only boots that would fit his shrivelledfeet were a pair belonging to young Fabian Cobb. This outfit,however, was not intended to disguise Nestor, for, as Marcexplained to him upon setting out, Nestor was to dash up to thefront door of the designated house, shove the envelope under thedoor, then turn and flee. If someone – maid or butler – were tohear him, fling open the door and spot him scuttling off into thethin moonlight, all the better, as long as he wasn’t caught. Anyreport of a scruffy scarecrow of a fellow hightailing it into theshadows was certain to add authenticity to the ruse they wereperpetrating.

It was eight-thirty when they set out. Aquarter-moon in a clear sky provided just enough light for them tocarry out their plan as conceived. First, they headed up SherbourneStreet. A few hundred yards from Oakwood Manor, Marc pulled over tothe side of the road and brought the horse to a halt in some deepshadow.

“All right, Nestor. Here’s Sir Peregrine’senvelope. Walk along the road, keeping to this side in the dark.When you come to the gate, slip in towards the house – not on thegravelled path but beside it and out of sight. Go up to theverandah, make a bit of noise as you’re doing so, and push theenvelope under the front door. Give the door a kick, then run intothe woods on this side of the property. It’s not dense, so all youhave to do is look up at the slice of moon there. It’s in thesouth-eastern sky. Follow your nose till you hit this road again.I’ll swoop by and pick you up.”

Nestor, who had been too frightened to speaksince they had left Cobb’s house, tried one last time to register aprotest, but failed.

“Don’t worry,” Marc said. “Just do as I’vesuggested and you’ll be fine.” Very gently he lifted Nestor up offthe padded seat and dropped him feet-first onto the ground.“Go!”

Nestor went. Soon he was zigzagging along theshadow-ridden verge of Sherborne Street north.

A good twenty-five minutes went by. Fifteenminutes should have been more than enough time for the task to becompleted. Surely the entire Shuttleworth household would be toofocussed on their rehearsal-in-costume to notice the arrival ofNestor at the front door, however clumsy he might be. But Marc wasworried, and not sure what he could do to help. He couldn’t leavethe buggy and go wandering into the woods after Nestor and hecouldn’t risk driving up to the gate. While he was still searchingfor a third option, he heard the sound of footfalls crashingthrough the underbrush nearby. They had a desperate ring to them.Marc stepped down to the side of the road just as Nestor staggeredout of the darkness. His face was as white as the moon.

“Are you being pursued?” Marc said as Nestorcrashed into him and flung both scrawny arms around his waist.

“N-no,” Nestor stammered. “I got lost.”

***

While Nestor pulled the burrs and nettles out of hishair and his sweater, and muttered under his breath about neveragain going near the bush or trapper’s cabins, Marc eased the buggyalong the back streets until he calculated he was about a blockfrom Horace Fullarton’s place on George Street. He pulled over toone side and pointed out the house, a distinguished, two-storeyresidence with four chimney-pots.

“Stay here, well out of sight, Nestor. I’mgoing to drive past the house and park farther up the street.Deliver the envelope and then run up the road until you see thebuggy, then hop on quickly. There’s no need to make a noise inthere. We don’t want to disturb Mrs. Fullarton. She’s aninvalid.”

This delivery went off smoothly, if youdidn’t count Nestor’s tripping on a rut in the road near the buggyand breaking his fall with a chin.

Andrew Dutton, who lived farther west onJarvis, was next. His house was set back in a copse of evergreens,and Nestor, bruised and burred (in addition to his wasp-wounds),was very nervous about going up to it.

“He’s not at home,” Marc reminded him.“Everybody on our list except Budge is up at Oakwood Manor.”

Nestor took a deep breath and vanished intothe evergreens. Marc moved the buggy down the street about ahundred yards, and waited. Five minutes went by, and no Nestor.Then, to his dismay, Marc heard the blood-lust yodel of dogs on thescent. Above the yowling of the beasts came an even higher-pitchedhog-squeal – piteous and unending.

Marc wheeled the buggy around and raced backtowards the entrance to Dutton’s property. Into a sliver ofmoonlight sprang Nestor Peck, his bony bow-legs pistoning himforward. Marc reached out with his hand, but his assistance was notrequired. Nestor’s momentum carried him up and into the well of thebuggy, where he collapsed in a heap.

They were almost at The Sailor’s Arms beforeNestor was able to state the obvious: “D-dogs,” he said. “A wholepack of ‘em.”

“But you did deliver the envelope?”

Nestor grinned. “I did, didn’t I?”

***

Nestor slipped Budge’s envelope under the side dooron Peter Street that led to the barkeep’s private quarters. Bothmister and missus would be occupied in the taproom into the weehours, but they would see the note in the morning. If Gillian foundit, Tobias might have some explaining to do, but Marc figured hewas good at that sort of thing. The final drop was made atCrenshaw’s place up on York Street north, where Nestor was actuallychased for thirty yards by a burly but slow-moving servant.

Marc praised Nestor’s courage, and assuredhim that everything would go well Sunday evening when phase two ofthe plan would be executed. Then he took him to Cobb’s house. Therehe was put back into Dora’s care, where he calmed his nerves withtwo platters of ham and eggs.

***

After church on Sunday, Marc walked down to the jailand asked to see Brodie. If the lad was anxious, he did not showit. Calvin Strangway had kindly allowed Diana Ramsay to visitseveral times on Saturday, bringing him food and drink. But it washer company and her faithfulness that were keeping the young man’sspirits as high as could be expected. Without going into details,Marc told him that he and Cobb had hatched a plot to entrap themurderer. If it worked, all would be well in the morning. If not,Marc assured him that they still had a solid strategy to fall backupon in court. This of course was close to an outright lie, in thatall Marc had left for the jury was a trio of character-witnessesand a run at Budge as a “possible.” And while Robert could notobject to Budge being set up as a potential murderer, Marc would belimited to suggesting that the motive was based on the altercationbetween the barkeep and Duggan in the taproom the week before thecrime. There was now no way for Marc to introduce Duggan’starget-list and Nestor’s corroborating testimony without exposingthe worthies that Robert wanted protected. But beard Tobias Budgehe would, and then move on to a sizzling summation.

But if his plan to expose the real killerfailed tonight and if he failed tomorrow to gain an acquittal,would he have the courage to admit to his client that he haddeliberately abandoned his best defense? Could he ever practise lawagain? Or look at himself in the mirror? Brodie, bless him, did notpress for details. His trust in Marc was touching – andabsolute.