Susanna Gregory - The Piccadilly Plot

‘If Ruth ever learned what we have done, she would hold it against me for the rest of my life,’ Lester was saying, as he replaced the coffin lid and grabbed a spade. ‘I hope to God she never finds out.’

Chaloner hoped no one would. He clambered out of the grave. ‘Can you finish this alone?’

Lester gaped at him. ‘You are leaving? Christ God, man! I thought we were in this together.’

‘I am sorry, but there is something I need to do. And time is short.’

‘Then help me rebury the man you exhumed, and I will assist you with whatever it is.’

‘There is no time.’ Chaloner brushed mud from his clothes. ‘I need to go now.’

‘For pity’s sake!’ cried Lester, dismayed. ‘It is hardly comradely to abandon me here.’

It was not, but Chaloner did not want company when he made his next port of call. Muttering a hasty but sincere apology, he aimed for Clarendon House. It was time to resolve the business of the stolen bricks, so there would be one less matter to explore the following day, when Jane would arrive, the Adventurers would destroy her, and some diabolical plot would swing into action.

As he walked, a stealthy, solitary figure in the mist, he pushed Elliot and Lester from his mind and considered all he had learned about the Earl’s missing materials — from his visits to the site, and from what his suspects had inadvertently let slip. He knew the culprits would be at Clarendon House at that very moment, confident that they would not be disturbed while the celebrations at White Hall were in full swing. He smiled grimly. They were going to be in for a shock.

He could hardly believe his luck when he bumped into Wright outside the Crown. A knife to the throat persuaded the sergeant to answer questions that confirmed Chaloner’s suspicions, and a knock on the head ensured that he would not warn the villains before they could be confronted.

The mansion was an imposing silhouette in the blackness when Chaloner arrived. There were no guards, but he had expected that: Wright had already admitted that he and his cronies had been paid to sit in the tavern all night. He approached it silently, and aimed for the library.

Voices emanated from it, and Chaloner nodded to himself when he recognised them: all his reasoning had been correct. The only thing he did not know was why they had seen fit to steal from the Earl. He advanced silently, and saw two men there, poring over a sheaf of plans. He drew his gun, wanting them frightened into making a confession, because he did not have time for a more leisurely approach.

‘I assume those are the papers that changed hands the day I chased you,’ he said, stepping into the room and pointing the dag at its startled occupants. ‘The Earl’s son and Pratt’s assistant: two men who have betrayed a trust.’

There was a silence in the library after Chaloner had made his accusation, the two culprits regarding him in astonishment — although at his claim or his unanticipated appearance it was impossible to say.

‘How did you get in?’ demanded Hyde, startled. ‘I borrowed my father’s key, and Pratt owns the only other one in existence. And I doubt he lent it to you.’

‘Never mind keys,’ snapped Oliver, glaring accusingly at Hyde. ‘You told me you had not been followed. You damned fool! You should have been more careful.’

Hyde bristled. ‘Do not call me names! And no one followed me. You, on the other hand-’

‘I followed no one,’ interrupted Chaloner. There was no time for a silly spat. ‘Although I was certainly suspicious when Oliver told me he was going home to Westminster, but then promptly set off in the opposite direction.’

‘I did not know he was watching,’ objected Oliver, when he received an accusing scowl in his turn. ‘I am not the distrustful type.’

‘Then you are in the wrong business,’ murmured Chaloner.

‘How did you guess it was me you chased through the house the other day?’ asked Hyde. Chaloner blinked his surprise at the question — he had expected at least some declaration of innocence — while Oliver’s gloomy face was a mask of disbelief at his associate’s easy capitulation. ‘I disappeared without a trace.’

‘Yes,’ acknowledged Chaloner. ‘But that in itself is a clue — it meant there had to be secret rooms or tunnels. And that is where the “stolen” materials have been going — they have been used to build these devices. It explains why no one has ever seen them carted away: they are still here.’

‘You cannot prove that,’ warned Oliver. ‘You will never find-’

Chaloner tapped on a panel that glided open to reveal a space behind it, large enough for a man to stand. ‘Of course I will. I have been locating these contrivances for years. It will be easy.’

It was a bluff, because he still had no idea how Hyde had disappeared near the library. He walked to the desk and glanced briefly at the plans. Then he rolled them up and slid them inside his coat. They would help him understand what had been constructed where.

‘You reckoned without Wright, too,’ he went on. ‘He did not hesitate to say that he had been paid to stay away tonight. He also explained how he has been taught to arrange the supplies so that Pratt will no longer notice what is missing.’

‘You paid him to stay away?’ asked Oliver of Hyde, unimpressed. ‘That was a waste of money — he is rarely here anyway. And then he betrayed you! I told you he could not be trusted.’

‘I admit to teaching him how to re-stack bricks and wood,’ said Hyde stiffly. ‘But I certainly did not give him any money tonight. The man is a liar and a villain.’

Chaloner regarded him in disgust, thinking that a son who put his father through such torments was hardly a saint himself. He resumed his analysis.

‘You have been on my list of suspects since the morning of the chase,’ he said, ‘because you opened the door with a key. Pratt’s was around his neck, so the man I dashed after must have had the Earl’s. You are in a better position to borrow that than anyone else.’

‘Yes, but there must be more than two of them,’ said Oliver, looking hard at Chaloner. ‘Because otherwise you could not have gained access to-’

‘Most of the workmen are in your pay,’ interrupted Chaloner, loath to pursue that particular line of thought. ‘Which is why the materials disappear during the day — your tunnels and passages are constructed during normal working hours, when Pratt is away on other business. No wonder I did not see anything vanish when I stood guard at night.’

‘We were able to work in the evenings, too, before you appeared,’ said Hyde sullenly. ‘It was a damned nuisance when my father summoned you back from Tangier.’

‘It is an impressive achievement,’ said Chaloner grudgingly. ‘Especially as I imagine Pratt is unaware of what is being done to his creation. I suppose your architectural training came in useful?’

‘Very,’ said Hyde smugly. ‘My artifices are a masterpiece in their own right.’

‘Perhaps so,’ said Chaloner. ‘But I do not understand why you built them. What possible advantage is there in having your father’s house riddled with such devices?’

‘So he can spy on his enemies, stupid!’ said Hyde in sneering disdain. ‘He would never have agreed to these measures himself — you know how conservative he is — so I decided to install them for him. You will doubtless take advantage of them in time. Assuming you are still in his service, of course, which is looking increasingly unlikely at the moment. He will dismiss you when I tell him you held me at gunpoint.’

Chaloner eyed him contemptuously. ‘How will these contrivances benefit him? He does not entertain enemies in his own home. And I doubt he spies on his friends.’