Susanna Gregory - The Piccadilly Plot

‘You were never going to be allowed to live, Hyde,’ he said pityingly. ‘What would be the use of these devices if you blab about them to your father? It means my employer would have wasted his money. Use the wits you were born with, boy!’

His gloating voice, coupled with a determination not be to incarcerated again, served to concentrate Chaloner’s mind, and a plan began to form. He went limp in his captors’ hands; they swore when he suddenly became a deadweight.

‘What is wrong with him?’ demanded Oliver impatiently.

‘He has passed out from the pain of his wound,’ said Vere. ‘He will not be any trouble now.’

‘Then I will deal with him and Hyde,’ said Oliver briskly. ‘Green and Berry can help. Vere — take everyone else to the Room of Audience and start work. It is imperative that we finish tonight, because the house will be crawling with people once Hyde’s corpse is found.’

Hyde started to cry, while Chaloner contrived to make himself as difficult to carry as possible. Green and Berry soon grew exasperated, and frustration turned them careless. The moment their guard dropped, he plunged the scalpel into Green’s arm. The man’s eyes widened in shock, but Chaloner was already spinning away, and had knocked Berry senseless with a punch.

‘Run!’ he hissed to Hyde, whipping around to deal with Oliver. Unfortunately, the assistant architect’s reactions were faster than he had anticipated, and he had already snatched a gun from the reeling Green, his face full of enraged fury.

At such close range, Oliver could not miss, and Chaloner braced himself for the shot that would end his life. But he had reckoned without Hyde. With a screech of passion, the Earl’s son grabbed a sledgehammer that was leaning against a wall, and swung it with all his might. It caught Oliver on the back of his head, and Chaloner knew from the sound it made that it had shattered his skull. The gun went off at the same time, and Chaloner had no idea how it had missed him.

Hyde raised the hammer again, but Chaloner grabbed his arm and pulled him away. The gunshot and Green’s shrieks would have warned the others that trouble was afoot, and sure enough he heard a distant shout. Grateful that his explorations had familiarised him with the house’s layout, he hauled Hyde along a corridor towards a chamber where there was a defective window. Hyde was sobbing hysterically, slowing them both down.

They reached the room and Chaloner forced open the shutter. He shoved Hyde through it, acutely aware of footsteps coming ever closer. Hyde was clumsy, and took longer than he should have done, so by the time it was Chaloner’s turn to escape, the workmen were almost at the door. Forced to hurry, he jumped badly, jarring his lame leg as he landed. The resulting limp slowed him down. Hyde was making good time now, though, sprinting towards the woods as fast as his feet would take him. He was soon invisible in the fog.

Chaloner was not so fortunate, and his pursuers were so close behind him that he could hear the rasp of their breath. He also aimed for the woods, in the hope that the trees would prevent them from all attacking at once — he might stand a chance if he could fight them in twos or threes.

He reached the copse, then whipped around with the scalpel. The fellow at the front of the mob reeled away with a howl of pain, but others jostled to take his place, and the ferocity of their assault made Chaloner stumble. His lame leg buckled, and he crashed to the ground. With grim purpose, Vere stepped forward, a gun in his hand.

Chaloner was not sure what happened next, except that there was a sudden yell and a ragged volley of shots. Then other men appeared, weapons at the ready, although it was too dark to see their faces. Vicious skirmishing followed, and rough hands hauled him to his feet.

‘Run! We cannot hold them off for long.’

Chaloner did not need to be told twice. He followed his rescuer through the woods, staggering along twisting paths in the misty darkness until he was wholly disoriented. Behind him, he heard more shots and the continued clash of steel.

Just when he was beginning to think it was time to stop and demand answers, they reached a row of houses, and he knew they were on the northern end of the Haymarket, because he could see the distinctive form of the windmill looming out of the fog. Then he saw his rescuer’s silhouette.

‘Lester!’

‘Pratt saw lights in Clarendon House when all should have been in darkness,’ explained Lester. ‘So he ran to White Hall to tell Williamson, assuming the brick-thieves were at work. I went with Doines and his men to lay hold of them, and we were about to pounce when you raced out with that horde on your heels. I thought we had better intervene.’

‘Thank you,’ said Chaloner sincerely.

‘Well, you did save Ruth. I shall always be in your debt for that. Of course, I am not quite so ready to forgive you for abandoning me in a graveyard with my brother-in-law’s exhumed corpse.’

‘Where is Hyde?’ asked Chaloner, not wanting to dwell on his ill-judged notions about Elliot. He stopped walking abruptly. ‘I will have to go back for him.’

‘He is here, with me,’ came a soft voice from the darkness. Chaloner jumped, disconcerted that Williamson should have been listening to their conversation. ‘And I think an explanation is in order, but not here. Lead the way to the Gaming House, Lester. We all need a drink.’

As they walked, Chaloner was aware of Hyde conversing in an urgent hiss to the Spymaster. He could not hear what was being said, but was disinclined to demean himself by telling his own side of the story. Williamson would believe what he pleased, and nothing Chaloner could say would make any difference. Doines caught up with them just outside the Gaming House.

‘Most of them got away,’ he reported. ‘But we shot two and caught Vere. He has agreed to give the others up in exchange for his freedom. Shall we take him up on his offer?’

‘Yes.’ Williamson indicated Hyde. ‘This gentlemen says they tried to kill him, and we cannot have earls’ sons assassinated. I want them all in my cells by the end of the day. And Vere can join them there once he is no longer of use to us. I dislike traitors.’

Doines saluted and disappeared, while Chaloner thought that if these orders were followed, Vere would die at his accomplices’ hands, because they would not appreciate traitors, either. He followed Williamson into the Gaming House, where the Spymaster commandeered a private room and ordered a jug of claret. He sat on a bench and allowed Lester to inspect his shoulder.

‘Just a scratch,’ the captain declared, dabbing at it rather roughly. ‘You were lucky.’

Chaloner accepted the wine Williamson poured him, resisting the urge to swallow the lot in a single gulp. His hands were unsteady and his stomach churned, mostly a reaction to the thought of being locked in the vault again — being dispatched in the woods had not been nearly as terrifying a prospect. Meanwhile, Williamson watched Hyde like a cat with a mouse.

‘You have regaled me with quite a story,’ he said. ‘About thieves stealing bricks to build secret passages in your father’s house, and how you discovered their villainy and confronted them. You had better tell me again, and this time fill in the details. Such as why you elected to challenge them all by yourself, and how Chaloner came to be involved.’

Hyde had the grace to look sheepish, but it did not prevent him from recounting a tale that put him firmly in the role of hero. He declared he had always been suspicious of Oliver and Vere, and Chaloner’s conclusions about them being in the pay of the Earl’s enemies were presented as his own. He even claimed to have saved them both from being locked in the strongroom.