The Prisoner in the Tower, page 20
part #3 of Drusilla Davanish Mystery Series
Jago and my uncle offered to accompany him, for which I was immensely thankful. After the gentlemen had left for the inspection, I looked in on Louis. When Aunt Thirza said there was nothing I could do to help, I went for a ride, accompanied by Mudd. I was immensely thankful to be out in the open countryside and after a most enjoyable good long gallop, we continued along a bridle path at a walk to give the horses a well-deserved rest. Where I took the opportunity to ask Mudd what was being said about Louis in the stables.
My question caused his brows to rise a trifle, for it clearly told him that the incident was not as simple as he had been led to believe, but he answered me with all his usual calmness. ‘Roche said Mr. Gauvan had missed his footing in the dark and fallen down some steps.’
‘Roche said all that?’ I remarked in surprise. ‘That was a long sentence for him, wasn’t it?’
Mudd grinned. ‘It was, my lady. But he didn’t speak of it at all until I asked him what had happened.’
‘Oh, I see. Well, that is the official explanation, but I’m afraid the truth is rather different.’ And I repeated what Gisele had told us.
He was every bit as shocked as I’d expected and he asked, ‘Will he recover, my lady?’
‘I don’t know, John. The doctor said it could go either way.’
A little later, we were riding down a quiet lane, on our way back to the castle, when a man in seafaring clothes, who was walking towards us, suddenly strode straight into the middle of the lane, right in our path, his arms akimbo. He was tall and fairly slim, and wore his hat well down over his eyes. There were a fair number of sailors and fishermen in Walmer, and I had no doubt some were smugglers too. Nevertheless, I did not expect to be accosted in this rude manner by a common seafarer, and I demanded imperiously, ‘What the devil......?’
But Mudd was ahead of me, however when he started to reprimand him, the man said in a cultured voice that made my heart leap. ‘Don’t you recognise me, John?’
Mudd stared at him. ‘Mr. Reevers?’
‘The very same,’ came the answer, and removing his hat, he swept me a long low bow.
I was so thankful to see him alive and out of prison that, for a moment, I couldn’t speak. He came closer, looked up at me and smiled. ‘I’m sorry to have given you such a shock, but I must speak to you.’
When I found my voice I asked fearfully, ‘You haven’t escaped, have you?’
He burst out laughing. ‘No. They let me go.’ A wicked gleam made his eyes dance. ‘Although I must say my being imprisoned in the Tower will be a good story to tell our grandchildren.’
A little gasp escaped me, and I informed him brusquely, ‘We won’t be having any grandchildren.’
‘Really? I didn’t know you could see into the future.’
Somehow I choked back the laughter bubbling up inside me, and as I tried to regain control of my emotions, he turned to Mudd and said, ‘John, would you look after the horses while I talk to her ladyship. I have something vital to discuss.’
‘Yes sir, of course.’
I dismounted and once I’d handed the reins to Mudd, Mr. Reevers suggested we took a walk in a small copse nearby. ‘You won’t want to be seen talking to a ruffian like me in the middle of the street,’ he said, grinning.
‘Certainly not,’ I agreed light-heartedly. ‘Tell me, why are you dressed like that?’
‘I’m in disguise, of course,’ he replied with an irrepressible chuckle.
‘Like you were in France?’
‘True. But these clothes are clean.’
‘I’m very glad to hear it,’ I murmured in appreciative amusement. ‘Where did you get them?’
‘Mr. Wickham procured them for me.’
I stopped and looked at him in disbelief. ‘Mr. Wickham did? But he was the one who had you arrested.’
‘Ah – well, that wasn’t quite as simple as it seemed at the time. In my last report I told Wickham our investigation was getting nowhere. He received my report on the same day as he heard from Jago, who informed him that now all our Paris agents had been guillotined, there were only four other agents it could be. He insisted it had to be me, as it wasn’t Louis, or himself, and it couldn’t be Morel because he’d given Wickham the news of the betrayal, and no traitor would do that.’
‘Yes,’ I muttered as we walked on. ‘Jago told me that too. His way of thinking is entirely due to a lack of imagination.’
‘How very true,’ Mr. Reevers agreed with a grin. ‘But, as Jago is in charge of the turncoat operation, Wickham decided to act on his findings. Of course I knew nothing of this until I reached London. Fortunately, Wickham was convinced Jago was wrong, however he thought if he had me arrested and put in the Tower, the turncoat would feel so safe he might make a significant mistake. But as that hasn’t happened, Wickham sent me here to find him, so it’s essential that I go about as the kind of low individual he would never notice. That’s why I’m in disguise.’
I laughed. ‘Well your disguise fooled me.’
‘So I observed. I trust it will fool the turncoat too.’ I didn’t respond at once, but something in my expression made him inquire, ‘Or have you already discovered who the traitor is?’
I related all that had happened last night, beginning with Gisele's blood curdling scream. He listened intently, his eyes widening when I told him that Gisele said Louis had admitted to killing Mr. Fenton. And I added, ‘If you remember, during the picnic at Westfleet Louis said he’d spent several weeks running messages for Danton.’
‘That may well account for it,’ Mr. Reevers agreed sadly. ‘Louis was young and impressionable when he met Danton, and he could easily have been influenced by such a highly charismatic and popular revolutionary leader. But if he is the turncoat then we need no longer worry about Mr. Pitt being taken off to Paris.’ I did not answer and raising an eyebrow at me, he inquired, ‘You don’t agree?’
‘It ought to make sense, but------’
When I stopped, he urged, ‘Go on--------’
‘Well --- I still keep getting the feeling that we’ve missed something vital.’
Strolling on, we talked it over for a few minutes, but failed to come to any reasonable conclusion, and in the end Mr. Reevers asked, ‘Do you think Louis murdered the Comte too?’
‘I don’t know. I can’t think of any reason why he would. I can, however, see a possible reason why Mr. Morel would.’
‘Tom?’ he exclaimed in surprise. ‘What makes you say that?’
The sun was making me feel rather hot, and I suggested we stood in the shade of an oak tree. ‘Mr. Morel said he came from the south of France. And that’s where the Comte came from too.’
‘Well, y-e-s,’ he said, giving me a sceptical look. ‘But the south covers a very large area. In any case why would Tom want to kill the Comte?’
In answer I told him Morel's whole family had died of starvation, and that I now believed the Comte had been the landowner in their village. ‘If I’m right, the Comte could have saved them, but chose not to. This is what I think happened, although I must admit I cannot prove it.’
Mr. Reevers ran a hand round his chin before declaring, ‘That does seem rather improbable, Drusilla. The chances of them both coming from the same village is extremely remote.’
‘I realise that. But it is not impossible. We may, however, never learn the truth, as Mr. Morel has gone back to America. The night before he sailed, he dined with Mr. Arnold and the ship’s American captain. The captain, hearing Mr. Morel was returning home soon, offered him the best cabin at half price, which was available due to the sudden death of the wealthy passenger who had reserved it.’
Mr. Reevers nodded in appreciation. ‘Well, if Tom did kill the Comte in an act of vengeance, then a swift return to America was very sensible.’ He gave an indulgent chuckle. ‘Tom will revel in all that luxury. It will make a delightful change from that ghastly room he had in Paris. Although, to be fair, his wasn’t as bad as mine.’
I shook my head at him. ‘I’ll never understand how you could all bear to live in such squalor.’
‘We didn’t all do so. Jago absolutely refused to.’
‘So I heard at the picnic,’ I said, smiling at the recollection.
‘Tom wasn’t too keen either. He’s not as fastidious as Jago, but walking down that dark stinking alley where I lived absolutely disgusted him.’
‘Well, at least that shows he--------’ I stopped abruptly, as something Mr. Morel had said about Mr. Reevers when we first met at the Alien Office in London, suddenly shot into my mind. And it took my breath away. I looked up at Mr. Reevers and managed to whisper, ‘Are you saying Tom Morel came to the room where you were lodging?’
‘Yes. He called on me a couple of times.’
‘When was that?’
‘Early in July. Just after I got back to Paris.’
‘July of this year?’
‘Yes, of course.’
I was so stunned by what Mr. Reevers had said, and what I knew it meant, that for a few seconds, I simply stared at him, and he inquired in concern, ‘Is something wrong, Drusilla?’
Taking a long deep breath I said, ‘When I met Mr. Morel at the Alien Office, I asked him why he hadn’t warned you that the French were about to arrest all our Paris agents, as he must know you could not possibly be the turncoat. He said, at that particular time, he’d been out of Paris for three weeks and thought you were still in London.’
Mr. Reevers was clearly startled. ‘That was a bad mistake,’ he murmured softly. ‘I didn’t think Tom made mistakes.’
‘I did ask him what the chances were of you escaping arrest, and he said he was afraid it was most unlikely. I expect that’s why he thought it safe to lie to me.’
‘Well----I always did think Tom was more intelligent than the rest of us.’ He ran a hand through his dark curls. ‘And by telling Wickham about the betrayal, he ensured nobody would ever suspect he was the man who had actually betrayed us all.’
‘And he was right, wasn’t he? No-one did.’
‘That’s true.’ He shook his head in disbelief, and put his thoughts into words. ‘So it was Tom who betrayed all our Paris agents to the French, and he recruited Toby East to assassinate the King and start a revolution in England.’ He took a deep breath. ‘Thankfully, Toby failed. But if Louis murdered Fenton, then he must be Tom's accomplice.’
‘I suppose so,’ I said. It did make sense, for they were very good friends and had worked together in Paris.
‘But with Louis out of action, only Tom can capture Mr. Pitt and take him to France. In which case, I don’t believe he’s really gone back to America.’
‘I don’t think so either. He definitely dined on board with Mr. Arnold and the American captain. The ship did sail around daybreak, but he could easily have gone ashore during the night and his absence wouldn’t have been noticed until the ship was well out at sea.’
Mr. Reevers clapped his hands together. ‘Of course, that’s exactly what Tom would do. In the hope it would hoodwink us all. That means he must have a boat here in Walmer. The weather is ideal for sailing right now, but there’s no guarantee it will be tomorrow, and on Saturday Mr. Pitt returns to London. Where is he now?’
‘He’s inspecting the local Volunteers. Jago and my uncle are with him.’
‘Well, he should be safe enough there. But when he gets back it is imperative that you make sure he doesn’t leave the castle grounds again.’
I bit my lip. ‘That may not be as easy as you think. He might not listen to me.’
‘He will, Drusilla. He has a great admiration for you, you know. Tell him the truth. Tell him he is in more danger today than on any other day in his entire life. That should do it.’ And he went on, ‘Now I must go and find Morel.’
As he escorted me back to where Mudd was waiting with the horses, I asked, ‘If I need to contact you, where----’
‘I’m staying at the “Rattling Cat.”’
‘The what?’ I said, amused.
‘The “Rattling Cat.” It’s an inn on the Dover road, and is fitting accommodation for a humble sailor like me. Smugglers use it too. I’m told there are tunnels and rooms underground.’
‘It’s a very odd name.’
‘The owner uses his cats to warn him when strangers are coming towards the inn. Strangers are usually excise men. He attaches bits of bone to cats’ collars, and they always run indoors if a stranger approaches. Running makes the bits of bone rattle.’
I laughed. ‘I’ve never heard of such a thing. Guards cats, indeed. Smugglers are incredibly inventive.’
‘Indeed.’ And he added, ‘Oh, by the way, no-one knows I’m here, except Wickham. Not even Pitt. So Morel cannot hear of it.’
Once he’d gone on his way, I told Mudd why we must keep Mr. Reevers' presence secret, and added, ‘Mr. Morel must have a boat at Walmer. Mr. Reevers has gone to seek him out, while I have to make sure Mr. Pitt stays safely within the castle grounds. So, if you see, or hear, anything odd, tell me at once, John.’
When we arrived back at the castle, I went to see Louis. My aunt told me the doctor had called at about three, and there was a change in Louis' condition.
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
T he news about Louis was encouraging. My aunt told me, ‘The doctor said there was a very slight improvement.’
‘I am so glad,’ I said. ‘Have you told Gisele?’
‘Not yet, Drusilla. She’s asleep and I don’t want to disturb her.’
At that moment I happened to glance out the window and when I saw Mr. Pitt and the other gentlemen were returning from their outing to inspect the Walmer Volunteers, I gave a huge sigh of relief.
I continued to talk to my aunt and a few minutes later the door opened and Gisele came into the room. Aunt Thirza got up and took Gisele's hands in her own. ‘My dear, I have some good news. The doctor said Louis is a little better.’
Gisele’s jaw dropped and almost at once her eyes filled with tears, and it was a minute or two before she could speak. ‘That’s wonderful,’ she whispered. ‘Does the doctor think he will come round soon?’
Aunt Thirza answered in a gentle tone. ‘Not today. He said, possibly tomorrow.’
‘Tomorrow?’ She looked at me, and I saw her tear-filled eyes were full of hope, and she said, ‘I do so pray he is right.’
As Gisele wasn’t due to take over from my aunt until after dinner, she left then saying she had some letters to write. I soon followed her and went straight to my bedchamber. I had half an hour to spare before I needed to dress for dinner and I took the opportunity to go over all that had happened today, knowing I would not be disturbed.
I was immensely thankful that Mr. Wickham had the intelligence and good sense to release Mr. Reevers from the Tower and send him to Walmer to find the turncoat. Morel only had forty-eight hours in which to carry out the abduction, and I felt very much happier now that Mr. Pitt was safely back at the castle. All I had to do was make sure he did not leave again until he returned to London. I prayed he would listen to me.
Glancing out the window I saw Roche riding off, no doubt on some errand for Gisele, as he frequently did. Mr. Pitt had told her she was welcome to stay at the castle as long as she wanted, and it seemed to me that Louis would not be well enough to leave Walmer for quite some time. But I could not help wondering what the future held for them. If Louis really was a traitor, there could only be one possible outcome for him. Gisele was naturally upset by what had happened last night, yet she was still standing by him, and I admired her for that, as it couldn’t be easy for her.
I began to pace up and down the room, trying to make sense of all that had happened. The half hour I had to myself positively flew by, and all too soon the clock above the fireplace showed it was now time to dress for dinner. I was about to ring for my maid, when I saw Gisele and Mr. Pitt walk out of the castle into the grounds. She had taken his arm and I wondered why they were going for a walk now, when it was beginning to get dark, and when they should be dressing for dinner too. Perhaps she wanted Mr. Pitt's help in saving Louis from the gallows, but I did not believe that such a thing was possible.
I watched as they gradually disappeared into the gloom, and when I could no longer see them I still stood at the window, gazing unseeingly into the growing darkness. All along instinct had warned me I was missing something vital. When I finally realised that Morel was the turncoat, and it looked as if Louis was the accomplice who murdered Mr. Fenton, that instinct had still not gone away. Yet, as I stood there I had the oddest feeling that the answer to everything that had puzzled me was now within my grasp. I bit my lip in frustration, for I still could not see the answer to it all.
Only Jago and the Gauvans had known Mr. Fenton was at Westfleet, and Gisele said Louis had admitted killing him. I found it so hard to believe Louis had done such a terrible thing, for he was the nicest of men. Somehow, it just didn’t seem possible. Could Gisele have lied? But why would she do that? After all, if it wasn’t Louis, then who-------? In that instant the answer struck me like a dazzling bolt of lightning. If Louis wasn’t Morel's accomplice, it had to be Gisele.
I could hardly believe what I was thinking. Was I being stupid? Could a woman really be helping Morel to betray our country? She couldn’t have murdered Mr. Fenton and dragged his body fifty yards into the undergrowth. Then I caught my breath. But Roche could have, and he’d do anything for Gisele. Including murder. If she was helping Morel, and Louis had found out, that could be the real reason she’d pushed him down those steps.
As these thoughts raced through my mind, I stared out into the gloom, still puzzling over why Gisele and Mr. Pitt had gone for a walk in the grounds at such an inconvenient time. Suddenly I gripped the window ledge and gasped out loud, ‘Oh my God.’ Mr. Reevers had said that Mr. Pitt was in more danger today than on any other day in his entire life. And he was right.
For, in that moment, I knew exactly where Gisele was taking him. They hadn’t gone for a walk in the grounds. She was leading him to Morel’s yacht, which must be moored within easy reach of the beach. And I had foolishly thought Mr. Pitt was safe when he was at the castle.
