Snobbery With Violence Part 2

"Shouldn't think he'd have to do that. Thought ruining some la.s.s's reputation was fair game with that lot." Kerridge detested the upper cla.s.ses with every fibre of his hard-working lower middle-cla.s.s soul. He was sure one day the revolution would come. One of his rosy fantasies was a world where all the roles were reversed and the aristocrats' money would be taken from them and spread among the poor.

"It's like this." Posh Cyril leaned forward. "It was my night off and I was playing cards in the kitchen at Blandon's. The bell for the front door goes. The footman went to answer it. Then we hear shouting and swearing. I nipped up the stairs and opened the baize door a crack. There's this tall, black-haired fellow and he's smacking into Blandon with his fists. He brings him down and then he leans over him and says, 'Leave the country by tomorrow or, by G.o.d, next time I'll kill you.' "

"No charges have been laid."

"But Blandon thinks the earl hired someone to beat Blandon up. That's criminal," said Posh Cyril.

"Was the a.s.sailant some hired thug?"

"No, he spoke like a gent. Got gent's clothes on, too."

"That lot are a law unto themselves," said Kerridge. "Nothing there for me."

"The newspapers might pay for this."

Kerridge sighed. He knew if the newspapers got hold of it, he would have to investigate for the sake of formality. Then someone would have a word with someone else in high places and he would be ordered to drop it.

"Keep your mouth shut," he ordered, "or I'll make sure your employers know all about your record. Here's half a crown. Now take yourself off."

"What is it, Brum?" asked the earl the next afternoon. "Is everything ready for our departure tomorrow?"

"Yes, my lord. A person has called to see you."

"I don't see persons."

"This person is a police officer." Brum held out a small silver tray with a card on it.

The earl took it. "Detective Superintendent Alfred Kerridge. Dear me. I'd better see him. Where is he?"

"In the ante-room."

"Send him up."

Now what? wondered the earl. Have we engaged some criminal by mistake? There's that new hall boy, whatsisname.

The doors opened and Kerridge was ushered in, holding his bowler and gloves in one hand.

"Sit down," ordered the earl.

The stocky detective sat down gingerly on a delicate-looking chair which creaked alarmingly under his bulk.

"I do not want to distress you, my lord, by referring to the matter of your daughter's confrontation with a certain Sir Geoffrey Blandon-"

"Then don't."

"It has however come to my attention," pursued Kerridge, "that Sir Geoffrey was beaten up by an a.s.sailant and ordered to leave the country."

A slow smile lit up the earl's face. "By Jove! Really?"

"Yes, really. My lord, you did not by any chance hire such an a.s.sailant? My report says he spoke like a gentleman. He is tall and has black hair."

Cathcart, thought the earl, with a sudden rush of grat.i.tude. "No," he said coldly. "I am not in the habit of hiring thugs. I should warn you "

Here it comes, thought Kerridge.

"... that the Prime Minister is known to me."

"How did Lady Rose get that sheet from the betting book of a gentleman's club?"

"I have no idea."

"Perhaps Lady Rose could tell me?"

The earl rang the bell. "You have overstepped the mark. We have nothing to do with the a.s.sault on Blandon, and if you insist on pursuing this, I shall have a word with your superiors, not to mention ..."

"The Prime Minister," said Kerridge.

The butler appeared. "Show Mr. Kerridge out," ordered the earl.

It was just as he expected, thought Kerridge, but perhaps his visit might persuade the earl that he was not above the law. Then he realized dismally that the earl had just persuaded him that he was.

The earl had never regarded himself a gossip and despised those whom he considered indiscreet. But when he arrived at his club an hour later and saw Brigadier Bill Handy sitting by the fire, the temptation was too much.

"Well, well," said the brigadier. "I hear you're leaving town. Bad business. Cathcart do his job?"

The earl sat down and leaned forward. "He did more than his job. Worth every penny of that thousand pounds he charged. He thrashed that bounder, Blandon, and told him to leave the country. But don't tell anyone. Most grateful to you."

"What about your daughter? There was no reason for such a scene. How could she behave so disgracefully?"

"To tell the truth," said the earl miserably, "I don't know my own daughter. She had what seemed an excellent governess. Rose wanted a good education. I should have known how dangerous that is. Men hate a woman with a brain. Not me, but then, I'm highly intelligent and sensitive."

"Quite," said the brigadier, looking with amus.e.m.e.nt at the earl's guileless face.

"When Rose took off for that demonstration, we thought she had gone off to visit the vicar. Fact was, she took a train to London. Couldn't blame the governess. She'd already left."

"What about India? Send her out there. Lots of officers. By the way, did you just say that Cathcart charged you a thousand pounds?"

"I know. I was shocked. Didn't expect the fellow to behave like a tradesman, but he did the job all right. As far as India is concerned, we'll think about that. But don't say a word about the Cathcart business." "Wouldn't dream of it."

The next day, the brigadier was strolling along Piccadilly. He stopped to look in the window of Hatchard's bookshop. A tall, stately figure emerged. "Lady Giensheil!" said the brigadier, doffing his silk hat. Lady Giensheil was the daughter of one of his oldest friends. "How d'ye do?"

"Very well, I thank you. And you?"

"Splendid. Splendid. Oh, I say!" For a large tear had escaped from one of Lady Glensheil's eyes to cut a wet furrow through the thick powder on her cheeks.

"It's nothing," she said. Her maid stepped forward and handed her a handkerchief and she dabbed her face.

"It must be something," insisted the brigadier. "Walk a little with me and tell me about it."

He proffered his arm. She put the tips of her fingertips on it and they walked slowly along Piccadilly.

"I am ruined," said Lady Giensheil.

"Money?"

"Good heavens, no!" Lady Giensheil was shocked at the very idea that a lady would even mention such a sordid subject.

"I am here to help you," said the brigadier gallantly.

"I must talk to someone or I'll go mad," she said. "But not here." With her eyes she indicated her maid and footman following behind.

"We'll go into the Green Park," said the brigadier. "Send your servants off when we get there."

She nodded. The brigadier cast anxious little glances at her as they proceeded on their way. Lady Giensheil in his estimation was a fine figure of a woman. Others might think she had a hatchet-face but the brigadier considered it truly aristocratic. Her heavy silk gown was liberally decorated with fine lace. Her straw hat contained a whole garden of artificial flowers.

Once they reached the park, Lady Glensheil ordered her servants to walk a distance away and then sat down on a bench with the brigadier.

"Now," he said, "what do you mean, you're ruined?"

"It's simply terrible. GlensheiPs up north. He detests the season. I'm here to bring Fiona out. My youngest."

"And?"

"I commissioned Freddy Hecker to do a portrait of me."

"Who is Freddy Hecker?"

"He is an up-and-coming artist. We became friendly-too friendly."

"Ah!"

"He is now blackmailing me."

"The scoundrel should be horse-whipped."

"He says unless I pay him one hundred guineas a month, he will tell Glensheil."

"Deny the whole thing!"

"I wrote him letters."

"Oh, dear."

"I don't know what to do. I feel sick!"

The brigadier sat in silence. He had promised Hads.h.i.+re not to mention Cathcart. But still, he could not bear to see her suffer.

"I think I know someone who can help you. He... fixes delicate situations."

"Oh, please. Give me his name."

"There's only one trouble. He'll probably charge steep, about a thousand pounds."

"I have my own money. The reason I did not agree to pay Hecker was I knew he would bleed me dry."

"So it was a money problem after all."

"Certainly not. We never discuss money. Yon Yon know that." know that."

The brigadier suppressed a smile. He took out his card-case and extracted a card, wrote Captain Cathcart's name and address on the back. "That's the fellow," he said. "Go and see him but go alone."

"I don't know how I can ever thank you."

"Thank me if it works out."

"A lady to see you, sir," said the captain's manservant.

"Which lady?"

"The lady is heavily veiled and will not give me her card."

For some reason, Harry had a picture of Rose, her face illuminated with happiness-a happiness all too soon to be snuffed out.

"Send her in," he ordered.

He experienced a little pang of disappointment as the heavily veiled figure that was ushered in was obviously not that of Lady Rose. This lady had a mature figure and was dressed accordingly.

"Do sit down," said Harry. "Something to drink?"

"Nothing, I thank you."

"To what do I owe the pleasure of this visit?"

"I did not expect you to be a gentleman. I must beg you to be discreet."

"I am always discreet."

She put back her heavy veil. "I am Lady Glensheil."

She studied the captain's face but he expressed no surprise, only continued to look at her inquiringly. "Please sit down," he said, "and tell me why you have come."

She sat down opposite him and then looked nervously at the window. It was still daylight.

"Would you be so kind as to draw the curtains? Someone pa.s.sing in the street might see me."

"Certainly." The captain rang a bell by his chair. "Becket," he said, when his manservant appeared, "draw the curtains and light the place."

They waited in silence while Becket drew the curtains closed and then lit the gasolier.