The speed with which the coach covered the one hundred and fifty miles to Calais served no useful purpose, because when Roger reached the port a storm was raging. News of Napoleon’s surrender had reached the city two days earlier and now that the war was over Roger had no need to seek out a smuggler; so had the weather been even moderate any skipper would have been willing to run him across the Straits for a few gold pieces. But a fierce wind, coupled with a Spring tide, rendered any attempt to cross the Channel suicidal.
Angry and intensely worried, he drove to the best inn, ate a belated breakfast; then, not having slept during his journey, went straight to bed. When he woke late in the afternoon his mind immediately resumed the futile speculations with which it had been plagued all through the night.
What could be the trouble that had caused Georgina to send for him so urgently? Into whose hands had Susan and Charles fallen? At first, the coupling of their names had puzzled him, because he had believed Charles to be with Wellington’s army somewhere in south-western France. But only through Charles could Georgina have learned that from the Pyrenees he had returned to Paris at Talleyrand’s request, and so might be found through him by Lord Castlereagh. Charles could have sent her that information in a letter, but it seemed more probable that, for some reason, he had gone to England. But why should the two young people be in peril? And from whom, or what?
In vain Roger racked his brains. The answer to this mystery could be found only across the Channel, and one glance through the window showed that while he slept there had been no improvement in the weather.
It was not until the afternoon of the following day, the 11th, that the sea subsided to an oily swell. Regardless of price, Roger had already arranged for a yacht, said to be the fastest in the harbour, to take him over, and the wind being favourable it arrived off Dover in the early hours of the morning. But the customs men at Dover having for so long had no dealings with French vessels, Roger’s landing was delayed until, by threats of reporting this obstruction to the Admiralty, a senior official had been got out of bed and taken responsibility for his being allowed to come ashore. By the time he had roused an innkeeper, hired a coach and been driven to London it was well past midday.
Feeling certain that, having sent for him, Georgina would not be in the country but hopefully awaiting his arrival in London, he had himself driven straight to Kew House. He proved right in that, and was shown up to her. Dishevelled and unshaven as he was she gave a cry of joy when he entered her boudoir, ran forward, threw her arms about him and burst into tears.
‘There, there, my sweet,’ he soothed her, clasping her to him. ‘I would have been here two days since, but for the accursed weather. Tell me now, what has occurred to cause you such distress?’
‘’Tis Susan and Charles,’ she sobbed. ‘They are both become Satanists.’
‘Oh, come!’ he expostulated. ‘That is more than I can credit.’
‘’Tis so,’ she insisted. ‘There is no other explanation for their conduct.’
Putting an arm round her waist he led her to a sofa, pulled her down beside him and said, ‘I beg you, my love, calm yourself and tell me all from the beginning.’
Dabbing at her eyes with a scrap of lace handkerchief, Georgina drew a deep breath, then said more quietly, ‘’Tis all the fault of that little vixen, Jemima, Maureen Luggala’s daughter. I could kill her. Soon after Charles went to the war she and Susan became bosom friends. When we were in London they went everywhere together. Scarce a day passed without their seeing each other. The girl had good manners, an amusing if somewhat bitter wit, and her name had never been linked with any scandal, so I made no objection to their friendship. Then in February Lady Luggala decided to return to her home in Dublin for a while, and invited Susan to go over on a visit. To pleasure Susan I had had Jemima to stay both at Stillwaters and Newmarket, so ’twas only a return of hospitality, and Susan had never been to Ireland. I agreed to her going with them.
‘The visit was to have been for a fortnight, but early in March Susan wrote to me that she was enjoying herself so greatly in Dublin that she wished to stay on a while longer. I replied that she could, but must be back by the middle of the mouth, to choose stuffs and have her clothes made for the coming season. She replied, again postponing her return. I wrote insisting that she should be back by the 24th. Then, to my amazement, she defied me and calmly stated that ’twas her intention to pass the summer in Ireland.
‘On the day that I received her missive, Charles arrived unexpectedly from France. The Duke had sent him home with despatches describing d’Angoulême’s enthusiastic reception in Bordeaux. Naturally he was upset by Susan’s behaviour and wrote to her himself. A reply came four days later, but not from Susan. It was from Lady Luggala, and when we read it we were both amazed and horrified.
‘She blamed herself bitterly for not having taken more serious notice of the way in which the two girls had been spending much of their time. They had become interested in mesmerism and were regularly attending meetings of a society to do with the occult. Susan had said nothing to her of my letters telling her she must come home, and she had been happy to have her stay on. Then, when she learned what the girls had been doing she had forbade them to go to further meetings. To her utter consternation they then revealed to her that they had both been initiated and had become witches themselves.’
‘God’s death!’ Roger exclaimed. ‘I no longer wonder at finding you in such a state.’
‘But even that is not the worst,’ Georgina began to sob again. ‘There was a violent quarrel, the girls refused to listen to reason. They packed their things and, although Maureen Luggala did her best to prevent them, they left the house.’
‘What, to go to this witch?’
‘One can only suppose so. But that is not all. When we read Maureen’s letter, Charles was distraught. He left immediately for Ireland, to go in search of Susan and bring her back.’
‘That must have been three weeks ago. Surely by now he would have traced the girls. What news has he sent you of his endeavours to do so?’
‘None. And ’tis that which puts a crown upon my misery. After some days, hearing nothing from him, I wrote to Lady Luggala. Her reply reached me early this month. She said he had not been to her house, and she has heard nothing of his being in Dublin. He, as well as both the girls, has completely disappeared. In my extremity my thoughts naturally turned to you. Charles had told me that, when you left him at the Duke’s headquarters, you were about to return to Paris and stay again with Talleyrand. It was common knowledge that Lord Castlereagh was crossing to France to sign the Treaty, so I asked him to take my note to you. From fear it might fall into wrong hands and so blacken Susan’s reputation I dared not give particulars of this awful business, but I knew that my appeal to you would not be in vain.’
‘I lost not a moment. In fact I left in the midst of a reception and, as I have said, would have been here early yesterday but for the weather.’ Roger paused a moment, then went on with a frown, ‘That two credulous young females should have allowed themselves to fall under the spell of some evil woman of strong personality is deplorable, but not remarkable. It is Charles’s disappearance that is so inexplicable. Had he been a courier or servant and met his death in an accident, little notice would have been taken; but as an Earl his death could not fail to have been reported in the news sheets.’
Georgina sighed. ‘Alas, there is a possible explanation, though the thought of it fills me with horror.’
‘Whatever it may be, you must tell me of it.’
‘When I showed him Maureen Luggala’s letter about the two girls having become witches, he made a confession to me. The autumn before last a friend of his introduced him to an occult circle known as the New Hell Fire Club. He said that he took no particular interest in the ceremonies that were performed there, but joined the club for the excitement of participating afterwards in orgies in which partners were drawn by lots and both men and women remained masked. After midnight on last year’s New Year’s Eve he left a ball that I gave in Berkeley Square to attend a meeting of the club. Unknown to him Susan also left the ball with a Captain Hawksbury. She was under the impression that he meant to take her for an hour or two to a normal private party, but he took her to this club.’
‘What!’ Roger exclaimed, his blue eyes flashing with anger. ‘By God, I’ll kill him for this.’
‘You are spared the trouble. He was killed last summer in a brawl. But fortunately Susan came to no harm. Before the orgy was due to start, the witch who ran the place stripped herself naked and began to perform some lecherous act with her high priest and a negro. In horrified disgust Susan demanded that Hawksbury should take her away. He refused. There was an altercation. She was masked, but Charles was near by and recognised her voice. After a fight, by a miracle he got her out of the house.’
‘Praise be for that! But what you tell me explains your fear for Charles. He may have told you that he joined the Hell Fire Club only for the excitement of having masked women who neither needed elaborate courting nor were ordinary whores, out of reluctance to admit that he had actually become a Satanist.’
Georgina nodded. ‘Yes. That is the thought that so appals me. He may have found the girls with the witch and been persuaded to join them.’
‘Think you this Lady Luggala was telling the truth and the whole truth, in the letters she wrote you? What sort of woman is she?’
‘I have no reason to doubt it. She is the widow of an Irish baronet and, I should say, comes herself from a reputable family. She is about my age and quite good-looking, but self-centred, somewhat vain and not overburdened with brains.’
‘It seems then reasonably plausible that she would not have concerned herself greatly about the girls’ doings, so allowed them to go where they pleased, with no more than an occasional question.’
‘I am sure that is so from her attitude toward her daughter. Jemima was much the stronger character, and had quite a temper. Susan once told me Maureen often let Jemima have her own way rather than risk a scene.’
‘Then, apart from negligence, it would appear that no blame in this awful affair attaches to Lady Luggala. But I shall want her address, so that I may call on and question her as soon as I get to Dublin.’
From a casket on a nearby buhl table Georgina took a packet of letters, and said, ‘Here are those from Susan as well as Maureen Luggala’s. You had best read them all.’
Roger did so in the sequence of the dates on which they had been written. As he handed them back, he remarked, ‘There is something about Susan’s last letter that strikes me as a little queer. It is her usual scrawl, so they were all penned by her without a doubt, but somehow the phraseology strikes me as out of keeping with her character, and she does not show the great affection we know her to have for you.’
‘That struck me, too,’ Georgina nodded. ‘In fact, when I received the last one from her I re-read them all, and I had a feeling that it might have been dictated.’
‘’Tis just possible. You say this girl Jemima has a very strong character, and has great influence over her. If they have been monkeying with mesmerism she may have achieved control over Susan’s mind. I’d not be surprised if that were not the root of the whole trouble.’
Changing the subject he went on, ‘I’d be on the Bristol coach this evening had I not been away all these months from poor little Mary. As things are, I know you’ll understand if I delay to spend tonight with her, and set out for Dublin tomorrow. How fares it with her, or have you not seen her recently?’
Georgina hesitated a moment. ‘Until this present trouble arose I’ve not been in London since January. And I did not run across her during the little season. I gather she goes very seldom into society these days.’
‘Ah, well, it will be a fine surprise for her that I am come home at last, and now the war is over soon be able to settle down with her for good. I’ve kept the coach I hired below, and if you’ll forgive me, sweet, I’ll now be on my way to Richmond.’
‘If you must, dear heart, but you have travelled overnight from Dover, and will be travelling again tomorrow. ’Tis not for selfish reasons I suggest it, but would it not be best for you to dismiss your coach and take mine later? Meanwhile, lie down and nap in a bedroom here for an hour or so, then let me send you on your way fortified with a good meal.’
Although Roger had managed to prevent himself from being seasick during the crossing, he had felt far from well, and the hours of jolting in the hired coach had fatigued him, so he saw the sense in Georgina’s proposal and smilingly agreed to it.
No sooner was he stretched out on a bed than he fell sound asleep, and would have slept on had not Georgina come to wake him at three o’clock. Over their early dinner they agreed not to mention Susan or Charles, and he gave an account of his last, hectic days in France before Napoleon’s abdication. By four o’clock they had taken a fond leave of each other, and he left Kew House in her coach.
In a little under an hour the coach was within a hundred yards of Thatched House Lodge. Putting his head out of the window, Roger called up to the coachman, ‘Drive straight into the stable yard, then you can water the horses and take a mug of ale with my man before you drive back.’
At the sound of the horses’ hooves on the cobbles of the yard, old Dan Izzard came running down from his quarters over the coach-house, and as Roger alighted cried happily:
‘Why, bless me, ’tis the master! I been hopin’ now the war be over ye’d soon be home agin.’
Roger shook the smiling ex-smuggler warmly by the hand. ‘’Tis good to see you, Dan, and soon now you’ll be sick of the sight of me for ever lounging about the place. How is Her Ladyship?’
The smile left Dan’s wrinkled face, and his glance shifted slightly as he replied, ‘Oh, she be pretty well; but I don’t see much o’ her these days. She don’t ride no more and scarce ever drives out. The horses be eatin’ they’s heads off.’
During his drive from London Roger’s mind had been entirely occupied with worry about Susan and Charles, so he had thought no more of Georgina’s vague reply to his enquiry about Mary. Now, with a frown, he turned quickly away, strode across the yard and entered the house by the back door.
A maid was sitting knitting in the kitchen. She came quickly to her feet, and he acknowledged with a nod the bob she made him, then walked through the dining room to the drawing room. There was no-one there. Crossing the hall, he looked into the small sitting room. There was no-one there, either. As he turned away, his housekeeper, Mrs. Muffet, came down the stairs. Her eyes widened on seeing him, then she forced a smile and greeted him pleasantly. He also forced a smile as he replied, then asked curtly:
‘Where is Her Ladyship?’
‘Up in her bedroom, Sir.’
‘Is she ill?’
‘No … No, Sir. But she … she spends a lot of her time in bed now.’
Instead of asking what the devil Mary was doing in bed at five o’clock in the afternoon if she was not ill, Roger took the stairs two at a time, strode down the corridor and, without knocking, flung open the door of the bedroom he shared with Mary.
She was half-lying in bed, propped up by three pillows. The dreamy look on her face was replaced by a startled stare as her eyes met Roger’s. Jerking herself upright, she exclaimed:
‘Why, bless my soul! If it’s not the man who calls himself my husband!’
Her words were slurred, and Roger’s glance had taken in the fact that a decanter two-thirds full and a half-empty glass of port stood on a table beside the bed.
‘What the hell’s the meaning of this?’ he snapped. ‘You’re drunk! How can you so shame yourself with the knowledge of the servants?’
Mary lay back and smiled seraphically. ‘Not … not drunk, darling. Jus’ a little tipsy. Tha’s all.’
‘You’re drunk!’ he retorted angrily. ‘And I gather this afternoon is no exception. You make a habit of it. God alive, Mary! What in the world has driven you to become a drunkard?’
‘Nothin’ else to do. Man I married leaves me after a … a few months, an’ goes galli … gallivanting about on … on the Continent.’
‘Oh, come now, Mary,’ he said more gently. ‘You know I had no option but to go in search of Charles.’
‘Oh yes, you did. You … you pref … preferred to leave your wife rather than dis … displease that gilded whore the … the Duchess of Kew.’
‘Mary! How dare you refer to Georgina as a whore.’
‘’Cause she’s a whore. Every … everyone knows it. Besides yourself she’s had a … a score of men in her bed. But … but, talking of bed, now you’re home you … you might as well get your clothes off an’ … an’ come into mine.’
‘For two people who care for each other to get gay on wine before making love is one thing,’ Roger replied icily. ‘To go to bed with a drunken woman is quite another, and a pastime I have never wished to experience.’
Stepping back he slammed the door and, white with rage, stamped downstairs.
In the library he poured himself a stiff brandy. His hand was shaking and his mind bemused. In his wildest dreams he had never imagined such a scene as had just taken place. What a homecoming! True, he had quarrelled with Mary before leaving for Spain, and he had been mainly to blame. But Georgina had brought them together as he was about to board the frigate, and they had made it up.
What should he do now? Best leave her to sleep it off and talk some sense into her in the morning. With him at home she would soon be cured of this habit of drinking. But, no. Tomorrow he had to go to Dublin. When he told her that, there would be the most frightful scene. And he had counted on her this evening to take his mind off this terrible business of Susan and Charles. Now he would have to dine alone and brood about it half the night.
The thought was unbearable. To hell with it. He would return to London and sleep at Amesbury House. As the season had not started, it was unlikely that Droopy would be there, but he could sup at White’s and, for once, distract his mind by gambling; then, with a bottle or two inside him, get some sleep.
Tossing off the brandy that remained in his glass, he marched out to the stables, shouted for Dan, had him saddle a horse, and ten minutes later was cantering off toward the park gate.
On reaching Amesbury House a pleasant surprise awaited him. The footman who answered the door told him that his Lordship was in London and at home. The reason for this emerged when Roger was shown into the library and the friends had exchanged greetings. Lord Amesbury had died in December, so Droopy was now the Earl, and had come up to take his seat in the House of Lords.
When they had settled down Roger began to pour out his woes to his old friend, first describing his most recent trouble of arriving home to find that Mary had taken to drink.
At that Droopy nodded his narrow head with its birdlike beak of a nose, and said unexpectedly, ‘I am not greatly surprised. Until you brought her back from America she had not lived in England since she was married to that city merchant. It has ever been customary for persons of quality to look down upon anyone in trade; so, although she is daughter to an Earl, she could not be received without her husband. Naturally, she was not invited anywhere. By marrying her you restored her position in society, but between your return from America and your departure for Spain there was not time enough for her to make any intimate friends in our own circle. Georgina, I know, did her best to cultivate her, but for a reason you can well guess, Mary cold-shouldered the approaches of your lovely Duchess. I drove out to Richmond now and again to visit her until last November, but it was then that my father became ill, so I had to remain at Normanrood with him. Since his death I have been pestiferous busy on matters concerning his estate, so it is six months or more since I have seen her. Friendless, and neglected by you as she has been, what could you expect? What option had the poor girl but either to take a lover or take to the bottle? Now that you are home again and, praise be, for good, you’ll soon have her sober and loving again.’
Roger nodded. ‘There is much in what you say, Ned; and I’ll confess I had not previously looked at the matter in that light. As soon as I can I’ll put things right and make up to her for my long absence. But, alas, I cannot do so yet. Tomorrow I have to leave for Dublin.’
‘Dublin!’ Droopy leaned forward, peering with his short-sighted eyes at Roger. ‘Why, in God’s name, must you go there?’
With a heavy sigh Roger began to tell him all he had learned from Georgina about Susan and Charles. When he came to recount how, unknown to each other, they had gone to a New Year’s Eve meeting of the New Hell Fire Club, Droopy interrupted:
‘Wait one moment. This stirs a memory in my mind that may be of use to you.’
‘You know of the place, then?’
‘Yes, I am acquainted with several wealthy rakes who were members and, from their accounts of it, quite a number of titled dames participated in the Satanic revels. It was run by an Irish woman named Katie O’Brien and an unfrocked Catholic priest, one Father Damien. As they fled the country last autumn, it may well be that they went to Dublin and started another devil’s circle there. Quite possibly ’tis she who has Susan and the young Luggala girl in her toils. That, too, could account for Charles’s disappearance. Since he was in cahoots with her when she was here in London and may have found the girls with her in Dublin, maybe he decided to join the coven willingly, or perhaps she has some hold over him and used it to make him remain with them.’
‘You may well be right about Charles,’ Roger nodded. ‘But why did the witch and her priest flee the country? I would have supposed that, having so many influential patrons, they would have had ample protection.’
‘Against a charge of practising witchcraft, yes; but not for that which would have been brought against them. A great part of the Irish are loyal to the Crown, as witness the fine performance in battle of the Irish regiments under Wellington; but there are others who would have Ireland become a Republic and would have aided the French had they landed there. Katie O’Brien was such a one, and under cover of running her Hell Fire Club for bawdy decadents she was collecting information for our enemies. That emerged at the trial of a Dutchman named Cornelius Quelp, after he was arrested as a secret agent of the French. He had acted as her postman. But, as you would expect, all mention of what really went on at the Club was suppressed. Money talks and at the trial it was simply described as a gaming house.’
‘I feel certain that Charles would never have given such a woman information that might be damaging to his country; so, if she has a hold over him, it cannot be anything of that kind.’
Droopy shrugged. ‘Who can say? He was then quite young and inexperienced. He may have done so in all innocence and only realised his folly later.’
After a moment Roger asked, ‘What of this woman, Maureen Luggala. Did you know her?’
‘Not well, but I met her on occasions at large gatherings.’
‘What thought you of her?’
‘She was passable good-looking and had a well-rounded figure. She was a somewhat vapid creature, and I imagine not difficult to persuade to let one share her bed, for she was always ogling the men—though in fairness I must say I never heard her name coupled with one.’
‘You term her vapid, and Georgina described her as stupid, and self-centred; yet, however wrapped up in her own affairs she may be, I find it difficult to credit that during all those weeks she remained entirely oblivious of the fact that the two girls had begun to dabble in witchcraft.’
‘They would naturally have taken every precaution to hide it from her, and it may be her shallow mind was entirely occupied by some other interest—a lover perhaps.’
Roger frowned. ‘Your suggestion gives me food for thought. You have implied that she sought to attract our sex, yet she was clearly careful of her reputation. As a widow and only a little over forty who apparently craved satisfaction, does it not strike you that she was the type of woman who might have been a member of the Hell Fire Club. Masked she could have preserved her incognito, and her good figure would have made her acceptable.’
‘If you are right, that would explain many things.’
‘Indeed it would. The reason for her leaving England would have been to follow the O’Brien woman to Dublin, and there continue the association. She, not her daughter, may be at the root of the trouble. If she is a Satanist herself, she would have initiated the two girls, and her letter to Georgina be a pack of lies designed to keep Susan in Ireland by alleging that she has disappeared.’
‘And when young Charles arrived, having been a previous member of the club he decided to throw in his lot with those people instead of bringing Susan home.’
‘That could well be, since he has long been in love with Susan. Under this evil woman’s influence she could have tempted him and, rather than lose her, he elected to remain.’
Over supper the two friends speculated further, but neither could produce any other theory, so they turned to Napoleon’s defeat and abdication, while polishing off the best part of two bottles of Château Lafitte, followed by old port wine. These liberal potations ensured Roger a good night’s sleep. But in the morning, instead of going to the Bristol coach station, he walked across St. James’s Park to Birdcage Walk.
It was in a house there that, when he had first become a secret agent, he had made his reports to a Mr. Gilbert Maxwell. Later he had dealt direct with Mr. Pitt and a succession of Ministers of Foreign Affairs; but he had often had occasion to collect documents and money from a Mr. Desmond Knight, who had succeeded Maxwell, and he now sent up his name to him.
Mr. Knight was a tall, thin, greyhaired man. He received Roger courteously, then asked in what way he could be of service to him.
‘It is a private matter,’ Roger smiled, ‘but, knowing you as well as I do, I feel sure you will not refuse me your help. I am anxious to learn all you can tell me about a man named Cornelius Quelp: a Dutchman who was tried and convicted some months ago as a secret agent in the pay of the French.’
Mr. Knight returned his smile. ‘Mr. Brook, we have many secrets here, but none from a man so intimately acquainted with such affairs as yourself. Mynheer Quelp was sentenced to three years hard labour and is now quarrying stone on Dartmoor. What do you wish to know about him?’
‘I understand that he acted as courier for a woman named Katie O’Brien, who collected information for our enemies. She lived in a house out at Islington. No doubt you know what went on there?’
‘Yes; she was known as the Irish Witch, and ran a Satanic circle, called the New Hell Fire Club. Unfortunately, before her connection with Quelp emerged at his trial, she got away to Ireland.’
‘So I gather. But why was she not arrested by our authorities there?’
‘Because we could trace her only as far as Dublin. From there she disappeared.’
‘I am told she is possibly there now, running another Satanic circle.’
‘If she is it must be under another name, otherwise we should have learned of it.’
‘Did you perchance secure a list of the members of the Hell Fire Club?’
‘Yes, although by no means a complete one. The members went to considerable pains to conceal their identities. They put on masks before entering the house. But discreet enquiries among the coachmen of the nobility gave us the names of some thirty-odd people who had been driven there at night and not returned until the early hours of the morning. Some, too, visited the house fairly frequently in daylight.’
‘Was Lady Luggala among them?’
‘Yes. She, I recall, was one of the regular visitors.’
Roger’s guess had been right. He smiled grimly, then said, ‘Mr. Knight, reverting to espionage. It will naturally have occurred to you that the woman O’Brien must have obtained much of the information she passed on to our enemies from the members of her club. Were many of them prosecuted on that account?’
The Secret Service chief shook his head. ‘No, Mr. Brook. The majority of them, I am sure, were entirely ignorant of that side of the woman’s activities, and anything she received from others would have been by word of mouth. There were a few that we suspected, but we had not a tittle of evidence against them.’
‘Was Lady Luggala among those you suspected?’
‘Yes, for a variety of reasons. She was one of the witch’s most frequent visitors. They were both Irish and she was living beyond her means. Our undercover man at Coutt’s traced several drafts on the O’Brien’s account made payable to Lady Luggala.’
‘She is now living in Dublin and I am about to proceed there. I have reason to believe that, given your help, I could secure the evidence needed to convict her and, perhaps, others.’
‘Indeed! Well, the war, thank God, is over; but all the same if there are grounds for believing that she gave information to an enemy agent, she should certainly be brought to trial. What help do you need?’
‘Authority to enter her house, to search it, to question her servants and, if my suspicions are correct, to arrest her.’
Mr. Knight hesitated. ‘Mr. Brook, as you are not an official agent of the Crown, you are asking a lot, particularly the right to take her into custody.’
‘If, having got the evidence we need I am not empowered to do so, before I can get a warrant from a magistrate she will have the chance to disappear, as the other woman has done. You know enough about me to be sure that I should not abuse such powers as you may give me.’
‘True, true, Mr. Brook. I am sure you would not. In the intimate circle in which we move, you are become almost a legendary figure. I recall that there have even been times when you have been given Lettres de Marque to speak on behalf of Prime Ministers. Unorthodox as your request is, it would be unreasonable in me not to grant it.’
As he spoke Mr. Knight tinkled a bell on his desk. A secretary came in and, a quarter of an hour later, Roger left the house with the papers he had asked for in his pocket.
He lunched at White’s, wrote a brief, loving note to Georgina, just to let her know he had stumbled upon one lead that he hoped would facilitate his search for Susan and Charles; then, having said good-bye to Droopy, he took the night coach to Bristol.
Next morning, having booked himself a cabin at the ferry office, he had a clerk there produce the register of passengers who had taken tickets to cross during the last week in March and found that Charles had sailed on the 25th.
Satisfied that no accident had befallen Charles before leaving England, he went aboard and ordered champagne and dry biscuits; having found from long experience that sipping the one and nibbling the other gave the best hope that the queasiness from which he always suffered when at sea would not become actually sickness.
On landing in Dublin he hired a coach and told the driver to take him in turn to the best hostelries in the city. The second at which they halted was the Crown and Shamrock. His inquiry produced the information that the Earl of St. Ermins had arrived there on March 26th and stayed two nights, then departed leaving no address. He had not been seen there since.
Having taken a room, unpacked and had a meal, Roger went out and bought himself a cheap, ready-made trouser suit of brown cloth, a cloak of Irish homespun, a pair of heavy boots and a top hat made of shiny, black waterproof material. Taking his purchases back to the Crown and Shamrock, he changed into them, scruffed the boots and battered the hat a little, then slipped down the back stairs and into the stable yard.
By then it was growing dark. Out in the street, after enquiring of a passer-by, he soon found his way to Merrion Square, in which Lady Luggala had her house. On finding the number he was greatly relieved to see chinks of light coming from between the drawn curtains of a room on the first floor, which implied that she was at home, but no sounds suggesting that an entertainment was in progress. There were also lights in the basement.
From what Mr. Knight had told him, it was quite certain that Maureen Luggala was intimate with Katie O’Brien, and he felt convinced that she could tell him where to find the witch. With her, he had little doubt, were Susan and Charles. There was also good reason to believe that Maureen had furnished information to the spy Quelp; but he had no proof of that. He had a warrant for her arrest in his pocket, but he could not use it. By confronting her, as he meant to do, he was taking a great gamble. If she called his bluff, gone would be the only lead he had to tracing and rescuing from the devil’s clutches the two young people he loved.