Black soon joined them, carrying the bonnet with the necklace sewed into the crown. “It was hooked on to the pommel of Jack’s mount,” he said. “As I thought, the mount had galloped back to its stable. I had a go at that left front leg and the star on the forehead.” He held out a soot-darkened handkerchief. “He’d darkened the markings up with soot. A dandy bit of blood, that gelding.”
“He could have won the Derby with that mount. I never saw the likes of it,” Townsend agreed with a shake of his head.
“Will someone please tell me what happened?” Corinne asked, and looked all around. “Why is everyone covered in dust? And isn’t that a welt on the side of your forehead, Reg?”
Reg leapt up and went to the mirror, where he was extremely gratified to see there was indeed a lovely purple welt growing over his left temple, irrefutable evidence that he had been right in the thick of things. Wait till Boo and Tony saw that! “It’s nothing. Just a little tap on the temple from Mad Jack the other night,” he would say with a dismissing gesture. “The highwayman, you know. You might have heard of him?”
“Luten’ll have to tell you, milady,” Black said. “I wasn’t there myself.”
“Not there?” she demanded. “But why not? Where were you?”
“At the hotel, knocked out cold.” They all stared and urged him for details, as they were unaware of his tale. “Someone was waiting for me in my room when I went to change, knocked me a wallop on the side of the head and when I came to I was bound up on the bed like a chicken for roasting, and with a gag in my mouth to boot so I couldn’t even holler for help. Took me a while to roll off the bed and to the door and kick till I was set free. I was afraid I’d missed all the fun. Sorry I couldn’t make it earlier, folks. I hope you didn’t take the notion I’d welched on you.” He gave a little laugh at this joke, which was vociferously shouted down by all those who had been wondering that very thing.
His firm believer, Corinne, asked, “Do you think it was Mad Jack who did it?”
“Nay, he hadn’t time. ‘Twas certainly Catchpole. He was after the five hundred advance he paid me for letting him in on the scheme.”
“Thank God he didn’t kill you,” she said.
“He didn’t have to. He knew it was safe to double-cross me. Who could I complain to? I could hardly tell Townsend or Luten I’d sold them out.”
Before anyone thought to ask if Catchpole got the five hundred, Black rushed on to continue his story of hurrying to the meeting place, hearing the two approaching horses, seeing the low-hanging branch they would have to pass under, tethering his mount and climbing up the tree to lift Jack off his mount as he passed beneath. Imagine our shock when Mad Jack wasn’t Cripps.”
“Not Cripps?” she said, shaking her head in confusion. “Then who was it?”
“ ‘Twas Jasper,” Black replied.
“That was quick-thinking, Black, to snatch Jack as he rode past,” Luten praised, and the others added their enthusiastic agreement.
“I took a bit of a chance, for I didn’t really know it was Jack, but when I saw he was being chased I figured the odds were good, and no real harm done if I picked up the wrong man.”
The rest of the story came out in bits and pieces — Townsend’s delay in shooting, and Luten’s efforts to get up and help being defeated by Jack shooting over his head at regular intervals. Corinne, seeing the gentlemen’s frustration with their inglorious part in the tale, didn’t ask many questions, but made a toast to the mission’s success, with a special smile for Black.
“So Jasper was Mad Jack all along,” she said, “and not Cripps. I can well believe it, though Jasper actually looks more dangerous.”
“I believe Cripps’s only interest was to find the necklace,” Coffen said. “And I wouldn’t be much surprised if Flora put him up to it. It seems Cripps knew of the tunnel, but it was Jasper that used it. When me and Black first saw that black gelding at the Seaside tavern, we thought it was Cripps’s mount, but of course it was Jasper’s. He was certainly using Cripps as his tool. It was Jasper that kept egging Cripps on for the duel, eh Black?”
“True, and he had the wits to get Cripps oiled up before going to challenge you that night. He wanted you out of the way, but didn’t want to show himself up as the one anxious to be rid of you before you discovered your tunnel. I wonder if Cripps ever had any intention of meeting you for that duel.”
“Jasper certainly meant for him to,” Coffen said. “He was there next morning, and tried to rearrange it for another time. I wager Catchpole sent Jasper word that Cripps was there, and likely sent Jasper’s mount along to give him time to get home and change for the duel. I’m wondering now if Jasper is the one that was shooting at me as well.”
“Certainly he was,” Luten said. “We never actually got a look at the fellow. He’s the one who used the tunnel.” No mention was made of kidnapping Cripps and Flora as Townsend had not been told of this.
“I wonder if he killed Mary too,” Coffen said.
Townsend had to be told all the details of Mary’s murder that were fit to tell. They omitted that they had found her body in Coffen’s house.
“Her body was found at the graveyard on the Dyke Road,” Luten said. “Coffen was suspected of having killed her, as he’d taken her to dinner the night before. Her brother Willie ran to the constable with a story that she was afraid of him. He lives at the Brithelmston tavern. I shouldn’t be surprised if Catchpole put Willie up to it. I wager it was Jasper who planted her bonnet and reticule in Coffen’s curricle.”
“They’ll both want looking into as well, then,” Townsend said.
“Willie Scraggs is one of the Gentlemen. A smuggler,” Luten added. “He might help with evidence against Jack when he learns Jack murdered his sister.”
“You figure Jasper killed her?” Townsend asked. “Why? Jealousy of her being with Pattle, was it?”
“Very likely,” Luten said, with a repressive stare at Prance, who already had his mouth open and a sly look on his face. No mention had been made that Mary was a lightskirt.
Coffen, unaware of this silent passage between the two, said, “I wonder now if she wasn’t in my house looking for the diamond necklace one night when Jack came creeping up from the tunnel, and roamed about till she learned the secret. She might have tried to make gain out of Jasper on it. He feared she’d tell me, and killed her.”
“She sounds a wily sort of woman,” Townsend said with a frown at Coffen. “You ought to be leery of such women, Pattle, especially in a strange city. Did you know her before you came here?”
“No, I’d just met her. She was going to rent my house.”
“She don’t sound like the sort of person you should have had anything to do with.”
“She was all right,” said Coffen, and gave a sad little sigh.
They talked on for an hour. As Townsend was leaving, he said to Black in a quiet aside, “I expect Catchpole will deny ever getting that five hundred off you at the hotel, Black.”
Black mentally weighed the situation regarding the five hundred. Catchpole would certainly insist he hadn’t got the money. Questions would be asked. The hotel clerk might be questioned. “About that five hundred,” he said reluctantly.
Townsend spoke up before he could confess. “As you didn’t actually see Catchpole, we’ve no proof he’s the one was there and we shan’t pursue that matter. He’s certainly complicit in aiding and abetting a highwayman. That’ll keep him away from the public for some years.” He gave a knowing wink. “You earned it! More power to you. Prinney would only buy hisself another jacket or picture.” Black, stolid as an owl, nodded and wisely said nothing. “Like I said, any time you feel you want a change of work ... We work on commission, you know.”
Black allowed himself a small smile. “I’ll bear it in mind, Townsend, but at the present I’m happy where I am.”
“And the Brigade is happy — and lucky — to have you.”