Over the next few days the investigation proved to be extremely frustrating. Between Black and the two footmen Luten assigned to the job, they knew where Morgrave was every hour of the day. He did nothing more suspicious than visit his brother, drive in the park with his wife, order a new pair of top boots, visit his tailor and attend Tattersalls with his brother, who bid on but did not purchase a hunter for his wife. His nights were equally innocent.
Finding Prance’s purse in Morgrave’s pocket proved that he was involved, if not the ringleader, yet he did nothing suspicious. He received no visits from Henri, Guy or Alphonse. In fact, he was never seen anywhere near a Frenchman. He did not send or receive any suspicious communications, unless it was done through the post office. Black was sent back to the Sheepwalk and reported that the Frenchies had not returned.
Samantha Morgrave was flattered to receive two more calls from Lady Luten. On the second visit she was invited to call Corinne by her first name. Samantha was given to understand she was being considered for elevation to the committee for the Orphans’ Ball for next year, to account for this sudden barrage of visits. On one more occasion John was present, though not studying maps of Spain or drinking brandy. To make matters worse, Corinne liked the Morgraves. And when Samantha blushingly confided that she was enceinte, Corinne was sorry she had ever become involved in the case. How cruel for Samantha if her husband should turn out to be a traitor just when she was having their first baby.
Prance found the eye patch so distracting that he abandoned it, except on one or two occasions when he went out in the evening where tout le monde could admire it. His special quizzing glass arrived and was added to his toilette. The sword in a cane also arrived and he and Villier spent an afternoon flailing at each other in the drawing room, Prance with the sheathed sword and Villier with Prance’s malacca walking stick. The long, narrow neckcloths were made up and Villier practised arranging them in intricate folds. Prance bought a black enameled snuffbox that opened at the touch of a button, filled it with pepper and carried it with him everywhere.
His jackets were a little bulkier than usual due to concealed weapons, including a small hasp knife with a cleverly concealed corkscrew.
The side pockets of his coach were bulging with pistols, knives, ropes and handkerchiefs to use for gags, a small bottle of laudanum in case he wanted to put an enemy to sleep and brandy for resuscitation purposes. He even managed to find a pair of manacles. He was prepared for any emergency, but no emergency arrived.
Luten was pulling his hair in frustration when Black finally came up with a clue. Black had been making queries among his many acquaintances in the underworld and called on Lady Luten just before dinner on the third day of inactivity. He took special pains to time his visits when he was likely to find her alone for a few minutes. He found her reading in the rose salon, all dressed for evening and waiting for Luten to come home. She looked even lovelier since her wedding. Less agitated, more serene. Almost like a Madonna.
“Black,” she said, smiling. “Dare I hope you have brought us news? Luten is so frustrated with this case.”
“I believe I might have a little something, milady. Is his lordship at home?” he asked innocently.
“Not yet, but he’ll be here shortly. You can tell me. Any little crumb will be more than welcome. What have you discovered? Is it to do with the brandy you ordered?”
“No, I’ve had no word from Freddie as yet.” To prolong his visit, he said, “If Luten will be along soon, we might as well wait for him. I see marriage agrees with you, milady. You are flourishing, if I may be allowed to say so.” He cast a sideways glance at the wine on the side table beside her.
“Certainly you may. Thank you. We are very happy now that we’ve finally managed to get married. We hardly argue at all. Prance says we have sunk into a connubial lethargy. Let us have a glass of wine while we wait for Luten.”
They hadn’t long to wait. Sooner than Black liked, Luten arrived. His first attention was a smile for his bride. Then he turned to Black. “Black, what brings you to call?” he said, his eyes gleaming with hope.
“Black has found out something, Luten,” his wife announced.
“A little something that I hope will help,” Black said modestly.
“Let us go into my study,” Luten said. As Corinne was about to join them Evans entered with a note from one of her colleagues on the Orphans’ Ball committee.
“The footman is waiting for a reply, madam,” Evans said, so she had to read it, sort out the pro’s and con’s of various suggestions in a way that would alienate the fewest number of members of the sub-committee on renting and decorating the hall, then write her reply.
“I paid a call on Ted Vickers,” Black said, as soon as the door was closed behind him. He felt like a Member of Parliament or a lord, standing chatting in Luten’s grand oak-lined office, with a desk as big as a dining table, and a chair like a throne behind it.
Luten sat down and waved Black into a chair by the desk. “Ted Vickers?” he said, frowning at the name, that sounded familiar, yet he couldn’t put a face to it.
“The fellow who rescued Sir Reginald the night he was attacked.”
“Ah, with the little fellow, his son, wasn’t it?”
“That’s right. Tommy, a wide-awake little rascal. I figured they’d know who was who at Long Acre, and since that’s where Sir Reginald was taken to be attacked, it seemed possible the roughians were from that area, or known there at least.”
Luten just shook his head. “I should have thought of that. And did you get a line on them?”
Black blushed happily. “It turns out there’s a whole nest of Frenchies working out of Long Acre. From the names I got at the Sheepwalk and their description, Ted figured he knew the lads. He didn’t know where they live, but he knew where they went to wet their whistles. An awful dive in Long Acre, it was. I don’t believe it has a proper name but thereabouts it’s called Bessy’s place. I dressed up in some old clothes I keep on hand for such occasions and went along. Took a hackney part way and walked the rest as I didn’t want to give them the notion I was worth robbing. I couldn’t swear it was the lads from the Sheepwalk for I didn’t get to see them when I was staying there, but the descriptions fit to a tee. One of them was called Henri. And to clinch it, Morgrave’s name came up.”
Luten was so excited he nearly jumped out of his chair. “I knew it! Damme, we’ve got to teach you French, Black.”
“Alas, they were speaking the bongjaw for the most part. I’ve been reading up on it since this case, and caught a few words. As luck would have it, they named places in English. They kept talking about Somers Town, and saying something that sounded like meenyouee.”
“Minuit — that’s midnight. Somers Town makes sense. It’s a large French community now. Many of the French emigrants have hired houses there. There’s a deal of construction going on in that district. The Duke of Bedford took me out there one day. He’s selling ground leases for new houses to be built. They’re clearing away trees and bushes at a great rate. Did they mention a day?” He rimed off the days of the week — lundi, mardi, mercredi, jeudi — ? “
“The days of the week are in the second chapter of my French grammar. It was joodi. Thursday, that’s today.”
“So tonight at midnight,” Luten said. “Well done, Black. I wonder what they have planned?”
“They were chattering like crows. My French isn’t good enough to follow what they were saying, but they were mighty pleased about it to judge by their crowing.”
“Then we’ll just have to go and find out. It’s a sizable place — acres and acres.”
“They mentioned Grays Inn Lane, if that helps pinpoint it. And something about a grand something, meaning big. It sounded like arbour.”
“It helps considerably, Black. Coming from Long Acre, they’ll turn north off High Holborn.” He went to a cabinet, drew out a map of London unfolded it on his desk top and studied the area. “There’s no arbour there, to my knowledge.”
“I could take a run out and look about, if it would help,” Black offered.
“A good idea. I doubt you’ll find an arbour, but you could scout around and see if you spot a likely meeting place. Somewhere private. I wonder if they’re meeting in a building or in the open. Since they mentioned an arbour, it sounds as if they plan to meet outdoors.”
“Being Frenchies, they might not know what an arbour is,” Black said uncertainly.”
“It is a broad term,” Luten said, frowning.
Black disliked to be less than omniscient, but was eager to learn just what he was looking for. “No telling what they might take it to mean, then,” he said, hoping for more details.
“Nowadays we usually mean some sort of covered walk, perhaps with a trellis and vines. It comes from the French for tree, l'arbre. I’ve heard my older relatives refer to a small planting of trees as an arbour. There is no large arbour there, but there might be some grouping of trees left standing.”
Black was eager to be off. “I’ll let you know what I find,” he said. “Should I take your plain black carriage?”
“Of course. Consider it for your own use until we get this matter solved, Black. I’ll let my stable keeper know he’s to send it to you when you call for it.”
“That might save time,” Black said, reigning in his euphoria. “I’ll report as soon as I get back.”
“Please do. I’ll let the others know we’ll need their help tonight.”
Corinne was frustrated to see Black leave before she could join him and Luten. As soon as she answered the note, she rushed to Luten’s study. He was just folding up a map. “What was Black’s news, Luten?” she asked.
He was ready for her. “Oh he spoke to Ted Vickers, the fellow who brought Prance home the night he was attacked. Vickers tells him he thinks the French have a hangout at Long Acre. Black’s going to look into it. We were just studying this map to see exactly where Prance was abducted. I’ve given him the use of my hunting carriage for the time being.”
“He’ll like that,” she said, pleased to see her old friend’s help being recognized in a way that would please him. She knew both Black and Luten well enough to suspect that their excitement had some bigger cause than Luten had told her. “Anything else?” she asked.
“That’s a good start,” he prevaricated, as he disliked lying to her, and rushed on to discuss how they could help Black after her house was rented.
She saw she was to learn nothing more from him and would have to keep her eyes open to discover what was going on.