Part 72 (1/2)
At that moment, in Mortimer Babbacombe's lodgings in Great Portland Street, a meeting was getting underway.
”Well--did you learn anything to the point?” Joliffe, no longer the nattily attired gentleman who had first befriended Mortimer, snarled the question the instant Brawn ambled through the door. Heavy-eyed from lack of sleep, his colour' high from the liquor he had Consumed to calm his nerves, Joliffe fixed his most junior accomplice with a dangerous stare.
Brawn was too young to heed it. Dropping into a chair at the parlour table about which Joliffe, Mortimer and Scrugthorpe were already seated, he grinned. ”Aye--I learned a ~bit, Chatted up the young maid--no morn a bit of a thifig. She told me a few things before that groom--yeller-haired lot--came and fetched her off. Heard him giving her what for 'bout talking to strangers, so I don't think I'll get any more by that road.”
Brawn grinned.
”Pity--wouldn't ha' minded--' ” d.a.m.n you--get on! ”
Joliffe roared, his fist connecting with the table with enough force to set the tankards j urn ping
”What the devil happened?”
Brawn shot him a look more puzzled than frightened. ”Well--the lady did go off to the country that day--just like you'd planned. But seemingly she went to some other house--a place called Lester Hall. The whole household went up the next day--the maid said as she thought it'd been planned.”
”d.a.m.n? Joliffe swilled back a mouthful of porter.
”No wonder I couldn't get any of the crew who'd gone up to Astericy to say they'd seen her. I thought they must've been practising discretion--but the d.a.m.ned woman hadn't gone?
”Seems not.” Brawn shrugged.
”So what now?”
”Now we stop playing and kidnap her.” Scrugthorpe lifted his face from his tankard.
”Like I said from the first. It's the only way of being sure--all this trying to get the rakes to do our job for us has got us precisely nowhere.”
He spat the last word, his contempt bordering on the open.
Joliffe held his eye; eventually, Scrugthorpe looked back at his mug.
”That's what I say, anyway,” Scrugthorpe mumbled as he took another swallow.
”Hmm.” Joliffe grimaced.
”I'm beginning to agree with you. It looks like we'll have to take an active hand ourselves.”
”But ... I thought...” Mortimer's first contribution to the conversation died away as both Joliffe and Scrugthorpe turned to look at him.
”Ye-es?” Joliffe prompted.
Mortimer's colour rose. He put a finger to his cravat, tugging at the floppy folds.
”It's just that ... well--if we do do anything direct--well--won't she know?”
Joliffe's lip curled.
”Of course she will--but that's not to say she'll be in any hurry to denounce us--not after Scrugthorpe here has his revenge.”
”Aye.” Scrugthorpe's black eyes gleamed.