Death At Epsom Downs

Charles spent the better part of an hour that evening writing a careful and fully detailed report to Admiral Owen North. When it was done, he sat for a long time thinking about the implications of what he had written, about what should happen next, and about what was likely to happen next. At last, with an ironic twist to his mouth, he sealed the envelope and sent it by Mrs. Hardaway’s boy to the Jockey Club, where North was staying. That done, he and Kate, with Jack Murray, adjourned to the Stag Hotel for a passable dinner and a bottle of champagne, after which he and Kate retired alone to Hardaway House for their first private evening together in several days. It was a renewing respite that both of them cherished.

The next morning, their companionable breakfast was interrupted by a knock at the door and a message from the admiral: North had summoned both Charles and Kate to a meeting at the Jockey Club at eleven o’clock. Charles was not surprised, for he had expected to be called for a discussion of his report, nor was he surprised that the invitation included Kate, as well. By obtaining the physical evidence and by contributing what she had overheard of the conversation between Henry Radwick and Lillie Langtry, she had played a material role in the solution of the crime, and she knew as much as he and Murray knew about what had happened. Yes, of course she would be summoned.

Nor was Charles surprised when he and Kate entered North’s office at the Club an hour later to find there, not just Admiral North and Jack Murray, but another man, as well, seated in the admiral’s usual chair behind the desk: a supremely stout, gray-bearded man who graciously inclined his head as Kate made a deep curtsy and Charles bowed.

“Your Royal Highness,” Charles murmured.

“Please sit down,” the Prince said, gesturing to a trio of chairs in front of the desk, where Murray was already seated. Charles and Kate took their seats, Charles feeling like a schoolboy called before the headmaster for a reprimand. He crossed his legs, leaned back, and waited.

After a moment, the Prince of Wales took the cigar out of his mouth. “Well, then,” he said, in his gruff, Germanic accent, “I understand that you have been playing the detective again. And very successfully, I must say. I have read your report, Sheridan. I am quite impressed.” He looked from Charles to Kate to Jack Murray. “Quite impressed, both with your logical arguments and with the evidence you have assembled to support your accusation of Mr. Henry Radwick.” He flicked his cigar ash into North’s ashtray. “Fingerprints, ballistics, blackmail letter. Quite a barrage of evidence.” He looked at Owen North. “What do you say to that, North? Aren’t you impressed?”

“Oh, yes,” North said hastily. “Oh, yes, indeed. Lord Sheridan and Mr. Murray have given us all the information we could have wished, Your Highness.”

And somewhat more, Charles thought ironically. “Thank you,” he said.

“Well, now.” The Prince looked once again at Murray, then at Charles. “I am told that the Newmarket constabulary have not been involved in any way in this investigation. Is that correct, gentlemen?”

“Not entirely, sir,” Charles said. “I took the liberty of asking Chief Constable Watson to provide interim private lodging in the Newmarket jail for Mr. Baggs. I did not, however, inform the chief constable of the reason for my request.”

“Ah,” the Prince said gruffly. “Mr. Baggs is the unfortunate eyewitness?”

“That is correct, sir,” Charles said. “When Mr. Murray and I located him in Newnham, his valise was packed and he was preparing to leave for America. He was planning to take up a new line of work there.”

“Very good, very good,” the Prince said approvingly. He turned to North. “If Mr. Baggs has not yet purchased his boat ticket, Owen, see that he has one, will you? You might arrange to have him escorted to his departure point. And slip him a few pounds to help him begin his new career.”

“Yes, sir,” North said.

The Prince frowned. “Oh, and I should think you might want to have a word or two with him yourself, to be sure that he understands the situation.”

“Of course, sir. I shall, sir.”

Kate was leaning forward, frowning. “I’m not sure that I quite understand, Your Highness. Mr. Baggs is leaving the country? But what about his testimony at the trial? What about-”

“Yes, my dear,” the Prince replied with a smile. His tone was condescending, as if he were speaking to a child. “Mr. Baggs will find it advantageous to pursue his original plan. It might be… awkward if he were to stay.”

“I take it, then,” Charles said ironically, “that there’s no point in sending the chief constable round for Mr. Radwick?”

The Prince turned to North. “I believe that’s the case, is it not, Owen?”

“Right, sir,” the admiral said. “According to my information, Radwick was to have left before dawn this morning.” He looked directly at Kate. “Urgent business, your ladyship. In South America.”

The Prince regarded his cigar. “The Argentine, is it, Owen?”

“I believe so, sir. Some quite rural area, as I understand it.”

“ Argentina,” the Prince said thoughtfully. “Always wanted to go there myself. Hear that they have some fine shooting in Argentina. Emu, or is it rhea? I forget.” He looked at Charles. “Speaking of shooting, you did bring the gun with you, I trust?”

“Yes, sir,” Charles said. He took the handkerchief-wrapped gun out of his pocket and placed it on the desk. The Prince picked it up and looked at it with a distasteful frown.

“I shall return it to Mrs. Langtry myself,” he said. “For some time, I have wanted an opportunity to caution her about her tendency to become involved with persons of low repute.” He pursed his lips and exhaled a round O of blue cigar smoke. “You did telephone Suggie de Bathe in London, did you not, Owen?”

“I did, sir,” North said. “He asked me to tell you that he would be able to reach Regal Lodge by teatime.”

“Good.” The Prince frowned. “Does he understand what is wanted?”

“I believe so, sir,” North said. He coughed. “Unfortunately, he anticipates that his father will be upset by the marriage. He rather hopes that you-”

“I’ll speak to old Lord de Bathe myself,” the Prince said. “I’m sure I can bring him around. And I’ll speak to Lillie about her association with those Americans.” The frown became a scowl. “Wishard and Clark are the worst, if you ask me. The stewards ought to think about doing something, Owen. Not this year, perhaps, for we don’t want to call too much attention to the matter. But the next, or the year after that. If we don’t do something, the Americans will rob us all blind.”

“Of course, sir,” North said reassuringly. “We’re working on it, sir.”

“And I’ll have a word with Squire Mannington about his objection. I’m sure he can be persuaded to see reason.” The Prince put the derringer down on the desk and looked at Charles and Kate. “One might think,” he said in a conversational tone, “that I have used my influence to enable a guilty man to escape the consequences of his actions. However, I assure you that Mr. Radwick’s lifetime exile from England is a punishment far greater than any that might have been meted out by our courts. Especially when you consider that he has been forced to leave his fortune behind.”

“As you say, sir,” Charles said dryly. Beside him, Kate was angrily straining to hold her tongue. At the other end of the row, Murray was muttering something he could not quite catch.

The Prince stood and looked sternly down his nose. “I trust that I have your word that you will not speak with anyone else about what has transpired in the past few days.” He turned his gaze directly upon Kate. “I am very much afraid that I shall require Beryl Bardwell’s word on that as well, Lady Charles. I should not like to pick up Blackwell’s magazine and read a story entitled ‘Death at Newmarket.’ ” He smiled gravely. “I know the importance you Americans place on the freedom of your speech. However, now that you have married into one of the most aristocratic of our British families, I’m sure you have noticed that an obligation to Her Majesty places limits on her subjects’ abilities to speak and act as they might like.”

“Indeed I have noticed it, Your Highness,” Kate said. Charles winced at her defiantly sardonic tone, but the Prince did not seem to hear it.

“Very good, then,” he said. He picked up the gun and dropped it into his pocket, glancing at the clock. “Now, if you will excuse me, I am off to Regal Lodge for luncheon with Mrs. Langtry. Good day, gentlemen. Good day, Lady Charles.”

“Good day, sir,” they echoed dutifully.

When the Prince had left, there was a long silence. Finally, Kate said something, half to herself. Charles looked questioningly at her. Owen North said, “I’m sorry, Lady Charles. I didn’t quite catch that. What did you say?”

Kate lifted her chin. “I said,” she replied distinctly, ‘What need we fear who knows it, when none can call our power to account?’ ”