Death In Hyde Park

CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

Charles put down The Times and stood as Kate came into the breakfast room at Sibley House. She was already dressed to go out, in a plain blue tweed walking suit. Her auburn hair was pulled back so severely that she looked rather like a Salvation Army worker. “Good morning, my dear,” he said, leaning forward to kiss her. “I hope I didn’t wake you last night when I came home. It was very late.”

“If you woke me, I must have gone straight back to sleep,” Kate replied with a little laugh. “Yesterday was a very long day. I was exhausted.” To Richards, she said, “Coffee, please.” As the butler poured her coffee, she went to the sideboard to help herself to eggs, bacon, and a slice of toast. Over her shoulder, she added, “Savidge was wonderful yesterday, Charles. He showed up Inspector Ashcraft for exactly what he is, a conniving trickster.” She turned. “You handled the fingerprints brilliantly.”

“Apparently the jury weren’t entirely impressed,” Charles said dryly. “Two of the three men were found guilty.”

Kate brought her plate back to the table and sat down, shaking her head. “It’s such a pity, Charles. I’m glad that Adam Gould was spared, of course, but it’s sad that the other two must suffer such a terrible injustice, and chiefly because they’re foreigners. That seems to be the only reason they weren’t acquitted. Isn’t there anything that can be done? An appeal, perhaps?”

“Actually, something has been done,” Charles said, with a chuckle. “A bit of escape artistry, worthy of the great Houdini.” He held up the newspaper.

Kate scanned the headline and gasped incredulously. “They got away?” She threw back her head and laughed with delight. “Now, that’s justice for you!”

“Poetic justice, if you ask me,” Charles said, folding the paper and putting it beside his empty plate. He picked up his coffee cup. “The law wouldn’t let them go, so they took the law into their own hands.”

Kate attacked her eggs. “How did it happen?”

“According to The Times, the van was on its way back to Holloway Prison, when both men suddenly shed their handcuffs, overpowered the guard who had been locked in with them, and knocked him senseless. When the van reached the prison, the rear doors were unlatched, the guard was unconscious, and the prisoners were gone. The guard was not seriously injured, but he wasn’t able, apparently, to provide any useful information about the escape. The Times says that the police are seeking a Russian girl.”

Kate looked up, her eyes widening suddenly. “A Russian girl?”

Charles nodded. “It seems that she was involved in an odd commotion that occured in the yard outside the Old Bailey, when the men were being put into the van. The police are speculating that she managed somehow to get her hands on the keys and pass them to one of the prisoners. They’re questioning the guards.”

Kate leaned forward, her eyes intent. “Charles, that Russian girl-she was Charlotte Conway!”

Charles stared at her. He could feel his jaw dropping. “You saw what happened?”

“Not exactly.” Kate sat back, picked up her toast, and began to spoon marmalade on it. “Nellie Lovelace and I were standing on the steps outside the courtroom after the verdict was announced, trying to hail a cab. Adam came out and stood on the steps, not far away. We saw him at the same moment that he saw a Russian girl in the crowd and began to call Lottie’s name. Then he rushed down the steps after her. She was headed in the direction of the Old Bailey yard.”

Charles’s lips tightened. “You’re saying that Adam Gould was involved in the escape?” If true, that was unfortunate. He could be charged with rendering aid to escaping convicts, and this time, Savidge probably wouldn’t be able to get him off.

“Not Adam,” Kate said, shaking her head. “He couldn’t catch up to the girl. The sidewalk was very crowded, and she had a head start.” She looked at him over the rim of her coffee cup, her eyes twinkling mischievously. “But someone else may have been involved in the escape-someone we both know.”

Charles regarded her. He wished that Kate wouldn’t play guessing games. “Who?”

Kate put down her cup. “Jack London.”

“I don’t believe it,” Charles said firmly. “Why would Jack London be involved in an escape attempt? This matter has nothing to do with him.”

“Oh, yes, it does,” Kate said, half-smiling. She had the air of someone who is deliberately spinning out a mystery and loving every moment of it. “He’s in love with Charlotte Conway.”

Sometimes his wife was almost maddening, Charles thought. He put his hand on her arm. “Enough, Kate,” he said sternly. “Don’t make things up. Tell me what you know. Tell me the facts.”

She wrinkled her nose at him. “There aren’t any facts, my dear. In something like this, there are only guesses and suppositions.”

“Blast,” Charles said softly. That’s what he got for marrying a novelist. He sighed and capitulated. “All right, Kate. Tell me your suppositions.”

“They aren’t all mine-but I’ll try. Nellie Lovelace supposes that she is carrying Jack London’s child. Last night, as we stood on the steps, she saw Charlotte, dressed as a Russian girl, and London with her. She supposes that the two are staying together, in London ’s room in the East End. She also supposes that London is in love with Charlotte, because he spoke of her with great admiration. He seemed to be quite enchanted with her, according to Nellie.” She paused. “Now, hearing your tale about the escape, I’m guessing that Charlotte Conway and Jack London somehow worked together to free those men.” She smiled regretfully. “No facts, I’m afraid. Only suppositions and guesses.”

Charles swallowed, hardly knowing where to begin. “Nellie Lovelace is carrying Jack London’s child?”

“She’s not sure,” Kate said quickly. “And she told me in confidence, so perhaps I shouldn’t have told you. But it does explain why she wants so desperately to talk to Lottie.” She glanced down at the gold watch on her lapel, pushed back her chair, and stood up. “I must leave now, Charles. I promised to pick Nellie up in half an hour, so we can go to the East End and look for Lottie.”

“The East End.” Charles frowned. “Is that why you’re dressed like a Salvation Army matron?”

“Exactly,” Kate said. “And if I’m late, I’m afraid Nellie will go charging off on her own, without me.” She bent over and kissed him. “I hope you have a good day, my very dear.”

Charles stared at her departing back. “More coffee, Richards,” he said at last. “Black, please.”

Richards’s sniff, he could have sworn, was sympathetic.