Collington said anxiously, “and then you will give them their accursed icons? You’ll not leave it too late?”
“We’ll be back in time. I promise you, sir.”
They hurried out to where a boy was walking their horses. Gideon tossed the boy a shilling, and they mounted up and made their perilous way down the hill.
Morris said, “’Tis my thought you should have told Collington the truth, Ross. He’s a right to know you do not have those jewelled thingummys. And what in the name of creation was all that about Tummet’s daughter?”
“My intrepid valet.” Gideon’s eyes blazed with excitement. “God love the man, he was trying to tell me something!”
“Trying to tell you something? Then why the deuce didn’t he spit it out? Your ear was not a yard from his lips, and—”
“And there were other ears as close. No, do not ask me who put Tummet into a quake, but someone did. If ever a man tried to speak with his eyes! He was at his rhyming slang again!”
“But he didn’tsayanything! Only that you must go—quick. And something about—”
“About hisdaughter,Jamie! Tummethasno wife, and no daughter!”
“Yes, he has! You said yourself the poor girl has a inflammation of—”
“You great gudgeon! I said that only to stop you from remarking that you didn’t know hehada daughter. Tummet recognized someone in that hall, I tell you, and I’ve a damned good notion—” He checked, frowning. “Well, it must wait. For now, what we’ve to do is discover what rhymes with ‘daughter.’”
Shaking his head in perplexity, Morris tried to be of help. “Slaughter. Bought her. Shorter—”
“‘Shorter!’ Jove! Then if ‘pill’ were to become ‘hill’…”
“Shorter Hill! Isay! That’s jolly clever! Out near Wimbledon Village, as I recall. And ain’t there an old abbey on that same hill?”
“There is indeed! And ’tis nigh half past three! Ride, Jamie! Ride!”
Ride they did, racing down the rest of the hill in the teeth of the wind; eastward into the city, past St. Paul’s with a thunder of hooves and cloaks flying out behind them, on at the gallop until they reached the mighty River Thames and were threading their way through the traffic on London Bridge. They had of necessity to slow then, and Morris asked breathlessly, “What d’you mean to do, Ross? ’Tis pretty open country, save for the abbey.”
“Aye, and that’s where they must have her, Jamie! Hopefully, they won’t be expecting us. We can keep in the trees until we come to the base of the hill, and perhaps we will catch some sight of the bastards. Once we’re sure, you can ride for the Watch, whilst I—”
“Devil I will! Think you’re to have all the fun? Come on!”
They were off the bridge then, and again the wild gallop, the angry shouts of affronted fellow travellers, the endless pound of hooves, the blustering wind that was so irksome, but Gideon was as a man reborn now, his eyes alight with eagerness and hope burgeoning in his heart.
South and west they rode now, the traffic easing when they left the crowded city streets and came into open country. They were near the village of Wimbledon when they came within sight of Shorter Hill and by mutual accord reined to a halt. The ancient abbey no longer rose in bleak dignity against the sky. It had ceased to be, and all that remained was a scattered pile of rubble. Staring at that forlorn relic of a once great building, Morris whispered, “Oh—deuce take it!”
Rossiter said nothing and scarcely daring to glance at him, Morris saw that the white line was about his mouth again, and the little pulse had reappeared beside his jaw. ‘Poor old fellow,’ he thought. And he called to three boys who were playing among the stone blocks.
They ran over, their hair wind tossed, their cheeks rosy, bright eyes full of awed expectation as they took in the two dashing young men with swords at their sides and pistols in the saddle holsters.
Rossiter asked, “What happened here, lads? Did it burn?”
“Nay, sir,” said the taller of the boys. “’Twere the big gale a year ago last fortnight. Wuss’n this one, it were.”
The second boy contributed eagerly, “Me dad says as the abbey were too old to stand up under the gusts any longer. Hunders o’ years it been pounded at.”
Not to be outdone, the smallest boy piped, “It all come down in a rush, it did, sir. Bang! Thump! Crash! Just like that!”
Morris thanked them, and tossed some coins and they scrambled joyously for the prize.
In silence the two men dismounted to rest the horses. Rossiter’s shoulders slumped for a moment, and he drew a hand across his eyes. What a fool, to have been so sure, to have counted the victory almost won. And how shattering the disappointment. He took out his watch. They had ridden hard, but it was already twelve minutes past the four o’clock limit he had set.
“Well,” he said slowly. “We made a mistake, Jamie. It must not have meant Shorter Hill, after all.”
“Perhaps,” said Morris, deeply troubled, “poor old Tummet really has got a daughter. We must get back, Ross.”
