Gideon leaned back in the chair in the small office, and watched General Underhill narrowly. Had he met the man on the street and in civilian dress, he’d have taken him for a haberdasher, or an apothecary perhaps. Certainly he’d never have suspected him to be a general, a man who had seen extensive active service, and who was reputed to be a splendid tactician. Of medium height, slight stature and quiet voice, he was almost timid in his manner, quite cast into the shade, thought Gideon, by Sir Mark, who was seated nearby.
It had been a peremptory summons, and the general began by apologizing for bringing them to Whitehall at such a scrambling rate. “It was necessary, gentlemen,” he said, smiling. “In view of the shocking kidnapping of Lady Lutonville, and because of a most unexpected event that will, I feel sure, greatly influence the Lord Chancellor’s committee meeting tomorrow.”
“Eh?” said Sir Mark, hopefully. “Have you been able to learn something, Sam? Jove, but you’re a good fellow!”
The general raised his hands. “No, no. Really, you must not give me credit. Your son is responsible, I believe. It has to do with Sir Louis Derrydene. I must tell you that the poor fellow has shot himself!”
“The deuce he has!” cried Sir Mark, leaping to his feet.
Gideon could see Collington’s handsome face and hear him saying, “Poor Derrydene will pay for that bungle.” He felt chilled, and asked, “When?”
The general looked at him sharply. “Well, you’re a cool customer, I must say. We believe ’twas early Saturday morning.”
“Do you say,” said Sir Mark, incredulous, “that Lady Derrydene drove away from that house, well knowing her husband lay dead inside? No, no! I cannot credit she would be so heartless.”
Gideon said thoughtfully, “We were given to understand he had gone with her. They wanted us to think that, of course.”
“I’ll wager he was alive when she left,” persisted Sir Mark. “Likely, he said he would follow her later.”
“Very probable,” said the general. “At all events, he left a letter. A full confession, my dear Rossiter! Admitting—in fact, boasting—that he planned and contrived the collapse of your financial empire; that he engineered the run on the bank, the loans that were not made good, the embezzlement. The fire at your shipyard was by his order, also!”
“Stap and split me!” gasped Sir Mark, sinking into his chair again. “How the man must have hated me!”
Thinking a great deal, Gideon frowned and was silent.
“The important thing is that you are exonerated,” said the general. “The committee will have no choice but to find you blameless!”
Overcome, Sir Mark put a hand over his eyes, and could not speak.
Underhill said, “Well? Well, Captain Rossiter? You say nothing!”
“I am delighted, of course, sir. But the complexity of it all baffles me. Is the general aware that I found one of the jewelled men at Derrydene’s home? Are we to infer that he himself was the wealthy collector? And that he engineered Lady Lutonville’s kidnapping? An odd coincidence if the two affairs are not connected.”
“An odd coincidence indeed, were it such a thing.” Underhill explained, “Your father was correct in believing this to have been a most fiendish plot, Captain Rossiter. Derrydene’s confession indicates a violent resentment of Sir Mark’s successes, and rage that he was not acknowledged as being the true genius behind the scenes.”
“Of course he was not,” inserted Sir Mark, recovering himself. “Since that was not the case!”
“He did hint a possibly more—er, compelling motive. He appears to have believed you were—ah, engaged in anaffaire de coeurwith his wife.”
Glancing at his father, astonished, Gideon saw the fine face redden.
Underhill grinned. “At all events, I fancy brooding and imagination did the rest, and bred a seething hatred; a desire for revenge that built until Derrydene could no longer control it. He had evidently thought his triumph complete until Captain Rossiter began to stir things up again. He likely realized that with the passage of time heads were cooler, and another investigation could spell disaster. He tried to frighten you off, Captain, with the attack on you. When that didn’t work, your coach was tampered with.”
Gideon said grimly, “Had that pole snapped a minute or two earlier, I would have been out of his way. And Lady Lutonville, also!”
Puzzling at it, Sir Mark muttered, “I fail to understand. Newby and I did our possible to come at the root of the business. We hired investigators, we brought in Bow Street and the Watch, and Derrydene was not disturbed. What did Gideon manage that we did not?”
‘A home question,’ thought Gideon, and waited to see what the general would offer in reply.
Underhill linked his hands on the desk and said thoughtfully, “I think, firstly, he captured the public interest. Much as your family was held in abhorrence, Sir Mark, here is a fine young officer come home from the war having been badly wounded. That he had to face such shocking news, and was at once attacked and villified, caused a stirring of sympathy—the British tendency to side with the underdog. From there ’twas a short step for people to wonder if there might be something to what you had claimed, after all.”
Gideon stared at him. “No, really sir, you cannot think that was sufficient to cause him to—”
The general raised a hand. “He likely did not realize you actually suspected him until you broke into his house. The papers you stole may or may not have proven sufficiently damning to warrant another investigation. However, by a quirk of fate that must have infuriated him, you had no sooner set foot in England than you came into possession of a key article. An item he had to retrieve at all costs.”
“The jewelled man,” exclaimed Gideon. “That is what forced their—his hand!”
“Exactly so. In his confession, which is lengthy, Derrydene admits that he employed many men in his schemes to destroy your father, but the risk of blackmail was great, so he sent his instructions out by way of a trusted accomplice—a servant of a friend apparently, although he does not name the man. The accomplice had in turn to protect himself, so the instructions were delivered after dark, and the accomplice went masked, and always carried one of the jewelled men to prove his identity. You can imagine Derrydene’s consternation when a figure was lost. If it fell into the wrong hands no end of mischief could result.”
