“Blister it!” exclaimed Sir Mark. “Then you were right all the time, Gideon! That confounded chess piece reallywasconnected with my troubles!”
The general said kindly, “And your troubles are over, Rossiter. I make no doubt the Lord Chancellor’s committee will exonerate you of all blame!”
***
General Underhill’s predictions about the meeting of the Lord Chancellor’s committee proved entirely accurate. The meeting became chaotic when Derrydene’s suicide was made known and his confession was read aloud. Sir Mark Rossiter was acquitted, and commended for his desperate efforts to rectify matters. He stood up, impressive as always, even in a sober habit of brown and gold. With the help of the Horse Guards, he announced, Samuel Davies, the embezzler, had been traced to an island off the coast of Spain and there was every hope that a large part of the funds would be recovered. There were cheers at this, and more cheers when he declared his intention of using the money to repay his investors at seventeen shillings to the guinea, and that the remainder would go towards reopening the shipyard.
At the impromptu celebration that followed the meeting, Newby, somewhat subdued but still trying, had several suggestions by which his father might better use the funds, if they were indeed recovered. Rossiter Court on Conduit Street must be reclaimed. Promontory Point must be renovated and improved and the ornamental water—
Sir Mark interrupted brusquely, “I have sold Promontory Point.”
As stunned as his brother, Gideon stammered, “But—but, sir, it has been in our family for centuries!”
“Aye. And as my heir, you doubtless feel I should have consulted you.” Sir Mark clapped him on the back. “My boy, you’ve done well, and I’ll not again make the mistake of supposing you’ve no head for business. However, Bracksby has made a most generous offer for the Point, and with the funds we can restore the shipyard and put our people back to work. I believe Bracksby only makes the purchase to oblige me, and the good-hearted fellow promises to sell back the estate should I feel able to take it on again—which I certainly shall do. With the help of you two young rascals.”
He smiled kindly at his younger son. “You are agreeable, I presume?”
“Oh—as you say, sir,” said Newby, hollowly.
“Meanwhile,” Sir Mark added with a twinkle, “I am not such a dunce as to be unaware of your hopes, Gideon. You mean to wed your beautiful lady and spend as much time as possible down at Emerald Farm. Shall she object, do you fancy?”
“I sincerely hope not, sir.”
“Well,” said Sir Mark expansively, “you have my blessing. I doubt Collington can object, in view of all you’ve done for him, but you shall wish to seek him out and get his approval, of course.”
Plagued by the guilty awareness of how differently his father would react if he knew the whole story, Gideon mumbled, “Yes—er, of course, sir.”
“Only look at him,” laughed Sir Mark. “Blushing like a schoolboy!”
***
General Underhill looked up from the small pile of papers on his desk, then passed them to the stocky major who was his aide. The major began to leaf through the documents. Underhill scrutinized the young officer who stood at rigid attention before his desk, shoulders pulled back, head high and proud, eyes steady but unreadable.
“’Twas my thought,” murmured the general, “that you planned to wed Lady Lutonville.”
Gideon answered, “Such is my intention, sir.”
“And is she aware of this report you have handed me?”
“It is my hope, General, that she may never be aware of the matter in its entirety.”
The general put up his brows, but made no comment, turning his attention to the three young men who stood just behind Captain Rossiter. Dispensing with the first two, he said, “Glendenning, I have been acquainted with your father any time these thirty years. Is Bowers-Malden party to your—suspicions?”
Lord Horatio shook his head. “Captain Rossiter has asked that we keep it as close as possible, sir.”
“He has reason, belike.” The general’s eyes flickered over Falcon and settled on Morris. “You served with distinction, Lieutenant. Are you by chance of the Cornwall Morrises?”
“My father’s cousin, sir.”
Underhill nodded, left his chair, and took a turn about the room. Three of the men exchanged grim glances; Falcon merely looked bored.
“You will permit that I make quite sure I’ve a correct understanding of Captain Rossiter’s report,” said Underhill, hands loosely clasped behind him. “’Tis your—ah,sharedbelief that a group of conspirators, led by some nebulous person called the Squire, threatens England. Unhappily, you do not know the precise nature of this alleged threat, nor when or where it is to be realised. Nor do you know the identity of this—ah, Squire person. Am I correct thus far?”
Gideon said, “Quite correct, General.”
“Thank you. You base your suspicions upon two jewelled miniature figures, now vanished; some references to—ah, the letterS;and the number—six. Weknowthat the late Sir Louis Derrydene used such miniatures for identification purposes while engaging in his intrigues. But you tell me this sinister individual called the Squire also uses these miniatures for some—ah, unknown, but presumably diabolical purpose. Derrydene, you say, is not the Squire.” He paused with an apologetic smile. “Pray interrupt me an I make a mis-step while trying to find a way through all these—ah, tangled threads?”
Gideon’s jaw tightened. “Yes, sir.”
