Gideon nodded. “Unless I’m very much mistaken, Jamie, Naomi is being held for ransom. And the ransom price is those two damnable little jewelled men!”
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
Simon Lutonville, the Earl of Collington, ran in most undignified fashion to the open front door of his London mansion as the three lathered teams came at the gallop around the corner from the Strand and lurched to a halt at the kennel.
His face set and grim, Rossiter sprang from the leading coach without waiting for the steps to be let down, and was first to reach the earl.
“You’ve heard what happened, sir?”
“Aye, and unable to move a muscle ’til you saw fit to come here, blast you!”
The earl looked wild and distraught as he took in the small crowd assembling on his doorstep. “Who the devil are all these people? Oh, it’s you, Glendenning. Well, come in. I collect you’re all aware of this damnable business!”
They followed him inside, the doctor still clutching his bag. Leading the way to his study, Collington said in a voice harsh with strain, “I demand to know why my daughter should be held to ransom because of some havey-cavey affair involvingyou,Rossiter! I told her to keep clear of you! God knows, I warned her that your entire family is an unmitigated disaster! Had she but—”
Rossiter broke into the hysterical tirade with a sharp, “My lord, we have time only to find a way to free Naomi. I beg that you will tell us what you know of it.”
Collington stared at him in shocked fashion for an instant, then drew a hand across his mouth. His eyes closed, and he swayed a little. Morris jumped to steady him, and Dr. Lockhart ran forward and helped guide him to a chair. Rossiter went to a credenza where was a tray with decanter and glasses. He poured a generous amount of brandy and hurried to thrust the glass at the doctor.
“Oh, very good,” said the little man. “Take some of this, my lord.”
Collington sipped, sighed, and appeared to recover somewhat. He blinked up at them, and muttered in bewilderment, “The deuce! You’re all mud, Falcon!”
“Sir,” said Rossiter, seething with impatience. “Naomi…”
The earl’s hand jolted. “Lord! What am I thinking of? There—on my desk!”
Falcon was closest, and snatched up a grubby sheet of paper. He read aloud:
Collington:
Lady Lutonville will be released when Gideon Rossiter returns the two icons he stole. Alone, and at the earliest possible moment, he must bring the icons to the Duck and Mermaid Inn, which lies one mile south of Gravesend, on the Maidstone Road. When he arrives, he will go to the room which has been reserved in his name, and there await instructions.
If you fail to persuade him to this, or if anyone follows, or accompanies him to the inn, you must accept full responsibility for the result.
It has been necessary to confine your daughter in an old house which is in exceeding poor condition. ’Tis remarkable that it has not yet burned down. It could catch fire at any minute.
How sad if such a rare beauty should meet so tragic an end.
I trust it is unnecessary to warn you that any attempt to contact the authorities will be fatal. For the lady.
There will be no further communication.
You have until midnight, Sunday.
Through a moment of total silence Rossiter stood perfectly still, his face a white enigmatic mask.
Collington rasped, “Well, sir? Well? I hope you know what ’tis all about, for by the Lord Harry—I do not! Where are these icons you stole? And what d’you mean to do about it?”
As one in a dream, Rossiter reached out. Falcon handed him the sheet of paper and Rossiter scanned it, noting the crude printing, the lack of any direction or signature. He folded it neatly and deliberately, but they all saw his hand tremble.
“I mean to find her, sir,” he said.
Collington snatched the letter and brandished it wildly. “Damme, sir! I demand to be told—”
Already striding from the room, Rossiter flung over his shoulder, “The moment I learn anything, you will be informed, sir.”
Following him, Morris asked quietly, “Derrydene’s, Ross?”
