Too Many Magicians

CHAPTER 23

Forty minutes later, Lord Bontriomphe looked over his shorthand notes and nodded thoughtfully. “That winds it up,” he said. “That covers everything.”

Commander Lord Ashley was gone, to be escorted to the Tower by Chief Hennely and a squad of Armsmen. The Court of Inquiry had been officially adjourned.

My lord the Marquis surveyed the room and then looked at Lord Darcy. “Except for a few minor details in what was said, you gave us the story of Ashley’s activities quite accurately. Satisfactory. I might say, most satisfactory.” He looked around at the others, “Does anyone have any questions?”

“I have a question,” said Sir Lyon Gandolphus Grey. He looked at Lord Darcy. “If I may, my lord, I should like to know why you were sure that there was no direct link between Master Ewen MacAlister and Commander Lord Ashley.”

Lord Darcy smiled. “I couldn’t be absolutely certain, of course, Sir Lyon. But it seemed most probable. Master Ewen was doing his best to get the Damoselle Tia to worm the secret out of Sir Thomas Leseaux. Would he have tried so hard if he had known that Lord Ashley was willing to sell it? Or, rather, claimed he had it to sell? That would have been much simpler than trying to get a stubborn child to betray everything she loved.”

“But how did you know she wasn’t a willing spy?” Sir Thomas asked.

“There were several reasons,” said Lord Darcy. “Of course, ecclesiastical commissions had twice given her a clean bill, but there were other indications. She had gone to Sir James and argued with him, and that was hardly the behavior of a spy. A spy would have acted immediately, not argued and walked out. And a well-trained spy does not — as Tia did — throw a note from one of her fellow agents into a wastebasket and forget about it. Also — while there was the possibility that the conversation in the Hound and Hare might have been an act put on for my benefit — the subsequent attempt to do away with her was a strong indication that it was not. Therefore, she had, as she said then, actually intended to tell everything to the King’s Officers.”

The Dowager Duchess of Cumberland said: “Ironic, isn’t it, that while all the Armsmen of London and half the Imperial Navy have been struggling to discover one man’s identity, that letter was actually here all the time, in that envelope.”

Lord Darcy reached out for the blue envelope on Lord Bontriomphe’s desk, where Captain Smollett had placed it. He held it up. “You mean this?” he asked rather apologetically. “I am afraid it wouldn’t have done us much good to look for that information here.”

“Why not?” the Dowager Duchess frowned. “Because of the spells?”

“Oh, no,” said Lord Darcy. “Because of the fact that this envelope and its contents did not exist until an hour or so ago.

“The handwriting, while a passable imitation of Georges Barbour’s, is actually my own. I had a chance to study Barbour’s hand thoroughly yesterday afternoon at the Admiralty Office.

“You see, I wanted Ashley’s confession. We actually had very little evidence. I knew what he had done, and how he had done it, by reasoned deduction. There is, of course, the evidence of the blood in his jacket pocket and in his sword sheath, but we couldn’t count on its being there. We needed more than that.

“So — this letter came into being. After all, you see, Ashley couldn’t have been certain that the information from Barbour had been sent to the hotel. Since I knew that he had opened the envelope from the hotel at his first opportunity, I also knew that what he found were blank sheets of paper. He had no way of being sure that those sheets had contained the information that was so dangerous to him.

“The letter was a necessary deception, I think — and if you will cast your mind back, Captain Smollett, you will recall that I did not once tell you that the letter had actually come from Barbour.”

“So you didn’t,” said Captain Smollett. “So you didn’t.”

“Well, my lords, Your Grace, gentlemen,” the Marquis de London said, “this has been a rather strenuous night. I suggest we can make the best use of what is left of it by getting some sleep.”

The eight guests left the Palace du Marquis in a body. With the exception of Captain Smollett, they were all headed for Carlyle House.

There had been still another guest present, Lord Darcy knew, a guest who would remain behind until the others had left.

Behind the Vandenbosch reproduction in My Lord Marquis’ office was a sliding panel, and beyond that a small alcove. When the panel was open, anyone sitting in that darkened alcove could see through the cloth of the painting and observe and hear everything that took place.

Only the Marquis, Lord Bontriomphe, and Lord Darcy had known that someone had been in that alcove during the official inquiry which had resulted in the arrest of a killer, but it was not until some two months later, in Rouen, that Lord Darcy heard anything further from that hidden observer.

A package was delivered to Lord Darcy’s residence by a King’s Messenger. It was not a large package, but it was fairly heavy. There was a note with it which read:

Inside the box lay what was probably MacGregor’s finest creation: a handcrafted, man-stopping, .40 caliber handgun. The gold and enamel work on it made it as beautiful as it was deadly. On both sides of the butt, in hard enamel, were Lord Darcy’s personal arms: Ermine, on a fess gules, a lion passant gardant or. In the golden tracery work surrounding the shield were the lions of England and the lilies of France.