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Authors: Edward Marston
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said Huckvale.
‘No, Jem, to do that he’d have to admit that he was behind the ruse.’
‘Micah Yeomans will never admit anything,’ warned Peter, ‘but secretly he must be fuming. He invested several pounds and all he got in return was a naked scoundrel, named Simon Medlow, whom we’ll arrest the next time we clap eyes on him.’
The three men laughed afresh at the Runner’s humiliation. Once again, it was Charlotte who offered a more detached appraisal of the situation.
‘Two things alarm me about last night’s escapade,’ she said, ‘so I’m unable to find any humour in it. First, we must remember that Peter and Paul escaped by clambering over the roofs of the other houses. Think how easy it would have been for one of them to fall to his death. It would have been far more sensible to stay away from that house altogether and leave them to realise that their wicked little scheme had been foiled.’
‘We needed to make that point more forcefully,’ said Peter.
‘Did you need to risk your life in doing so? Second,’ she continued, ‘your triumph is only temporary. Yes, you routed Micah Yeomans last night but you forget that he has friends in high places. If you taunt him, he can make life very difficult for all of us. Savour your victory, if you must,’ she said. ‘Yet be prepared for serious trouble from Mr Yeomans. Of one thing we can all be certain – he’ll be back.’
CHAPTER SEVEN
When he arrived at the Home Office that morning, Viscount Sidmouth inhaled the pleasing odour of fresh polish. Every desk, table and chair seemed to glow. The carpets had been straightened, windows cleaned, ornaments and picture frames dusted and the wastepaper baskets divested of their contents. It was as if a dozen necessary women had spent the night cleaning the place. Since it had fallen to Bernard Grocott to seek a replacement, Sidmouth went off to the undersecretary’s office to thank him. That, too, looked as if it had been given a complete overhaul. Grocott sat behind a desk that had neat piles of letters and documents on it. When he saw the Home Secretary enter, he rose to his feet.
‘Good morning, my lord.’
‘I come to sing your praises.’
‘That’s always reassuring to hear.’
‘You have excelled yourself, Grocott, and – given the impossibly high standards you maintain – that is in the nature of a phenomenon. Wherever did you find this creature?’
‘Levitt came to us by recommendation.’
‘Who whispered her name into your ear?’
‘To be candid,’ replied Grocott, ‘I can’t be entirely sure. I was talking to a group of friends at my club and bewailed the loss of our necessary woman. Someone – it may or may not have been Sir Roger Hollington – plucked the name of Ruth Levitt from his memory. Later that evening, a piece of paper was thrust into my hand bearing the details of how she could be contacted.’ He ventured a smile. ‘The result is what you see all around you.’
‘Yes,’ said Sidmouth, surveying the room, ‘she has waved her magic wand in here and in every other part of the building. Her industry is remarkable.’
‘The night watchmen told me that she didn’t leave the premises until four o’clock this morning.’
‘What time did she start work?’
‘The moment the place was empty, Levitt took over. She’s much quieter as a personality than Horner but has the same urge to please. There is no better way of doing that, of course, than by creating a good first impression.’
‘She has most certainly done that.’
‘It’s very gratifying.’
‘All credit must go to you.’
‘That’s overstating the case, my lord,’ said Grocott with a self-deprecating smile. ‘I had providential help.’
Sidmouth’s brow furrowed. ‘Now that we are back once more in an environment conducive to thought,’ he said, ‘we can confront some of the dilemmas that assail us. Chief among those is this wretched business at Dartmoor.’ He sucked his teeth.
‘No, Jem, to do that he’d have to admit that he was behind the ruse.’
‘Micah Yeomans will never admit anything,’ warned Peter, ‘but secretly he must be fuming. He invested several pounds and all he got in return was a naked scoundrel, named Simon Medlow, whom we’ll arrest the next time we clap eyes on him.’
The three men laughed afresh at the Runner’s humiliation. Once again, it was Charlotte who offered a more detached appraisal of the situation.
‘Two things alarm me about last night’s escapade,’ she said, ‘so I’m unable to find any humour in it. First, we must remember that Peter and Paul escaped by clambering over the roofs of the other houses. Think how easy it would have been for one of them to fall to his death. It would have been far more sensible to stay away from that house altogether and leave them to realise that their wicked little scheme had been foiled.’
‘We needed to make that point more forcefully,’ said Peter.
‘Did you need to risk your life in doing so? Second,’ she continued, ‘your triumph is only temporary. Yes, you routed Micah Yeomans last night but you forget that he has friends in high places. If you taunt him, he can make life very difficult for all of us. Savour your victory, if you must,’ she said. ‘Yet be prepared for serious trouble from Mr Yeomans. Of one thing we can all be certain – he’ll be back.’
CHAPTER SEVEN
When he arrived at the Home Office that morning, Viscount Sidmouth inhaled the pleasing odour of fresh polish. Every desk, table and chair seemed to glow. The carpets had been straightened, windows cleaned, ornaments and picture frames dusted and the wastepaper baskets divested of their contents. It was as if a dozen necessary women had spent the night cleaning the place. Since it had fallen to Bernard Grocott to seek a replacement, Sidmouth went off to the undersecretary’s office to thank him. That, too, looked as if it had been given a complete overhaul. Grocott sat behind a desk that had neat piles of letters and documents on it. When he saw the Home Secretary enter, he rose to his feet.
‘Good morning, my lord.’
‘I come to sing your praises.’
‘That’s always reassuring to hear.’
‘You have excelled yourself, Grocott, and – given the impossibly high standards you maintain – that is in the nature of a phenomenon. Wherever did you find this creature?’
‘Levitt came to us by recommendation.’
‘Who whispered her name into your ear?’
‘To be candid,’ replied Grocott, ‘I can’t be entirely sure. I was talking to a group of friends at my club and bewailed the loss of our necessary woman. Someone – it may or may not have been Sir Roger Hollington – plucked the name of Ruth Levitt from his memory. Later that evening, a piece of paper was thrust into my hand bearing the details of how she could be contacted.’ He ventured a smile. ‘The result is what you see all around you.’
‘Yes,’ said Sidmouth, surveying the room, ‘she has waved her magic wand in here and in every other part of the building. Her industry is remarkable.’
‘The night watchmen told me that she didn’t leave the premises until four o’clock this morning.’
‘What time did she start work?’
‘The moment the place was empty, Levitt took over. She’s much quieter as a personality than Horner but has the same urge to please. There is no better way of doing that, of course, than by creating a good first impression.’
‘She has most certainly done that.’
‘It’s very gratifying.’
‘All credit must go to you.’
‘That’s overstating the case, my lord,’ said Grocott with a self-deprecating smile. ‘I had providential help.’
Sidmouth’s brow furrowed. ‘Now that we are back once more in an environment conducive to thought,’ he said, ‘we can confront some of the dilemmas that assail us. Chief among those is this wretched business at Dartmoor.’ He sucked his teeth.
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