A Tall Dark Stranger Read online

  “It’s true,” Lollie insisted. “I’ve seen him in the shepherd’s hut with that pretty little upstairs maid of his. Sally something.”

  “Sally Semple is no better than she should be,” my aunt said at once.

  “No, and neither is Maitland.”

  After we got home, I mentioned to Lollie that Renshaw had found a blue ribbon in the shepherd’s hut.

  “There you are, then,” he said. “You stay away from Maitland, Amy. He ain’t interested in marriage.”

  “I’m hardly a servant. He wouldn’t do that sort of thing with a lady.”

  “Would he not? He does it with Mrs. Murray.”

  I gasped in amazement. “Not in the shepherd’s hut, surely!”

  But once I had considered the matter, I found it was mainly the location that stuck in my craw. The rest was not too difficult to believe. It was common gossip that Maitland was a bit of a rake and it was not completely a secret that Mrs. Murray was no better than she should be, though she usually confined her carrying on to London. But to think of that highly polished pair carrying on in an old sod hut really stretched the imagination. The announcement certainly dimmed the glow of Morris Maitland.

  “Why not? It’s a nice private place. I’ve seen her riding in Maitland’s meadow before now. When the water is down, I mean. Perhaps he invited her to look at his bluebells,” Lollie said with a sardonic grin. “But it’s usually his own servant girls I see him go there with.”

  “Well, I’ve never seen him, and I spend a good deal of time in the meadow. Oh, speaking of the meadow, Lollie, could you spare me an hour this afternoon? I’d like to continue my sketch of the monkeyflowers.”

  “We can go now, if you like. I’ll have a look at that shepherd’s hut and see if I can’t find some trace that Mrs. Murray was there. Then you’ll know I speak the truth.”

  “I shall just slip into an older gown. It won’t take me a moment.”

  Chapter Eight

  Within five minutes we were headed to the water meadow. I have always loved the meadow, but somehow I felt almost frightened when Lollie left to examine the shepherd’s hut and I was alone. The flowers weren’t in prime shape for sketching; their heads drooped with the weight of water from yesterday’s rain. A steady light plop sounded forlornly as water dripped from leaves into the pond below. My table rock was too damp to sit on comfortably, so I leaned against a tree and was promptly dowsed when a breeze stirred its branches. It made a shambles of my sketching pad as well.

  Since work was impossible, I decided to join Lollie at the shepherd’s hut. As I circled the water, I saw him coming out of the doorway. His face was paper white, his dark eyes staring. My heart shook with fear.

  “Not another body!” I gasped.

  He shook his head. “Money,” he said in a high, unnatural voice. “Whole bloody bags of it. There must be thousands of pounds in bank notes.”

  My heart slowed to a dull thud as I ran forward. “Where was it? Mr. Renshaw was in that hut recently. He didn’t mention seeing any money.”

  “It was buried beneath the straw.”

  Of course I had to see this marvel for myself. Lollie went with me. He had pulled the straw bed aside. Beneath it a hole had been dug and in it sat two canvas bags. They had leather straps and locks that had been sealed. The seals had been pried open. By the dim light from the doorway I saw stacks of new pound notes. Fives and tens. I couldn’t even begin to estimate how much money was there in all.

  “Those seals look official,” Lollie said. “I wager this was stolen from a bank or some such thing.”

  He took one bag to the doorway. The printing was hard to read, for the canvas was dark, but with careful examination we could make out the words “Property of the British Government.”

  “Egads! Someone has robbed the government!” Lollie said in a strangled squeak. “We’d best report it at once. You go, Amy. I’ll stay here and guard it.”

  “No, you come with me. You don’t even have a gun, Lollie. If the thief comes back after it, he’ll kill you.”

  “I’ll wager that is why poor Lord Harry was murdered!” Lollie exclaimed. “Odd that the money’s hidden on Maitland’s land.”

  “Come with me,” I urged again.

  “And let him get clean away with it? I should say not! I’ll hide if I hear anyone coming. In fact, if Maitland comes for his stolen blunt, I’ll follow him.”

  “No! Let him go! Just your having seen him will be evidence enough. We’ve both seen the money. Don’t take any foolish chances, Lollie. Not that I think Maitland is the thief!”

  “It’s on his land.” He paused for a moment, then added, “Mind you, I would have thought Maitland was too cagey to hide stolen goods on his own property. Pretty poorly hidden, too.”

  He glanced southward to where Beau Sommers’s land meets ours and Maitland’s. Sommers’s lot is wide and shallow, it faces a road parallel to the road Oakbay is on and touches both our land and Maitland’s at the back end.

  “Go on and be quick about it,” Lollie said. “Call McAdam, mind, not that idiot, Monger.”

  I ran like a hare through the meadow, looking over my shoulder a dozen times to make sure I wasn’t pursued. My bonnet flew off my head, tethered to my neck by its ribbons. In my haste and confusion I had left my paint box behind again. You will realize my state of perturbation when I tell you I didn’t think of it for another hour.

  “Not another body!” Cook cried when I went pelting in at the kitchen door.

  “No, money!” I said, and stopped to catch my breath before continuing on upstairs.

  “What money?” Cook called after me.

  “Government money—stolen. In the shepherd’s hut,” I called back, heading for the stairs.

  Aunt Talbot was in the morning room, working on her new petticoat, when I ran in. We had debased her morals to the extent that she was sewing a half-inch of eyelet embroidery around the hem.

  “What on earth happened to you, Amy?” She took one look at me and leaped from her chair. “Did someone attack you? Not Renshaw?”

  “No, no one,” I said, and blurted out my story between gulps for air.

  “I’ll send John Groom for McAdam,” Auntie said when I had finished.

  “Tell him to take Sandfly. Lollie won’t mind.”

  Sandfly is Lollie’s mount, a goer if ever there was one. The groom would be in Chilton Abbas in ten minutes. Meanwhile I was worried about Lollie being alone in the hut with so much money.

  “I’m taking a gun and going back,” I said.

  “You’ll do no such thing. That place isn’t safe for a lady. Send George with a gun.”

  “I’ll go with him,” I insisted. She didn’t try to stop me. In fact, she would have liked to come with us, but having decreed it was no place for a lady, she was too proud to back down.

  George got Lollie’s shotgun and we headed out the back door at a trot. Cook, Betty, and Inez stared as if they were watching a stage play, then ran out the back door behind us to watch our flight.

  “This’ll put Inez in another tizzy,” George said, smiling complacently. He was sweet on Inez and enjoyed playing the hero in front of her. He brandished the gun menacingly as we went.

  The meadow was only a thousand yards behind the house, but it seemed at least a mile that day. When the shepherd’s hut came into view across the water, I saw no sign of Lollie and forced myself to run faster. But as we drew closer, I took George’s elbow, bringing him to a halt.

  “Lollie said he’d hide if anyone came. He must have seen someone coming. We’d best proceed cautiously, George. The thief might be in the hut.”

  We tiptoed forward, hiding behind bushes and peering at the hut. We waited, but when no one came out, we crouched down and inched closer, closer. When we got to the end of the bushes, George stood up and aimed the gun.

  “Come out with your hands up,” he called. “I’ve got a gun.”

  I watched the hut with my heart hammering in my throat. Who would
come out of the doorway? Would it be my hero, Maitland, revealed as a common thief? Would it be Mr. Renshaw and/or Beau Sommers? Or would it be a stranger? I hoped it would be a stranger, the man Maitland’s game warden had seen talking to Lord Harry.

  It was no one. No one came out. George went closer, calling as he went. I went along behind him, using his broad back as a cover in case of bullets. When nothing happened, I called, “Lollie! It’s only me. Where are you?”

  It was George who spotted him. Lollie had been dragged through the doorway of the hut. He lay on his back on the floor, unconscious. My first fear was that he was dead, but when I examined him, I saw that he was still warm and breathing. There was no trace of a knife mark or a bullet wound, no rope around his neck. He didn’t even have a welt on his head as far as I could see, or a black eye.

  “Someone bashed him, looks like,” George said.

  We carefully dragged Lollie into the daylight to get a better look at him. George kept the gun raised, looking all around, while I checked the back of Lollie’s head. I found a lump the size of a plum. Eventually Lollie opened his eyes and blinked a couple of times,

  “Amy?” he said weakly and in a confused tone.

  “It’s all right, Lollie. We’re here. Who hit you?”

  “They got the money,” he said, and tried to sit up.

  “Did you see who—”

  He was looking less confused and sat up, rubbing his head. “I didn’t see a thing. I was hiding in those bushes,” he said, pointing to a stand of wild bushes about ten feet from the hut. “I heard a noise behind the hut. It sounded like a harness jingling. I didn’t think I ought to go and check since I was alone and without a gun. I shall carry a gun with me from now on, by jingo. Anyhow, I suddenly heard the bushes move behind me. My head exploded, and the next thing I knew, you and George were here. Good lad, George,” he said, smiling weakly at our indispensable footman. “And you, too, Amy. You didn’t see anyone?”

  “No, not a soul. Whoever did it must have dragged you into the hut, stolen the money, and left on his mount. I wonder if he left the money behind, hidden somewhere.”

  “A nag could easily have carried those two bags. I fancy the blunt is gone, but we’ll have a look.”

  He struggled to his feet, rubbing the back of his head.

  “You stay here with the gun, Lollie. George and I will look for the money,” I said.

  When Lollie agreed to this arrangement, I knew he must be feeling wretched. George and I examined every square inch of the hut and an area within a few hundred feet of it. The bags weren’t buried under the straw or tossed onto the hut’s roof; they weren’t hidden in the bushes or up in a tree. They were gone. The only thing of any significance that we found were hoof and wheel marks in the wet earth behind the hut. Lollie didn’t think the thief would use a gig when a mount would do, but the tracks looked fresh. They had been made since yesterday’s rain.

  Oh, and there were also some drag marks where Lollie had been pulled from the bushes. I think the thief might at least have carried him. His trousers and the back of his jacket and even his hair confirmed that he’d been dragged. And not even by his shoulders but by his feet.

  There was nothing to do but wait for McAdam to come and hear the story. That happened about half an hour later. I was surprised to see that McAdam was accompanied by Mr. Murray.

  “Mr. Murray was with me when I received your message,” McAdam explained. “As he has some interest in the money in question, he came along.”

  Murray came forward, right hand extended. He is a big, bearlike, pompous gentleman. Like most politicians he has a prosperous belly, smooth jowls, an insincere smile, and can speak a break-teeth language devised to conceal his meaning when it suits him.

  “It is my privilege to congratulate you on behalf of the government. You’ve just saved the nation fifty thousand pounds, Mr. Talbot,” he said, pumping Lollie’s hand.

  “Well, I haven’t,” Lollie said. “The money’s gone.”

  Murray’s jowls shook in consternation. Lollie told McAdam and Murray the story. McAdam has known our family long enough that he believed Lollie. Murray, a relative stranger in town after only ten years’ occasional residence, looked a little suspicious.

  “Were you incapacitated before you could get a look at the chaps who overpowered you?” he asked.

  “I was hit from behind. I don’t have eyes in the back of my head,” Lollie said irritably. “How does it come you’re involved, Mr. Murray? Were you in charge of the fifty thousand pounds?”

  “Certainly not! I’m only incidentally involved in my capacity as representative of the good people of the parish. The item involved—that is to say, the money—was government property being used to defray the expenses of the government in its position as guardian of the safety and welfare of the state.”

  McAdam translated for us. “The money was on its way to the navy base at Southampton. It was stolen three weeks ago by highwaymen not far from London. The government has been trying to get a line on it.”

  “It’s odd we heard nothing of it,” Lollie said.

  “The government doesn’t advertise such occurrences, Mr. Talbot,” Murray informed him. “It only puts ideas into the heads of other villains.”

  “Aye, and makes it look dashed careless the way you handle our money!” Lollie retorted.

  “Every precaution was taken,” Murray said. “The government has not yet ascertained, despite the most rigorous investigations, how the highwaymen were apprised of the fact that government property was being transported. Very likely they didn’t know but just made a lucky hit. The property was traveling in an unmarked carriage. Every precaution had been taken for its safe delivery,” he repeated.

  “Two armed guards,” McAdam explained.

  “The guards would have tipped the scamps off,” Lollie said, rolling his eyes at the government’s folly. “Little it matters to you fellows at Whitehall. It’s the taxpayers’ blunt.”

  “Let me assure you, Mr. Talbot, every possible step is being taken to recover the money. Our investigations had succeeded in tracing the property to this part of the country.”

  “They had a fellow looking about for it,” McAdam said. “Well, you heard about Lord Harry’s death.”

  Murray let his chins hit his chest for a moment in homage to Lord Harry’s passing. “One of our brighter lads,” he intoned.

  “You mean Lord Harry was a spy!” Lollie exclaimed. I could see the light of enthusiasm gleam in his eyes. He had actually met a spy! He couldn’t have been more thrilled if he had met the Prince Regent.

  “I would hardly call him a spy,” Murray said, jowls jiggling. “He was a government agent, legally empowered by His Majesty’s government to recover the stolen property. I think I can tell you, without exceeding my authority, that his reports to the Cabinet suggested he was having some success in his quest. His unfortunate demise right here in this meadow, only yards from where you found the government funds, confirms that supposition. Pity he met his end before he turned the money in.”

  “The thieves likely killed him as he was trying to recover it,” Lollie said. “Dumped his body in the pond, as they dumped me in the hut.”

  “That is possible. However, we must not make rash assumptions. We have no substantiation that Lord Harry’s demise was connected with the job he was doing for us. He was carrying a considerable sum on him. Robbery was the motive, according to the report we received. His watch and a ring were also missing, I think?” He looked a question at McAdam.

  “Quite right, but that may have been done to make the murder look like a common robbery,” McAdam said. “At the time of my report, Mr. Murray, I had no idea Lord Harry was working for the government. Now that we know that ... Well, it’s pretty clear his murder had to do with the job he was doing for you.”

  “It is possible, I suppose,” Murray admitted, rather reluctantly. “We don’t want that notion to get abroad, however, or we’d have difficulty recruiting agents t
o work for us.”

  “I’ll replace him!” Lollie offered at once, with the eagerness of a puppy. If he had a tail, it would have been wagging.

  Murray smiled indulgently at that. “That’s very generous of you, Mr. Talbot. Your offer does you credit, but our agents are specially trained for their work.”

  “But a stranger sent in from London wouldn’t know our neighborhood,” Lollie pointed out, “I’ve lived here all my life. Why, I already have half a dozen ideas where the blunt might be hidden.”

  “No offense, Mr. Talbot, but there are bound to be questions raised at Whitehall as to whether you ... Well, I mean to say—you were alone with the money when it disappeared. Naturally, we, who know you so intimately, don’t believe you’re involved, but to those who haven’t the advantage of your acquaintance ...”

  “Damme, I was knocked stone-cold out. You can see where I was dragged into the hut. Look at the back of my jacket.” He turned his back to show Murray the mud. “How could I have taken the money, if that’s what you’re suggesting?”

  “Certainly not, my good man. I’m not suggesting anything of the sort, but those fellows at Whitehall who don’t know your character might jibe at appointing you to the position. You see my difficulty in accepting your generous offer.”

  “That’s gratitude for you!” I exclaimed, angry on Lollie’s behalf. “My brother might have been killed, and you dare to imply that he is a thief.”

  “My dear Miss Talbot, I think I made it perfectly clear that I think nothing of the sort.” Murray turned his oily smile to Lollie. “Next time you go after thieves, lad, I suggest you take a gun,” he said, and laughing, he turned and walked away, murmuring something about writing a report to Whitehall.

  McAdam just shook his head and went capering after him, leaving Lollie, myself, and George behind, fuming in rage.

  “The nerve of that oiler!” I said, outraged.

  “Shh, sis, he’ll hear you.”

  “I don’t care if he does.”

  “It’s pretty clear that my reputation is in ruins,” Lollie said with a touch of melodrama. This dramatic utterance was issued to pave the way for his next speech. “I shall just have to find the blunt myself and clear my name.”