“But that means that there’s an eyewitness!” Kate exclaimed excitedly, “and that none of this fingerprint or ballistics evidence matters! With the testimony of an eyewitness, any jury in the land will convict the man. Who is he, Charles?”
“His name,” Charles said soberly, “is Henry Radwick. He’s a moneylender-and quite a successful one, at that, judging from those who patronize him. Half of the members of the Jockey Club have been in the man’s debt at one time or another. Lord Hunt certainly isn’t the only one who has owed him money.”
“But why did he shoot Mr. Day?”
“According to Baggs, Radwick was in a violent temper. He had discovered that Badger was attempting to blackmail Mrs. Langtry. According to Baggs, as Radwick pulled the trigger, he shouted, ‘She’s mine, do you hear? I won’t let you hurt her!’ ”
“So it was a crime of passion,” Kate said, thinking of what she had heard through the drawing room window. Yes, the man who had declared that he would not let Lillie marry Suggie de Bathe was capable of killing someone in a fit of rage. She felt sure of that. There was something wrong with that scenario, though. The crime was committed with Lillie’s gun, coolly and deliberately taken from the drawer in her drawing room.
Kate frowned. “Spider-Radwick, I mean-stole Lillie’s gun. He anticipated using it. That doesn’t sound like a crime of passion. It sounds quite deliberate.”
“You’re right, Kate,” Charles replied. “By Radwick’s own admission, which you overheard, he was involved in the jewel theft and in Edward Langtry’s death. In fact, it’s entirely possible that he masterminded both, with or without Lillie’s prior consent. I’m conjecturing that Radwick knew something of Badger’s threat-although perhaps not the entire scheme-and that he took Lillie’s gun, anticipating its possible use. After all, if Radwick allowed Badger to blackmail her, how long would it be before Badger began making demands on him, as well?”
“But why Lillie’s gun?” Kate persisted. “A man of Spider’s resources-surely he could have found a different weapon.”
Charles shrugged. “Perhaps he felt some sense of dramatic irony, using Lillie’s gun to kill the man who threatened to betray her.”
“Or perhaps he felt he might use it to gain some hold over her,” Kate said quietly. “Perhaps he thought to keep her from marrying Suggie de Bathe, and persuade her to marry him instead. I wonder whether, after I left this afternoon, he boasted to Lillie that he murdered Alfred Day for her sake. Do you suppose he opened the drawer to show her the gun he used?”
Anticipating her next thought, Charles said, with a wry smile: “If he did, do you suppose he guessed that Lady Sheridan is now in possession of Mrs. Langtry’s derringer?”
Kate gave a little shrug. “There’s one thing I don’t quite understand, Charles. Why was Radwick called Spider?”
“I’ve been thinking about that,” Charles said. “There might be some kind of private association, of course. But the word ‘spider’ is also a perjorative term for moneylenders.”
“Lurking in the corners, I suppose,” Kate said thoughtfully. “Weaving webs to ensnare their innocent prey.”
“Something like that,” Charles said. “Although in this case, I suspect that the innocent are not quite as innocent as they might like to appear. Certainly Lord Hunt knew what he was doing when he laid his family’s estate as a pledge against a gambling debt.”
Kate pursed her lips. “When Radwick is tried, this whole ugly business is going to come out in the courts, isn’t it? His motive, and so on, I mean. Lillie will be called as a material witness, won’t she?” She paused, as the import of this idea began to sink in. “And then the whole thing will come out, won’t it, Charles? The jewel theft, Edward Langtry’s death-” Her eyes widened and her breath caught in her throat as she began to imagine all of the consequences of a murder trial in open court, with the press and the public looking on. “She’ll be ruined, Charles! Utterly ruined! Everyone knows that she’s still close to the Prince-it will be a terrible scandal.”
With a sigh that was both regretful and ironic, Charles opened his fingerprint kit. “Somehow I doubt it will come to that, Kate. I doubt it very much.”
CHAPTER FORTY
If I were to begin life again, I would go to the Turf to get friends. They seem to me to be the only people who really hold close together. I don’t know why; it may be that each knows something that might hang the other, but the effect is delightful and most peculiar.
Lady Harriet Ashburton
What need we fear who knows it, when none can call our power to account?
Macbeth William Shakespeare
Charles spent the better part of an hour that evening writing a careful and fully detailed report to Admiral Owen North. When it was done, he sat for a long time thinking about the implications of what he had written, about what should happen next, and about what was likely to happen next. At last, with an ironic twist to his mouth, he sealed the envelope and sent it by Mrs. Hardaway’s boy to the Jockey Club, where North was staying. That done, he and Kate, with Jack Murray, adjourned to the Stag Hotel for a passable dinner and a bottle of champagne, after which he and Kate retired alone to Hardaway House for their first private evening together in several days. It was a renewing respite that both of them cherished.
The next morning, their companionable breakfast was interrupted by a knock at the door and a message from the admiraclass="underline" North had summoned both Charles and Kate to a meeting at the Jockey Club at eleven o’clock. Charles was not surprised, for he had expected to be called for a discussion of his report, nor was he surprised that the invitation included Kate, as well. By obtaining the physical evidence and by contributing what she had overheard of the conversation between Henry Radwick and Lillie Langtry, she had played a material role in the solution of the crime, and she knew as much as he and Murray knew about what had happened. Yes, of course she would be summoned.
Nor was Charles surprised when he and Kate entered North’s office at the Club an hour later to find there, not just Admiral North and Jack Murray, but another man, as well, seated in the admiral’s usual chair behind the desk: a supremely stout, gray-bearded man who graciously inclined his head as Kate made a deep curtsy and Charles bowed.
“Your Royal Highness,” Charles murmured.
“Please sit down,” the Prince said, gesturing to a trio of chairs in front of the desk, where Murray was already seated. Charles and Kate took their seats, Charles feeling like a schoolboy called before the headmaster for a reprimand. He crossed his legs, leaned back, and waited.
After a moment, the Prince of Wales took the cigar out of his mouth. “Well, then,” he said, in his gruff, Germanic accent, “I understand that you have been playing the detective again. And very successfully, I must say. I have read your report, Sheridan. I am quite impressed.” He looked from Charles to Kate to Jack Murray. “Quite impressed, both with your logical arguments and with the evidence you have assembled to support your accusation of Mr. Henry Radwick.” He flicked his cigar ash into North’s ashtray. “Fingerprints, ballistics, blackmail letter. Quite a barrage of evidence.” He looked at Owen North. “What do you say to that, North? Aren’t you impressed?”
“Oh, yes,” North said hastily. “Oh, yes, indeed. Lord Sheridan and Mr. Murray have given us all the information we could have wished, Your Highness.”
And somewhat more, Charles thought ironically. “Thank you,” he said.
“Well, now.” The Prince looked once again at Murray, then at Charles. “I am told that the Newmarket constabulary have not been involved in any way in this investigation. Is that correct, gentlemen?”