Marc had already reconnoitred the alley. Itwas a perfect location. The coffee house would long be closed, andthe street dark and quiet. The alley could be entered at the southend from King Street or at the north end from its junction with theeast-west service lane. And the buildings that formed the sides ofthe alley had numerous ells and alcoves where a man could remainout of sight and still command a view along its entire length.
It took Nestor fifteen minutes of scratching,dipping, blotting and complaining to complete the five separatecopies required. Marc then folded each, tucked it into an envelopeand sealed it. He then had Nestor write the addressee’s name oneach envelope.
“How can I take a letter, which I don’t have,to this alley?” Nestor said when he was finally finished.
“You’ll take this,” Marc said, and showedNestor the note he had prepared and which was to substitute for thereal thing. “I’ve written a phony name at the top and then smudgedit, as if it had got wet. Below it, you’ll see I’ve pennedsomething like the note that Albert sent Brodie.”
XXXXXXXXXX:
Bring the money agen this week to the
usual place. I mean bisness. You won’t want to beruined.
“And on the other side I’ve composed a death-threatof sorts.”
“An’ you think some guy’s gonna give metwenty-five pounds fer this?”
“He is,” Marc said, “or I’ve misjudgedhim.”
“You try an’ run off with the money and I’llbreak both yer legs!” Cobb added.
“But what happens if the fella peeks at theletter an’ knows right off it ain’t the one he wrote?”
“It won’t matter. Once there’s been anexchange – witnessed by Cobb and me, who’ll be hidden nearby – thenwe move in and arrest him.”
“But what if he just comes there without themoney to beat me to death like he did poor Albert?”
“That’s a chance I’m willin’ to take,” Cobbgrinned. “An’ then we’ll know fer sure we got the killer, won’twe?”
“Actually, Nestor, there’s little risk ofthat happening. Albert was killed in a sudden, unplanned burst offury. I don’t believe we’re dealing with a hardened killer. All heneeds to do is buy that note, expecting that Brodie will beconvicted by Tuesday, after which it won’t matter if you go to thepolice or try further extortion, for who would believe you withoutthe note as evidence?”
“You fellas’ll be close by, eh? You won’t letme get hurt?”
“’Course not,” Cobb said. “Right now, you’rethe most valuable person we know.”
“An’ just how’re these letters gonna getthemselves delivered?”
“They’re going to be delivered by hand,” Marcsaid. “Under cover of darkness. Tonight. By you.”
Nestor had to be helped to his room.
***
While Cobb went off to the near-dress rehearsal ofThe Dream Sequence (in style via taxicab with a donkey’shead tucked underneath his arm), Marc prepared to have theextortion-notes delivered. First of all, at Beth’s suggestion, Marcdisguised himself by borrowing a large overcoat and tradesman’s capfrom Jasper Hogg next door. Further deception was provided byJasper’s horse and buggy, the latter having a leather canopy underwhich Marc and Nestor could huddle and remain inconspicuous. Nestorhimself was suited up in a pair of Cobb’s overalls, a cotton shirtand a wool sweater. The only boots that would fit his shrivelledfeet were a pair belonging to young Fabian Cobb. This outfit,however, was not intended to disguise Nestor, for, as Marcexplained to him upon setting out, Nestor was to dash up to thefront door of the designated house, shove the envelope under thedoor, then turn and flee. If someone – maid or butler – were tohear him, fling open the door and spot him scuttling off into thethin moonlight, all the better, as long as he wasn’t caught. Anyreport of a scruffy scarecrow of a fellow hightailing it into theshadows was certain to add authenticity to the ruse they wereperpetrating.
It was eight-thirty when they set out. Aquarter-moon in a clear sky provided just enough light for them tocarry out their plan as conceived. First, they headed up SherbourneStreet. A few hundred yards from Oakwood Manor, Marc pulled over tothe side of the road and brought the horse to a halt in some deepshadow.
“All right, Nestor. Here’s Sir Peregrine’senvelope. Walk along the road, keeping to this side in the dark.When you come to the gate, slip in towards the house – not on thegravelled path but beside it and out of sight. Go up to theverandah, make a bit of noise as you’re doing so, and push theenvelope under the front door. Give the door a kick, then run intothe woods on this side of the property. It’s not dense, so all youhave to do is look up at the slice of moon there. It’s in thesouth-eastern sky. Follow your nose till you hit this road again.I’ll swoop by and pick you up.”
Nestor, who had been too frightened to speaksince they had left Cobb’s house, tried one last time to register aprotest, but failed.
“Don’t worry,” Marc said. “Just do as I’vesuggested and you’ll be fine.” Very gently he lifted Nestor up offthe padded seat and dropped him feet-first onto the ground.“Go!”
Nestor went. Soon he was zigzagging along theshadow-ridden verge of Sherborne Street north.
A good twenty-five minutes went by. Fifteenminutes should have been more than enough time for the task to becompleted. Surely the entire Shuttleworth household would be toofocussed on their rehearsal-in-costume to notice the arrival ofNestor at the front door, however clumsy he might be. But Marc wasworried, and not sure what he could do to help. He couldn’t leavethe buggy and go wandering into the woods after Nestor and hecouldn’t risk driving up to the gate. While he was still searchingfor a third option, he heard the sound of footfalls crashingthrough the underbrush nearby. They had a desperate ring to them.Marc stepped down to the side of the road just as Nestor staggeredout of the darkness. His face was as white as the moon.
“Are you being pursued?” Marc said as Nestorcrashed into him and flung both scrawny arms around his waist.
“N-no,” Nestor stammered. “I got lost.”
***
While Nestor pulled the burrs and nettles out of hishair and his sweater, and muttered under his breath about neveragain going near the bush or trapper’s cabins, Marc eased the buggyalong the back streets until he calculated he was about a blockfrom Horace Fullarton’s place on George Street. He pulled over toone side and pointed out the house, a distinguished, two-storeyresidence with four chimney-pots.
“Stay here, well out of sight, Nestor. I’mgoing to drive past the house and park farther up the street.Deliver the envelope and then run up the road until you see thebuggy, then hop on quickly. There’s no need to make a noise inthere. We don’t want to disturb Mrs. Fullarton. She’s aninvalid.”
This delivery went off smoothly, if youdidn’t count Nestor’s tripping on a rut in the road near the buggyand breaking his fall with a chin.
Andrew Dutton, who lived farther west onJarvis, was next. His house was set back in a copse of evergreens,and Nestor, bruised and burred (in addition to his wasp-wounds),was very nervous about going up to it.
“He’s not at home,” Marc reminded him.“Everybody on our list except Budge is up at Oakwood Manor.”
Nestor took a deep breath and vanished intothe evergreens. Marc moved the buggy down the street about ahundred yards, and waited. Five minutes went by, and no Nestor.Then, to his dismay, Marc heard the blood-lust yodel of dogs on thescent. Above the yowling of the beasts came an even higher-pitchedhog-squeal – piteous and unending.