“Is there any reason why you shouldn’t come with us?”
“I’m holding it in my hand.”
Captain Vrats stood up and pointed the pistol at each of them in turn. Their ruse had failed. Bale bided his time, hoping for the opportunity to disable the man. Christopher took over.
“That weapon is a confession of guilt,” he decided.
“I confess nothing.”
“You ambushed Thomas Thynne with the aid of two others.”
“I spent the whole day aboard,” asserted Vrats, “and I have members of my crew who will vouch for me.”
“Then they’ll be committing perjury,” said Christopher. “You are right about one thing. Lieutenant Stern was not injured in a brawl. He and Borosky have been arrested. They will hang for their crime and you will take your place on the gallows beside them.”
Captain Vrats laughed. “Nobody will catch me.”
“You can only kill one of us with that pistol,” noted Bale. “Whoever survives will arrest you on the spot.”
“What chance would one man have against three? As soon as they hear the sound of gunfire, the watchmen will come running.”
“Then we must be ready for them,” said Christopher.
He had been edging slowly towards the table and now made his move. Diving suddenly at the captain, he grabbed the barrel of the pistol and turned it upwards. The gun went off with a loud report. Bale reacted quickly. As Christopher grappled with the captain, Bale stepped forward to fell Vrats with a powerful punch to the ear. He then indicated that Christopher should stand behind the door. After blowing out both lanterns, Bale took up his position on the other side of the door. It was a matter of seconds before the two watchmen came hurrying down the steps to see what had happened. Bale knocked the first one senseless and Christopher held his dagger at the other’s throat.
“Find some rope,” ordered Christopher.
“No shortage of that aboard a ship,” said Bale.
The constable left the cabin but came back with some rope almost immediately. He trussed up both of the watchmen then hauled Vrats off the floor. The captain was still dazed. Christopher lit one of the lanterns before holding it a few inches from the captain’s face.
“Tell me where we can find him,” he demanded.
“Who?” asked Vrats, clearly in pain.
“The man who set you on to kill Thomas Thynne.”
“Nobody set me on.”
“His name is Count Konigsmark.”
Captain Vrats was astounded. “How ever did you find that out?”
“My brother, Henry, kindly provided the name,” said Christopher, cheerfully. “He has a gift for smelling out scandal.”
Gravesend was rimed with frost. The passengers who waited at the harbour that morning shivered in the cold. A rowing boat arrived to take them out to the ship. Before they could climb aboard, however, they heard the clatter of hooves and half-a-dozen horsemen came galloping out of the gloom towards them. Reining in his mount, Christopher Redmayne leapt from the saddle and surveyed the passengers. He was disappointed. The man he sought did not appear to be among them.
“Count Konigsmark?” he asked.
Nobody answered. Some of the passengers shrugged, others shook their heads. Christopher’s gaze shifted to the man on the fringe of the group. Tall and lean, he had long, fair hair that spilled out beneath his hat to reach his waist. He was shabbily dressed but, when Christopher took a closer look at him, he saw how impeccably well-groomed he was. The man had poise and striking good looks. There was an aristocratic disdain in his eye. Christopher gave a signal and two of the riders dismounted to stand either side of the passenger.
“You must come with us, Count Konigsmark,” said Christopher.
“But my name is Lindegren,” argued the other, reaching into his pocket. “You may see my passport, if you wish. I am sailing back to Stockholm.”
“No, you are fleeing the country to avoid arrest. The passport is a forgery. This, however,” Christopher went on, producing a letter to wave in front of him, “is not. Do you recognize your own hand?”
“I told you. I am Oscar Lindegren.”
“Then we will arrest you in that name, though we know full well that you are Count Konigsmark. Your countrymen will be shocked to learn that one of the leading figures in their kingdom is party to a brutal murder.” He snapped his fingers. “Take him.”
The two officers grabbed hold of the man. He was outraged.
“Is this the way you treat innocent people in England?” he protested. “You have made a terrible mistake.”
“It was you who made the mistake,” said Christopher, indicating the letter. “You should not have sent word to Captain Vrats that you were leaving Gravesend on a Swedish ship this morning. We found this in his cabin when we arrested him. I’ve ridden through the night to catch up with you, Count Konigsmark.”
“I committed no crime.”
“You paid others to do it for you and that is just as bad. And if you are as innocent as you pretend, why are you sneaking away in disguise with a false passport?”
Konigsmark was trapped. He was hopelessly outnumbered and was, in any case, unarmed. There was no point in further denial.
“Tell these men to unhand me,” he said, peremptorily, “I demand the right to be treated with respect.”
“You did not treat Thomas Thynne with respect.”
“Mr Thynne was a fool.”
“Yet it was he whom Lady Ogle married and not you.” Christopher saw the flash of anger in the other man’s eyes. “I know that you courted her as well for a time. Was that why you had Mr Thynne ambushed in Westminster? Were you racked with envy?”
“I would never envy such a man. He was beneath contempt.”
“From what I hear, he did not have too high a regard for you either.” Konigsmark scowled. “Is that what provoked your ire? Were you upset by slighting remarks that Mr Thynne made about you?”
“He should have remembered who I am,” growled the other.
“Save your breath for the trial,” advised Christopher, slipping the letter back into his pocket. “Captain Vrats is languishing in prison with two other villains. You will soon join them.”
The officers tried to move him away. Konigsmark held his ground.
“I am a member of the Swedish aristocracy,” he said with dignity, “and I insist on the privileges due to my rank.”
“Of course,” said Christopher with a deferential smile. “I’ll make absolutely sure that you are hanged first.”
In fact, Count Konigsmark did not hang at all. Captain Vrats, Lieutenant Stern and Borosky were found guilty of murder and were hanged in the street where the crime occurred. At the Old Bailey trial, Konigsmark was charged with being an accessory but he was acquitted. Captain Vrats went to his death with remarkable equanimity. His body was then embalmed by a new method devised by William Russell, an undertaker. When he was shipped back to Germany fifteen days after execution, the body of Captain Vrats was in an exceptional state of preservation.
A CASE OF ASYLUM by Michael Jecks
It had cost him a fortune, that passport. Not because it was illegal, but because his need was so obvious. Someone in his position couldn’t afford to stay, not even when his wife and daughter remained. When the authorities were after you there was only limited time to escape; and the desperate have to pay.
He’d known he’d have to bolt when he realized he was being watched.
The farm had long been the centre of attention, and the dogs had patrolled his fences enthusiastically all through the hotter weather, their ridged backs terrifying his workers when they materialized from the bushes, heads lowered in truculent demonstration, brows wrinkled and glowering. Alan had loved those two, the dog and the bitch. When he found their corpses out by the boundary fence, even as he wept over them, he was reviewing his options. The two were proof that an attack would come soon.