Death in Hellfire by Deryn Lake Read Free Book Online Page B

does.”
    John lowered his voice. “He’s not here now, is he?”
    “No, sir. As a matter of fact I don’t think he’s in residence at the moment. I believe he’s down in London.”
    Both John and Samuel made a simultaneous sound of disappointment.
    “Oh, glory be, and there was me hoping to call on him. You see I’m very interested in the postal system in Dublin.”
    This was obviously beyond the potboy who just gaped at him, open-mouthed,
    “Yes,” said the Apothecary, expanding. “I had hoped to interview him on the subject. Him being Postmaster General and all.”
    “I don’t know much about that, sir. I suggest you call at the big house.”
    “A splendid plan, thank you, I will.” John raised his glass. “And now a toast. To Samuel O”Swann. The most cunning manservant in all Christendom.”
    Samuel, reviving, said, “Thank you, sir. I’ll drink to that,” and they clinked glasses.

    John had been given a large and interesting room. Straddling the archway which led into the inn’s courtyard, it had a window on one side, which looked down into the yard towards the stabling block and the greenery beyond, while the other side had two windows overlooking the street. The inn sign swung rather noisily and in something of a sinister manner beside one of them. Samuel, walking in, whistled beneath his breath.
    “I say, this is a bit of all right. I’ve been relegated to the upstairs part.”
    “That’s because you’re a servant.” John sat down on the bed. “Sam, are you sure you want to continue with this?”
    “I should absolutely think so!” Sam answered with enthusiasm. “I went to quite a bit of trouble to track you down. I’m not going to miss out on the fun now.”
    “But it could be a bit awkward, particularly if Sir Francis discovers we’re acting for Sir John.”
    “That all adds to the excitement.” And Samuel beamed at the Apothecary in such a disarming manner that John decided he must say no more and for the sake of a long and steadfast friendship must endure Sam’s occasional blunders. He stood up.
    “I must unpack my trunk. It was sent here by cart, by the way.”
    “Where from?”
    “Maidenhead. I parted company with Irish Tom there and hired a horse.”
    “Why did you do that?”
    “To enhance the role I’m playing. I had a feeling that an umpteenth son of Lord Cavan might not be able to afford such a luxury as a coach.”
    Samuel looked guilty. “I must confess I took a flying coach from London to Maidenhead where I donned a disguise…” John hid a smile.
    “…then I made my way here by farmer’s cart. You know, John, it was quite extraordinary, but along the route I’d swear that we passed a coach in which sat Coralie Clive.”
    “Really?”
    “Yes. She was accompanied by a dissolute young man - that would be the heir to the Duke of Sussex who, as you know, she married. They also had a child with them; a girl.”
    John sighed. “Yes, I knew she’d married some years ago. I’d forgotten about the child. It must have been born when I was occupied elsewhere.”
    “It would be about ten or so. I’m sure it was Coralie. So much so that I ducked behind a large lady next to whom I was sitting.”
    “You were travelling on the roof, I take it?”
    “You are correct.” And Samuel gingerly put a hand to his buttocks.
    “I wonder where she was going?” said John thoughtfully. “That,” answered Samuel, “we shall probably never know.” He dined alone that evening, Samuel having been dismissed to another parlour in which the servants” food was served. His thoughts roamed wildly as he ate. First he wondered how Octavia was getting on with Rose. Then he thought of Coralie Clive and he pondered again the fact that she had been travelling on the same road as Sam and her possible destination. He remembered how much in love with her he had been all those years ago when he was just a young man and she even younger, determined to make a success of her acting