The Scent of Death by Andrew Taylor Read Free Book Online Page B

come?’
    She stared at me with heavy-lidded eyes. ‘He has been missing since Saratoga. I thought you must know.’
    ‘Why yes – Mr Rampton said as much. But from what Mrs Wintour said, I inferred—’
    ‘Mrs Wintour desires his return so strongly that she believes he must come. I am not so sanguine, and nor is the Judge. But we do not contradict her.’
    ‘No, indeed.’
    ‘You would be doing us all a kindness if you would humour her in this as well.’
    ‘Of course.’
    The Battle of Saratoga had been ten months ago. If there had been no news of Captain Wintour since then, the odds must be against his having survived.
    ‘You have heard nothing at all of him?’ I said after a moment.
    ‘No. We fear the worst. We hear so many reports of atrocities.’
    Anger had brought colour to her face, and she looked almost beautiful. There was a fire about her when her passions were roused. I murmured a platitude about the horrors of war, particularly civil war.
    ‘Why does Lord George not advise the King to bring an end to this folly?’ she burst out.
    ‘Madam, I wish I knew, and then I should tell you. But Lord George does not open his mind to me.’
    ‘Of course not.’ Mrs Arabella’s eyelids closed, as though she wished to blot out the sight of me. ‘You are only a clerk.’

Chapter Eleven
    The following day, Wednesday, Mr Townley arrived in Warren Street as I was in the act of leaving the house.
    ‘Mr Savill, sir,’ he cried from across the street. ‘This is well met. Have you heard the news?’
    ‘No, sir. What news?’
    ‘I thought the Major might have sent a man over to you. No matter – I am here instead. It appears that someone laid information late last night, and a man has been taken up for poor Mr Pickett’s murder.’
    ‘On what grounds?’
    ‘Oh, they have plenty of evidence – they have not charged the fellow yet, but I do not think there can be much doubt about it. We must not linger – he is to be interrogated at ten o’clock, and it wants but twenty minutes of that now. They are holding him at Van Cortlandt’s Sugar House at the corner of Trinity churchyard. And we are to meet your shipboard acquaintance there – what is his name? Note? Slope? Poke?’
    ‘Noak, sir.’ I had written to him yesterday afternoon and told him he might call on Mr Townley. ‘It is good of you to spare the time to see him.’
    ‘I have seen him already – he seems capable enough. And there’s something to be said for a man who knows a little of the wider world. I have decided to give him a trial for a day or two.’
    ‘That’s most obliging, sir – I hope he answers.’
    ‘We shall soon begin to discover whether he does or not. He can keep a record this morning.’
    As we walked along, Townley asked if I was perfectly satisfied with my lodging; if not he would look about for somewhere else that might suit me.
    I told him not to trouble himself for I liked it very well and added, ‘By the way, I had some conversation with the Wintour ladies yesterday evening.’
    ‘They are in good health, I hope? How did they strike you?’
    ‘I had not realized that Mrs Arabella’s husband is missing rather than dead.’
    ‘It is most unfortunate,’ Townley said. ‘No one has seen Captain Wintour since Saratoga, though there was a report of his being wounded. It leaves them all in a species of limbo – Mrs Arabella in particular. They do not know whether to mourn a son and husband or to pray for his happy return.’
    ‘Mrs Wintour seems in no doubt that it should be the latter.’
    ‘Alas, sir – as you may already have observed, Mrs Wintour’s sufferings have taken their toll on the poor lady’s rational faculties.’ Townley pointed with his stick. ‘We are nearly there – see? That is Van Cortlandt’s.’
    The main sugar house was situated on a corner where two streets met. It was a big, brick-faced structure five storeys high and as ugly as a barn. An annex stood to one side. The establishment