Barbara Taylor Bradford – The Complete Ravenscar Trilogy: The Ravenscar Dynasty, Heirs of Ravenscar, Being Elizabeth (страница 39)
It was not long before Amos reached his destination. Mr Fu Yung Yen had a small shop set back from the street; the light was burning in the window as Amos hurried towards the door. After rapping several times, and proclaiming, ‘It’s Amos Finnister,’ the door was finally opened.
Fu Yung Yen was dressed in a long black cotton gown with a small standup collar; he had long pigtails and a round porkpie hat was perched on top of his greying hair.
He smiled when he saw Amos, and said in his whispery voice, ‘Come inside. Cold night.’
The shop was dimly lit and there was a strong smell of spices, herbs and roots in the air. Mixed in was the whiff of camphor and perfumed oils. It was not an unpleasant smell, and Amos never minded coming to the shop.
‘How is wife?’ the Chinaman asked, smiling.
‘Bad migraines again, Mr Yung Yen. I need her usual headache powders, please.’
The Chinese herbalist nodded and went behind the counter, began taking portions of white powders out of various pots. Finally, after pounding them together, he poured the mixture into a small paper packet, sealed it and handed it to Amos.
‘I need the ointment for her aches and pains…pains in the limbs.’
‘Ah yes. Understand. My balm.’ This too was quickly produced, already in its own small glass pot.
Leaning over the counter, looking at Mr Yung Yen intently, Amos handed him a small piece of paper. ‘Do you happen to have this in stock?’
The herbalist read it, and nodded. ‘How much you need?’
‘Whatever you think.’
‘For one good long sleep, yes?’
Amos nodded.
‘Wait minute.’ The Chinaman disappeared through a door and it was a while before he finally returned. He put a small package wrapped in purple paper on the counter.
‘Thank you,’ Amos said. ‘How much do I owe you?’
Smiling, Fu Yung Yen made out a bill.
Amos read it, read it again, took out his money and paid without protest.
After putting the various packets away in his overcoat pockets Amos nodded. ‘Good night, Mr Yung Yen. And thank you.’
‘Come back.’
‘I will,’ Amos answered, but as he left the shop he wondered if he ever would.
It was late when Edward Deravenel left Lily’s house, much later than he had intended. And now as he crossed Belsize Park Gardens and headed towards the main road he realized hansom cabs were scarce in this area. There was not one in sight.
Glancing around again, noting that the road was almost devoid of traffic, he set out to walk, telling himself he would come across a hansom in no time at all.
Striding out at a rapid pace, heading for Primrose Hill leading towards the centre of London, his mind automatically went to the numbers in the notebook and the conclusion he and Alfredo had finally come to earlier, that there was some kind of trouble with the mines producing gold and precious gems. The number for Burma had not been written in the notebook and so they both presumed the production of sapphires was continuing without problems as it had for some years.
The man who approached him had sprung from up from nowhere, or so it seemed to Edward.
‘Egscuse me, guv,’ the man said in a guttural Cockney voice. ‘Can yer tells me ’ow to get ter ’ampstead? I be lost.’
Edward shook his head. ‘I’m so sorry, I’m afraid I can’t,’ he replied, as polite as always. ‘However, if you keep heading north I think you’ll be going in the right direction.’
The blow came from behind, the heavy truncheon striking him on the shoulder and then on the back. The brute force of the blows brought him to his knees, and he cried out, clutching at the air as he fell, almost as if he were reaching out for the stranger who had just spoken to him. The man was not there, Edward realized, he had disappeared.
Another blow came down, this time on the crown of his head. Edward fell forward instantly, his face hitting the ground. He was knocked out, unconscious.
There were three men altogether, the pedestrian who had distracted the target and the two giant bruisers who were armed with truncheons. The three men conferred for several seconds, then one of the assailants bent over Edward, peered at him, then straightened.
‘Don’t t’ink e’s breeving, mebbe e’s dead,’ the assailant whispered, and straightened. ‘Best we get goin’ afore the bleedin’ coppers get ’ere.’
The men ran off down the road. It was so deserted the sound of their boots was like thunder, echoing loudly. Drizzling rain and the wind were keeping everyone at home tonight.
Edward lay on the pavement where he had fallen. The road remained empty, without pedestrians or carriages. No one came for a long time.
Neville sat with Amos Finnister in the waiting room of Guy’s Hospital, filled with apprehension, silently praying that Ned would be all right, that he would regain consciousness soon. He had been badly beaten, but it was the blows to the head which were causing the problems.
The two men remained silent. Neville, ashen-faced, his expression bleak, was so troubled and worried he did not want to talk; Amos did not dare. He was afraid to intrude on his distracted employer, who was lost in thought.
The door to the waiting room opened and Neville’s wife Nan stood there with Cecily Deravenel. The two women hurried in, and Neville instantly rose, went to greet them. Placing his arm around his aunt, he led her over to a chair, and introduced her to Amos.
Nan had already met him, since he was a frequent visitor to the house. It was she who now turned to Amos and said, ‘Thank you, Mr Finnister, for everything you’ve done for Mr Deravenel. If it hadn’t been for you, then I don’t know what would have happened to him.’
‘It was lucky I happened to have my man on duty, keeping an eye on Mr Edward,’ Amos murmured. ‘I know the young gentleman will be better in a few days, I feel it in my bones.’
Looking intently at Amos, Cecily said in a warm voice, ‘I want to thank you, Mr Finnister, for all you’ve done for my son. But I’m still not quite sure what exactly happened last night.’ She glanced from Amos to Neville. ‘Who was it that attacked Ned?’
‘We’re not sure, Aunt Cecily. The police think it was a random attack, more than likely a robbery. Edward had only loose change on him, no bank notes when he was found. They must have been in a hurry because his gold pocket watch was not taken.’ Neville shook his head. ‘The problem is the police have no leads.’
‘Why do you say
‘For obvious reasons, Aunt. Edward is unusually tall, taller than most men, and very strong. It would take several men, therefore, to overpower him, in my opinion.’
‘Yes, of course, I see what you mean.’ Taking a deep breath, she went on softly in a saddened voice, ‘You would have told me if there was any news, so I’m making the assumption there isn’t any.’
‘I’m afraid not.’ Neville touched her arm consolingly.
Cecily bit her lip, tears brimming, and she instantly stood up, walked across to the window, remained there looking out until she had recovered her equilibrium.
Returning to the chair, she said to Amos, ‘Would you be kind enough to tell me the whole story, Mr Finnister? I’m afraid I’m a little confused, perhaps because I’m so upset.’
‘It’s not surprising, Mrs Deravenel, under the circumstances. I’d be happy to fill you in, so to speak. It’s like this…From time to time, Mr Watkins and I have discussed the possibility that Mr Edward might be…well, in danger, because of the situation with the Grants. For most of his spare time he’s with Mr Will Hasling, but we decided, Mr Watkins and myself, that when he was alone he ought to have, well…a bodyguard. My man is on duty every day, but he’s not always needed. Late yesterday afternoon when Mr Edward left the office he was alone. There was no sign of Mr Hasling. My man immediately followed Mr Edward, who went to Belsize Park, and—’
‘To see Mrs Overton?’ Cecily interrupted.
Surprised though he was to hear this, Amos nodded and went on. ‘My man hung around, loitered in the vicinity. Mr Edward was at the house for about three hours, and he left soon after nine. It was very dark last night, and apparently the area was lonely, no one around, and no hansom cabs. My man realized that immediately. He was some short distance behind when Mr Edward was attacked by two very big men and—’
‘The bodyguard was outnumbered,’ Cecily said quietly.
‘That’s right, Mrs Deravenel. Once the men, three men altogether, had fled the scene, Harry Forbes, my employee, ran to Mr Edward and was relieved to find him alive. He then went in search of a policeman. Luckily he found one at the top of Primrose Hill. More help was fetched, and Mr Edward was brought here.’
Cecily nodded. ‘Thank you, Mr Finnister, now I understand.’ Glancing at Neville, resting her hand on his arm, Cecily murmured, ‘Could we go outside for a moment, I’d like to talk to you, Neville.’
‘Of course.’ He helped his aunt up out of the chair, and the two of them walked out of the waiting room and into the corridor.
Once they were alone, Cecily leaned closer to Neville, staring into his face. ‘It’s the Grants, isn’t it?’