Page 106 of The Secrets of Lord Grayson Child
Duvall reached the end of Snargate and strode ahead into Townwall Street, but then stopped and paused as if weighing his options. After a second’s dithering, he turned left, along with most of the other pedestrians.
Their company followed. Izzy and Gray remained on the same side of the street as Duvall, with Baines and Littlejohn trailing them. Toby and Martin crossed to the other side of the street, with Hennessy, Donaldson, and Digby keeping farther back on that side.
The street curved to the right, then straightened and opened into a central marketplace. Instead of continuing into the square, Duvall veered right, into a street lined with shops—the Castle Street that Donaldson had mentioned.
It was midafternoon, and there were plenty of shoppers about, providing cover enough to allow their company to congregate again.
Sauntering along ten yards behind Duvall, Toby said, “We need to work out how, exactly, to capture him, and it’s occurred to me that it’s not illegal to walk around with a case full of gunpowder, even one with a fuse attached.” He glanced at Baines. “Is it?”
Baines’s sour expression was answer enough. “Much as we might wish it, no, it’s not.”
“But,” Littlejohn said, “surely we can take him up on suspicion and stop him from blowing up the telegraph station—or anything else.”
Baines snorted. “Simply pounce on him and haul him off? Once we get him to the station and he insists on hearing the charge, we won’t have anything, and he’ll just leave. And then he’ll catch the first boat to Calais, and we won’t be able to stop him doing that, either.”
“True,” Toby said. “And none of that will satisfy Winchelsea or his masters. If you try to take him up, Duvall is clever enough to keep his mouth shut, and then you’ll have to release him, and nothing will have been gained other than a delay. Roccard will keep trying, if not via Duvall, then with someone else—someone else whom we might not learn about in time.”
Hennessy looked at Baines. “Can’t you arrest Duvall for Quimby’s murder?”
Littlejohn nodded and appealed to Baines. “Surely we can do that?”
Baines met Toby’s eyes and grimaced. “The evidence is circumstantial. Digby saw Duvall in the lane, and he was in one of Quimby’s photographs. So what? Others heard him speaking with Roccard, who I’m guessing parades around as a wealthy foreign businessman.” He glanced at Hennessy. “Am I right?”
It was Hennessy’s turn to grimace. “From what I’ve gathered.”
“So all Duvall has to do is say they were just making up a story or talking about some place in Belgium.” Baines shook his head. “It won’t stick.”
A glum silence fell, then Gray said, “Regardless of how we feel about Quimby’s murder or anything else, we have to focus on the critical element here, and that’s exposing the plot against the telegraph.”
Izzy saw the light. “Of course. Exposing the plot to blow up the telegraph will alert the public that any such attempt to make the telegraph seem dangerous or to blow up stations is the work of foreign criminals trying to hoodwink the British public into believing the telegraph is dangerous.” She looked at Gray, Toby, and Martin. “That’s it, isn’t it? What’s really at stake here?”
All three nodded.
Baines grunted and looked at Duvall, who was still confidently striding on ahead of them. “So we have to make this stick. We have to not only seize him but also make sure we have irrefutable evidence of what he’s planning to do.”
“That’s our challenge,” Toby confirmed.
“So,” Martin asked, “how are we going to meet it?”
They walked on for several paces, still close enough to talk, then Baines reluctantly said, “As far as I can see, our only option is to allow the blighter to walk into the telegraph station with that bomb and try to light the fuse.”
Toby slowly nodded. “I can’t say you’re wrong. And the telegraph stationmaster was warned by Winchelsea, so they should be on the lookout.”
Grim-faced, Martin muttered what they were all thinking. “There has to be a better way.”
They wracked their brains as they walked along, trailing Duvall.
When they saw the end of Castle Street ahead and, beyond the next intersection, the rising grade of Castle Hill Road leading up and away to the right, Toby said, “He’s heading straight to the telegraph station.” He glanced at the group. “Time’s up. We need a plan, and we need to agree to it now.”
“There’s no help for it,” Baines glumly said. “We’re going to have to allow the devil to go in with his bomb. But we’ll need to be right on his heels and grab him before he can actually light the fuse.”
Reluctantly, everyone agreed, and in short order, they devised their plan.
Gray and Izzy stepped ahead. They would shadow Duvall most closely and narrow the distance even further as he neared the telegraph station.
Baines and Littlejohn followed Gray and Izzy. Once Duvall rounded the bend in Castle Hill Road and could no longer see the policemen, they would hurry to catch up. From memory, Donaldson estimated the distance from the point of the bend to the telegraph station to be twenty-five to thirty yards. The instant Duvall went through the station’s door, Gray would return to the corner and signal the policemen to start running.
Meanwhile, Martin and Toby would approach the telegraph station from the other end of Victoria Park Terrace. Toby had picked up a map of Dover at London Bridge Station, and during the train journey, he and Martin had memorized the various ways to reach the telegraph station. Their aim was to be approaching the house from the other direction or idling outside it as Duvall neared. Donaldson confirmed their idea was sound.
