Hell bay, p.15
Hell Bay, page 15
There was nothing. Not even the slightest movement. Partridge might as well have been carved in stone.
“We’re wasting our time, Thomas. Let us see what information we can wrest from Her Ladyship.”
As he passed behind the chair, Barker leaned over, so that his mouth was close to the butler’s ear.
“The only woman I care about is in mortal danger, because she was doing a favor for your mistress. Forgive me if I do not feel especially generous.”
My employer left the room. I followed in his wake. We were on the stairway before we finally heard Partridge call from the room.
“Very well!”
Barker turned immediately around.
“Very well for you,” he rumbled.
We strode back into His Lordship’s former chambers.
“This had better be worth my while,” the Guv stated.
“There is a secret passage.”
Partridge crossed to the bookcases, as if deep in thought. He reached forward for the final book on one of the middle shelves. The spine gave way revealing a handle inside the book. By lifting the handle the entire row of middle shelves opened on hinges, revealing a corridor.
“It is the family mausoleum,” the head servant corrected.
Of course! We had heard mention of it after returning from our first reconnaissance when His Lordship had been recovered by Colonel Fraser and the manservants. The area provided by the opened shelves was wide enough for men to carry a coffin through. We stepped forward into the darkness. Partridge scraped a vesta on the wall and it flared in the dark. He took down a lantern from a shelf and lit it. In the gloom I saw stairs going both up and down. Barker shook his head in disapproval.
“The mortuary is this way, sir,” Partridge said, raising the lantern and heading east, down the narrow corridor.
“Is the mortuary as old as the house?”
“I believe so, sir. This is the only way to inter family members on the island. Otherwise, they would need to be exported to the mainland.”
He came to a gated room, filled with stone tombs. Barker stopped him before he unlocked the gate, and taking the lantern, examined the lock.
“There are fresh scratches on this lock,” he said, “but they could have been made when His Lordship was interred.”
“Speaking of which, sir, His Lordship and Master Paul have not been given a proper service. For the good of the family, it would be best if it happened soon.”
“Is the family Church of England, Partridge?”
“No, sir, they are Catholic.”
Obviously, there would be no way to have an open casket. Lord Hargrave was essentially headless. If the killer was not caught soon, the body would molder and the coffin would have to be sealed. There was so much to consider.
The butler opened the lock and swung open the gate, which protested with a loud squeak. Barker immediately pushed his way among the graves. Some were ornate, but most were made of plain slabs of marble. Barker appeared to be looking for something.
“Ah,” he finally said, reaching between the wall and one of the graves. He lifted a disreputable-looking blanket.
“What have you got there?” I asked.
“Our assassin’s nest. I believe he has been sleeping here for most of a week.”
“In a mausoleum?” I demanded.
“By the grave of the very man he killed?” Partridge asked, at just about the same time.
Barker folded the blanket and laid it on one of the graves. “I believe this fellow is not bound by superstition and would not fear sleeping among the graves. I have no doubt he has done it before. Here he is out of the elements, dry, and until now, private. He can even sneak into the kitchen for a crust of bread and other food.
“As for sleeping atop your late master’s crypt, I doubt the assassin has any interest in a body once it’s dead. He came here to hide and to rest, locked safely in here and probably sleeping there on the floor.”
“How do you possibly know that, sir?” I asked.
“By imagining how I would survive on an island such as this. It seems the best way.”
“But you don’t know him. How can you guess how he will act?”
“I came here looking for a place where he might sleep and discovered a blanket, did I not?”
I stamped the floor, which was lain with flagstones.
“It makes a rather hard bed,” I said.
“I have slept in worse conditions, and it is only temporary. Partridge, did I spy a door leading away from Godolphin House?”
“Yes, sir,” the butler admitted.
“Lead on, then.”
Partridge led us out, and locked the gate again, then we continued down the corridor, lit by the lantern. There were dusty crates at the sides, and cobwebby barrels that may have once held ale. At the end of the passage there was a door in the stone wall. When the butler opened it I could feel a change in the atmosphere and hear the ocean crashing on the rocks, as if at a distance.
I glanced at Barker, and saw that he had pulled his Colt. I cursed myself for leaving my revolver in my room. This fellow was dangerous, and I had no business going about unarmed. It was possible, even likely, that the assassin was still nearby.
It was a long, narrow tunnel, sometimes giving way to steps. At one point the tunnel zigzagged and as we turned I heard the roar of the ocean closer. Then Partridge lowered his lantern. We came to the entrance and found ourselves at the mouth of a natural cave some thirty feet or more off the ground, with no obvious way to get down. I leaned forward and craned my neck to look up. It was perhaps another twenty feet to the wall, which as a boy, the butler had helped build. I looked down again. It was almost a sheer drop.
“Not an easy climb,” I said.
“No, but a determined man can do it,” Barker stated. “I assume he has a rope.”
“Why shouldn’t he?” I said. “He seems to have had the run of the house since he arrived. It’s a wonder he hasn’t killed us all in our beds!”
I kicked a small rock in anger, and watched it fall to the rocks below. I may have noticed this little cave during our first day and discounted that it led anywhere.
“Partridge, are you aware of any arrangement between a member of the household or staff and this fellow, whoever he is?”
“No, sir.”
“And are you telling me the truth this time?”
Partridge came very near to smiling. “Yes, sir, I am. That’s not to say that there isn’t one, but I have seen no sign of it. I suppose it is possible that he has moved about at night without alerting anyone.”
“Would Mrs. Albans have noticed if food were missing?”
“She might. I shall broach the subject with her, if you wish.”
“Aye, do. And the gardener. See if some of the tools are missing. Suggest he take an inventory if possible. I think that’s enough for now.”
We retreated down the zigzag corridor again, until we passed through the door. Once there, Barker closed it and pointed toward the lock.
“May I see the key?”
Partridge pulled a large ring of keys from his pocket and eventually found an old and rusty key which turned in the lock.
“Is yours the only key ring?”
“There used to be another, sir, but it was misplaced years ago,” the butler said.
“We must assume that they are now in this man’s possession. Help me, lad.”
He seized one of the barrels and rolled it over against the door. We followed with two more, and lifted a crate on top of all three of them.
“He’ll be sleeping outside tonight, I’ll reckon,” the Guv said, with a grim smile on his lips.
As we reached the back of the library bookcases he turned to regard the staircases going up and down.
“Where does this come out?” he asked, pointing to one.
“To the inglenook in the kitchen fireplace.”
“I see. And the one going up?”
“There’s a panel up on the first floor, by the standing clock.”
“Do the young people in the family know about those secret passageways?”
“Oh, yes, sir. They played upon them as children. One could not keep such a secret from them for long.”
“And the servants? Do they use the passage from time to time? It seems convenient.”
“Occasionally. I have ordered them not to. It is dangerous, and they could break things, including limbs. Most of them are young, however, and they don’t always listen.”
“So, even before our arrival, the killer has had full access to the house, from cellar to attic. That stops now.”
CHAPTER TWENTY
“Thomas,” Barker said as we climbed the stairs again. It was perhaps ten o’clock in the evening. “Have I demonstrated patience to you?”
“In what way, sir?” I asked.
“When I learned Colonel Fraser was holding Herr Schroeder, did I immediately run to ask the circumstances or question the man himself?”
“No, sir. Far from it. You didn’t even mention him when you last spoke with the colonel.”
“Then I may feel justified in asking for the particulars now. They’ve held him for days. Would you like to accompany me?”
“I would, sir, but I have something to report.”
Barker stopped on the top step and regarded me intently, trying to fathom what I would say before I said it. He indicated one of the chairs on the landing. We were getting full use of the furniture on the first floor. We sat.
“What has happened?” he asked.
I told him about Miss Burrell. I had no way of knowing what was important and what was not. Barker listened intently, as he always does, rubbing his nails under his chin as he thought.
“And you in no way encouraged this?” he finally asked.
“No, sir! Of course not.”
“I meant before. Could anything you said or did be misconstrued?”
“I didn’t speak to her, and as far as I recall, didn’t even look at her.”
“You have an effect upon women, I have noticed. Either they want to mother you or else pull your hair out. There is generally no stage between the two.”
“I’ve noticed that.”
“Do you intend to help her?”
“Not without your permission, sir.”
His hand moved and began to stroke his mustache. “I’m watching a woman of my own.”
“True,” I said.
“And I wonder how well I am doing. Our opinion that we are protecting these women may just be that, mere opinion. Speaking of which, let me look in on Philippa a moment.”
We knocked, and upon being summoned, stepped inside.
“I’m getting bored, Cyrus,” she warned as we entered. “Miss Austen and the beauty of Sanditon can only capture my interest so long.”
“What is it you wish to do?” the Guv asked.
“Take a walk. Talk to somebody who possesses a brain.”
“I’m afraid it is dangerous.”
“I know it is dangerous. Yet you walk about. Must I give the speech about how fortunate you are to be a man and not a woman?”
“I don’t think that will be necessary,” he said.
“Do not treat me like a child.”
“I would not presume.”
“Miss Burrell is feeling nervous and neglected,” I suggested. “Perhaps she’d like a little company.”
“What do you mean by ‘nervous and neglected,’ Thomas? Have you been flirting again?”
“Quite the opposite, ma’am. I have been the proverbial bucket of cold water.”
“It might be good,” Barker said, adjusting his pearl tie pin in the mirror, “to draw her out about the other guests. What opinions has she formed about the party, if any? Her father has just died, as well as her brother.”
“The death of a father makes a great change in a girl’s life,” Philippa said. “Her chief defender is gone, and now she must either become an adult or marry someone who shall treat her like a child for the rest of her life.”
“That is simplistic,” I said. “Or cynical.”
Barker’s eyebrows rose above his lenses. I had dared challenge something Philippa said.
The corner of Mrs. Ashleigh’s mouth went up on one side. I hazarded a guess that she was rarely treated in such a fashion.
“It was,” she admitted. “Simplistic, at least. Some fathers don’t bother to defend their daughters at all. And some daughters rarely need it.”
“I must accept your word for it,” I said, hoping to smooth the feathers I had just ruffled.
“Please do,” she said, still looking ready to pounce. “Are you asking me to spy for you, Cyrus?”
“Miss Burrell might be inclined to withdraw if I question her, but you can tease information from her without being obvious. That is, if you are willing.”
“I suppose I could try,” she said, as if it were a lot of trouble.
“You don’t have to.”
“I said I would try, did I not?”
She looked at me, as if to confirm what she said.
“Yes! Yes, you did.”
“That’s settled, then.”
“Thank you, my dear. If you need a breath of fresh air later, take the lad with you.”
“I’ve rather gone off the idea,” she said. “But I’ll go speak to Olivia.”
“We were going to speak to the colonel about his valet, Schroeder.”
“You will let me know what happens, won’t you?”
“Of course,” Barker replied.
The atmosphere in the room was too charged for my liking. Barker looked at me as if I were going to laugh at his answer to Mrs. Ashleigh. I took the opportunity to step into the hall, where it was safer. Barker joined me almost immediately.
True to form, he did not discuss Philippa in public. He was not the kind of man who complained behind a woman’s back, thereby making her an object of ridicule and he someone to be pitied. I would do my best to never be that kind of man myself.
It was getting on ten thirty and I was concerned that the colonel had gone to bed early, as septuagenarians are prone to do. When we knocked, however, he answered the door immediately, and then without a word stepped into the hall.
“You came about Heinrich Schroeder,” Fraser said.
“We have. Has he confessed to anything?”
“No. He was found armed by the ambassador’s door, but he claims he had kept the weapon in his pocket since we became stranded, out of necessity.”
“What kind of weapon was it?” my employer asked.
“A Turbiaux palm pistol,” Fraser said. “Why don’t we talk somewhere more private? Perhaps His Lordship’s old room? I’ll go speak to my wife.”
“Very well, Colonel,” Barker said. “I’m sure we have much to discuss.”
Fifteen minutes later we were in our new room with a bottle of port and three glasses. The latter was the colonel’s idea. Barker’s hand looked outsized holding the small glass.
“Colonel Fraser,” Barker said. “I understand the need for secrecy in this mission, but please do not take me for a simpleton. Lord Hargrave was once your aide-de-camp. I suspect you are not simply a guest. Are you by chance the director of the Royal United Services Institution?”
“Why would you say that?” Fraser asked.
“You are too old for military service, but not necessarily to run an agency that specializes in monitoring espionage. You also appear to be in excellent shape for your age.”
“Thank you. This was supposed to be my last act as director. Richard was poised to take over the organization. Alas, such things were not to be.”
“What will you do now?” I asked. “Will you stay on as director?”
“Perhaps temporarily, until a suitable replacement can be chosen and vetted. I promised my wife we would take a holiday to Lisbon. It is long overdue.”
“Do you know if anyone objected to Lord Hargrave’s taking over the agency? Did he step on any toes by doing so?”
“Not that I’m aware, but I’ll begin an investigation as soon as we get back to London.”
“Whom do you suppose is out there shooting at us?”
“Some sort of hireling, I think,” the colonel stated. “He would have made short work of us by now if he had a vendetta of his own. He’s an excellent shootist. I know that much.”
“He shot a pipe out of my mouth yesterday.”
“Did he, by Jove? Well, it goes to show he’s just toying with us.”
“He killed the lighthouse keeper with a spear. One he had fashioned himself, I believe.”
“Whoever the blighter is, he has seen action in jungles before. Africa, perhaps, or Borneo.”
“Most likely. We’ve learned how he got in to kill Paul Burrell. There is a passage coming up behind the library bookcase. We have blocked it.”
“Good! We can sleep better at night, knowing he is locked out. Although I’m wondering what he should try next.”
“I imagine we shall not have long to wait. Now, about your valet.”
“Schroeder.”
“Aye. Is there a chance he is a spy for the German government?”
“A chance? It is a certainty. He’s a spy, but not a very good one. I have kept him on and used him to relay faulty information to the German military for years.”
“Why was he hanging about the ambassador’s door?”
“As said, he was born an Alsatian and Gascoigne was responsible for annexing his homeland to France. I’m certain he was aware the ambassador would be on the island. I could not say whether he had orders to kill him, or if he tried on his own volition out of national pride. Not that it matters either way.”
“Has he confessed to being a spy?”
“Not yet, but we haven’t been lighting any fires under his feet. We’ve been polite so far. That may end if Kerry has his wish.”
“Do you suppose he and the man outside are working together?”
“I think our assassin is working with someone, but I doubt it is Schroeder. I don’t believe he has the brains.”
