Hell bay, p.6
Hell Bay, page 6
“Are you doing well, lad?” Barker called back.
“As well as can be expected, sir. Do you see anyone?”
“No one.”
“How much farther?”
“A couple of hundred yards at most.”
Eventually, we reached the edge of the cliff and the stairs to the harbor. Lord Hargrave’s killer had either gone or was in hiding. That did not mean that everything would be all right.
“Damn and blast,” my employer rumbled.
I sat up and looked out. The Eugénie was nowhere to be found, but in the gloom I could see a body floating in the water.
Both of us jumped out of the cart and took the stone steps as quickly as we dared. Once we reached the docks, Barker began pulling his jacket and boots off. He slid off his braces and pulled his shirt over his head.
“Keep an eye on those cliffs,” he said. “I’ll be completely defenseless in the water.”
As I drew my pistol, he dived into the water, to recover the body. I had little doubt he was too late.
Once he reached the still form, he turned it over and, wrapping an arm around, stroked toward the beach. It was Delacroix. I could not mistake his bulletlike bald head. I began to follow the Guv along the dock, having scooped up his clothes.
I spied something on the dock then. It was a crumpled piece of paper. Thrusting it in my pocket, I hurried on. Barker’s feet touched bottom, and he pulled the body up on shore. There was a ruddy stain about Delacroix’s abdomen. Barker unceremoniously tore open the Frenchman’s shirt. There were several wounds there.
“Stab wounds,” Barker said.
“Why didn’t he just shoot him?” I asked. “Could there be two killers?”
“It is too early to theorize,” Barker said, and began to don his shirt again.
His trousers and shoes were sodden, but he would change in the house. Carefully, he lifted the Sûreté inspector onto his shoulder. The man was nearly as bulky as he and now sodden from the water. Without a word, he carried Delacroix up the steps. I could hear his chest heaving, much like the Percheron on the cliff above us, but Barker was not the kind to complain.
“Sir,” I said. “I found a note crumpled on the dock.”
“Did you? What does it say?”
I pulled it from my pocket. “It is in French. Let me translate. It says: I am staying with the ambassador. Return to Le Havre until you are summoned. We shall have our sea bass another time. Delacroix.”
“That doesn’t make sense,” Barker said. “Why turn the Eugénie away and then go there after it is gone?”
“I don’t know, sir. Perhaps he changed his mind.”
We reached the top, and as gently as possible, he laid the mortal remains of Delacroix in the wagon. He rebuttoned his shirt, smoothed his jacket, and even reached up and twisted his waxed mustache, which had drooped in the water.
“He will surely be missed in Paris. Not just anyone could have overpowered him and killed him in this fashion. If it is one man on this island, his skills have just increased in my estimation.”
We moved the cart about slowly and rearranged the barrel to cover Barker’s left flank. I walked beside the cart, keeping an eye out for any movement.
“Sir! Stop the cart!”
“Whoa! What is, lad?”
“Look!”
I pointed to the lone flagpole that overlooked the harbor. The flag had been taken down and now lay in shreds on the ground.
“We are stranded,” Barker said.
“Surely someone will come by tomorrow,” I argued.
“They like their privacy on Godolphin Island, Thomas. I’m afraid there will be no aid from outside. We must look to our own survival.”
It occurred to me then that someone was out there somewhere perhaps watching us, gloating at the destruction he had caused.
The cart wended its way back to the house like a funeral cortege. No sooner did we arrive than the French ambassador came to the door.
“Stop him!” Barker called, pointing at him. Immediately, I leaped down and pushed Monsieur Gascoigne back into the house.
“What has happened? Who have you got there in the cart? Let me pass!” he bawled.
“Only if you wish to be the next casualty, sir. I’m afraid you must stay inside. It’s the only way to guarantee your survival. I’m afraid the victim is Monsieur Delacroix.”
“I’ve known Antoine Delacroix for twenty years. I’ve known Richard even longer. Two of my closest friends have died today!”
“I don’t want you to be the third, sir. I’m sorry for your loss.”
“How was he killed?” he asked. “Was he shot?”
“No, sir,” I said. “I’m afraid he was stabbed.”
“How is that possible? He taught fencing and single stick! No street apache in Paris was his match!”
“I don’t know, sir, but we’re going to find out.”
Barker arrived from the stable a few minutes later. I could not understand what had become of Lord Hargrave’s assassin. He had disappeared as suddenly as he had come.
“He’s dead?” the Frenchman asked, as if he had not believed me when I told him.
“Delacroix?” Barker asked. “Oh, quite dead. Tell me, sir, if you recognize this note.”
Gascoigne took the crumpled paper from his hand and read over the note several times, trying to make sense of it.
“This is not Antoine’s handwriting, monsieur.”
“I rather suspected that. The only interesting portion of the note is the last sentence, concerning the sea bass. It implies that whoever wrote and delivered this note was present when Delacroix mentioned returning to the boat. He has been masquerading as one of us.”
CHAPTER SEVEN
In our absence, Colonel Fraser had seen to it that our host’s body was brought in. That is, he had led four male servants out to the terrace and stood there unafraid and resolute staring into the forest while the young men had wrapped the body in a blanket and carried it slinglike into the hall, or so Cesar told me as soon as we entered. The old man had some brass.
“They carried him in and were going to set him down, but the blood, you see, was seeping all over the blanket. They set him down in the hall, on the hardwood, rather than stain the carpet. But what was to be done with him? Well! It turns out there is a crypt in the basement; they carried him down the steps to lie temporarily with Lady Hargrave’s forebears, until arrangements can be made.”
“Did you help?” I asked. We were loitering in the hall, but there had been a breakdown in decorum since the master’s death and we were not questioned.
“No, I was washing my hair over and over downstairs. There were fragments of bone and flesh still in it. It was appalling. I couldn’t get them out. I heard the gardener and three footmen carried him in.”
“It’s a wonder the colonel wasn’t shot, standing there in the open like that.”
“Gentlemen!” Barker’s voice rumbled. He was in the drawing room by the fireplace. “I wonder if you would be so kind as to come in here. We have much to discuss, regarding our current situation. Ladies, if you are not informed of what is decided afterward, or you have concerns about the outcome, by all means speak to me. It is not our wish to deliberately exclude you.”
The men moved at once into the drawing room as if by unspoken agreement. They didn’t talk until seated, but there were several questioning looks. I should state that I was the only subordinate present. No valets or servants of any kind were there. They had closed ranks. The group consisted of the ambassador, Colonel Fraser, Dr. Anstruther, Paul and Percy Burrell, Algernon Kerry, Barker and myself. Cesar had cut along to whatever duties needed tending.
“Gentlemen, we are in a predicament. I regret to inform you that I pulled Monsieur Delacroix’s body from the harbor. Someone or some group is intent upon killing us for no apparent motive. I should also state that I am not merely a guest here. I was hired as security for this event.”
Kerry, Cesar’s master, spoke up first. “You’re not doing very well at it, in my opinion. Why should he need a bodyguard? This is just a house party, after all.”
Barker turned slightly and looked at the ambassador. The latter moved forward in his chair and spoke.
“Lord Hargrave and I were in governmental negotiations of the highest order, regarding our two countries. We were using this party to also finalize our plans. I’m afraid I cannot say more on the matter.”
“Who exactly are you, Barker?” Colonel Fraser demanded. “Who do you work for?”
“I am a private enquiry agent. My offices are hard by Scotland Yard. His Lordship called us to his offices and discussed the situation. I escorted Mrs. Ashleigh here, who is Lady Hargrave’s closest friend. Her Ladyship will vouch for the fact that her husband hired me.”
“But what are we to do?” asked the eldest son, Paul, a man in his midthirties. He was a good-looking man, who looked like an athlete. His face was ashen, however.
“I suppose we should be calling you ‘Your Lordship’ now,” the colonel said.
“Never mind that. My father is dead, along with that poor Frenchman. What are we going to do to assure no one else will die?”
“The red flag has been torn down and shredded. If somehow we can get a makeshift one up and flying again, we might be able to attract a passing boat.”
“Perhaps,” the colonel said. “But it will be at their great peril. Someone would be risking life and limb to put the flag up again. Whoever killed His Lordship obviously does not want to be bothered with passing vessels.”
Percy, the youngest Burrell son and one closer to my own age, spoke up. He looked completely at sea.
“May we assume that whoever killed my father had political reasons for doing so?”
Barker deferred once again to the French ambassador. The latter stroked his Imperial mustache and glared at us with his bulbous eyes.
“There is no well-organized group or organization intent upon threatening an alliance between England and France, save perhaps the Germans or the Russians who are intent upon weakening us both. His Lordship assured us the Home Office has carefully watched all political groups in England. To our knowledge, no one was aware that Richard—Lord Hargrave—and I were to meet.”
“And yet our father is dead,” the younger son continued.
“Oui, monsieur.”
“And on your side, were there any organizations against a treaty?”
“A few,” he admitted. “But none of them knew I was leaving the country, the Sûreté has assured us.”
“What of Scotland Yard?” Barker asked. “Were they notified?”
“No, Monsieur Barker. It was accepted that this matter did not concern them. However, the Foreign Office has been informed.”
“Dare we hope that if nobody contacts them in a few days, they will come to see how the treaty is coming along?”
“I’m afraid I have no answer for you.”
“A message was delivered to the ambassador’s boat to leave until she will be summoned later. Either before or after, the bodyguard, Mr. Delacroix, was murdered. I have determined that the message is a forgery. Someone wanted the boat to leave while we are stranded here. We have no idea how long that will be. I suggest we prepare ourselves. The French doors must be boarded or the house could be invaded at any time. We should inventory our food and ration our water. There are any number of things we should consider. One could say we find ourselves in a siege situation.”
The first to speak up was Algernon Kerry. I was beginning to dislike him.
“How do we know the rest of us are in danger? Just because you say so? You are not our leader, Mr. Barker, and you cannot dictate to us. You claim someone out there means us harm. Rather than spending time counting jam jars, let us arm ourselves and track the blighter to wherever he is. There is a full gun cabinet by the window.”
“Have you experience firing a gun, Mr. Kerry?”
“I was a captain in the Venezuelan army during the Border War with Brazil. I’m well acquainted with firearms.”
“I will merely say that the man who shot Lord Hargrave with some accuracy and stabbed a seasoned Sûreté inspector to death is dangerous and should be approached cautiously.”
“We shall do so. Meanwhile, will you and your man guard the house and the female guests while we are gone?”
“With my life, sir.”
“Shall we go, gentlemen?”
The men looked at each other, then by consensus rose.
“Ambassador, I must ask that you stay behind,” the Guv said. “His Lordship may be gone, but I signed a contract to protect you that I intend to fulfill.”
Gascoigne looked annoyed at not getting to join the hunting party. He buried his fists into his hips and frowned thunderously. I suppose it worked within the French government, but I thought him a spoiled child.
Partridge came through then with a ring of keys and unlocked the gun cabinet. The key turned in the lock and the cabinet was opened, under the eager eyes and hands of Kerry and his cronies.
“Stop!” Barker called.
Everyone froze.
“Partridge, there is an empty space in the rack, right there in the middle. Was there a rifle in every slot?”
“Yes, sir, there was.”
“And can you recall which one appears to be missing?”
Under close scrutiny, the butler went through the stock of hunting rifles there.
“It is His Lordship’s Sharps Carbine, sir. It appears some ammunition is missing, also.”
“May I assume that His Lordship did not possess expanding bullets?”
“Of course not, sir. These were for hunting parties on the mainland.”
“The Sharps is a long-distance rifle, known for its accuracy. I suspect that His Lordship was shot with his own rifle. Is the key you are holding there usually well secured?”
“It is, sir. Always. I lock it up myself.”
“Perhaps the lock was picked,” Barker said.
“You may look for yourself after we are done, Mr. Barker,” Algernon Kerry said. “Right now, we’ve got a man to capture.”
The Guv had warned them but they would not be dissuaded. Within a minute the rack of rifles was denuded and men who probably had little experience with firearms were tossing odd rounds into any old gun. It seemed to me a recipe for disaster. The ambassador should have been glad to stay in the house, which was the only safe place on the island, but he was just as eager as the rest of them to get out and shoot something.
Perhaps I am being harsh toward them. Having lived when others had just died, they felt a need to do something. Anything. Running about madly with guns was certainly more heroic than taking food inventories and boarding up windows. I had seen both murder victims firsthand, however, and whatever this fellow was, he was competent at killing and at staying alive. It could be a massacre.
“Stop them,” I said in Barker’s ear.
“How? They are grown men who will not listen to sense. I can stop myself. I can stop you. I stopped the ambassador due to a commitment I made. I have not committed to saving everyone.”
Well armed and fortified with libations from the liquor tray, the men turned as one and marched out like a home battalion headed to the Sudan. And the minute they were gone, the women of the house appeared in ones and twos, looking accusingly at us as if we had planned and executed this maneuver ourselves. An old and established diplomat, Gascoigne knew when a crowd could not be dissuaded. He made a hasty retreat to his room.
“Where have they gone?” Millicent Fraser asked.
“After His Lordship’s killer, madam,” Barker answered.
“Ross can barely see beyond twenty feet. He’s liable to shoot one of the party.”
“They’re in danger, aren’t they?” Bella Anstruther asked.
“Aye, miss. The man in the woods is very accurate and has no qualms about killing another person.”
“Why didn’t you stop them, then?”
“I warned them. I have no authority to order them. They are grown men.”
“A few of them,” Mrs. Fraser acknowledged. “The rest are boys playing at soldiers.”
Mrs. Ashleigh, who stood beside the colonel’s wife, glanced at Barker. For once, he was on the side of caution. I did not imagine that would last long. She turned my way but I immersed myself in what was being said.
“Which way did they go?” Bella asked.
“Straight into the woods.”
“Do you think he’s there?”
“He could be anywhere. He seems to know the island well.”
“What did you talk about in the library?” Lady Alicia asked.
“I tried to organize them and make preparations for being here for some time. Instead, they followed the suggestion of Mr. Kerry, who wanted to hunt the man down immediately.”
“Was that so wrong?” a young woman asked. I suspected it was the daughter, Olivia, to whom Gascoigne was a godparent.
“He is better armed than they, and probably a better shot. A sharpshooter could take most of them down from a distance, then disappear.”
“How would you handle it differently?” Mrs. Fraser asked.
“I would want to know what this man’s plan is. Mr. Llewelyn and I just returned from the harbor unscathed. We would have been an easy target. If his plan is not to kill anyone who puts his head out the window, I would like to determine what it is.”
I had to stop myself from smiling. You clever fellow. If you cannot convince the men, you shall convince the women instead.
CHAPTER EIGHT
The sun was setting quickly.
“So, what do we do until the hunting party returns?” Gascoigne asked from the top of the stairs. Having seen that Barker was not tarred and feathered, he had returned.
“When your boat is sinking, you must plug the holes, sir,” Barker said.
“How do we begin?” Philippa asked.
“We must close and secure the front shutters on the windows facing the woods, barricade the doors, and look to see if there is any other way into Godolphin House. We must also secure the food and water as soon as possible.”
