family house in Mortlake. Once, Ernest had saved Anthony’s life by wading into a pond and freeing the drowning six-year-old from the weeds in which he was entangled. Anthony remembered lying on the grass beside the pond with Ernest kneeling beside him, love and distress etched into his face.
They enjoyed an idyllic childhood, the three of them, untroubled by their mother and father, unrebuked by the servants. Then something had gone wrong. The family’s money had vanished, almost overnight. Anthony — Tony to his brother and sister — was too young to understand, too young even to be told anything. But he overheard incomprehensible talk of investments on the other side of the world, of minerals in South America, of returns which had not materialized, of more investments and bigger losses. He remembered his father talking about throwing good money after bad, and young Tony visualized a pit in which banknotes fell like leaves to join piles of others which were slowly decaying.
They lost the house at Mortlake and moved to Orpington. Somewhere around that time, they lost their father too. He did not die, he simply disappeared. And, whenever their mother mentioned him again, it was through pursed lips. A few years later their mother died too, and the two brothers and the sister were thrown upon each other even more.
They did go their separate ways eventually, or rather Anthony did by training as a physician and travelling thousands of miles to India. During that time he was caught up in the Lucknow siege, and the rivalry with Lieutenant Marmont over the Indian girl. It was almost a quarter of a century before he returned to England and, when he did see his siblings again, they thought him the shell of the man he had once been. Ernest and Ethel kept house together. They had not exactly prospered either, although the medium enjoyed a brief period of popularity after being taken up by a peer of the realm.
Doctor Tony settled himself in Rosemary Street. He found himself a comfortable niche among the opium- smokers in Penharbour Lane. He did a good deed occasionally, as when he attended to the sick child in George Forester’s family. He did no great harm otherwise. Or no more than the odd spot of criminality. But everything changed when he heard the news of brother Ernest’s death. The thought of Ernest sliding beneath the cold, dark waters of the Thames — as he, Tony, had once almost slid beneath the weed-infested waters of the Mortlake pond — roused in the doctor a raging pity.
The more he turned over his brother’s fate, the more passionate Anthony Smight became in his determination to extract every last drop of vengeance. There were four people he considered guilty. He had set George Forester to spy on the Seldons and the Ansells, and to find out details of their households. He had dealt with the Seldons, not crudely by bludgeoning them over the head or shooting them through the heart with the gun which he kept about his person. Instead he had performed the task in a subtle, almost tortuous style, choking them to death by opening the gas valves in the house in Norwood. There was satisfaction in knowing that the Seldons had perished by drawing poisonous fumes into their lungs just as Ernest had died through absorbing water into his.
Doctor Tony was satisfied to read the account in the papers of the accident although later reports hinted at further police investigations. Smight did not care what they found. He did not even care if they found him eventually, as long as he fulfilled his mission. By now, he had travelled north in pursuit of Mr and Mrs Ansell, the other couple who were going to pay for what they had done to Ernest. As Inspector Traynor correctly surmised, Smight decided to base himself in Newcastle rather than Durham. He preferred the anonymity of a larger city and he felt at home in the area by the docks. But he spent lengthy periods in Durham, tracking his next victims. They were not so accessible as the Seldons and action against them required more thought. Besides, Smight took pleasure in concocting an elaborate plan. As he was doing now.
He was not aware of all the police activity. If he had been, he would still have believed himself capable of outwitting the whole pack of them. Although years of opium-taking might have sapped his moral sense, as Traynor claimed, it had not undermined his sense of superiority. Indeed, at times, he felt invulnerable. He suffered from bad dreams, though.
The Palace of Varieties
Tom and Helen Ansell were chafing under their near confinement in Colt House. Inspector Traynor had suggested that they would be safer if they spent most of their time at Miss Howlett’s. A policeman, equipped with truncheon and rattle, was stationed inside the house and occupied himself bantering with the servants in the back quarters. Another constable was keeping a watch over the front by making regular patrols along the South Bailey. Aunt Julia was strangely excited by all the police activity but Septimus Sheridan seemed terrified, whether of the police or the threat of a murderer at large. He had stopped going to the cathedral library and spent most of the time shut up in his room.
If Tom and Helen went out it was with a uniform for company, which was irritating. They both took the threat from Smight seriously but having a policeman over your shoulder whenever you wanted to go out was like a form of open arrest. Tom wondered how long the Durham force could sustain the search for Doctor Anthony Smight. There were police detailed to cover the railway station as well as the ones concentrating on Colt House.
He had told Inspector Traynor that he and Helen would soon be returning to London, and the Great Scotland Yard man looked unhappy, saying something about the need for material witnesses in the murder of Eustace Flask. But Tom had the uneasy feeling that what he really required was for the two of them to remain in Durham as a lure for Smight. The image of a tethered goat or lamb left out for a lion flashed through Tom’s normally unimaginative mind. And when he suggested that it might be a good idea to publicize the search for Smight in the local newspaper, Traynor said with great authority that that would merely drive their quarry underground.
Then everything changed. Traynor came by the house a couple of mornings later.
‘We’ve got him,’ he said without preliminary. His voice was curiously flat.
‘Doctor Smight?’ said Helen, shutting the book she was reading.
‘Yes, we have the doctor. When I say we, I mean that the police in Newcastle have apprehended him. We sent them the picture and other facts. I believe that they caught up with Smight in some low dive by the docks. It all fits.’
Tom, who’d been gazing out of the window, heard the hint of disappointment in Traynor’s voice. Of course, the London man wanted to be the one to make the arrest. He’d been beaten to it.
‘But my original hunch was correct,’ continued the Inspector. ‘Smight must have been staying in Newcastle and coming down by train to Durham to do his nefarious work. We had a possible sighting of him at the station yesterday morning but it was a case of mistaken identity, it seems.’
‘Could the Newcastle police be wrong?’ said Tom.
‘Not a chance. I have it here in black and white, just received at the police-house,’ said Traynor, producing a white telegraphic form. He walked over to where Tom was standing and showed the message to him, as if to prove his words. ‘They have laid hands on Smight. His name is established. I am catching the next train to Newcastle. I have already telegraphed ahead. They are expecting us. Superintendent Harcourt will accompany me. Smight will be closely questioned and then brought back here under heavy escort.’
‘Well, that’s a relief,’ said Helen. She stood up. ‘We can get back to leading a normal life.’
‘I will ask Superintendent Harcourt to withdraw his men from inside the house and outside,’ said Traynor. ‘You will not be surprised to hear that this manhunt has stretched the Durham force to the limit. And, yes, Mrs Ansell, you may rest easy.’
When they were alone, Helen said, ‘I am tired of being cooped up here. I am going for a walk.’
‘I’ll come with you.’
‘You don’t need to, Tom. As the Inspector said, there is no danger now.’
There was something in Helen’s manner that made Tom uneasy. Helen seemed uncomfortable too. After a moment she said, ‘Oh very well. If you must know, Major Marmont has requested my assistance in rehearsing a trick that he wishes to put on stage soon.’
‘Helen, surely you are not going to appear in public?’
The trouble was that Tom could see his wife stepping out on the stage, in a reckless moment. Helen was quick to reassure him.
‘No, no, don’t worry, I won’t embarrass you. But I did receive a note this morning from the Major.’
‘A note?’
