The Death Collector

‘I’m not really sure,’ George admitted. ‘It was most peculiar.’

‘The business with the glass did seem genuine somehow,’ Liz agreed, ‘though the rest of the show was trickery and illusion.’

Eddie nodded. ‘Lot of it about. So what’s this glass business, then?’

‘It spelled out letters,’ George explained. ‘Though they don’t make much sense.’

‘O R I M O,’ Liz told him.

‘Well, that’s something, innit?’

‘Hardly,’ George said, ‘we were lucky to escape an unfortunate situation.’

‘Luck was it? Eddie asked. He seemed to be trying not to laugh.

‘Yes,’ Liz told him. ‘A rather unpleasant gentleman was keen to know how to contact the spirit world. Luckily there was a fire somewhere in the house, and he was distracted.’

‘There weren’t no fire,’ Eddie said.

‘How do you know?’ George asked. ‘You weren’t there.’

Eddie coughed. ‘There weren’t no fire,’ he repeated. ‘Someone shouted fire as a distraction.’

Liz frowned. ‘But who would …’ She stopped as she realised what Eddie was telling them.

‘You were there?’ George had realised too. ‘After all we said, after what we agreed? How can we ever trust you again after this?’

‘There’s gratitude,’ Eddie complained.

Eddie had a point, Liz thought. She was angry with him too, but it was lucky that he had been there with his wits about him. She sighed, trying to explain. ‘Look, we’re grateful for the help, really we are.’

‘Don’t sound it. You never do. If Blade finds you he’s going to want his bit of paper. If he finds me, he’ll likely cut my throat. Now it seems like we got a clue from this seance and I get not a word of thanks for the idea nor for saving you at the end of it. You don’t believe I can do anything to help, though I’m in just as deep as you are. Don’t even believe I saw a monster either, do you?’

‘You were scared,’ Liz said gently. ‘It could have been a tree or anything.’

‘I know what I saw,’ Eddie said. ‘You weren’t there. But I was. You just don’t trust me.’

‘Leave him be,’ George told Liz. ‘If he’s got it into his head there’s a monster, we won’t talk him out of it.’ They continued down the street in uneasy silence.

The moon was a pale sliver of light that danced in and out of the scudding clouds. Crouched in amongst the trees, Eddie began to wonder if this was a good idea after all.

He had been angry with George and Liz when they laughed at his story about the monster. George had told him it was all his imagination. Although Liz had been sympathetic, she had agreed with George. But Eddie knew what he had seen.

Yet Liz and George weren’t interested. George had offered to walk Liz home and they had agreed to meet again tomorrow when George had a day off from the Museum. There was a mystery here that he could solve, Eddie was certain, but they just weren’t seeing it. There was a monster, and it lived near where Albert Wilkes had disappeared — in the grounds of the house where those men had taken him. That wasn’t just by chance, there had to be some connection. Well, he’d show them. He would go back, he had decided, and get proof. He didn’t know what sort of proof, but he’d find it.

That had been the plan. Now he was not so sure. He had to climb over the wall because there was a man on guard at the gate. Now he found there were more men patrolling the grounds. Eddie was shivering in the cold, hiding behind a tree and hoping the moon stayed hidden until the second man, the one guarding the house, had gone.

Eddie had seen him walking first one way then the other. The man paused to stamp his feet in the cold or to light a cigarette. In the brief flashes of thin moonlight, Eddie could see him clearly on the gravel pathway. He was stocky, his bulk emphasised by his heavy coat. A cap was pulled down low over his eyes, and over his shoulder was slung what Eddie had at first thought was a fishing rod.

But as he crept closer, he saw that it was a shotgun. Eddie quickly slunk back into the trees and wondered if he had been foolish to come here. Perhaps he should have waited until morning and tried to convince George and Liz to come with him.

‘They didn’t believe me before, they wouldn’t believe me then,’ he murmured to himself. No, it was up to Eddie to investigate on his own. He held his breath as the guard walked close in front of him and didn’t exhale again until the guard was long gone. He watched the guard disappear into the mist, waited until he could no longer hear the crunch of the man’s feet on the gravel. Then Eddie ran quickly and quietly in the opposite direction. Towards the place where he had seen the monster.

The more he thought about it, the more he thought that maybe George was right, about the monster at least. What had he really seen? A tree blowing in the breeze, its branches clutching like claws? Dark clouds hurrying across the sky?

He was running on the grass so as to make no noise. The house was a dark shape across the gravel drive that ran around it. As he came round the side of the house, Eddie could see a large room jutting out of the back as if recently added. Light was seeping round the edges of huge blacked-out windows. A thumping sound made him stop abruptly. The sound stopped too, and he realised it was his feet. He was no longer on grass.

Eddie stopped and looked down. He was on a narrow gravel path which seemed to run from the house towards the trees. Or rather, as the moon dipped out from behind the clouds, he could see it led to a small hut positioned just at the edge of the wooded area.

As he drew closer, he could see that the hut was much bigger than he thought. The whole of the front was a large wooden door with a heavy iron bar resting across brackets to keep it shut. It was too heavy for Eddie to lift.

What was behind the doors? A coal bunker perhaps? Storage for garden tools? Eddie pressed his ear to the rough wood. There was something inside. He could hear it. He strained to work out what it was. A puffing, rasping, regular rush of sound. It lasted several seconds then stopped. After a pause it came again.

The clouds parted to reveal the moon, and in the increased light Eddie glanced back — to see the guard with the gun coming round the path from the front of the house. Quickly and quietly, he slipped round the side of the hut. It was built of brick, he realised — solid and substantial. He waited a moment, then made a dash for the trees.

The man continued his patrol, oblivious to Eddie’s presence. But Eddie was not watching him. He was staring back at the dark smudge that was the hut. What had he heard? Was it the sound of a train on the underground perhaps? Maybe there was a tunnel close to the coal chute or whatever was behind the doors. Or maybe it was water rushing through a sewer.

But no matter what Eddie thought it might be, nothing could displace his first impression. The thought that it sounded like something breathing.

Chapter 12

Eddie was exhausted when he finally climbed into bed. He fell asleep almost at once, dreaming of fog and monsters and men with guns.

He was wakened by the light streaming in through the open window and the sounds of London. Carriages clattered past in the street outside; paper boys shouted headlines; someone cursed loudly. And an enticing smell of bacon wafted up the stairs. It was the smell that revived Eddie and which reminded him where he was. He hadn’t bothered even to take his jacket off, so he went straight downstairs.

There was a small kitchen at the back of the house. ‘Something smells nice,’ Eddie announced as he went in.

George was standing by a little stove. He flinched visibly at Eddie’s voice and almost dropped the frying pan he was holding through a wrapped tea towel.

‘Dear Lord, you gave me the fright of my life,’ George said when he had recovered a little. The bacon hissed and sizzled in the pan.

Eddie was laughing. ‘I could see that.’