him curse out loud, before hastening away.
‘They let us run to see who we’d go to. Once we’d escaped they thought it was easiest just to follow,’ Eddie realised.
‘So now they know where you live, and where I live as well as about the theatre,’ Liz pointed out.
‘We could go to Sir William, at the British Museum,’ George suggested.
‘That’s where you work,’ Eddie said. ‘So they’ll know to watch there too.’
‘And they could very well be watching Sir William anyway,’ Liz added.
‘There must be somewhere we can go until they stop looking,’ George said.
‘If they ever do,’ Eddie mumbled.
Liz did not reply. Somewhere in the distance, muffled by the fog, she heard the roar of a train. Except that somehow she knew it was not a train at all.
Chapter 14
Sir William had his hand on the door knob before he realised there was someone already in his office.
He hesitated, hand poised ready to turn the knob. It was Garfield Berry that he could hear — the distinctive nasal tones. He did not know why Berry should be in his office, but it was no matter. Except …
Except that Berry was talking to someone. And not even Berry was permitted in Sir William’s office without his permission. And now he came to think about it, Sir William had left the office locked, the key was still in his pocket. Berry had no key, not that Sir William knew about anyway.
As he stood there, trying to make out the muffled voices from behind the door, several things occurred to Sir William. He remembered how he had thought his papers had been moved yesterday. How on several occasions he had wondered if things on his desk had been examined. How he had once found Berry in his office when he was sure he had left it locked. Berry had insisted the door was open and he had been looking for Sir William.
His hand dropped as he made out some of Berry’s words:
‘… back soon. He won’t be expecting us …’
The other voice was low and gruff. It was harder to make out, but Sir William caught odd snatches of what it said:
‘… can’t go back to the theatre, or to Archer’s house …’
Sir William stiffened at this. He pressed his ear to the door, struggling to hear more.
‘What about the woman?’ Berry was asking.
‘We’re watching her house too. That urchin doesn’t live anywhere so far as we can tell. But we have another way of finding him, don’t you worry.’
‘So you think they might come here?’ Berry said.
‘It’s where Archer works. And we are pretty sure that Sir William High-And-Mighty Protheroe is also involved with them.’
Sir William smiled at that. He certainly was involved, and getting more involved by the moment.
‘Mr Lorimore got my letter?’ Berry asked. ‘About the body, with the copy of Sir William’s notes? And Archer’s address?’
The smile faded from Protheroe’s face. Lorimore — so now he knew for sure. And he was right, someone had been through his papers. He had suspected that idiot Defoe, not the apparently loyal Berry. He stepped back from the door and considered his options. To confront Berry and the other man now would perhaps be to overplay his hand. As it was, they did not realise that he knew Berry was working against him.
No, he decided, better to leave them to their intrigue while he decided how to help Archer and his friends. But first he would have to find them — before Lorimore did. Sir William made his way back out of the British Museum and towards the Atlantian Club. The night was drawing in and he could do with a spot of dinner. He lived alone in a big, old house some miles away so the club was convenient and he had no one expecting him at home. Dinner, and a glass of wine to lubricate the brain while he considered where George Archer might be found. If necessary he could stay overnight.
He continued to pursue the problem as he sat alone in the club dining room and tucked into his steak and kidney pie. It was clear that Archer could not go home, nor could he go to Miss Oldfield’s house. The theatre — wherever that was — was also off-limits. The boy Eddie was of no fixed abode, so that was no help. He might have all kinds of dens and haunts where he could take George Archer and Elizabeth Oldfield, though he doubted any of them would be very salubrious.
He tried a different approach — considering their characters. Archer was a proactive man. That was one of the things that had drawn Sir William to him — the fact he liked to be busy, to be doing something rather than sitting around looking important like so many of his colleagues. He was sure Miss Oldfield was the same. And the boy Eddie was nothing if not impulsive and energetic. They would be actively searching for clues and solutions to the puzzle — hoping to gain the upper hand rather than simply trying to avoid capture.
In fact, he realised as he drained the last of his wine, there was only one place they could end up. Sir William dabbed at his lips with his napkin. They might not have worked it out yet themselves, of course, but eventually they would have to go there. They really did not have any other choice.
‘Thank you, Stephen.’ Sir William smiled at the doorman on his way out. He paused on the foggy threshold to put on his hat.
‘Getting thick again, sir,’ Stephen commented.
‘Indeed it is.’ Sir William hefted his cane. ‘I was going to walk, but perhaps you could find me a cab?’
‘Of course, sir.’
‘Oh, and Stephen?’
‘Sir?’ He raised a hand, almost lazily.
‘If anyone comes looking for me …’
Somehow a cab had clattered up outside the club, though it seemed not to surprise Stephen. ‘Yes, sir?’ he prompted.
‘I was never here.’
Stephen nodded in understanding. He stepped forward to open the door to the carriage. ‘I will make sure that no one else has seen you either, sir.’
‘I still think this is a daft idea,’ George protested in a hoarse whisper.
‘We all agreed,’ Liz told him, also whispering. ‘If you have a better suggestion, then please do tell us.’
‘Just along here’s a good spot to hide and watch,’ Eddie said.
He led them through the foggy night into a small wooded area. George was glad to be off the driveway and out of sight. Even with the thick fog, he had been afraid that any moment Blade or one of his thugs would appear in front of them. It had seemed like a good idea to come to Lorimore’s estate to hunt for clues when they were hiding behind the wall outside the Chistleton Theatre. But now they were actually here, George thought it was the most absurd notion.
‘If Lorimore is behind this, then this is the last place they’ll think of looking for us,’ Liz reminded him as they followed Eddie into the trees. ‘If he isn’t then it should be safe. And as you have pointed out, we need more evidence — any evidence — if we are to go to the police.’
The branches were sweating where the fog condensed on their bark. The very air itself dripped with the damp, and it was bitingly cold. Eddie was huddled down on the ground pointing through a gap in the trees.
‘You can see his house from here. Well, nearly. You could if it wasn’t so foggy.’
George and Liz sat down beside Eddie. He could just make out a blurred shape that might be Lorimore’s house. A faint light glowed at the back of it.
‘So where’s this monster live?’ Liz asked. From her tone, George guessed that she was still dubious that such a creature even existed. But he wasn’t, not any more.
‘Over there.’ Eddie pointed across behind the house. ‘There’s a big shed near the trees. I reckon that’s where the monster lives.’
‘In a garden shed?’
