«„Don’t seem too unfair from where I’m lying“,» I threw back at him. «There’ll be a nominal wage. Just think! You’ll be a peppercorn renter!»
Charlie patted his bruised eye tenderly. «What do you mean
I snorted. «You’re on approval, my boy. There can be no question of a decent salary until I am quite satisfied as to the depravity of your character.»
«Bloody hell!»
«Cheer up,» I murmured. «I’m sure we’ll rub along together very well.»
There came a knock at the door. Cursing, I jumped from the bed, slipped into a dressing gown and padded to the door.
A uniformed telegraph boy bowed to me. He was a stringy thing wearing the insolent slouch of the adolescent like a badge of pride.
«Signor Box?»
I nodded and he placed the wire into my hand. I scrabbled at the envelope.
The boy cocked his head. «You answer, signor?»
«No. No answer.» I closed the door.
Charlie had risen and was struggling into his frightful grey knickers and striped socks. «What is it?»
«Your former master has disappeared, Charles. We must make our way there forthwith. You can continue your interrupted tale as we go.»
I dressed in a whirlwind, reloaded my pistol and, as I followed Charlie to the door, passed the pile of clothes I had discarded from the previous night’s adventures. I pulled up sharp. Something shiny was projecting from the damp-mottled cloth of my destroyed waistcoat.
Stooping, I pulled it out. It was a fragment of chart that I must have salvaged from the round room. It showed some kind of cross-section, coloured in various lurid inks. It was impossible to make out much detail and I realized at once that I must consult some literature on the subject.
«Two birds with one stone,» I muttered to myself with a smile.
«Eh?» said Charlie.
«Nothing. Come on.»
We raced down the quayside and found a cab. The driver, an old fellow with eyebrows like white sea-urchins, propelled us northwards with gratifying expedition.
Rocked from side to side as we sat in the dingy carriage, Charlie continued his story.
«Well, I kept me eyes and ears open, like Mr Poop’d said to do. I didn’t pick up anything for ages»
«Not like you.»
«Then one night I overheard a bit of talk. It concerned some old geezers back in Blighty and one over here. Well, my ears pricked up because the one over ’ere was his nibs — Sir Emmanuel. My bleedin’ employer. Hello, I thinks, what’re they up to?»
«And did you find out?»
«Not exactly. But I ’eard them saying there was a woman to be brought across too. Party called Knight.»
I gave a satisfied grunt. «K to V.C. Go on.»
«Well, I told all this to Mr Poop but then he never come back.»
I looked out of the window and frowned. «No, he wouldn’t have. They were on to him, Charlie. They smashed his brains in with one of their quaint antiquities. Anything else? It seems to me your precious information is rather thin.»
Charlie shrugged. «Listen, I’ve risked everything to throw my lot in with you. I tried to hear more but I weren’t allowed in. Venus’s fella»
«You’ve seen him?»
«Just the back of ’im.»
«Big fellow? Broad back?»
Charlie shook his head. «No. Not at all. Slight, really. He had a hat and cloak on but he looked pretty slight to me.»
«Oh I see. Well, you were saying?»
«Don’t know if I should tell you, seeing as how you set so little store by my „precious information“.»
I sighed. «
Charlie gave a small smile. «All I know is, Venus’s fella has something to do with the House of the Lightning Tree, the biggest den in Naples.»
«Den?»
«Opium, Mr Box.»
I was pondering this when I was jerked forward as the cab drew to a halt. «Ah! We’re here!»
We were outside the crumbling manor house. I jumped from the cab and positively wrenched the bell from its housing as I summoned the butler.
The old retainer came stumbling out and pulled open the gates. He glared at Charlie.
«Where the devil ’ve you been, young man?»
«Never mind that now,» I interrupted him. «What’s happened? We came as soon as»
The servant was shaking his head mournfully. «He’s gone, sir. Vanished!»
«Anything unusual in his behaviour?»
Stint ushered us towards the door, casting venomous glances at Charlie. «No, sir. Not at thing. I brought him the post as usual at a quarter to nine. I returned at ten to bring him his morning coffee but found the library locked. When there was no reply to my knocking I had the door broken open.»
We had stopped at the library door and saw the lock was shattered. Stint pushed it open. «The library was empty.»
I looked over at the wheeled-chair — the imprint of the ex-occupant’s arse plain in its faded orange cushion — and then at his desk. Nothing leapt out as being particular although the atmosphere of the room was unusually stifling even allowing for the weather and Quibble’s infernal over-heating. Moreover the windows were open…
«The question being then, how does a crippled man escape via the French windows?»
«It is unthinkable, sir. That the windows were open at all is most singular given Sir Emmanuel’s horror of cold.»
I nodded absently. «The post you brought. Of what did it consist?»
Stint pointed towards the desk. «There they are, sir.»
I looked down. Spread out on the blotter were a quantity of envelopes. I reached towards them and then, thinking better of it, took out my handkerchief and, covering my hand, spread them out in a fan.
«Nine, all told,» I mused. «But only four have been opened.» Bending down, I peered at the opened letters. «Invitations all, it seems. Hello! What’s this?»
Almost obscured by the blotter was a tenth envelope, a tell-tale mauve in colour and edged in black. I picked up the letter knife and worried it from its hiding place.
«Addressed to Sir Emmanuel,» I said, flipping it over.
Stint moved closer to the desk. «But no enclosure, sir?»
I shook my head. «Where did you find your master?»
«He was over there by that bookshelf. Between
I looked up at him.
«Hard not pick up the master’s habits, sir,» he said with a sniff.
I crossed to the bookshelf and took the place occupied by the late scientist. I glanced over at the cold, empty grate of the fire.
«There was, of course, a fire burning?»
«Of course, sir.»
«Over here! Mr Box!»
I turned at Charlie’s cry and moved swiftly to where he stood, swinging one of the French windows open and shut. He stepped outside and pointed to the exterior lock. A swift examination told me all I needed to know.
