younger man's shoulder. 'Forgive me. I meant no insult, my friend.'
Newton took a step back and bowed. 'No offence taken, I'm sure. Sir, I was enamoured with your entire talk, but the cave fascinated me. Perhaps this interest comes as a result of some inexplicable primeval connection in my mind. Whatever it may be, I would like to know more about it.'
'Sadly, I can add almost nothing to what I said earlier tonight. It was a quarter of a century ago. I was young and idealistic and I believed I could go back to explore at my leisure.'
'But there
'Oh, indeed there are. But they remain unexplored.'
'Did you record the layout on paper?' 'I did not.'
'So what exactly did you see?' Newton found it hard to keep the rising excitement out of his voice.
Wren frowned. 'There were two openings, I recall. I had the workmen dig around them for a day, as I said. They uncovered a flat roof, a winding corridor, tunnels. I sent two men down with a lantern. Yes, it's coming back to me now. They were gone an inordinately long time. And we were about to dispatch a search party-after them when they re-emerged, a little shabby and feeling somewhat sorry for themselves.'
Newton raised an eyebrow. 'What had befallen them?'
'I managed to obtain from them only a few facts. Apparently, there was some sort of maze beyond the opening. But they were confused about even this.
One of the men said it was a natural convolution of the tunnels, the other thought it was a demonic creation. They were superstitious and ignorant workmen, of course, but I could not have spared anyone with more intelligence at that time. It was perhaps a little foolish of me to digress from the work to which I was committed. It appeared that there were natural corridors leading off towards Hertford College to the south-east and to a point beneath the Bodleian Library almost directly south. I knew from experience that at Hertford College the cellars extend far underground with tunnels leading outward in the direction of my theatre. It was a trivial matter to join them up, and in that way I thought I was satisfying the calling of my curiosity and respecting my muse. You understand?'
Newton seemed far away, staring at Wren without speaking. Then he pulled himself together.
'Apologies, sir,' he mumbled. 'I was totally absorbed by your words. I do understand. We must satisfy our muse lest we shrivel up and die.'
'Quite.'
Newton appeared to have nothing more to add and an uncomfortable silence fell between the two men.
'Well, if that is all you seek, Isaac. .' Wren said.
'I'm most grateful to you,' Newton responded abruptly. 'Most grateful. Farewell, Sir Christopher.' He bowed and made for the door.
Chapter 9
Laura was sitting in Philip's house with the Aga on full and a fire blazing in the grate, wondering for perhaps the sixth time that evening how anyone could live in a house without central heating, when Philip's car pulled up outside.
In the hall he hung up his sodden coat and walked into the living room.
'God, you look awful,' she said.
'I feel awful,' he replied without looking at her. 'How's Jo?'
'She's upstairs, asleep. Battered and bruised but basically in one piece.'
'And is she cold?' Philip asked sarcastically. 'I can't believe the bloody temperature in this house.'
'Hah!' Laura said. I can't believe you enjoy living in the Stone Age. Have you not heard of that great new invention, the radiator?'
Philip sighed and slumped into a chair, put his elbows on the table and cupped his head in his palms. 'Yeah, OK. . whatever.'
'Bad day?'
He looked up at her. His eyes were bloodshot. 'I could do with a drink.'
A few moments later Laura handed him a huge malt whisky and settled into the chair next to him. 'You look like you need to get something off your chest.'
Philip took a gulp of his drink. 'Yes, and you won't give up until I tell you about it, will you?' he replied lightly.
'Absolutely not. So, what's been happening?'
He glanced over her shoulder at the TV. The local news programme had just started and Detective Chief Inspector Monroe was about to give an interview to a journalist. 'Let's watch this,' Philip said and turned up the volume with the remote.
'So, Detective Chief Inspector,' the journalist was saying. 'You can confirm a second incident?'
'Yes, the body of a young woman was found this morning on a tributary of the Cherwell close to the city centre.'
'And was this murder similar to the first, the one that was discovered last night?'
'It does share certain characteristics,' Monroe replied guardedly.
'I see. Some people are suggesting that we have a serial killer at large. Can you deny or confirm this?'
'It is far too early to jump to conclusions. You'll appreciate that we are doing everything we can-'
'But,' the interviewer interrupted, 'is it true that there is some ritualistic element to the murders?'
Monroe looked weary. 'All we can say at the moment is that there are some common characteristics.'
The journalist quickly changed tack. 'So, Chief Inspector, what happens now? Can you offer the public any advice?'
'Yes, indeed I can. I would like to reiterate that every effort is being made to find the person or persons responsible for these murders. We simply ask that members of the public remain calm, support us in our investigation in any way they can, and if anybody has any information that they come forward.'
Philip turned off the TV.
'Very cagey,' Laura said.
'Well, he has to be. Standard police procedure: never give details away. If someone comes forward with evidence to support the facts that have been deliberately kept from the public, you know they are leads worth following. It also lowers the risk of nutters trying to copycat.'
'Yeah, I know that, Philip. Remember what I used to do in New York?'
Philip smiled. 'Sorry.'
'So, you're going to be more forthcoming than Monroe, I hope.'
'Naturally, Laura,' he replied. Leaning back in his chair, Philip stretched out his legs and took a deep breath before telling her about the woman in the punt. After describing the pictures that he had taken he fell silent and drained his glass.
'My God,' Laura said slowly. 'I thought New York was a brutal place. You were told the body had been there for — what? Four hours?'
'She was partially concealed by the branches of a tree. Spotted by a woman out this morning.'
'Nice thing to stumble upon.'
Philip raised his eyebrows.
'So, that would place the murder in the early hours of the morning — 3, 4 a.m.'
'I guess so,' Philip replied and stared at Laura wearily. 'She lived in a house along the river. It's an out-of- the-way stretch of the Cherwell, no tourist punts there. Besides, it's out of season. It was the family boat. The parents are in Europe. Thing is, though, she wasn't murdered in there. Monroe went straight to the house. The girl's bedroom looks like the inside of an abattoir. She was placed in the punt later, which was guided to a spot under the trees and tethered to the bank.'
'Carefully planned. Like the murder at The Perch. You say a silver coin was left in the girl's skull?'
'That's right.'
'Did you notice where the gold coin was at the scene of the first murder? Did you see it before Monroe had
