enough for Archie to see that the smile which had so recently transformed the curate’s face seemed to have been extinguished along with the light.
Distracted, he stumbled over the next line and lost his place on the page. It took him a few seconds to find the right section, and the actors paused awkwardly while he tried to catch up with them. When he spoke again, the words were rushed and indistinct; the rhythm and the timing that he had worked so hard to perfect were, he knew, entirely lost, but he was more concerned now with what was going on behind the scenes. He looked again at Nathaniel, and immediately abandoned any thought of continuing with the play. The curate was staring straight ahead towards the recess under the stage. As Archie watched, the arm that had been there before to steady him reached out again, but this time it was not to ensure Nathaniel’s safety. Nathaniel took two steps backwards, and the figure hidden from view moved out a little further from its hiding place, far enough for Archie to make out a brown hood in the light of the remaining lantern. Behind him, he was aware that the audience had begun to fidget. One or two of the actors were walking over to see what he was looking at, but everything happened so quickly that even Archie doubted what he was seeing. Nathaniel moved back as far as he could, but found himself trapped against the wire fence. There was nowhere else for him to go, no way of escape from whoever was threatening him. Archie began to run, calling out as he went, but the curate had his hands pressed over his ears as though he were trying to blot out some insidious, demonic song that only he could hear, and the words of warning drifted uselessly out to sea.
Even as he made for the perilous steps which would take him down to the backstage path, Archie knew that he would not reach Nathaniel in time. Inevitably, the fence started to give under the strain. Desperately, the curate looked up, but the moment for rescue was long gone. Before Archie had a chance to set foot on the top step, the wire snapped completely and Nathaniel fell backwards, his hands clutching frantically at empty air.
The bulk of the cliff hid his dreadful descent, but Archie’s mind played tricks on him, convincing him that he could see Nathaniel’s body plummeting downwards, his arms outstretched and his black costume billowing out behind him. The image stayed with him, lurid and sensational, like the suicide engravings so popular in cheap Victorian street literature, where fallen women chose death off Westminster Bridge rather than face the misery of their everyday lives. But there was no choice involved here, and Archie tried to rid himself of that haunting mental picture and concentrate instead on the person responsible for it. He was halfway down the steps by now, but the path was suddenly plunged into darkness as the hooded figure kicked the two remaining lanterns over the edge after his victim. Disoriented, Archie clung to the rock for a second, trying to get his balance on the steps. Without the comforting flicker of the storm lamps, the power of the landscape and the immensity of the sea were overwhelming. He called out for more lights and continued down carefully, a step at a time, but he knew pursuit was hopeless; already, he could hear footsteps receding along the path, footsteps more familiar with the layout of the Minack than he was, or driven to desperation by an urgent need to escape. The whole incident had lasted barely fifteen seconds, but it was long enough to take him to a different world: the colour and artifice of the play were long gone, and he was left alone with the solid darkness of the cliffs, with the certainty that somewhere far beneath him, where fringes of white foam played around the Minack rock, lay Nathaniel’s broken body.
Chapter Eleven
It was Rowena Cade who met Archie at the top of the steps with two storm lanterns. She peered past him down to the backstage path and the look of horror on her face told him that she could see the broken fence, but he was grateful that she also seemed to sense the importance of remaining calm; it was going to be virtually impossible to control such a large crowd, and the main thing was to avoid alarming them for as long as possible to allow him to take charge of the situation. The cast on stage were looking at each other in bewilderment, and other actors drifted out gradually from the dressing area or various hiding places behind the rocks where they had been awaiting their next cue. As they each removed their cowls and became individuals again, Penrose realised the futility of searching for Nathaniel’s assailant: the Minack’s layout was such that he or she could easily have taken the steps around the auditorium and left the theatre without being seen by anyone, or, in the confusion of the comings and goings on stage, it would even have been possible for someone to blend into a group of identically dressed actors without drawing particular attention. The hooded figure he had seen could be standing just a few feet away or could be long gone; either way, the priority now was to locate Nathaniel.
There was a murmur of conversation among the audience, and some people had got to their feet to try to see what was happening. Penrose held up his hand for silence and asked everyone to stay where they were for the time being, and there was a note of authority in his voice that made them reluctant to question his instructions – all except William, who strode anxiously over to see if he could help. Penrose took him and Miss Cade to one side and spoke quickly and firmly. ‘Nathaniel’s gone over into the zawn,’ he said, choosing his words carefully. ‘How much time do we have before the tide comes in?’
‘Not long,’ she replied. ‘An hour or two before full tide, but the water will already be high up the rocks.’
‘Then we can’t wait for help. I need ropes and as much light as you can find. Will you sort that out for me, and bring everything down by the side steps? And the police need to be called immediately – make sure to tell them I need full back-up, with forensics and a photographer.’
She nodded and hurried off up the slope towards Minack House. ‘You’re not going down there, surely, Archie?’ William asked.
‘I don’t have a choice. If he’s fallen all the way down, we’re already too late. Let’s just hope he’s on one of the rocks higher up – we won’t know until we can get some light down there.’
‘Do you think he’s still alive, then?’
Archie remembered how he had felt earlier when he looked down into the zawn. Even the highest level of rocks was sixty or seventy feet down, and only a miracle would save a man’s life after such a fall. ‘No, I’m afraid I don’t,’ he said, ‘but we can’t let his body be washed out to sea if there’s anything we can do to stop it.’
William looked down into the blackness, his face full of sorrow. ‘Then at least let me get some of the men here to help. It would be madness to go down alone.’
The last thing Archie felt like doing was entrusting his safety to a man in a brown habit, but William was right – he did need someone to anchor the rope, and his uncle would not be strong enough on his own. ‘All right – fetch Jago. Make sure he comes on his own, though – the last thing we want is a crowd tramping all over the cliff, and come back as quickly as you can.’
Left alone for a moment, Archie took one of the storm lanterns and went along the path to the recess, but whoever had been waiting there had left no trace of his or her existence behind. When he got back to the steps, Rowena Cade and the man called Billy were already on their way down, laden with ropes, torches, climbing gloves and a heavy tarpaulin which could be used as a stretcher if necessary. ‘I don’t want to tell you your job, Inspector,’ she said as she set everything down on the floor in front of him, ‘but I have been down there a few times myself, and the best route is over that grass slope on the right, then down the rope on to the first level of rock. From there, if you’re careful, you can climb all the way round the zawn. Do you want me to lead the way?’
He refused the offer, but was grateful for the advice. Removing the silk habit which covered his more conventional clothes, he selected the sturdiest-looking rope and waited impatiently for William to return. When he appeared at the top of the steps, Archie was horrified to see that he was accompanied not by Jago but by Kestrel Jacks and a young man he didn’t recognise. ‘Jago’s nowhere to be found, I’m afraid,’ William called, ‘but luckily I bumped into Jacks coming down from the auditorium. And this is Angus Trew. He’s a constable over in Penzance, and he happened to be in the audience. He’s been keeping the peace out there – everyone’s getting a bit restless.’
‘Just wondered if there was anything else I could do to help, Sir,’ the policeman said.
‘Sounds like you’ve already been doing the most important thing, Constable,’ Penrose said. ‘Thank you for that.’ He thought for a second: there was little to be gained from keeping the audience here, and the process of recovering Nathaniel’s body would be a whole lot easier and more dignified without a crowd of people watching. ‘Perhaps you and Miss Cade could clear the auditorium for me. Explain as briefly as you can that there’s been an accident, and take names and addresses as people leave just in case we need to contact them later. Try to keep everyone as calm as you can. Gather the cast together in one place – the stage is probably best – and keep them there until I come and find you. We’ll need to speak to everyone who was involved in the play before they leave
