Blood From a Stone (33 page)

‘And human sacrifices,' put in Isabelle. Her voice from
inside the altar was oddly magnified.

Jack jumped involuntarily. ‘Blimey, Belle, that was
creepy.
The altar makes your voice all huge and hollow. You sound like
the Voice of Doom.'

‘Do I?' boomed the Voice of Doom.

‘Absolutely. It doesn't sound like you at all and to have you say
human sacrifices
is really weird. I take back all I said yesterday about the artist who made the altar being no great shakes. He knew exactly what he was doing.'

‘Jack,' boomed Isabelle's voice again. ‘Shall we explore the passage?'

Jack couldn't help laughing. ‘Put like that, it seems like a divine command. All right, I'm game if you are.'

He returned to the back of the altar and scrambled into it beside her. ‘Ladies first?' he asked with a grin.

‘Let's not stand on ceremony, shall we?' said Isabelle with a smile. ‘I'm more than happy for you to lead the way.'

‘Okey-doke.'

He climbed carefully down the narrow steps, feeling his way along the rough chalk walls. At the bottom a passage led away into darkness. It was tall enough for them to stand upright but not quite wide enough for them both to walk side by side.

‘Where are we?' asked Isabelle quietly, after a little while. ‘D'you think we're still in the cave?'

‘Maybe not. It's hard to judge. Whoa!' He stopped abruptly and flung his arms wide. Isabelle stopped just short of running into his back. ‘The ground slips away,' he said in answer to Isabelle's indignant query. He stepped to one side so she could see. ‘Look, the passage splits into two.' He shone his torch along the two paths.

‘It opens onto another cave, I think, Jack,' said Isabelle after a couple of moments. ‘Let's see.'

‘All right, but watch your step. The ground's very uneven.'

The cave was like a high, narrow room. The path sloped steeply down and they were glad of the handholds provided by the rocky walls. Jack stopped abruptly once more.

‘This is the end of the line, I think. The passage simply stops. There's just a big hole beyond. I say!'

‘What is it?'

‘It's the cave! The altar cave, I mean. The passage opens onto the back of the cave.'

He lay down, shining his torch out of the hole. ‘Yes, that's right. We're at the back, about four or five feet above the ground. You can't see this entrance from the cave because there's this spur of rock jutting out, shielding it. My word, put this together with that beastly altar, the old boys with their ghastly cult must have had a field day, jumping out on unsuspecting worshippers. Coming to church seems to have been a very different experience years ago.'

Isabelle didn't reply but made a funny little choking noise.

He turned his head. ‘Isabelle?'

‘Jack,' she said in a strained whisper. ‘Come here.'

She had found the body.

It was lying on a rocky ledge, away from the path, and it was easy to see how they had missed it in the flickering light of the torches and the utter darkness of the cave.

Jack ran his torch beam over the sprawled mass and hastily turned the light away. ‘That,' he said tightly, ‘isn't nice. She's obviously been dead for some time.'

Isabelle reached out for his hand. ‘Who is it?' she managed to say.

‘I think that's Florence Pargetter,' said Jack grimly.

‘Poor thing,' said Isabelle softly. She focused her torch beam on the flap of fabric that covered the body's legs. ‘She's wearing a new coat.' Her voice broke. ‘I bet it was her best coat.'

‘Come on,' said Jack gently. ‘Let's get out of here. We need to get hold of Ashley and Bill as soon as possible.'

They scrambled back up into the main passage, then Jack froze, rigidly still.

‘Isabelle,' he whispered urgently. ‘Someone's coming!'

From far away there was a gentle murmur of voices and a faint shuffling sound.

‘Back,' hissed Jack. ‘Back to the altar.'

As quietly as they could they retreated back along the passage, Isabelle silently blessing the fact she had chosen shoes with noiseless rope soles.

They reached the altar. Isabelle made to climb out but Jack put his hand on her arm.

‘Wait,' he said, very softly. ‘Turn your torch off.'

The darkness was so complete it was like a smothering blanket. With her nerves as taut as piano wire, Isabelle waited, then she felt Jack's mouth close to her ear.

‘I think they've gone the other way. We'd better stay put.'

Straining their ears, they could hear noises. He was right. The noises were coming from inside the cave. Whoever it was – and there were obviously at least two of them – had evidently gone down the other passage and climbed down into the cave.

Out of the back of the altar they could see a very faint, flickering light, high above them on the roof of the cave. Isabelle breathed a silent prayer of thanks for Jack's caution. If they had climbed out of the altar they would have been seen right away.

‘What d'you think, Wood?' said a voice. It was Duggleby, his voice brimming with excitement. ‘Or should I call you Paxton? That passage is a remarkable discovery, isn't it?'

‘I'm not bothered about what you call me,' said Wood genially. ‘It's the passage that interests me. No matter what you said back at the house, it isn't the first time you've been down that passage, is it?'

There was silence, then Duggleby laughed. ‘How did you guess?'

‘Footprints in the dust. Also, you weren't hesitant enough. You were far too assured about finding your way. Not that, of course, I needed you to show me. Frank was never interested, but years ago I found my way through every inch of these passages. I grew up here.' He paused for a moment. ‘You see, I'm Terence Napier.'

Isabelle gave a little breath of surprise. Jack's hand tightened on hers.

There was silence in the cave, then Duggleby spoke again. ‘Napier? You admit it, do you?' He drew out the words slowly. ‘Terence Napier.'

‘At your service. Yes, I'm Terence Napier. You rumbled me yesterday, didn't you?'

‘I did, as a matter of fact. Then, of course, when Mrs Hawker had her unfortunate outburst and Frank Leigh came – very clumsily – to your rescue this afternoon, I was completely certain.'

Isabelle's eyes had become accustomed to the very faint light and she could see the outline of Jack's head. He nodded vigorously at Napier's words. He
knew,
thought Isabelle with a shock. He
knew.

‘Yes,' said Napier regretfully. ‘Poor old Frank never was much of a hand at concealment and Mrs Hawker hasn't helped at all. It took her a little while to work out who I was, but ever since, she's been begging Frank to get rid of me. Funny, really. She used to be very fond of me. She worried poor old Frank to death about harbouring a murderer and I suppose you can see her point of view. Nasty thing to have around the house, a murderer. Incidentally, that is what you had in mind when you brought me down here, isn't it? Murder, I mean.'

Duggleby laughed. ‘Of course. I know the light's not good in here, Napier, but you should be able to see the gun in my hand. It's pointed right at you.'

‘You won't use that. How on earth will you explain a body with a bullet in it?'

‘As a matter of fact, I do have something more interesting in mind, but a neat little suicide will probably do the trick. Sandy Paxton – you did own up to being Sandy Paxton, you know – is suddenly overcome with remorse on finding his past life catching up with him. And don't pretend you're armed. I know that isn't true. Once I got rid of Celia I got you from the dining room. You haven't got a gun.'

‘You're absolutely right, I'm sorry to say. I'm not sure if you'll get away with suicide, though.'

‘Watch me,' said Duggleby. ‘Turn around and walk towards the altar.'

‘Another human sacrifice?'

‘Less of it. Move.'

Napier heaved a deep sigh. ‘You're quite right, Duggleby, old man, I haven't got a gun. But, when you called me out of the dining room, I thought something was about to happen, so I had the foresight to pick up the
pepper!
'

An agonised scream rang out. Jack leapt up, seized hold of the top of the altar and swung himself out. ‘Stay there!' he hissed to Isabelle.

By the light of the oil lamp on the floor, he could see Napier and Duggleby wrestling together. Duggleby, one hand to his eyes, was fighting like a madman. Napier must have thrown a handful of pepper in Duggleby's eyes.

Jack raced towards the two men and flung himself at them. Duggleby went flying. He rolled over, gave a grunt and lay sprawled out on the deep shadow of the cave floor, helpless and unmoving.

Napier, on his hands and knees, drew a deep shuddering breath, picked up the fallen gun and got to his feet unsteadily.

‘Haldean! Where the hell did you come from?'

Jack looked at the gun in Napier's hand.

‘Never mind that. I've heard every word.'

‘Did you?' said Napier, warily.

‘Yes. And, like our pal over there, I'd guessed who you really were. Incidentally, would you mind pointing that gun in another direction? I've already had Frank Leigh wave a pistol in my direction and two attempts on my life within an hour of each other don't half strain the patience.'

‘Frank wouldn't have harmed you.'

‘No? Perhaps not, although he was pretty wound up. You're right, though. I don't believe he's a killer.' Jack paused. ‘What's more, I don't believe you are, either.'

Napier stared at him for a long moment then, with a laugh, lowered the gun. ‘As a matter of fact, you're right. It's a funny thing, but I've been trying to decide whether or not to tell you.' He ran a hand over the back of his neck. ‘The trouble is, you're a bit too pally with the police for my liking. It's one thing knowing I'm not a murderer, it's quite another proving it to the police.'

Jack gestured towards the unconscious Duggleby. ‘Once he wakes up, I think the police will be very interested to hear what our friend here has to say. I don't think you'll have any problems proving your innocence.'

Napier laughed once more. ‘Nothing's ever as simple as it seems but yes, if we can persuade Mr Duggleby to talk, then a great many things will become a lot clearer.'

He walked across to Duggleby and hauled the limp man upright.

With a speed like a striking cobra, Duggleby lashed out. Taken utterly by surprise, Napier missed his footing, stumbled and fell back. Duggleby wrenched the gun out of his hand and clapped it to Napier's ribs.

‘One move,' he ground out. ‘One move and you're dead. Haldean!' he called. ‘Go up to the altar – slowly! Take the lamp with you. Any tricks and Napier's dead. Move!'

Jack had no choice but to obey.

‘Now,' said Duggleby, when Jack reached the altar. ‘Sit down with your back to the altar. That's right,' he said in approval. And you,' he said, jabbing the gun into Napier's back, ‘move. Go and sit beside Haldean.'

Napier walked unwillingly to where Haldean sat. ‘Sorry,' he muttered, as he sat down.

‘Quiet!' snarled Duggleby.

Keeping them covered with the gun, he knelt down and felt for the piece of cord that Isabelle had found. ‘I watched you and your friends searching the cave earlier,' he told Jack. ‘I thought then I might have to arrange a little surprise for you. Napier here was always on the guest list, of course, but you, Mr Haldean, are an unexpected bonus.' Taking the cord in his hand, he drew it out, looped it first round Napier, then round Jack, so their hands were securely pinned to their sides.

‘You're tying us up to the altar?' remarked Jack loudly. ‘Why?'

‘Because this is part of my little surprise,' said Duggleby.

Still with the gun fixed on them, he took the loose end of the cord to the other side of the altar and found the other piece and, without taking his eyes off them, knotted the two ends together.

‘You were quite right, Napier,' he said, stepping back. ‘I don't want your body to be found with a bullet in it. Or yours, Haldean.'

‘Much obliged, I'm sure,' said Jack. ‘I feel much the same.'

‘You see, I could hide Napier's body,' said Duggleby, ignoring him, ‘but why make things difficult for the police? They'd probably search rather more effectively than you did this morning and that wouldn't do at all. And – take this as a compliment, Haldean – if you went missing the police would certainly hunt for you very vigorously indeed. So we're about to have a tragic accident.'

He took a brass cigarette lighter from his pocket and, opening it, idly flicked the little wheel. The wick burnt with a steady blue and yellow flame. ‘This is my lucky lighter,' he remarked.
‘It's never let me down.' He closed the lighter and put it back in his pocket.

He retreated into the shadows and emerged a couple of seconds later with a jerry can. ‘Petrol,' he said, his voice quivering with excitement. ‘This should do the trick.'

Napier strained against the cords. ‘You can't burn us to death!'

‘Oh, I can,' said Duggleby. ‘Don't worry. I'll arrange a landslide afterwards, with you both artistically disposed in the rubble.'

Napier gave a funny little grunt. Jack knew why. He had felt the cord grow taut and then slacken.

Isabelle!

‘Now!' Jack bellowed and the two men sprang forward.

With a deafening roar, the gun went off. The sound of the shot echoed off the cave walls in thundering reverberations.

In the darkness and the confusion it was impossible to see who was fighting who. His ears ringing from the shot, Jack's world seemed to be a grappling, scrambling struggle. Then there was a sharp cry of triumph and Duggleby, petrol can in hand, flung himself at the altar. Jack and Napier both made a leap for him, then skidded to a halt.