Death and the Black Pyramid (27 page)

He lifted her into the air and she tried to push the window – which was a four-paned sash – up a little. But something was jamming it at the top and she gave her father a hopeless look.

‘It's stuck, Papa.'

‘Can you get through the space?'

‘Yes, if I breathe in.'

He felt terrible about asking her to do it but what harm could possibly come to her in an empty house? Nonetheless his heart plummeted as she squeezed herself through the small gap and vanished from his sight. Straining his ears he could hear her feet scampering away – then came silence. John stood anguished as the moments went past. He drew his watch from his pocket and realized that he had been standing outside the kitchen door for almost twenty minutes. Then, distantly, he heard the sound of approaching voices. Glancing over his shoulder he saw that the keeper's boy was coming back with a tall, burly individual wearing a surly expression. So far they had not seen him but it would only be a matter of minutes before they did. John did the only thing possible and dived down behind a bush, and it was at that precise moment that the kitchen door opened and Rose stood there, red in the face with excitement. The Apothecary took a flying leap across the space, praying as he did so that Michael and his father would be looking in the opposite direction.

His daughter was staring at him. ‘What's the matter, Pa?'

He put an urgent finger to his lips. ‘Not so loud. Michael and the gamekeeper are coming.'

Rose looked troubled. ‘Did they see you?'

‘No, I don't think so. What took you so long to open the door? Couldn't you find it?'

She gave him her wonderful smile. ‘Oh yes, that part was easy. But I've been talking.'

A thrill of unease chilled John to the bone. ‘Talking? To whom?'

‘A black man.'

‘What black man? The house is empty.'

‘No, it isn't. There is a black man here. I came through the window and went into the hall by mistake and there he was, sitting in the grand saloon.'

‘Is he there now?'

‘Yes, as far as I know. I'll take you to him.'

She thrust her small hand into John's and led him through the glorious interior of that fine and delicate house. But he was not in the mood for admiring its lovely lines, full of a strange foreboding. They reached the hall and turned into a large and beautiful room that led off it. It was completely empty.

‘Oh!' exclaimed Rose, stopping dead in her tracks. ‘He's gone. What a shame.'

John squatted down so that their eyes were on a level. ‘Did you really see someone here, sweetheart?'

‘Yes, I did.' Her face screwed up as if she were about to weep. ‘Don't you believe me?'

John straightened his back. ‘Yes, I believe you. But the question is, where has the man gone?'

A tear trickled down Rose's cheek. ‘I don't know, Papa. It seems that he must have vanished.'

‘Yes,' answered the Apothecary thoughtfully, ‘it seems as if he must.'

Twenty-Six

They left by the kitchen door, John's plan of examining the house totally thwarted by the arrival of the grim-faced gamekeeper. As they crept outside he could hear the man's voice.

‘Well, where they gone then? Michael, I'll tan your arse if you be telling me one of your stories.'

‘I'm not, Da'. They was here. The man and a little girl called Rose.'

‘Well they ain't here now, are they.'

It wasn't a question, it was a statement.

The boy began to snivel. ‘But I spoke to them, Da'. They must have got into the house somehow.'

‘Then we'd best go and look for them.'

John turned to Rose. ‘Come along, darling. Let me give you a piggyback.'

And scooping her up in the air and onto his shoulders, he started to run. Behind him he heard shouting and then shots were fired, more in warning than attempting to injure, he thought. Nonetheless he increased his speed as best he could carrying the extra burden of the child. The gates came into view and he hastened through them and had never been more relieved in his life than to see his coach drawn up, Irish Tom on the box and Sir Gabriel's face peering anxiously through the window. Gasping, John covered the last few paces, bundled Rose within, then stepped inside himself.

‘My dearest child, did I hear shots?' asked Sir Gabriel, pretending nonchalance but clearly worried.

‘You did indeed, Sir. It was the gamekeeper who mistook me for a hare, I don't doubt.'

‘Foolish fellow,' answered Sir Gabriel, and took a pinch of snuff. John noticed with tremendous tenderness that the old man's hands were shaking.

‘I suggest that we repair to The White Hart and have a small libation,' he said.

‘What an excellent plan,' answered his father. He patted Rose's cheek. ‘And how did you enjoy your adventure, my love?'

‘It was splendid, thank you Sir.'

‘Which part did you like best?'

‘I enjoyed chatting to the black man. He was so interesting.'

John leant forward. ‘Tell us about him. What was he like?'

‘He was very tall and massive, and he had a nice voice.'

The Apothecary had a sudden mental picture of the Black Pyramid. ‘Did he tell you his name?' he said.

‘He said it was Jack,' she answered guilessly.

Over her head John and Sir Gabriel looked at one another and exchanged a silent message.

Later that night, after the child was in bed, the two men strolled out briefly. It was a cold evening and they did not stay outside long. A wind had got up and was whipping through that small and ancient town clinging to the side of a hill. But though Sir Gabriel strode out bravely John could not help but notice that he was now taking far longer to walk. He felt glad when they got inside The White Hart and he was able to settle his father down with a cognac.

‘Father I must talk to you in earnest. I saw nothing of that house today, my entire attention having been seized by Rose thinking she saw a black man within, yet, as you know, the house is totally uninhabited except for a handful of servants.'

‘Perhaps he was one of them.'

‘I suppose it is possible. But two things bother me. Rose described the physique of the negro perfectly and it matched that of the Black Pyramid. Furthermore she told me that the man said his name was Jack. Which is the Pyramid's real name. Sir, I have the strangest feeling that he was there, present in that empty house.'

‘Well, there's only one thing for it,' answered Sir Gabriel.

‘And that is?'

‘To ask him.'

‘When?'

‘Tomorrow when we go to see him fight. That will be your time, John.'

‘Yes, I suppose it will. Father, I am getting the strangest idea about the murder of William Gorringe.'

‘Which is?'

John Rawlings lowered his voice and whispered something so odd that Sir Gabriel just sat there, shaking his head in disbelief.

The next day they set out to see the Black Pyramid fight. As usual the crowd had gathered in a field nearby and John took Rose, not to see the scrap but to sample the delights of the fair that always seemed to accompany such events. But he had another reason for taking her. He wanted her to identify the man she had seen in the house, to say whether it was the Black Pyramid or not.

Irish Tom strode ahead of the group, looking a little like a bare-knuckle fighter himself. Behind him walked Sir Gabriel and John, with Emily and Rose following on. They made quite an interesting set of people as they cut a swathe through the crowd and several persons turned their head to get another look at them.

The fight had been arranged in a meadow beside a river that wound its way placidly through the countryside. In the distance, high up, towered the ruined castle and in a hastily erected box, which consisted of a faded awning over a few planks put down so that the chairs would not sink into the grass, sat two important people, that John thought must be the Earl and Countess of Arundel.

In the middle of the field some strong sticks had been thrust into the ground round which ropes had been tied in very much the same kind of arrangement as John had seen in Devon. It was here that the fight would take place at the hour of three o'clock. At present there was no sign of the Black Pyramid or Nathaniel Broome, or any representative of his opponent. But the festivities were very much under way. Rose and Emily broke into a run as a puppeteer set up his stall.

John smiled at Sir Gabriel, who was looking like a grandee as he strolled through the mob.

‘Would you care for a little refreshment, Sir?'

‘A small glass of canary would not go amiss.'

‘There's a tent over there where I imagine we could obtain one. I'll put Irish Tom in charge of Rose and Emily.'

‘Splendid,' answered his father and made his way to the liquor tent where a chair was immediately found for him.

On the dot of three o'clock the Black Pyramid, completely recovered from his fight in Devon, his dark skin gleaming with the sheen of ebony, stepped through the ropes and raised his arms aloft. John and his father, the older man sitting on a camp stool right at the front, gave a small cheer. His adversary – a dark young man with a mass of curling hair who called himself Gypsy Joe Summerfield – then came into the ring and made menacing gestures in the direction of his opponent. The Black Pyramid turned disdainfully away.

The fight was by no means a walkover for the black man as Gypsy Joe pounced on him with a welter of flying, brutal fists. But inevitably the range of the Black Pyramid's powerful arms and the use of his muscular legs, encased as they were in black tights, won him the day. The gypsy was knocked to the ground and had to be helped out of the ring by his clique of supporters. It was then, with the black man jubilantly receiving the accolade of the crowd, that John ran back into the fairground, where Rose was sitting with the maid and the coachman, having a light meal which Emily had packed before they left The White Hart.

‘My darling, come with me a minute, if you will,' and before she could say a word he had taken her hand and was leading her towards the ring.

The Black Pyramid was just climbing out and would have turned away but Rose broke free and ran towards him calling out, ‘Hello Mr Jack.'

He spun round, looking to see who was hailing him. Then he saw the child – at least it seemed as if he did – and abruptly turned his back and hastened towards a group of cheering admirers.

Rose did something unusual and burst into tears and John sped towards her and scooped her up into his arms.

‘Don't cry, sweetheart.'

‘But Papa, he turned away from me. And yesterday he was so nice, even thought I startled him.'

‘Then it was the same man?'

‘Definitely. I am certain of it.'

‘I see.'

‘I think perhaps he was trying to hide from me. But why, Papa? Why?'

That, my dear child, John thought, is precisely what I would like to know.

That night John and his father sat in a snug after dinner had been served. There was a comfortable silence between them, the Apothecary's thoughts being miles away as he ran the details of the case over and over in his mind. There were so many questions left unanswered but one in particular came back to John with vivid clarity. Why had the Black Pyramid put Fraulein Schmitt out of the carriage – had it really been because she grumbled so greatly? And what had she meant by her last remark to him that it had all been make believe? Could it have been possible that the two of them were acting out some piece of theatre? But for whose benefit – and why?

John's thoughts turned to the other people in the drama. There was Mrs Lucinda Silverwood, so calm and so capable who lived somewhere in Lewes and obviously knew that dark-haired beauty Jemima Lovell better than she had admitted. There was the actress Paulina Gower who the Apothecary had not liked all that much but who had clearly taken the fancy of the redoubtable Joe Jago. As to the men who had travelled on the coach that night, there was mincing little Cuthbert Simms – who John could not help but feel sorry for – and the enigmatic Black Pyramid, together with Nathaniel Broome. A disparate group of people if ever there was one. Yet they had all shared in that extraordinary journey which had culminated in the violent doing-to-death of William Gorringe.

The door to the snug opened and in came the waiter who had served John breakfast on the occasion of his first visit to Lewes.

‘Can I get you anything to drink, Sir?'

John looked across at Sir Gabriel. ‘Father?'

‘A cognac for me, if you please.'

‘And I will have the same.'

‘Very good, Sir.'

‘By the way, before you go, do you remember me talking to you about Vinehurst Place and its occupants on the occasion of my last visit?'

‘I do indeed, Sir.'

‘If I were to draw a man could you tell me from the likeness whether or not it was the vanished Fulke Bassett?'

The waiter looked somewhat startled. ‘I think I could. Yes, sir.'

While he was out of the room John summoned up his vivid pictorial memory. Then he started to sketch as best he could the features of the man known to him as William Gorringe.

‘Do you think that that is the key to the mystery?' asked Sir Gabriel.

‘I think it has to be. If it isn't then I'm afraid I must drop the whole thing.'

‘That is not like you, John.'

The Apothecary sighed. ‘Alas, it is a fact. This has been the most baffling set of circumstances I have ever encountered.'