The Durham Deception

THE SALISBURY MANUSCRIPT

THE DURHAM DECEPTION
*

THAT SLEEP OF DEATH

DEATH OF KINGS

THE PALE COMPANION

ALMS FOR OBLIVION

MASK OF NIGHT

AN HONOURABLE MURDER

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This first world edition published 2011 in Great Britain and the USA by SEVERN HOUSE PUBLISHERS LTD of 9–15 High Street, Sutton, Surrey, England, SM1 1DF. Trade paperback edition first published in Great Britain and the USA 2011 by SEVERN HOUSE PUBLISHERS LTD.

Copyright © 2011 by Philip Gooden.

All rights reserved.

The moral right of the author has been asserted.

British Library Cataloguing in Publication Data

Gooden, Philip.

The Durham deception.

1. Newlyweds – Fiction. 2. Lawyers – Fiction. 3. Mediums – Fiction. 4. Magicians – Fiction. 5. Murder – Investigation – Fiction. 6. Durham (England) – Social conditions – 19th century – Fiction. 7. Detective and mystery stories.

I. Title

823.9'14-dc22

ISBN-13: 978-0-7278-6995-1 (cased)

ISBN-13: 978-1-84751-332-8 (trade paper)

ISBN-13: 978-1-7801-0010-4 (ePub)

Except where actual historical events and characters are being described for the storyline of this novel, all situations in this publication are fictitious and any resemblance to living persons is purely coincidental.

Act One

‘
Ladies and gentlemen, I appear before you tonight as a soldier – as a traveller – and most of all as a tireless seeker into those strange realms which lie tantalizingly beyond our reach – the realms of mist and mystery. It is well known that the source of everything which is truly wondrous and magical in our world lies to the east. Yet, through my endeavours, I am able to bring to all of you assembled here tonight an experience from the fabulous Orient such as has hitherto been vouchsafed only to the privileged few even in those antique lands.
'

The Major pauses to let this sink in. He turns slightly and claps his hands, once. On staggers one of his servant boys. The boy is cradling a black travelling case like a small hat box. The Major wags a finger at him to indicate that he must handle the case with particular care. The boy passes the case to the Major who accepts the burden in an almost reverential spirit before dismissing the boy with a nod of the head. Major Marmont places the case in the centre of the table. He stands back. He says, ‘Ladies and gentlemen, behold the Sage of Katmandu.
'

In the meantime the Major has shifted to the side of the stage. He too is gazing at the disembodied head as if he had never seen such a thing in his life before. He is tugging at his moustaches. Now he claps his hands once more, not in the commanding style he used to summon the boy but in a way that is gentle, almost deferential. He says softly, ‘Sage, awake.
'

‘
Sage,' says the Major, ‘you have enjoyed a long rest, I hope, in your voyage across the continents of the world.
'

Yet the mouth does open! The head does speak! It says, ‘I am content.
'

The Major, still standing to one side so as to give the audience a clear view of the white-haired head within the box on the table, says, ‘Sage, are you prepared to answer questions from these good folk assembled here tonight? They are eager to hear your pearls of wisdom.
'

‘
They are welcome.
'

The Major looks round the audience. He shades his eyes with his hand and gazes across the stalls and up into the galleries. ‘Your questions, ladies and gentlemen? Ask anything you like.
'

No one wants to be the first to speak out. Then comes a screech from the gods: ‘Ask 'im where my 'usband is, the bastard! 'E walked out three weeks ago.
'

There is some guffawing from the upper reaches of the theatre, as well as plenty of tutting and shushing sounds from the more expensive seats down below. Major Marmont pretends not to understand the question. The Sage of Katmandu blinks slowly as if a response to that kind of query is beneath him. Soon a more sensible demand comes from a gentleman in the stalls (three shillings, reserved). The question is: ‘What is the secret of the universe?
'

‘
The secret of the universe?' it muses. ‘The answer lies all around us. But you will not find it by searching for it. You must wait for it to reveal itself . . .
'

A couple of other questions are thrown at the Sage (‘Where is happiness to be found?' ‘Above our heads, below our feet, within our grasp.') before the Major brings proceedings to an end when he asks the disembodied head to show its esteem for the British nation by reciting from their greatest writer. So the Sage reels off most of the ‘To be or not to be' speech from
Hamlet
in a voice that is not so strong as formerly. Since its powers seem to be fading, Marmont thanks the head, wishes it a peaceful sleep and closes up the lid of the case.

‘
Do not trouble yourselves, ladies and gentlemen,' says Major Marmont. ‘The Sage of Katmandu has the ability to dissolve and recreate himself time after time. It is a power beyond our understanding; it is the magic and the mystery of the East. The Sage of Katmandu will return in his own good time, with more wisdom from the Orient.
'

67, Tullis Street

‘Are you nervous?' said Tom.

‘Why do you ask?' said Helen.

‘Because your arm through mine feels awkward, and you haven't said very much for the last few minutes.'

‘I've been picking my way along the street with care,' said Helen, ‘and I am holding on to you for support. It's wet and slippery underfoot.'

It was an early Sunday evening in May but still overcast after the rain which had left a greasy deposit on the pavement. Church bells were ringing and couples were strolling to evensong or just taking the air after being shut up all day. Helen was right, you needed to be careful as you walked. But Tom thought that was just an excuse. She
was
nervous.

‘And you, Tom? Are you nervous?'

‘Me? No, more curious.'

‘Liar.'

‘Apprehensive then.'

‘I will settle for that,' said Helen, tugging Tom so that he was closer to her. ‘Let's be apprehensive together. It's an adventure though, isn't it.'

‘And good material for you.'

‘We'll see.'

Tom and Helen Ansell were walking arm in arm along Tullis Street which lies to the north of the British Museum. They had taken a cab as far as Maple's in the Tottenham Court Road and got down there because Tom said he wanted to walk the last few hundred yards, even though Helen complained her skirts would pick up the mud. Really Tom wanted to delay the moment before they reached number 67. Not for the first time he was regretting that he had said yes to Helen when she suggested this little outing. This adventure.