Blank faces find each other, everybody too stunned to speak. I can’t tell whether they’re aghast at what they’ve witnessed or simply overcome by their good fortune.
For my part, the shock is fading, the horror of Daniel’s actions finally sinking in. Half an hour ago, I was praising him for showing a modicum of kindness to Michael. Now I’m covered in another man’s blood, realising how deeply I’ve underestimated his desperation.
My desperation. This is my future I’m seeing, and it makes me feel sick.
‘I need to hear the words, gentleman,’ says Daniel, blowing smoke from the corner of his mouth. ‘Tell me you understand what happened here.’
Assurances arrive in a jumble, muted but sincere. Only Michael seems upset.
Meeting his gaze, Daniel speaks coldly.
‘And don’t forget, I have all of your secrets in my hands.’ He lets that settle. ‘Now, I think you should head back before anybody comes looking for us.’
The suggestion is met with a murmur of agreement, everybody disappearing back into the forest. Signalling for me to remain behind, Daniel waits until they’re out of earshot before speaking.
‘Help me go through his pockets,’ he says, rolling up his sleeves. ‘The other hunters will be coming back this way soon, and I don’t want them to see us with the body.’
‘What have you done, Daniel?’ I hiss.
‘He’ll be alive tomorrow,’ he says, waving his hand dismissively. ‘I’ve knocked over a scarecrow.’
‘We’re supposed to be solving a murder, not committing one.’
‘Give a little boy an electric train set and he’ll immediately try to derail it,’ he says. ‘The act does not speak to his character, nor do we judge him for it.’
‘You think this is a game?’ I snap, pointing at Stanwin’s body.
‘A puzzle, with disposable pieces. Solve it and we get to go home.’ He frowns at me, as if I’m a stranger who’s asked directions to a place that doesn’t exist. ‘I don’t understand your concern.’
‘If we solve Evelyn’s murder in the manner you’re suggesting, we don’t deserve to go home! Can’t you see, these masks we wear betray us. They reveal us.’
‘You’re babbling,’ he says, searching Stanwin’s pockets.
‘We are never more ourselves than when we think people aren’t watching, don’t you realise that? It doesn’t matter if Stanwin’s alive tomorrow, you murdered him today. You murdered a man in cold blood, and that will blot your soul for the rest of your life. I don’t know why we’re here, Daniel, or why this is happening to us, but we should be proving that it’s an injustice, not making ourselves worthy of it.’
‘You’re misguided,’ he says, contempt creeping into his voice. ‘We can no more mistreat these people than we could their shadow cast upon the wall. I don’t understand what you’re asking of me.’
‘That we hold ourselves to a higher standard,’ I say, my voice rising. ‘That we be better men than our hosts! Murdering Stanwin was Daniel Coleridge’s solution, but it shouldn’t be yours. You’re a good man, you can’t lose sight of that.’
‘A good man,’ he scoffs. ‘Avoiding unpleasant acts doesn’t make a man good. Look at where we are, what’s been done to us. Escaping this place requires that we do what is necessary, even if our nature compels us otherwise. I know this makes you squeamish, that you don’t have the stomach for it. I was the same, but I no longer have the time to tiptoe around my ethics. I can end this tonight and I mean to, so don’t measure me by how tightly I cling to my goodness, measure me by what I’m willing to sacrifice that you might cling to yours. If I fail, you can always try another way.’
‘And how will you live with yourself when you’re done?’ I demand.
‘I’ll look at the faces of my family, and know that what I lost in this place was not nearly as important as my reward for leaving it.’
‘You can’t believe that,’ I say.
‘I do, and so will you after a few more days in this place,’ he says. ‘Now, please, help me search him before the hunters find us here. I have no intention of wasting my evening answering a policeman’s questions.’
It’s no use arguing with him, shutters have come down behind his eyes.
I sigh, taking myself over to the body.
‘What am I looking for?’ I ask.
‘Answers, same as always,’ he says, unbuttoning the blackmailer’s bloody jacket. ‘Stanwin collected every lie in Blackheath, including the last piece of our puzzle, the reason for Evelyn’s murder. Every scrap of knowledge he holds is contained in a book written in code, with a separate book of ciphers required to read it. I have the first, Stanwin keeps the latter on him at all times.’
That was the book Derby stole from Stanwin’s bedroom.
‘Did you take it from Derby?’ I ask. ‘I was coshed on the head almost as soon as I got my hands on it.’
‘Of course not,’ he says. ‘Coleridge had already commissioned somebody to retrieve the book before I took control of him. I didn’t even know he was interested in Stanwin’s blackmail business until the book was delivered to me. If it’s any consolation, I did consider warning you.’
‘So, why didn’t you?’
He shrugs. ‘Derby’s a rabid dog, it seemed better for everybody to let him sleep for a few hours. Now come along, we’re short of time.’
Shuddering, I kneel beside the body. This is no way for a man to die, even one such as Stanwin. His chest is mincemeat and blood has soaked through his clothing. It oozes around my fingers when I delve inside his trouser pockets.
I work slowly, barely able to look.
Daniel has no such qualms, patting down Stanwin’s shirt and jacket, seemingly impervious to the tattered flesh showing through. By the time we’re finished, we’ve uncovered a cigarette case, pocket knife and lighter, but no codebook.
We glance at each other.
‘We have to roll him over,’ says Daniel, voicing my thoughts.
Stanwin was a large man, and it takes a great deal of effort to push him onto his front. It’s worth it. I’m much more comfortable searching a body that isn’t looking up at me.