“I’m glad she didn’t,” Curtis said, matching Daniel’s dry tone, because there was nothing of his own need in the other man’s voice. Control yourself, you damned fool. “I’ve rather promised myself that I’ll break his neck.”
Daniel tilted his head, assessing. He was two feet away, and Curtis was vividly, physically aware of him, so close, not moving closer. “Have you? Yes, I believe you have. It would be better if you didn’t.”
“Why not?”
“We need to know what they’ve sold and to whom. Sir Hubert and Lady Armstrong are bright, Holt’s dead. The egregious James is by far the most likely to talk, once in custody. You’ll notice I’m assuming that you’ve managed to summon help.”
“I spoke to Sir Maurice this afternoon. He’s sending men up, to be here by the morning. We’ve just to wait it out now. For which purpose, I’ve a revolver, food and drink.”
“Water, or actual drink?”
“Both.”
“I do like you.”
The tone was light enough, but the words hung in the air just a little too long. Curtis stared at the dark shape, wishing he could see better.
“Come up here, it’s less uncomfortable.” Daniel led the way up the winding stair to the mezzanine, where the mullioned windows let in what moonlight there was. “What’s happened about Holt?”
“He’s been missed, of course. James is suspicious of something, though Pat made a good effort to throw him off the track. I don’t think they’re panicking yet.”
“And with luck, our relief will have arrived before they start tomorrow.” The picnic blankets were piled on the wooden floor. Daniel waved a hand in the manner of a gracious host, and they seated themselves, side by side, backs against the stone wall. It was cold, but not unbearably so. Curtis passed over food and water.
“Thanks.” Daniel took a bite of pie. “Tell me. How did you know I was there, in the cave?”
“Well, I couldn’t see how you’d have upped sticks with all your things. The Armstrongs claimed you’d been asked to leave for cheating at cards with Holt and Armstrong—”
“If I had cheated that pair at cards, you would know about it because they’d both be wandering around in their drawers, having lost the shirts off their backs.”
“I thought you’d be able to fuzz cards.” Curtis felt obscurely proud of his colleague’s accomplishments.
“I can; I didn’t. Go on.”
Curtis explained about Armstrong’s remark and the inference he’d drawn. Daniel turned and stared at him. He shifted uncomfortably. “What?”
“You walked two miles to explore a cave in the middle of the night, based on a chance remark of that insupportable cretin Armstrong?”
“It was the only idea I had. I couldn’t think what else to do.”
“I’m not arguing, I’m marvelling at my own good fortune. Listen, Curtis, I can’t tell you how grateful I am—”
“Don’t. No, really, you thanked me quite enough last night.” That wasn’t true, as such, but he had no need for gratitude, and he couldn’t bear that tremor of anger and shame in Daniel’s voice. “It was no more than any decent man would have done under the circumstances, and you’d have done the same for me.”
“I hate to disabuse you, my dear fellow, but I wouldn’t do it for my own mother. I’m an utter coward about being underground. And have learned a valuable lesson about keeping that fact to myself.”
“I knew a fellow with a dreadful fear of spiders,” Curtis offered. “In the army. Big chap, near my size, tough as old boots, and terrified of a little spider, poor chap.”
“And doubtless you all ridiculed him for it without mercy. I’m well aware it’s irrational, and cowardly, and whatever you like. I just—feel the earth above me, that’s all. I can feel the entire weight of it, millions of tons, millions of years, pressing down on my head—”
Curtis put a hand on his shoulder, stopping him. “Do you know what a sergeant told me before I went into battle for the first time?”
“No?”
“He said his best advice was to get to the latrines in good time, because a good few of us were going to soil ourselves in terror.” Daniel twisted round to look at him, and Curtis grinned at his expression. “What I mean is, one can’t help one’s fears. The question isn’t if you’re a fellow who cries in the night before a big engagement—and I knew a damned brave man who did exactly that, regularly. It’s whether you pick yourself up the next day.”
“What was your rank?” Daniel asked.
“Captain.”
“Really. I’m astonished you weren’t a general.”
That was waspish, but more the Daniel he knew. After a second, Daniel leaned against him, and Curtis shifted his arm around his neck, just to make them both more comfortable.
“Were you afraid?” Daniel asked abruptly. “In battle?”
“Not much. I’ve very little imagination. It’s the imaginative chaps who suffer.”
“‘The coward dies a thousand deaths’?”