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.
As Daniel runs his hands along Stanwin’s trouser legs, I lift his jacket, spotting a bulge in the lining surrounded by haphazard stitching.
A ripple of excitement shames me. The last thing I want is to justify Daniel’s methods, but now we’re on the verge of a discovery, I’m growing more elated.
Using the dead man’s pocket knife, I slice the stitches, letting the codebook slide into my palm. No sooner has it come free, than I notice there’s something else in there. Reaching inside, I pull out a small silver locket, its chain removed. There’s a painting inside, and though it’s old and cracked it’s obviously of a little girl, around seven or eight with red hair.
I hold it out to Daniel, but’s he too busy flipping through the codebook to pay attention.
‘This is it,’ he says excitedly. ‘This is our way out.’
‘I certainly hope so,’ I say. ‘We paid a high price for it.’
He looks up from the book a different man to the one who started reading it. This is neither Bell’s Daniel, nor Ravencourt’s. It’s not even the man of a few minutes ago, arguing the necessity of his actions. This is a man victorious, one foot already out of the door.
‘I’m not proud of what I did,’ he says. ‘But we couldn’t have done this any other way, you must believe that.’
He may not be proud, but he’s not ashamed either. That much is evident, and I’m reminded of the Plague Doctor’s warning.
The Aiden Bishop who first entered Blackheath... the things he wanted and his way of getting them were unyielding. That man could never have escaped Blackheath.
In his desperation, Daniel’s making the same mistakes I always have, exactly as the Plague Doctor warned me I would.
Whatever happens, I can’t let myself become this.
‘Are you ready to go?’ says Daniel.
‘Do you know the way home?’ I say, searching the forest and realising I have no idea how we arrived here.
‘It’s east,’ he says.
‘And which way is that?’
Thrusting a hand into his pocket, he brings out Bell’s compass.
‘I borrowed it from him this morning,’ he says, laying it flat in his palm. ‘Funny how things repeat, isn’t it?’
41
We come upon the house rather unexpectedly, the trees giving way to the muddy lawn, its windows burning bright with candlelight. I must admit I’m glad to see it. Despite the shotgun, I’ve spent the entire journey glancing over my shoulder for the footman. If the codebook is as valuable as Daniel believes, I must assume our enemy is also in pursuit of it.
He’ll be coming for us soon.
Silhouettes are passing back and forth in the upper windows, hunters trudging up the steps into the golden glow of the entrance hall where caps and jackets are wrenched loose and discarded, filthy water pooling on the marble. A maid moves among us with a tray of sherry, from which Daniel plucks two glasses, handing me one.
Clinking my glass, he throws his drink down his throat as Michael arrives at our side. As with the rest of us, he looks to have crawled off the ark, his dark hair plastered to his pale face by the rain. Glancing at his watch, I discover it’s 6:07 p.m.
‘I’ve sent a couple of trustworthy servants to collect Stanwin,’ he whispers, taking a sherry from the tray. ‘I told them I stumbled on his body coming back from the hunt, and instructed them to inter him in one of the old potting sheds. Nobody will find him, and I won’t summon the police until early tomorrow morning. I’m sorry, but I won’t leave him to rot in the forest any longer than I have to.’
He clutches a half-empty glass of sherry, and though the drink has put a little colour in his cheeks, it’s not nearly enough.
The crowd in the hall is thinning out now. A couple of maids have already appeared with buckets of sudsy water and are waiting in the wings with their mops and their frowns, trying to shame us into leaving so they can get to work.
Rubbing his eyes, Michael looks at us directly for the first time.
‘I’m going to honour my father’s promise,’ he says. ‘But I don’t like it.’
‘Michael—’ says Daniel, reaching out a hand, but Michael steps away.
‘No, please,’ he says, his sense of betrayal palpable. ‘We’ll speak another day, but not now, not tonight.’
He turns his back on us, heading up the stairs towards his bedroom.
‘Never mind him,’ says Daniel. ‘He thinks I acted from greed. He doesn’t understand how important this is. The answers are in the ledger, I know it!’
He’s excited, like a boy with a new catapult.
‘We’re almost there, Dance,’ he says. ‘We’re almost free.’
‘And then what happens,’ I say. ‘Do you walk out of here? Do I? We can’t both escape, we’re the same man.’
‘I don’t know,’ he says. ‘Presumably Aiden Bishop wakes up again, his memories intact. Hopefully he won’t remember either of us. We’re bad dreams, best forgotten.’ He checks his watch. ‘Let’s not think about that now. Anna has arranged to meet Bell in the graveyard this evening. If she’s right, the footman’s heard about it and is sure to show. She’ll need us to help capture him. That gives us about four hours to dig what we need out of this book. Why don’t you get changed, and come up to my room? We’ll do it together.’
‘I’ll be right along,’ I say.
His giddiness is a rare fillip. Tonight we’ll deal with the footman and deliver the Plague Doctor’s answer. Somewhere in the house, my other hosts are surely refining their plans to save Evelyn’s life, which means I simply need to work out how to save Anna as well. I cannot believe she’s been lying to me this whole time, and I cannot imagine leaving this place without her by my side, not after everything she’s done to help me.
Floorboards echo as I return to my room, the house grumbling under the weight of the returned. Everybody will be getting ready for dinner.
I envy them their evening, for a darker purpose lies ahead of me.
Much darker, the footman will not go quietly.