by Jim Eldridge
‘Is that supposed to reassure me?’ she demanded icily. She looked again at the four policemen. ‘If one of these brave men gets shot instead, I shall never forgive myself for agreeing to this.’
‘You didn’t agree to it,’ Daniel reminded her. ‘You refused. It was only Inspector Grimley’s insistence that he would provide an escort regardless of your objections.’
They walked on, with Abigail looking more and more irritated as people turned to stare at them.
‘I’m sure people must think we’re being arrested,’ she said. ‘If we’re seen by anyone who recognises me, this will do my reputation no good at all.’
‘Abigail Fenton, master criminal, finally arrested in Manchester,’ chuckled Daniel.
‘It’s no laughing matter!’ said Abigail.
‘No, you’re right, it isn’t,’ said Daniel. ‘A threat has been made to kill you tonight, and Inspector Grimley is doing his best to make sure you’re protected. I think we should be grateful.’
Abigail gave a sigh, then admitted, ‘Yes, I am. You’re right. But it all seems so … extravagant a procedure!’
Daniel nodded towards the entrance of the museum, whose Gothic frontage loomed ahead of them. ‘That may be, but we’re here now, and you’ve arrived safely.’
They walked up the steps to the museum entrance and Abigail turned to the four policemen.
‘Thank you,’ she said with a smile. ‘We are now here, so I shall be safe from now on.’
‘Inspector Grimley said we’ve got to keep an eye on you,’ said Hudson.
‘And you can keep an eye on me from a distance,’ said Abigail. ‘I’m here to give a talk and to meet certain local dignitaries. I don’t want them to be alarmed by having a close escort while we’re here.’
Inspector Grimley arrived to meet them. ‘Everything all right?’ he asked.
‘Yes, thank you, Inspector,’ said Abigail. ‘I appreciate your concern for my safety, and for these men escorting me here, but I was just telling them that I’m sure I will be safe now to deliver my talk.’
‘Any signs of anything?’ asked Daniel.
Grimley shook his head. ‘Me and my men have explored every inch of the museum, and cast our eye over the crowd. Nothing and no one suspicious so far, but my men will be all over the place keeping watch.’
‘I’ll be keeping watch as well,’ said Daniel. ‘I plan to position myself to one side of the spot where Miss Fenton will be speaking from so I can watch the upper balconies.’
‘I’ve arranged to have men up there,’ said Grimley.
‘Thank you,’ said Daniel.
‘Miss Fenton!’
They turned to see Bernard Steggles approaching them, accompanied by a couple, a tall, thin man in his early sixties and a smaller woman.
‘I’ll go and check things,’ Grimley murmured to Daniel, and moved off.
‘Miss Fenton, allow me to introduce Mr Jesse Haworth and his wife.’
‘Mr Haworth, this is a great pleasure,’ said Abigail shaking the man’s hand.
‘Nay, the pleasure is mine, Miss Fenton,’ said Haworth in his soft Lancashire accent. ‘I’ve heard so much about you from your colleagues, particularly Flinders Petrie.’ He gestured towards the smaller woman by his side. ‘Truth is, it was my wife here who got me into Egyptology after she read Amelia Edwards’ A Thousand Miles Up the Nile, and then gave it to me to read. It inspired us to go there.’
‘We travelled down the Nile.’ His wife nodded. ‘It was the experience of a lifetime.’
‘Nothing to what you experienced when you were there, I’m sure,’ said Haworth. ‘But to have actually been there, touched the pyramids and the artefacts!’
Out of the corner of his eye, Daniel spotted Septimus Creighton and Simon Cardew hovering, obviously waiting for a chance to talk to Abigail.
He smiled. ‘Excuse me. There’s some people I must see.’
He left Abigail chatting to the Haworths and Steggles, and joined Creighton and Cardew.
‘Good evening,’ he greeted them.
‘We were hoping to talk to Abigail and wish her luck,’ said Creighton. ‘But I can see she’s tied up. That’s Jesse Haworth, the rich industrialist who funds so many excavations in Egypt. I don’t want to blunder in and ruin her chances of getting possible financial backing for a dig.’
‘I’m sure there’ll be plenty of time afterwards,’ said Daniel. ‘Actually, I’m glad you came, because something’s happened and we could do with your help.’
‘Anything,’ said Creighton.
‘We’ve had a threatening message, warning that if we don’t back off from our investigation, Abigail will never leave the museum alive this evening.’
Creighton and Cardew stared at him, horrified.
‘You’re not serious!’ exclaimed Creighton.
‘I’m afraid I am. The police are taking it seriously, too, that’s why there are so many officers here tonight, keeping watch. But they can’t be everywhere.’
‘What do you want us to do?’ asked Cardew.
‘Just keep a look out for anything suspicious,’ said Daniel. ‘If you see anything, tell one of the police officers. Don’t try and deal with it yourself.’
‘Right.’ Creighton nodded. He shot a worried look towards where Abigail was still in conversation. ‘If anything happens to her …’
‘It won’t, providing we’re on our guard,’ said Daniel. He added, just to try and calm the situation, ‘It may also be a hoax, done to stop us looking into the case.’
‘But it may not be,’ said Creighton grimly. He looked at Cardew. ‘Come on, Simon. Let’s take a walk around.’
The two walked off. Daniel was just about to rejoin Abigail, when he found his way blocked by a large, fleshy man in an army officer’s uniform adorned with many medals.
‘Detective Wilson,’ snapped the officer.
‘Just plain Mr Wilson, sir. I’m no longer with the police.’ He looked enquiringly at the much-decorated soldier. ‘You have the advantage of me.’
‘Brigadier Wentworth,’ said the man curtly. ‘You had some of my men arrested the other day.’
‘I did,’ agreed Daniel genially. ‘They attempted to assault me. It was the second time I’ve had your men attack me, and after the first occasion I took precautions.’
‘Poppycock!’ snorted Wentworth.
‘You can examine the witness statements if you like,’ said Daniel. ‘Given by sixteen men of good standing. They will still have them at Hulme police station.’
‘High spirits!’ grunted Wentworth.
‘Yes, so I was told,’ said Daniel. ‘Your men were released, of course. I understand the military has precedence when soldiers break the law. Even though, at this time, they weren’t in uniform.’
Wentworth glowered at Daniel. ‘I have been told that my men were angry because you were attempting to smear the good name of the regiment.’
‘Is that what RSM Bulstrode told you? In that case, you have been badly misinformed.’
‘The army in Manchester has a reputation to be proud of, with a long history of successful military engagements.’
‘Like Peterloo?’ asked Daniel. ‘Hardly one to be proud of, from what I can gather. Civilians massacred, including women and children.’
Wentworth’s angry gaze hardened and he hissed, ‘I might have known it. You’re one of these radicals!’
‘Absolutely not,’ replied Daniel. ‘When I was in the police force I arrested many radicals. Along with murderers. Thieves. Muggers. And people who deliberately obstructed the law in the course of its duty.’
A well-dressed man in his late fifties appeared beside them and enquired in a concerned tone, ‘Everything all right, Brigadier?’
Wentworth jerked round, and forced a smile. ‘Everything’s fine, Percival. Just engaging Mr Wilson here in conversation.’
With that, the brigadier gave Daniel a curt nod, and walked off. The new arrival gave Daniel an apologetic smile and held out his h
and. ‘Robinson Percival,’ he introduced himself. ‘Chair of the mill owners’ committee.’
‘A pleasure to meet you,’ said Daniel.
Percival nodded after the brigadier as he walked away. ‘Don’t think too hard of Wentworth,’ he said. ‘He’s just protecting his men. We all heard what happened with you having those men of his arrested.’
‘It was lucky I had support that came to my aid or I might not be here now,’ said Daniel.
‘Yes. That was very fortunate,’ said Percival dryly, and Daniel caught the touch of mockery in his voice.
‘I always make sure I’m prepared if I think I might be in danger,’ said Daniel pointedly.
Percival hesitated, then he said, his voice low, ‘Do you not feel it might be danger you have brought on yourself?’
‘By investigating the murder of two women?’
‘By implicating some very respectable people without any evidence.’
‘Oh, I have evidence, Mr Percival,’ said Daniel. ‘And which particular respectable people are we talking about? RSM Bulstrode? The brigadier?’
‘The article in the newspaper suggested the murders were linked to the mill owners,’ said Percival.
‘We had nothing to do with that article. That was all from Mr Bickerstaff. At no time did we ever suggest the mill owners were responsible.’ He paused, then added, ‘Although our investigations have led us to the matter of Peterloo, and there we understand there was involvement by the mill owners in what occurred.’
‘Accusations that were never proved,’ said Percival. ‘The fact is, Mr Wilson, your investigations have upset many of our members the way you’re stirring up old and unwanted memories. As mill owners we don’t want to dwell on the past and what may or may not have happened. What happens in Manchester today will set the tone for the rest of England for the future. Nay, for the rest of the world. We don’t want that … interfered with.’
‘You would prefer that we drop the investigation?’
‘Frankly, yes,’ said Percival.
‘Funny, that was the sentiment expressed in an anonymous letter I received recently. It urged Miss Fenton and I to drop our investigation, or else it warned us that she would not leave this place alive after she’d given her talk.’ He looked blandly at Percival. ‘Coincidence, or could that letter have been sent by one of your members?’
Percival glared angrily at Daniel. ‘How dare you suggest such an outrageous thing!’ he snapped. ‘It must have been a crank! A lunatic! No one here would think of harming Miss Fenton.’
With that, Percival turned and walked briskly off.
Steggles looked at the clock.
‘We shall be starting in just a minute,’ he murmured to Abigail. ‘Are you ready?’
‘Absolutely,’ replied Abigail.
Suddenly, Steggles spotted the portly figure of Hector Bleasdale about to take his seat in the audience.
‘Excuse me, there’s someone I must speak to,’ he said to Abigail. ‘One minute only, I promise you.’
He hurried over to Bleasdale with a hail of ‘Hector!’
‘Bernard!’ responded Bleasdale with a smile.
‘I was wondering if you might come,’ said Steggles. ‘I was hoping to have a word with the brigadier, but I saw him just now as he finished talking to Mr Wilson and he looked in a bad mood. Have you managed to have a word with him about the exhibition?’
‘Ah,’ said Bleasdale awkwardly. ‘I have, and your Mr Wilson seems to be the problem.’
‘Oh?’
‘Mr Wilson appears to have a bee in his bonnet about Peterloo, and I’m afraid that’s upset the brigadier. The result is he’d prefer to wait until this whole business of the – ah – two women found at the museum is over and Mr Wilson has left Manchester.’
‘I must say, Hector, I find that very disappointing,’ said Steggles. ‘We’ve already done a lot of work in planning for the exhibition. It’s really just about finalising dates. Surely the brigadier can at least meet with us to talk about those. We have a complicated exhibition diary which needs to be scheduled.’
‘I know, but I’m afraid the brigadier would prefer to wait.’
‘Well, I wish he’d told me this,’ said Steggles, irritated. ‘I’ve written to him but received no answer. It’s really not good enough.’
‘Mr Steggles.’
Steggles turned and found Haworth beside him.
Haworth gestured at the clock on the wall. ‘I really think we ought to start,’ he said.
Steggles looked and saw that most of the audience had already taken their seats.
‘Yes, of course,’ he said. He clapped his hands loudly and in ringing tones announced that the talk was about to begin, and asked everyone to take their seats.
Abigail had moved to a lectern set up by one wall, in front of a huge map of Egypt and next to a large, ancient clay pot.
Daniel moved to a place a short distance from the podium, within reach of Abigail, but not enough to be noticeable and draw attention away from her.
A large crowd had come to hear her talk. Every seat was filled, with more people standing at the back of the room and around the sides. Bernard Steggles introduced Abigail as one of the foremost archaeologists of the day, telling everyone what an honour and a pleasure it was to have her with them that evening, before taking his seat in the front row next to the Haworths.
There was applause from the audience as Abigail took her place at the lectern, and when she began to speak there was no trace from her of nerves or trepidation.
‘Good evening, and thank you for inviting me to talk at this wonderful museum,’ she began with a confident smile. ‘I’m sure that many of you will have been disappointed as I am that Mr Dresser, who was originally scheduled to give his talk this evening, has had to pull out due to illness. But, like you, I look forward to hearing him when he’s recovered.
‘Tonight I’ve decided to talk about the excavations at Hawara in Egypt, mainly because the expedition was funded by Mr Jesse Haworth, one of Manchester’s great philanthropists who, I’m delighted to say, is here tonight with his wife, and it is wonderful for me as an archaeologist to acknowledge his generosity.’ She pointed him out and began to applaud him, and the others soon joined in, forcing the rather shy man to rise to his feet and acknowledge their appreciation. Mrs Haworth, Daniel noticed, remained resolutely in her seat. Haworth sat down again, and Abigail continued, ‘Without Mr Haworth’s determination, and certainly without his funding, we would not have the artefacts we see here today. Not just from Hawara, but from Kahun, Gurob, Meydum and Biahmu, to name just a few of the sites excavated by Flinders Petrie with the resources provided by Mr Haworth and Mr Henry Martyn Kennard.’
Abigail pointed to the large map on the wall behind her.
‘Hawara is to the south of Medinet al-Faiyum. The first attempt at excavation of the pyramid was by the German archaeologist Karl Lepsius in 1843, but after some initial excavation he abandoned his work there after he failed to find the entrance to the pyramid. He had been searching for the entrance on the north side of the pyramid, whereas it turned out that the entrance Petrie actually discovered in 1888, after many months of work, was a narrow vertical shaft on the east end of the south side.’
As Abigail talked, Daniel sidled over to where Grimley was surveying the hall.
‘Anything?’ he muttered.
Grimley shook his head. ‘Hopefully it’s a false alarm,’ the inspector whispered back. ‘Or, if he was planning anything, he’s backed off when he’s seen the number of police here.’
Daniel turned his attention back to Abigail, who was holding the audience enthralled as she continued, sending a visible shiver through them when she said, ‘By the time I joined Flinders Petrie at Hawara …’ as they realised that they were in the presence of someone who’d actually been there ‘… most of the interior had been excavated, although there were still parts unexplored.
‘The pyramid was the final resting place of Amenemhet III, the
last king of the Twelfth Dynasty, who died in about 1797 … but this was 1797 BC, almost four thousand years ago.’
It was at this point, as he scanned the upper balcony of the room, that Daniel saw one of the curtains move slightly, and what looked like the end of a rifle barrel poke slightly through.
‘Down!’ he shouted as he hurled himself forward, grabbed Abigail by her arm and pulled her roughly towards him, at the same time swinging her round so that she was behind him. All this coincided with the explosion of the rifle shot, and the clay pot, on the stand next to where Abigail had been standing, erupting and shattering, the pieces falling to the floor.
‘There!’ yelled Daniel, pointing to the place where he’d spotted the gunman. Already Grimley and some of his constables were racing towards the stairs that led up to the balcony.
At the sound of the rifle, most of the audience had flung themselves out of their seats and to the floor. Bernard Steggles was one of the first to reach Abigail.
‘My God, Miss Fenton …!’ he gasped, shaking.
‘I’m all right. Daniel saved me,’ she said.
Daniel saw that she was trembling and hugged her close to him.
Jesse Haworth had joined them, his face white with shock and anger. ‘I cannot believe this!’ he burst out. ‘He shall be hanged when we catch him!’
It was Steggles who took charge.
‘Ladies and gentlemen!’ he called, facing the audience and holding up his hands to them. ‘Please remain in your seats. The police are already in pursuit of the criminal who did this, so I’m sure you will be quite safe, providing you remain where you are. Once we’ve been assured by the police that the situation is safe, that will be the time for everyone to make their departure …’
‘No!’ The ringing cry from Abigail made them all turn towards her as she stepped away from Daniel to address them. ‘You came to hear a talk. I came to give that talk. The fact that my beginning displeased someone …’ at this, one or two allowed themselves an admiring chuckle ‘… but I intend to continue. I appreciate there may be some of you who will feel inclined to leave after what has just happened, but, as Mr Steggles as just informed you, I have every reason to believe we are now quite safe.’ She looked at the broken shards of pottery lying on the floor. ‘My only regret is that this magnificent piece of pottery that has survived for four thousand years should fall victim. But, from experience, I have every faith in the art of the restorers that they will be able to repair it and bring it back to its glory. Now, we will have a moment for those who wish to leave to make their way out, and I promise I will not take any such departures as a personal slight. But, for those who do wish to stay …’