The Lunatic's Curse

by F. E. Higgins

  ‘Leeches,’ said Gerulphus. ‘You see why I keep it locked. Indeed, I thought it was. How did you get in?’

  ‘You must have left it open,’ said Rex innocently.

  ‘Evidently. I will have to be more careful. This is not the sort of place a child should see.’ He gestured to the door. ‘Shall we go? I believe Mrs Runcible is waiting for you both in the kitchen.’

  Hildred and Rex were only too happy to leave this squalid and sinister place. Gerulphus secured the door and the sober threesome made their way towards the stairs.

  ‘Well, it’s all in the past now,’ said Gerulphus as they ascended. ‘A new era is dawning with Dr Velhildegildus. But I think you should stay out of here. It’s damp and cold; there could be disease down here. Have you seen the size of the rats?’

  ‘Big as dogs, some of ’em,’ said Hildred. She laughed lightly but she was holding Rex’s arm tightly. It struck him that this was the longest conversation Gerulphus had ever engaged in.

  Once upstairs, Gerulphus declined to go down to the kitchen and as soon as he was out of sight Rex began to talk, very quickly, still slightly shocked by what he had seen, but also puzzled. ‘I don’t believe Gerulphus couldn’t help the inmates,’ he said. ‘And did you notice how quick he was to excuse Mrs Runcible and Walter? And what he was doing in that horrible place in the dark?’

  ‘Maybe it was his voice you heard the other night,’ said Hildred. ‘Maybe he was in there, behind that door, all the time.’

  ‘Oh Lord,’ said Rex quietly. ‘My father might have been taken there. Strapped to one of those tables and . . . and who knows!’

  ‘Try not to think about it,’ said Hildred.

  Rex shook his head slowly. ‘I don’t ever want to go in that room again.’

  Hildred placed a comforting hand on his shoulder. ‘But we have to,’ she said. ‘Don’t you understand? Gerulphus wasn’t just advising us to stay away – he was warning us. It can only mean one thing: there must be something down there he doesn’t want us to see.’

  33

  Article from

  MAKING GOOD PROGRESS

  by

  Cecil Notwithstanding

  How pleasing it is to see a man keeping his word. I write of course of Dr Tibor Velhildegildus, the new superintendent of Droprock Asylum. It has been duly noted that he has already begun the renovations that he promised when last I spoke to him. Certainly judging by the amount of equipment he has been taking over to the island this week, he has some innovative ideas.

  With the impending full moon, conditions on the lake are not as conducive as usual to all the toing and froing. The water seems quite disturbed these days and it looks as if the tide this month is going to be unusually high. The last record-breaking Madman's Tide was over fifty years ago – the high-water marks are still on the rock.

  As the solution to one problem is found, however, another proves rather more elusive: that of the beggars.

  It could not be denied that once Dr Tibor Velhildegildus made up his mind to do something he threw himself into it with unbridled energy and enthusiasm. Almost as soon as Rex delivered the list, equipment began arriving, generally transported across the lake by Walter Freakley, who grumbled constantly about the weight, and his boat, and how they were mismatched. Indeed there were a few near misses when he overestimated the capacity of his craft. Eventually it was arranged for the larger parts to be put on a separate boat and pulled behind. The spectacle was watched with great enthusiasm by well-wishers on the jetty, all of whom were looking forward to the grand reopening of the asylum. And if the jetty could hardly take the strain, one suspected that the well-wishers too were under a lot of pressure, namely from mad relatives in their houses.

  Gerulphus did his fair share of laconic grumbling, as with each new delivery he was commandeered into lugging whatever it was, big or small, up the steep steps to the asylum. For his part Dr Velhildegildus watched from the rocks, shouting instructions and telling them to take care. ‘It’s for the patients,’ he kept saying, ‘treat it with respect.’

  Everything, regardless of size, was taken to his study and Rex’s time was spent hauling the goods along the east wing corridors. Hildred appeared intermittently on the first day but he hardly saw her after that. He did knock on her door at night but she didn’t answer. He looked in once but could see that she was curled up under the blankets so he went to bed without disturbing her.

  By the end of the third day everything was in. Tibor sent Rex off for supper and he went gladly, ravenous after all the hard work. On his way back to the study he spotted Hildred tripping sinuously down the main staircase. ‘What are you doing up there?’ he called out but as was often her habit she declined to answer. He waited at the bottom for her. ‘You needn’t worry,’ he joked, ‘it’s all done now.’

  Hildred didn’t look as if she got the joke. ‘I’ve been busy too,’ she said defensively. She certainly looked as if she had been busy. In fact she was rather dirty, and Rex was certain he could smell ash again. There was a smudge on her forehead where she had wiped her hand across her brow.

  ‘You have your hands full,’ she remarked as Freakley dragged one last crate across the floor. ‘But I can’t see how any of this is suited to an asylum. Where are the beds and the mattresses? The medicines? And –’ she lowered her voice – ‘if you are engaged in this . . . project, how will you possibly have time to find what you are looking for?’

  Rex shrugged. ‘Maybe it will all have to wait,’ he said carelessly.

  ‘Have you forgotten your father might have suffered torture here?’

  ‘Rex!’ called Tibor from somewhere down the passage.

  ‘I have to go,’ said Rex. Hildred raised an eyebrow and walked away.

  Rex instantly felt ashamed of his offhand behaviour. He knew that he had upset her. He almost went after her but something held him back. In truth the torture chamber had disturbed him much more than he let on. He had been glad of the distraction of all the arrivals, and he looked forward to building the Perambulating Submersible. Seeing all the boxes and crates had made it very real. And for all that he didn’t quite trust Dr Velhildegildus it was obvious that he too had a passion for the machine. And there was always the feeling that his father was watching over him, a feeling made all the more intense because he was to build the submersible in the place where his father had suffered so badly.

  Apart from all that, Rex was especially keen to work on the Re-breather, something that was of particular interest to him. He resolved to talk to Hildred tonight. Perhaps he might even tell her exactly what was going on. He felt he owed her that much. Could it really do any harm to be honest?

  Standing in Tibor’s study, Rex looked at the boxes and crates, the piles of metal, the containers of nuts and bolts, the tools, the panels and one hundred and one other things that were stacked in front of him. He shook his head in disbelief. There was hardly room to move.

  ‘What on earth are we to do with all of this?’ asked Rex. ‘We cannot make the vessel here.’

  Tibor, standing between two barrels of whale oil lubricant, looked very pleased with himself. ‘Never fear, my dear boy,’ he said. ‘It’s all in hand.’ Unable as he was to actually go to the window, he pointed instead to the waxing moon in the night sky.

  ‘I wish the vessel to be completed by the next full moon. The water will be at its highest level, making it most propitious for a launch. They are saying it will be an exceptionally high Madman’s Tide.’

  ‘That’s only a matter of days,’ said Rex incredulously. ‘Dr Velhildegildus, if we really are to finish this in such a short time, I wonder if we should allow Hildred to work on it too. She is very clever, and her fingers are nimble. I know you wish it to be a secret, but she has no one to tell. Her mother is dead; her father hasn’t been seen for years. Besides, she is already suspicious. Anyone can tell this equipment is not necessary for an asylum. And the quicker we finish, the less likely it is that people from Opum Oppidulum will start to
poke their noses in.’

  ‘I suppose it might not be such a bad idea,’ said Dr Velhildegildus slowly. ‘Time is of the essence. I can see that you and the girl, Hildred, have become friends. But still we must be cautious. Believe me, I know just how charming young ladies can be! Are you certain you have given nothing away?’

  ‘I haven’t said a word,’ said Rex solemnly, crossing his heart.

  ‘Then let me think on it.’ Once again Tibor’s voice had taken on that sinister quality that reminded Rex he was dealing with a character who was not necessarily as straightforward as he might appear.

  ‘And you remember your side of the deal too?’ Rex prompted.

  ‘But of course,’ replied Tibor, almost offended, and once again his words flowed like satin over polished wood. ‘But now I have something very important to show you.’ He went to the bookshelf behind his desk, hooked his finger over the top of Gibbon’s Decline and Fall and pulled the book forward. The bookcase moved slowly to one side to reveal once more the opening in the wall.

  ‘Oh my,’ exclaimed Rex, most impressed with this clever engineering. He had not been expecting this!

  ‘Take a lantern,’ said Tibor, ‘and follow me.’

  Rex unhooked a lantern from the wall and stepped into the tunnel where Tibor was waiting.

  ‘Welcome to the catacombs of Droprock Island’ said his enigmatic guide. ‘This way.’

  Tibor kept up a running commentary as they descended the steep tunnel. ‘The catacombs have been here since the asylum was built. There is nowhere else to bury the dead on the island, and generally their relatives want little to do with them. Which is why they’re here in the first place, I suppose.’

  At least Father had a proper burial, thought Rex. Acantha had to do that much for him. Apparently Cecil Notwithstanding had insisted.

  Tibor was moving at a fast pace. ‘Keep up, Rex,’ he warned. ‘And don’t stray from this tunnel. It’s a veritable maze down here. If we get separated you might never find your way out.’ Rex had no intention of getting lost and he kept as close to Tibor as he could in the narrow passageway.

  They passed other tunnels on the left and right but Tibor continued down the central aisle. And all the time Rex was acutely aware of the dehydrated, ragged-clothed bones of lunatics in the wall cavities.

  Well, at least there’s no smell, he thought. And why would there be? All of these skeletons looked as if they had been there for years. Had no one died recently? Up ahead Tibor took a blind bend and disappeared from sight. In a moment of panic Rex broke into a run and rounded the corner to emerge unexpectedly into a large rocky chamber with a high ceiling. The whole place was bathed in an odd blue light. And right in the middle of the chamber, Rex could see – though at first he didn’t quite believe it – an expanse of dark water. The ground beneath his feet was a mixture of pebbles and small rocks and sand.

  ‘It’s Lake Beluarum,’ said Tibor. ‘It comes in under the asylum.’

  Rex stood on the spot, taking it all in. The water was as flat as a mill pond and blue-black, giving no hint of its depth. He saw how it went right up to the walls on the left and right. He saw the narrow ledge that ran around the water and the rocky promontory. He saw too on the opposite side of the water a number of roughly hewn tunnel entrances.

  ‘More catacombs,’ said Tibor with a nod towards them. ‘And just as labyrinthine, if not worse, than the ones behind us.’

  Rex calculated quickly. Obviously they had descended to the level of the lake outside. He and Tibor had approached from the east wing, so the catacombs on the other side of the water must be under the west wing, possibly right under the tunnel of cells. If he was right, then it would make sense to have an entrance on that side too, for when the prisoners died. But where? He and Hildred had met only with a dead end.

  Tibor’s excited voice cut into his thoughts. ‘I plan to make my vessel here,’ he said, gesturing enthusiastically around the space.

  Listen to how he says ‘my’, thought Rex, and it galled him to hear it. How proud he is of his design. Maybe this wasn’t going to be as easy as he had first thought.

  ‘It’s a good spot,’ he observed neutrally. ‘And when it is finished the water is only a matter of feet away.’

  ‘And soon it will be even closer,’ said Tibor.

  ‘But won’t we have to bring all the equipment down first?’

  ‘That is our next task.’

  Rex tried a second time. ‘Dr Velhildegildus, if you really want to launch the vessel on the night of the full moon, we must have more help. Gerulphus is unwilling—’

  ‘I wouldn’t ask him anyway,’ said Dr Velhildegildus sniffily.

  ‘Mrs Runcible, well . . . and Walter is just too old. It only leaves Hildred . . .’

  Tibor seemed to be weighing it up. ‘Yes, I’ve certainly noticed how flexible she is. Another pair of hands could be useful. But can she be trusted, Rex, to keep it secret?’

  Tibor didn’t wait for an answer but returned to the tunnel from which they had emerged, and Rex noted for the future that its entrance was the largest of them all.

  Stepping back into Tibor’s study, Rex was glad to be in the fresher atmosphere. He watched the bookcase slide back noiselessly and wondered briefly how Tibor knew about it, before pondering its mechanical workings.

  ‘We’ll start tomorrow morning,’ said Tibor. ‘Be here at seven.’

  Rex tried again. ‘And Hildred?’

  Tibor seemed distracted, muttering to himself and touching all the boxes and crates within his reach. ‘What? Oh, very well,’ he said. ‘Bring the girl too.’ He rubbed his hands together with pleasure and there was look of wild excitement in his eye that Rex had not seen before.

  It was the look of a man possessed.

  34

  Wanderings

  Hildred sat on the edge of her bed. It was nearly midnight and she hadn’t seen hide nor hair of Rex for hours. She was still stinging from her earlier dismissal and was more than a little disappointed that her only ally on the island had found it so easy to shut her out – and just when they had discovered the torture chamber, a possible breakthrough in his quest for answers.

  And now he has abandoned me! It would never have happened when I was with the Panopticon, she thought. Mr Ephcott was always there for me.

  Unusually for her, Hildred allowed herself to indulge in a few minutes’ self-pity, giving in to the pangs of loneliness that she had felt on and off since arriving at Droprock, and succumbing for a moment to self-doubt. Had it been a mistake to come here? Should she have gone with Mr Ephcott to Urbs Umida?

  ‘Absolutely not,’ she said resolutely. ‘Urbs Umida sounds like a foul place and Rex isn’t the only one with secrets and mysteries.’ She felt a sudden burst of anger. Did Rex think she was stupid? She could read the words on the boxes, she could hear the clinking and clanging from within. This stuff was not needed for fixing up the asylum. The asylum needed beds and paint and curtains. And a decent cook, she thought wryly, but immediately felt guilty. Poor Mrs Runcible, she wasn’t that bad. Hapless in the kitchen, yes, but none could dispute that she was a cheerful person who did her best for one and all, and that went a long way these days.

  ‘And Rex said he trusted me,’ said Hildred to herself. ‘But obviously he doesn’t, or he would tell me what he and the doctor are planning to do.’ She remembered when she had gone to his room, and he had been working on that plan on the floor. Maybe she should go to look for that. ‘No,’ she scolded herself. ‘How can I accuse him of not trusting me and then snoop in his room!’

  She stood up and pulled on her dark hooded cloak. ‘Perhaps I can’t solve his mystery,’ she said with determination, ‘but maybe I can solve my own.’

  And off she went.

  In another part of the asylum Gerulphus too was mulling over recent events. He sat on the edge of his own bed (larger and more comfortable than Hildred’s: he was in a superior room) in a state of indecision. There was more to Dr Velhildegildu
s than met the eye. A lot more. But the question, however, was not what the doctor was up to, but how his clandestine activities might affect Gerulphus. He sighed deeply. He had so wanted to stay here just that little bit longer before venturing out into the real world again, but now things were getting too complicated. Already the doctor’s antics were attracting far too much attention from across the water in Opum Oppidulum. The Hebdomadal was reporting on the recent acquisitions and it was not beyond the bounds of reason to expect that soon there would be visitors, councillors at the very least or, worse, nosy journalists from the paper. Cecil Notwithstanding in particular. When he wasn’t writing about beggars – his latest theory was that the beggars were somehow disappearing – he seemed to have an unhealthy interest in Droprock Island. And, if that wasn’t bad enough, the cheek of Dr Velhildegildus, expecting Gerulphus to lug things back and forth like some sort of workhorse!

  With a clenched jaw Gerulphus got up and cloaked himself, and emerged from his room. He had better things to do with his time.

  Like shadows in the night Hildred and Gerulphus passed along the narrow, unwelcoming corridors of Droprock Asylum, sensing all around them the tortured spirits of previous inmates, missing each other only by moments, unaware that they were not alone in their meanderings. And as Gerulphus descended to the very bowels of the asylum Hildred made her way up to its heights.

  Rex, unwittingly completing the trio of nocturnal peregrinators, was also at large.

  He still felt guilty at how rude he had been earlier and was looking forward to telling Hildred she could help with the Perambulating Submersible, hoping that it would not only please her but also go some way towards her mollification. With this intention, upon leaving Dr Velhildegildus’s study he went straight to her room.