by Mark Gatiss
She cocked her head to one side impishly and gave me the benefit of her most devastating smile.
We walked through the French windows and out on to the warm terrace. Balustraded steps led down on either side to Miracle’s vast gardens.
‘It’s very beautiful in the moonlight,’ said Bella, gazing out at the hedges and fountains.
‘Mmm,’ I concurred. ‘By day this place is a riot of colour. I once painted Lady Constance against the bougainvillaea over there.’
‘Did she like it?’
‘She was chuff-chuffed.’
Bella giggled, then shivered a little and I slipped out of my coat.
‘Allow me.’
She took the coat and draped it about her shoulders. ‘Perhaps you would care to paint me one day?’
‘You wouldn’t prefer the Duke to photograph you?’
‘There’s no beauty in chemicals and paper, Lucifer,’ she murmured.
‘Indeed not. I would…I would consider it a very great honour to paint you, Bella. How would you like it done?’
‘Perhaps I could be Jeanne d’Arc…or Helen,’ she said, thrusting her shoulders back and lifting up that fine, proud head.
‘In Troy? Or being ravished by Zeus? Oh no, that was Leda wasn’t it?’
I moved just a fraction closer to her. A tiny pulse was beating in her throat.
‘I think I should like that,’ she said quietly.
‘To be painted or to be…’
‘Ravished?’ She laughed her charming, tinkling laugh. She did not move away as my arm brushed hers. ‘Zeus was fond of all that, was he not? Forever appearing as swans or showers of gold…’
‘I know so little about you,’ I said suddenly, ‘but I do not wish to pry.’
‘Pry away.’
‘You really are Miss Pok?’
‘I really am. I was engaged once. To a count, would you believe?’
I looked at her in the starlight. Her eyes glittered like fragments of amethyst. I could believe princes, kings and emperors might lose their wits over her.
‘I must confess that I have posed for a portrait before.’
‘Oh yes?’
‘Yes. The Count. He paid for a portrait.’
‘How did it come out?’
‘Indifferently.’
‘And what about the Count? How did he come out?’
‘Equally indifferently.’
‘My dear,’ I began, taking her hand, ‘I am distressed beyond measure to have to go away.’
‘To Italy?’
I nodded.
‘Business or pleasure?’
I looked down and contemplated her delicate, gloved hand. ‘Oh, business only. Nothing but the most vital business would take me away from you at this juncture.’
‘You would rather stay in London?’
‘I would rather stay with you,’ I said quietly. ‘And continue your…instruction.’
I reached out and took her hand in mine. She turned, the curve of her cheek illumined like a crescent moon. Her lips parted and I could feel the warmth of her breath.
All at once, there came the crunch of running footsteps on the gravel below and a figure lolloped towards the terrace. Both of us turned at the sight of him, his handsome face flushed, his cravat all askew. It was Christopher Miracle!
He clattered up the steps and stopped, swaying slightly, when he clapped eyes on me.
‘Box!’ he cried.
‘Miracle! Where the devil have you been? Lady Constance has been manfully holding the fort –’
‘Thank God you are here! You must help me! Dear God, it is terrible! Terrible!’
I laid a hand upon his arm. ‘My dear Christopher! What is it? What has happened?’
He shot a glance at Bella.
‘Miss Pok,’ I said calmly, ‘perhaps it would be better if you returned to the party –’
She shook her head. ‘I would far rather be of assistance, if I can.’
Miracle gripped my arm. ‘She’s vanished and they think I have something to do with it!’
‘Who has vanished?’ asked Bella with a concerned frown.
‘Come, Christopher. Let’s get you somewhere warm. Bella, would you check there’s no one observing?’
We slipped him back through into the ballroom and, by sticking close to the heavy curtains, managed to steer him into a panelled corridor without anyone seeing us.
I tried a door and we found ourselves in a darkened study.
Bella lit a lamp as I settled Miracle into a chair and pushed a tumbler of Scotch into his shaking hands.
The glass clattered against his teeth. ‘They say I was the last person to see her. Now she is missing and – the police don’t say it but they suspect some foul play I’m sure of it!’
‘Miracle! Calm yourself! Who has gone missing?’
He looked at me with a puzzled expression. ‘Have I not said? Why, Mrs Knight, of course. Mrs Midsomer Knight.’
‘Who?’
‘The woman I told you of. Remember? You must remember.’
‘What, the veiled creature?’
Miracle nodded, his head drooping between defeated shoulders.
‘Come along, sir,’ said Bella gently. ‘Drink up and tell us all about it.’
Miracle nodded and rubbed his tired face. ‘Yesterday. It was time for my usual drawing class. I arrived early and so, for the first time, did she. Mrs Knight, that is. That spectre of a husband of hers was just dropping her off.’
I nodded. ‘And then?’
‘I escorted her up the steps of the Institute. She said her husband had some urgent business out of town and so had brought her before her usual time, was this acceptable? I said of course it was, as long as she didn’t mind busying herself until the other ladies arrived.’
‘What time was this?’
‘Nine-thirty. As soon as we were inside, she excused herself and disappeared into the…er conveniences. And that was the last I saw of her, I swear it!’
‘She didn’t come back into your room?’
‘I went about my work and forgot all about her! At ten, the other ladies came. The Misses Fullalove were at each other’s throats. My mind was elsewhere…’
‘Did none of the others notice her absence?’ I asked.
He shook his head. ‘No. At least, none of them remarked upon it.’
‘And when did the business begin to assume a more sinister aspect?’ said Bella.
‘Well, at the end of the lesson when the husband arrived. Of course, I had no idea where she might be. There was the most frightful row and the police were called. A glove was then found, unquestionably belonging to Mrs Knight. A blood-stained glove, Lucifer. In the ladies’ conveniences!’
‘And the peelers suspect foul play?’
‘We were alone in the building for half an hour before the others arrived. Knight himself saw us on the steps of the Institute. I don’t know where the devil she is but I had nothing to do with it. God help me! I am sworn on my honour not to leave town.’
I exhaled noisily. ‘Well, this is a pickle.’
‘They’ve questioned me over and over and only recently released me. I have nothing to tell them!’
‘But they haven’t arrested you!’
‘Not yet. But it can only be –’
There was some kind of commotion in the corridor beyond. Lady Constance’s voice chuffed in indignation, then there were footsteps on the carpet. Bella looked at me with a fearful expression as we heard first one, then another door being opened and then firmly shut.
Miracle shuddered, his eyes wide with terror.
The door to the study opened admitting a lively little ball of a man with great shaving brushes of hair projecting from his ears and nose. The rest of his face was concealed beneath a derby hat and a pair of massive, old-fashioned Piccadilly weepers.
‘Please forgive this intrusion, sir,’ he said, looking at me, then at Bella. ‘Miss. Inspector Flush. Scotland Yard.’
He removed
his hat and threw a very serious look at my friend Christopher.
‘Mr Miracle, I’m afraid I shall have to ask you to come with me to the Yard. Certain…developments have come to light.’
‘Developments?’
I held up a hand. ‘Just a moment, Inspector. Before you haul my friend off on some spurious charge, had we not best get the facts in order? Mr Miracle was in the process of describing the events to us. You can surely show him the courtesy of allowing him to finish.’
Flush gave a triple-chinned shrug. ‘That is a courtesy we should be glad to extend – at the station.’
‘What developments?’ cried Miracle with some asperity.
With slightly more drama than was necessary (I liked him at once), Flush removed his hat, and held it to his breast. ‘We’ve located the missing woman.’
‘Safe and well, I trust,’ said Bella.
‘No, miss,’ said the inspector. ‘Dead.’
IX
THE HORROR IN THE CARDBOARD TUBE
WELL, there it was. Dead. A bloated body had been pulled out of the Thames and though rats had made short work of her face, the dress, reticule and certain papers found on the corpse had led the husband to a positive identification. How tiresome it was.
The wretched Miracle had been formally charged with murder and I was allowed to visit him, giving what assurances I could. Of course, I couldn’t possibly take off to Italy at a time like this, I told him. I wouldn’t rest until his good name was cleared. That sort of blather.
I missed the boat to Naples and, later that day, slipped off to see the ascetic banker, Mr Midsomer Knight.
‘Mr Box, have you been retained by Scotland Yard in this matter?’ he positively hissed. ‘Really, I cannot see what the deuce business it is of yours.’
Mr Midsomer Knight looked at me coldly as I sat across from him in his frightful, over-furnished Norwood home. I spread my hands before me in a gesture of supplication. ‘It is only that I believe Mr Miracle to be entirely innocent of any crime and I wish to help in any way I can in bringing the true perpetrator of this horrid deed to justice.’
Knight gave a small nod so I continued.
‘Can you tell me how your wife came to attend Mr Miracle’s drawing class?’
Images are removed here
Knight thought for a moment. ‘I took some convincing, Mr Box, I don’t mind telling you.’ He placed his hands on the knob of his stick, leaning forward like a minister at his lectern. ‘I believe a woman’s place is at her husband’s side. However, amongst a lady’s accomplishments a little music, a little French a little…drawing are pleasant.’
‘You seem to imagine your wife was in training to become a provincial governess.’
‘I sought merely to protect her,’ he bristled. ‘Her…disfigurement, you understand. She could not have stood the mocking voices, the averted glances…’
‘But finally you gave into a little, what shall we call it, female emancipation?’
Knight regarded me coldly. ‘She was most insistent. I was surprised, I admit. She had never shown any facility in drawing. But, I thought that, after all, the change would do her good.’ He closed his eyes. ‘How foolish I was. But there is…there was…a streak of obstinacy in her that I made it my business to stamp out. It was a consequence of the unhealthy amount of freedom she was granted by her first husband.’
I cocked my head. ‘Her first husband?’
‘A free-thinker. It was quite a blessing for her that he passed away.’
I sighed heavily. ‘As far as I can see, Mr Knight, there is nothing to suggest that your wife didn’t simply leave Miracle’s studio a short time after you left her.’
‘And went where?’
‘Wherever you prevented her from going in the past.’
Knight’s pallid features coloured. ‘What the devil are you suggesting?’
I waved a placating hand. ‘Merely thinking aloud. Now, would it be possible – I understand how delicate must be your feelings just now – could you tell me how your wife came by her injuries?’
‘The police tell me that…rats had –’
‘No, no. Her old injuries.’
The banker’s face was impassive. ‘Fire.’
‘In her younger days?’
‘Yes. I believe she was seven-or eight-and-twenty at the time.’
‘You did not know her then?’
‘Gracious, no. We were married two or three years later. In fact, our anniversary is fast approaching.’
He fumbled in his waistcoat for a moment and produced a small parcel of tissue paper. Spreading it out on the table before him, he revealed a pair of modestly bejewelled earrings.
‘These were to have been my gift. I suppose I will be able to claim back the expense.’
He sniffed lightly and replaced them in his pocket.
I persevered. ‘How did you meet?’
‘When her previous husband died abroad, my firm sent me to advise her on financial affairs. We became…attached. One day, I asked her to marry me, and she agreed. It was a very suitable arrangement.’
I wondered whether he made bank-loans sound as appealing.
I returned home and was astonished to find Delilah waiting in a brougham outside. ‘Hevening, sir. Compliments of Mr Reynolds, sir. ’E’s ’eard abart Mr Miracle’s spot ho’ bovver, sir, and wonders hif ’e can be hof hany ’elp.’
‘Most kind of him. How lovely to see you restored to health, Delilah. You did give us a turn the other day, you know.’
She clambered from the vehicle as I opened the door of Number Nine. ‘Nah. Hit’s well known that hi’m himmortal, sir,’ she chuckled throatily. ‘Unless you cut horf me ’ead and stick ha pike through me ’eart hi’ll be ’ere for ha few years yet.’
We stepped inside then, a moment later, I pulled up sharply as Delilah’s great thick arm suddenly barred my way. I had the door of the drawing room half open. Something was awry.
‘What is it?’ I whispered, eyes flashing from side to side.
Delilah stooped to pick up a cardboard tube that was lying on the cork-matting of the hallway floor. One end of it was curiously ragged, as though chewed open.
She stepped in front of me and then beckoned as we made our way silently into the room.
I stopped dead. Lying in a heap, surrounded by letters, was the body of a uniformed postman – stopped dead in a more literal fashion.
‘Cor! Look hat ’is bloody face!’ gasped Delilah. The skin of his face was hideously inflamed and swollen and almost as black as his boots. ‘You reckon the bobby next door let ’im hin?’
I nodded. ‘Must have. I was expecting something. Yes. That must be it.’
Clutched in the postman’s hands – which were screwed up like rusted keys – was a squarish, brown-paper parcel. ‘Get back!’ I said, dropping to one knee to examine the body. ‘Ah!’
There were two puncture wounds in the right wrist, the skin around them a vile, blistered mess.
‘He’s been bitten by something,’ I whispered.
Delilah looked down at the dead man. ‘Come hin this tube, you reckon?’ Folding her arms, Delilah looked uneasily around the darkened room. ‘Whatever hit was,’ she breathed, ‘his probably still hin ’ere.’
‘Indubitably.’
I glanced down at the Turkey carpet. In the gloom, every shape took on a twisted serpentine form.
‘Stay exactly where you are, Delilah,’ I murmured. ‘I’m going to cross the room and open the curtains. Then we’ll get a clearer look at this thing –’
‘Stay still, sir! For the love hof God, stay still!’ Delilah gasped in genuine horror.
I needed no urging for I could feel a soft, appallingly ticklish movement on my trouser leg. Rooted to the spot, I managed to swivel my gaze around to get a glimpse of the creature, but in the shadows I could make out little more than a spiny shape perhaps a foot in length. It was moving inexorably up my calf.
‘What shall hi do?’ hissed Delilah.
Shuddering involuntarily, I struggled not to cry out as the creature undulated again and, with its horrible, creeping motion, reached my thigh.
‘Light!’ I whispered.
Nodding, Delilah crossed clumsily to the window and carefully raised the blinds. Milky light flooded the room.
Delilah’s cry of disgust did little to assuage my fears.
I risked a look down. Clamped (there is no other word for it) to my leg was the most disgusting animal I have ever laid eyes upon. Yellowy-black in colour it was somewhere between a scorpion and a centipede, its thick carapace glinting dully like amber beads on a string. Its head – upon which were mounted the vicious pair of pincers that had undoubtedly done for the postman – was moving slowly from side to side in a ghastly, skin-crawling oscillation.
‘What his it?’ cried Delilah.
‘Don’t know! Don’t care!’ I managed to gurgle from between compressed lips. ‘We have one advantage on our side though.’
‘What’s that?’
I peered for a longer moment at the insect-like abomination. Every part of me thrilled with horror at its touch. It was all I could do to stop myself from grabbing the thing and wrenching it from me.
‘I think it’s blind,’ I hissed. ‘Must avoid…agitating it.’
Delilah nodded slowly. ‘Where’s your cane? Hi could knock hit off.’
‘No!’ I swallowed hard, trying not to let my agitation show. ‘It’ll bite before you could get to it, you dolt!’ The creature moved again, its swaying legs pattering hideously against the fabric of my suit.
‘Come over here,’ I said carefully. Delilah obeyed. ‘Now…stand behind me…’
Beads of salty sweat were puddling in my eyebrows.
Delilah assumed the position, as it were, standing about ten inches behind me.
‘Now what?’ she said in a high, dry voice.
‘Now you must take down my trousers.’
‘Heh?’
I tried to steady my breathing. The creature slid further up my leg until it was practically nestling in my groin. ‘Don’t argue, woman,’ I said at last. ‘Reach around and unbutton my braces. One…at…a…time.’