“It was underneath the horse. It probably didn’t survive being lain on,” John said dryly.
“Could it have killed the horse?” Hades moved closer, and with one toe prodded at the tail of the snake. He estimated it to be around twenty-five inches long.
“Dunno.” John closed his mouth with a snap.
“I’ve seen horses bitten by snakes before,” William said, straightening from his leaning position and rubbing his back. “They rarely die.”
Hades stood back from the snake in disappointment. But William wasn’t finished.
“I tell you one thing though,” he paused. Hades gritted his teeth and waited. “That snake ain’t from around here.”
Hades jumped as the snake uncoiled slightly in the hay, causing a rustling sound. Both William and John laughed.
“It’s still dead, my lord. Your prodding it with your toe probably undid the balance. What do you want doing with it?”
Hades pondered. Did the snake have anything to do with the unnatural death of his horse? It was better to be safe than sorry. He still had to interview the elusive Trump on the other side of Ottery St Mary who had entered the bet into the White’s betting book. If he was a member of the Royal Society and had an interest in animals as the meeting on Ibex suggested, then perhaps he might be able to identify the snake too. That was, if he wasn’t the Viper himself.
Hades’ head suddenly started hurting very badly. “There is an empty basket in the coach,” he said quietly. “I think you will find that the snake fits in it quite well.”
John left the stable unhurriedly and returned shortly with the small basket that the unfortunate Jeffries had left in the coach. Using a large stick, he pushed the dead snake into the basket, coiling the body this way and that until it was all in. The wicker lid fit nicely on top.
“Could a been made for a snake,” William remarked. He opened a pouch from his pocket and stuffed a wad of tobacco in his gums.
Hades nodded. With hands that trembled only slightly, he took the basket from John who handed it to him with a grin.
“Perhaps get yourself some gloves,” William remarked with a cackle. “Come on, John. It’s time we’re off.”
Hades winced and walked out with the two men to where the cart stood at the gates to Berale House. Mercifully there was a break in the clouds, and the rain had stopped for a few minutes. A small stoic, bedraggled pony stood in front of the cart looking neither left nor right.
Putting the basket gingerly on the floor, he pulled a sovereign from his pocket and handed it to John. Without these two men, he wouldn’t have found the snake. It would have been swept up with the stable hands and put out with the rest of the dirty straw.
John and William beamed him identical smiles and climbed up on their trap. “Pleasure doin’ business with you, sir,” William called as John shook the reins to wake up the pony.
Hades inclined his head and looked down at the basket on the floor. He needed to get that into the dry, fast, and work out just how he was going to approach Mr. Trump.
Henry greeted him at the door as he ducked under the porch out of the rain. “Smythe said that the knacker’s lads seemed to want you rather urgently. Is everything alright?”
“I think another piece to the puzzle might have fallen into place.” Hades opened the top to the basket. Henry looked in and blinked. “It’s a snake,” Hades explained. “It was underneath my horse Acorn when the knackers lifted the body onto the cart.”
|Henry frowned. “Snakes don’t often enter our stables, even though they are warm and dry.”
Hades shook his head. “Neither do your guests turn up with baskets donated by highwaymen that seem just right to accommodate a snake of such size.”
Henry raised an eyebrow. “You think the snake was put in your coach deliberately?”
Hades swallowed. If it had been and it was venomous enough to kill a horse, he and Freddie had had a very lucky escape. It didn’t bear thinking about too closely.
“It is a very elaborate way to attempt to kill someone,” Henry said, scratching his chin.
Hades tapped his boot against the hall table. Snakes, snakes, snakes. All he had thought about for the past few weeks had been snake strategies and the Viper. It couldn’t be coincidental that someone had left a snake for him. He stilled his foot. Had he met the Viper himself? Had the Viper been the highwayman that had escaped so easily up the banks of the road?
He cursed loudly and at some length. The Viper had followed him as he had suspected he might. To have been so near, and now yet so far. He wouldn’t recognize the man again. The mask had covered most of his face, and his hat was pulled down low over his head. There was something he had noticed though. The man had had incredibly hairy ears.
Hades rubbed his face hard. So what did he have left? Still no description of the man. He could be anywhere by now. That just left the lead of the Dutch spy and Trump. He had a description for the Dutch spy, but no idea where he had gone.
“Anglethorpe, can you put out a message to all your contacts and the local coaching inns to look for a man?”
Henry nodded. “Description?” he asked.
“He is short, has a red nose, and sandy blond hair. He may speak with a slight Flemish accent, although it is unlikely.”
“Is this your Dutch spy?”
“Yes. I have one more favor to ask. I believe I may need the services of Bill Standish again.”
“That’s easy enough to request. The man has been flittering round my sister like a bee around a honey pot. I believe he is already here in the morning room.”
It was hard for Hades to envisage the massive Bill, built like an ox, flittering anywhere. And he didn’t really want to go anywhere near Victoria or Agatha for a while.
“Don’t worry. The ladies aren’t up yet.”
Hades glanced at Henry sharply. “Do you happen to know a Mr. Trump?” he said slowly.
“Royal Society chap? Excitable about animals?”
“Possibly,” Hades said cautiously.
“Yes. He’s in Ottery St. Mary at the moment, but you’ll normally find him down by the river there with a butterfly net this time of year. The locals think that he is mad but he can be lucid when he wants to be.” Henry crossed over to the door to the morning room whilst he was still talking and pushed open the door. Bill stood peering out of the window. In contrast to his normal clothes, he was dressed immaculately in white breeches, riding boots and a coat of dark-blue superfine. He clutched a small bunch of posies in his hand.
“You see what I mean?” Henry whispered.
“Hey what? What’s that?” Bill turned his massive shoulders to crane his head to the door.
“She’ll run rings around him,” Hades said. He had had several slices of Victoria’s insight recently, something which she had put pains to disguise before.
Henry grinned. “I know. All we need to do is sit on the side lines and watch.”
“Watch what?” Bill demanded, striding across the carpeted room.
“Watch my step,” Hades said quickly. “Look, Standish, I need your help. I’ll explain on the way, but I may need some backup. The man I’m going to visit may be dangerous. I need someone as strong as a—” he paused, searching for the word—“horse”—that seemed apt— “to protect me if things go wrong.”
Bill stared and snorted. “The great Earl Harding needs someone to protect him? I thought you were an armchair warrior, capable of creating victories with twenty strokes of your pen?”
Hades didn’t have time for this. “Look, Standish, someone has it in for me, and they’ve already tried to kill me twice. Plus if you don’t come with me I will tell Victoria all about your lady conquests in this surrounding area. Especially about the lady with the peacocks.”
The large man paled. “Fine. I’ll come with you. But just you wait till you have women problems, Harding. I’ll laugh at you then.”
Hades thanked the stars that Bill had not been made privy to Victoria’s conf
idences. He was sure that his mysterious relationship with Miss Sumner would feature high on the gossip list.
Hades and Bill made little conversation as they waited for the lads in the stable to saddle up their horses. Hades took Cloud whilst Bill mounted his enormous horse that he had ridden from Brambridge House.
The sun peered in front of the clouds for the first time as they rode along the banks of the river following a well-worn path. Reaching a sharp bend in the river, Hades slowed his horse to a trot. Bill followed suit.
“Anglethorpe said that Trump would be around here somewhere,” he said, pointing at the sharp bend. “He’s normally examining the insects.”
Bill jerked his head in assent and dismounted from his horse.
“It’s butterflies actually.” A small voice piped plaintively from behind a large bush. “And you are disturbing them with your great brutes of horses.”
Hades twisted in his saddle. “Err, begging your pardon. And you are?”
“Mr. Leonard Trump. Please remain very still.”
“Mr. Trump, I will have to ask you to step out from behind that bush right now if you please.” Hades drew a small pistol from his pocket. He wasn’t taking any chances after the incident with the snake. Anglethorpe had loaned the gun to him. It was folly, he barely knew how to shoot it.
“No I won’t,” the small voice said peevishly. “I’m… ooh you brute, get off me.”
Whilst Hades had pulled out his gun, Bill had stalked behind the bush and pulled out a small, wiry man who was dressed in a smock and held a large net in his hand.
Hades had to admit to himself that the Viper was very unprepossessing for a great villain. “Bring him over here please, Standish,” he said, pushing his gun into his belt.
“Oooh, I say,” the small man protested as Bill almost lifted him off his feet by his elbows and deposited him in front of Cloud. He clutched his net protectively. “I was just about to catch a very nice example of a Scarlet Pimpernel before your tame dog—” he pointed accusingly at Bill—“crushed it beneath his clodhopping feet.”
“A scarlet pimpernel?” Hades was bewildered.
“I think he means a butterfly,” Bill said.
“Oh so the brute has some brains, has he?”
“The brute that you are speaking of, is the owner of Brambridge Manor and estate,” Bill said icily, his large muscled forearms flexing with his agitation.
Trump’s mouth fell open in a rounded O.
“Tell me what you know of the Viper?” Hades interjected quickly, trying to catch Trump off guard. He jerked Cloud’s reins to make her paw her feet for good effect.
But the small man was not fazed. He pushed a finger into his ear and swirled it around. “Viper? Viperidae, genus include Cerastes and Atheris, known habitat most of the world. Not many around here though, I’m afraid. They’re called adders. One of my colleagues would know more about it. I’m more of a jack of all trades.”
Hades groaned. Either this man was very good, or he really wasn’t involved. “Standish, tell me what the state of his ears are please?”
Bill looked at Hades as if he had lost his wits. “His ears?”
“Yes, his ears.”
Casting a look to the sky, Hades bent over and peered at Trump’s ears. “Look normal to me, Harding. Have you got some theory as to whether or not a villain has large ears or not?”
“No. Are Trump’s ears hairy?”
Bill looked again as Trump turned his head this way and that between the two men. After a few seconds Bill looked back at Hades. “No, why?” he said with a frown.
“The highwayman who attempted to rob me had very hairy ears. He then left me with a gift that killed my horse. I think he was the Viper.”
Bill nodded in understanding.
“I don’t know what all this talk is about snakes, but I really do feel like you are interrupting my afternoon, landowner or no landowner.” Trump nodded apologetically at Bill.
Hades dismounted from his horse and let it roam free so that he could concentrate on Trump. He knew Cloud would not wander very far. “Mr. Trump, if you do not know about the entity called the Viper, then why did you bet Edward Fiske that Earl Harding would not vanquish the Viper?”
“Bet? I never bet,” Trump cried.
“At Whites,” Hades said flatly. “You are very sure that you didn’t have a conversation with Edward Fiske and then enter a bet in the book there?”
“I hardly ever go to Whites! I hate the place. All they talk about is gambling and horseflesh. I far rather spend my time at the Royal Society. At least there they understand about the natural world beyond what can actually be bet upon.” Trump sat down suddenly on a tussock. “Why are you asking me these questions?
“I believe someone may have been impersonating you, Mr. Trump.” Hades looked round for Cloud, and finding her only a few yards away, retrieved the basket with the dead snake in it from the saddle. In politer tones he asked, “I was wondering if you might help me identify the following, sir?” He sat back down next to the dejected man, and opened the lid to the basket.
“Put the lid back on,” Trump cried, going rigid and staring at the basket with fear. “What do you think you are doing, put the lid back on!” he screamed.
“It’s alright, it’s dead,” Hades replied. He put the lid back on anyway.
“How in the hell do you expect someone to react when you show them an asp viper?” Trump was still shouting. “How in the hell did you get hold of that?”
“Someone left it for me as a present,” Hades said dryly. Bill looked at him sharply.
“It might be the kind of present my colleague, Professor Lisle, would have liked to have received,” Trump said, pushing himself as far away from the basket as he could, “although in truth he would probably have preferred a Hierophis Viridiflavus.”
“Hierophis Viridiflavus?”
“Mm, yes, a green whip snake. It’s found in the same region of the Pyrenees as the asp viper.”
“Hierophis Viridiflavus…”
“Yes quite, that’s the name for the green whip snake. I’ve already explained that before…”
“No, Mr. Trump, I’m repeating it because I have heard mention of it before.” Hades shook his head. It would come to him. “Tell me, could the asp viper kill a man?”
“Oh yes, especially if the man didn’t get help in time.”
“And a horse?”
“Less likely.” Trump faltered as he saw Hades’ face. “If my colleague, Professor Lisle, were here he would know. I think he mentioned once that if the snake was killed whilst making the bite then it could release more toxins than usual. That might kill a horse.”
“Hmm.” Acorn had been found on top of the asp viper. The hoof marks in the wall indicated that the horse had been kicking out at something in the straw before it died. That must have agitated the snake so much that it had bitten the horse, and in the horse’s agony it had fallen on the snake, causing it in turn to die, releasing more venom into the horse’s blood stream.
“It’s a shame,” Trump said awkwardly, breaking into Hades’ thoughts. “Bernard, Professor Lisle was here just a few days ago visiting unexpectedly. We were discussing a meeting we had at the Royal Society on—”
“Ibex,” Hades finished. “That’s where I heard the words Hierophis Viridiflavus, they were in the notes of the meeting on Ibex.”
“Oh yes, they would have been. Bernard is fixated on snakes. I think it is a little bit unhealthy myself. I was glad when he didn’t stay for more than a night. He said his accommodation had fallen through. He only turned up with a horse. I can’t think where his man servant Jeffries got to, or to that matter his queer fish of an assistant Pedro!”
“Tell me, Mr. Trump,” Hades enunciated clearly, “does your Professor Lisle have rather hairy ears?”
Trump swiveled a finger in his ear again and nodded vigorously. “Oh yes. I always notice them because I have a bit of a problem myself with wax in the ear. I’m always a
dmiring—”
“And does he have any other identifying features?”
“What do you mean? He looks like a normal gentleman—medium height, medium build, brown hair, sometimes he has a moustache although I have noticed that sometimes he does not…”
Hades had come after the wrong man. It had been Professor Lisle complaining about him in White’s, Lisle who had impersonated his colleague Trump, and Lisle that had attempted to murder him with a snake of all things. To top it all off, he was an expert in snakes himself. The nickname the Viper had been given to him for a good reason. It was a shame that Trump could not give him a better description. The man he had just outlined sounded like every other man on the street.
“Last question, Mr. Trump.”
Trump sighed audibly, slumping.
“Can you die from ingesting snake venom?”
“No, now please go away. I really do feel like I need some fresh air.”
CHAPTER 24
Melissa fluttered through the Mayfair house like a trapped moth. She had investigated every room, even discovering a secret wardrobe. But the rest of the collection of books was nowhere to be found. And now that she was no longer escaping anything for a few days, the boredom was intolerable.
She had thrown caution to the wind and walked Arturo in the park, hung some pretty curtains in the front room in a fit of pique, all on the Hades’ account of course and finally, after one sugar-heavy dinner too many, visited Carlos and Charles in their kitchen.
They were very surprised to see her.
“Miss Sumner,” they chorused. “Sit down!”
Charles held out a kitchen chair, whilst Carlos hefted a large kettle onto the stove. Pushing her spectacles onto her nose firmly, Melissa grabbed her skirts and pushed herself onto the proffered chair.
“Would you like some tea?” Charles asked uncertainly. “We have some biscuits too…”
Melissa groaned. Her teeth hurt from the amount of biscuits she had eaten. “Just tea please, Charles.”
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