by Ben Hammott
"You are correct, of course there is no need to fire your pistol when I am already here."
Buckley was very relieved. "So I did good, did I, Mr. Murdersin?"
"That you did, now go round up all the men watching the manor and have them spread out around the castle, there's an attack pending and Sebastian wants every man available protecting his property."
Buckley stood up straight and saluted. "Yes, Sir, you can count on me again, Sir."
"I knew I could. Now be off with you. Round the men up as quick as you can."
Buckley hurried off into the darkness.
"Smoothly done, Mr. Murdersin," said the hunchback.
"Not really, most of Sebastian's men are morons."
"But why do you want them away from the manor? Are they not on our side?"
"I suppose that depends on what side we are on. Now stay quiet and follow me."
Furtive led the slightly confused hunchback toward the large house.
Butler had just finished his check of the grounds and re-entered the house. He locked the door behind him, crossed the hall and knocked on the study door.
"Who is it?" Lurch asked.
"I am a thief who has just broken into the house and I am searching each room for valuables to steal and people to murder."
"Sorry, unless your name is…" There was a rustle of paper. "…Butler, I can't let you in. Is your name Butler?"
Butler sighed. "Yes, my name is Butler."
"Then please enter, the door is unlocked."
Butler entered. "It's probably not a good idea to mention you will only let someone in with the name of Butler and then ask them if that is their name."
"It's not, Sir? Then how am I to know who is wanting to come in?"
"Just ask them their name."
"But that's what I did, Sir. I asked you if your name was Butler, and it was and you are, so it worked."
Butler gave up. "I did a walk round, but apart from Sebastian's idiots littering the grounds everything is quiet, too quiet."
"Would you like me to fetch my drum kit, Mr. Butler, and make some noise?"
"No, thank you, Lurch. I'll endure the silence."
"Okay, Sir, but let me know if you change your mind."
"I will, but it's unlikely."
TRING! TRING!
"It's the front door bell, Sir."
"Thank you for reminding me. Now go and do the same as we did last time."
"Eh, last time, Sir?"
"Open the door to find out who it is, but don't let them in unless I say."
"Unless you say what, Sir?"
"Unless I tell you to let them in."
"Okay, Sir, I have it now." Lurch headed out into the hall and crossed to the front door. He slid back the bolts, swung the door open and looked at the two men standing on the step. He turned his head to look back toward the study. "I think we have a problem, Mr. Butler, Sir."
Butler peered around the door frame and saw the two Crakett Murdersin's.
One of them waved. "Hi, Butler." His hand then indicated the man beside them. "Don't look so worried. This is another imposter and not the real Crakett Murdersin."
Butler stepped into the hall. "Let them in Lurch and lock the door. You two come into the study."
Presently engaged in searching for the hiding place of Ebenezer's painting, Shadow was unaware of the events taking place on the floor above. The search had started in the attic and worked its way down. After all other rooms in the house had been discounted as a possible hiding place, Shadow's thorough investigation currently concentrated on the wine cellar. If it was not here it wasn't in the house and the outbuildings would be next to suffer the assassin thief's searching gaze.
Shadow walked down each rack of dusty wine bottles and was impressed by some of the rare wines. It was in the last rack the clue being searched for was found; something not quite right. In this instance it was a wine bottle with finger marks disturbing its dusty covering. Shadow pulled it from its spot and glanced at the label to find it a rather uninspiring wine of a doubtful vintage. A gaze into the empty slot revealed something much more rewarding, an iron handle in the wall. A black gloved hand reached in and pulled.
CLICK!
The middle section of the wine rack sprung proud.
Shadow replaced the bottle in its niche, pulled the secret door open and stepped inside.
Crakett Murdersin, also unaware of his two lookalikes inside the house, slipped through the round roof window, followed Furtive's tracks in the dust covered beams and dropped silently to the floor. He passed through the door and traversed the narrow staircase. The tripwires and carpet traps were easily avoided. He paused at the top of the grand staircase and listened. His keen hearing picked up muffled voices and the room they came from. He slid down the banister and landed softly in the hall. After a quick search of the ground floor he found the door leading to the cellar. His climb down the stairs created not a sound. His walk to the far end of the wine cellar produced no clue to the hiding place of Ebenezer's painting. He had better luck on spying the open secret door in the end wall. He paused for a few moments to contemplate the obvious evidence that he was not the only one looking and they were at this moment closer to finding it. With caution guiding his way, he slipped through the door.
AN UNEXPECTED GATHERING
Butler, though pleased with Furtive's successful acquisition of Sebastian's painting, had still not fully recovered from the unexpected appearance of two Crakett Murdersin's. He had also just been informed by Furtive that the real Crakett Murdersin, if he wasn't already in the house, probably planned on doing that very thing. It could be the only reason why he would use an imposter to take his place.
"And it get's worst, Butler," said Furtive. "Sebastian has also hired another to steal the painting, one who goes by the name of Shaaadoooow, and I said the name all mysterious to try and convey the menace this accomplished thief and assassin poses. I do know a story about the Shadow if you want to hear it?"
"That won't be necessary as I expect it lacks the required ending." Butler turned to the other fake hunchback in the room. "Who are you?"
"No one really, I'm a theater actor and my name is Arthur Milkwood. Perhaps you have heard of me?" he asked hopefully.
Butler shook his head. "I don't often get the chance for pleasurable activities, though after your disastrous performance so far tonight I doubt viewing any play Arthur Milkwood starred in could be described as pleasurable. But I digress. To get everything straight in my mind, you, Arthur, were on the carriage?"
He nodded. "Until I fell out and rolled into the quarry."
"Then the real Crakett Murdersin hired you to impersonate him so he could come here and steal the painting."
Arthur shrugged. "He failed to inform me of his plans, just that he wanted me to impersonate him. I only accepted because I was between parts, and have been for some time, and in desperate need of the money he offered, which I still hope to receive."
Butler thought aloud. "So either the real Crakett has no idea that Sebastian hired the Shadow to steal the painting, or he did and jealous rivalry led him to substitute you for him to go to the castle, while he came here to steal the painting."
"That probably means Crakett, and possibly Shadow, are already in the house," said Furtive.
"I agree," said Butler. "We must go and protect the painting. If it's stolen, none of us will get paid." He looked at the hunchback. "Except perhaps for you, although so far you haven't done anything to earn it." Butler aimed the pistol that had rested in his lap at the hunchback. "Unless of course you are the real Crakett and everything you have done up to this point has been a clever plan to gain entry into this house."
"Now hang on a minute, I am no more the real Crakett than the foul breath one sitting next to me."
Butler wasn't convinced. "Prove it, remove your disguise."
Arthur, persuaded by the barrel of the pistol pointed at him, did as instructed and removed the padded coat, wig and mask
. "Now do you believe me?"
"Okay, so you are not Crakett, but I still don't trust you. You could still be part of his plan to steal the painting. Lurch, fetch the rope from the kitchen and tie him up."
Lurch went to do Butler's bidding.
"Is that really necessary?" asked Arthur.
"It is. You'll be set free in the morning or when all this is over."
Furtive stood. "I don't suppose I'll be needing this disguise anymore?"
"No, take it off; it's too confusing when there is more than one Crakett around. As soon as Arthur's secured, we'll head downstairs to collect Ebenezer's painting."
Furtive stripped off his disguise, donned his own coat and placed his crumpled top hat on his head. "Furtive is back!"
Butler smiled. "You did well tonight, Furtive. I know your part in this should end now, but I'd appreciate it if you helped me sort things out here. I'll make sure you get paid for the extra work."
"I would have stayed even without the offer of payment, Butler, not that I'm gonna refuse it mind yer, but I like you lot, so if yer needs me help, you've got it."
Butter nodded. "Thanks."
Lurch returned with the rope and Furtive, an expert in all types of knots, tied him securely to the chair. Butler ordered Lurch to stand in the doorway so he could guard the prisoner and at the same time keep an eye on the hallway; he then led Furtive down to the wine cellar where they discovered signs of an intruder.
The two men stared at the open secret door.
"At least one of them has found it," said Furtive.
"Let's hope we are not too late and they haven't already absconded with the painting," said Butler as worry creased his brow.
They lit the lanterns they had brought with them and passed through the door.
With slow cautious movements, they descended the stone steps arched with natural rock, their ears staining to hear the tell-tale signs of an intruder below. They heard nothing but the intermittent drip of water. They paused at the bottom and cast their gaze around the large cavern mostly taken up with a pool of crystal clear water. Drops of water dripped from some of the stalactites formed over the centuries to splash in the pool, sending out ripples that soon faded. A rickety wooden bridge snaked between stalagmites protruding from the water. Some had met their opposite to form large, pale, glistening columns of hard mineral.
"It looks like a fairy grotto," whispered Furtive in amazement.
"Whoever's down here has crossed the bridge," said Butler, worried by the lack of cover the jetty-like construction would offer when they crossed.
Furtive peered into the shadows cloaking most of the bridge and the darkness beyond. Though he saw no sign of movement, someone could be hiding and watching them. "Where does it lead?"
"To a tunnel that leads to another chamber and then to Ebenezer's old secret study."
"We could just wait here until whoever's down here returns."
"We could, but there's a secret escape route. If someone is down here who has your sense of detection, they might find it and escape that way. We'll have to carry on." Butler approached the pool and stepped onto the bridge. It creaked and swayed with every step however carefully he moved, so he chose haste and rushed across with Furtive close on his heels. They reached the far side of the pool and entered the dark tunnel. Butler slowed at a bend and peered around the corner. He saw nothing but the dark. Whoever was down here would need light to move about; he took the lack of one to mean the tunnel was safe. He continued along it.
The next chamber they entered was small and contained a few old, mildewed half rotten wooden packing cases. They headed for the exit on the far side, but Butler halted so abruptly Furtive bumped into him.
Butler turned to face him and quickly stepped back to a safer distance. "I just saw a flash of light, take my lamp and wait here while I go take a look."
Furtive took the lantern and watched Butler creep towards the opening and peer around the rock.
Shadow, watched them both.
Crakett, unaware of the eyes upon him, stood in the centre of the furnished chamber. He held up a lantern to spread its light as wide as possible and looked for any place where the painting might be hidden. The room smelt of long disuse and decay. Though the armchair, small table, desk and chair and bookcases must have once looked luxurious, time and damp air had turned them into objects of faded splendor. The once fine collection of books on the now sagging shelves, were now little more than worm eaten mildewed pages and food for the mushrooms sprouting from their bindings.
Butler returned to Furtive and whispered. "It's Crakett. He's looking for the painting."
"What do we do?"
Butler shook his head. "I've no idea, but if he gets hold of the painting it will ruin Ebenezer. It's his only hope of a future. We have to stop him."
"I don't understand. If Sebastian and Ebenezer split the inheritance when their father died, why is Ebenezer so worse off. Look at that place of his upstairs, its falling apart."
"Sebastian tricked Ebenezer when they divided up the businesses. Ebenezer ended up with so many debts it almost ruined him."
"I thought there weren't something right about the man when I met him. He said the family treasure was nothing but a trinket, a family heirloom of no value."
"He was lying. When the castle was under construction, the workers in the quarry Jacobus owned, stumbled across a rich gold seam in the rock; you can still see the old mine workings today. The rumours are he dug a few tons of gold out by the time it petered out and he kept most of it, but where it is today no one knows."
"And that's what you think the clues in the painting will lead too?"
"I'm certain of it. But if Sebastian gets there first no one else will see a flake of it."
"It will be a shame to lose Ebenezer's painting now we have Sebastian's in our possession and so close to finding out where this treasure is."
"That's why we have to stop Crakett from finding it."
"So, what do we do?"
"I think, Furtive, it is time to put your considerable skills to the test again. I did think about you creeping up on him and knocking him out with something, but I'm worried he might smell you if you get too close."
"Fair point," Furtive agreed. He tapped his jacket. "I do have Grave Filler, I could use that."
"After hearing that half story you told me about when he was attacked by thirty armed men, I'm not sure that would work. We need stealth and cunning if we are going to succeed. I want you to creep inside and distract him long enough so I can come up behind and whack him on the head."
"Not even as remotely cunning as your previous plan, but it could work. My part will not be a problem. He will be so distracted a marching band could creep up on him." Furtive placed the lanterns on the ground and crept over to the opening.
Butler blinked and the man was gone. He moved over to the wall and peered around the edge. As soon as Furtive's distraction began he would make his move.
Shadow pondered what had just been overheard. What had started out as a simple job had suddenly grown very complicated; Shadow did not like complications. It explained the hunchback's presence, but Crakett was wasting his time, Shadow had already searched the moldy study and the painting wasn't there. This talk of paintings leading to gold was, though, an intriguing development worth considering. Sebastian was not a man to be trusted and doubts had already been festering as whether it was wise to continue with the original assignment. The inheritance just mentioned could provide a much richer reward. Shadow decided to stay a little longer to see what else revealed itself.
Crakett set about empting the books onto the ground and pulling the decrepit book shelves from the walls in his search for a hidden storage space or chamber. The first one fell to the ground in a heap of moldy books and rotten wood. He gripped the second, twitched his nose and checked the soles of his shoes.
"I'm sure Ebenezer would disapprove of your methods," said Furtive. "Yes, the bookshelves have suffered a certain
amount of neglect, but nevertheless they still belong to him."
As Crakett spun around his hand dived beneath his coat, pulled out a pistol and aimed it at the man reclining in the mildewed armchair whilst puffing on a cigar. "Who in hell's name are you?"
"My name, Sir, is Shadow!" Furtive lied.
"The Shadow!" There was a certain amount of nervousness in Crakett's surprised reply, evidence he was aware of the assassin thief's reputation.
"Unlike you, the one and only and no need to be formal, you can drop the the."
"But what are you doing here?"
"The very question I was about to ask you. I'm not sure Sebastian will be very pleased when he discovers you sent an incompetent imposter to guard his precious painting while you came here to steal Ebenezer's."
Though a little surprised the man was so well informed, Crakett had a suspicion he was not all he claimed to be. "If you really are Shadow, why am I still alive? Your reputation would have my bloody corpse spread atop that pile of moldy books by now."
"Oh, I must apologize. Did you want to die so quickly? If you do it would take but a moment to satisfy your desire." He casually puffed on the cigar and blew a long stream of smoke at Crakett.
Crakett coughed, choked, turned a little green and in a horse voice, uttered, "If that foul stench is produced by the quality of that cigar, I suggest you change your brand."
"The cigar is fine, one of Sebastian's actually. He offered me one, I took many, but to return to your query of why you still draw breath, even if it is not as fresh as you would like. It is because I was curious to discover why you would go to so much trouble to substitute your persona for another, who, by the way, is currently bound to a chair in Ebenezer's study."
Crakett's raised eyebrows signaled his surprise.