Silent as the Grave

by Bill Kitson

  I knew then that the one thing I feared and detested above all else in the world was there with me. I could cope with venomous snakes or poisonous spiders or wild and dangerous creatures; but not rats. I felt my loathing and nausea rise at the very thought that I was being inspected in the dark like a collection of gourmet diners eyeing up a particularly succulent steak.

  I might have assumed that terror would have kept me conscious but obviously the pain I was suffering overcame the fear. How many times my brain performed its shutdown operation and sent me into unconsciousness before I came round again, I do not know. I had already lost complete track of the time I had been in that place.

  At some point however; when I must have been semi-comatose I heard a different sound. I had thought earlier that I had felt something brush against my leg. I had jerked in revulsion at the thought that it had been a rat and the pain that action generated had been enough to put me out again. Now as I listened I was not so sure. Through the blurring sensation of semi-consciousness I heard a mixture of sounds. One was the sound of breathing, of that I was certain. Someone or something was alive in there – but who or what was it?

  I listened once more, willing myself to concentrate and it seemed to me that my earlier impression had been right. There had been two sounds. One was definitely the sound of someone breathing but mixed in with it was the noise of what could almost be quiet sobbing. It was a sound this dread chamber must have heard many times before but the shock of it sent my senses reeling. Was it my overworked imagination? Was I coming close to the end, to passing beyond this life? Was I hearing the sound of the ghosts of all those victims who had been here before? I summoned up what tattered remnant of courage I still retained. ‘Who’s there?’ I asked.

  The sobbing ceased and silence returned. ‘Who is it? Please answer me. I’m Adam, Adam Bailey. Who are you?’

  I had half convinced myself I was trying to talk to a spectre when a tearful, despairing voice answered me. ‘Adam, it’s me,’ she said, her voice trembling with fear. ‘Where are we, Adam? I can’t see anything. Why have we been put in this place?’

  ‘I don’t know where we are exactly,’ I replied carefully. ‘Nor do I know why you’ve been put here. I’ve only a vague idea why I’m here.’

  My reply was almost the truth. Too much knowledge would not have done her much good at this stage. Eventually I might have to tell her more. I faced up to the grim reality that we might have a lot of time to talk before the end. For the moment I put that thought resolutely to one side. ‘Tell me what happened to you? Are you tied up like I am?’

  Yes, Adam.’ I could hear the sob in her voice. ‘My hands and feet are tied together and they hurt.’

  ‘Yes I know, mine do too. Keep talking for a while and tell me what happened before you were put in here. If you keep talking I’ll try and come across towards the sound of your voice. Then we can sit together. Would you like that?’

  ‘Yes, Adam, please.’

  ‘OK, just sit still and keep talking.’

  I listened carefully as she told me her tale. By the end of it I’d worked out not only where she was by the sound of her voice. By what she told me, I also knew the identity of the killers of Edgar Beaumont and the butler, Ollerenshaw Rathbone. I was also virtually convinced I knew the motive for the crimes and for my imprisonment. I only needed one more piece of evidence to complete the puzzle. For the moment though that was a secondary consideration. My first priority was our predicament.

  I inched my way across the floor to where I thought she might be. I reached the wall and turned to lean against it. I could tell she was really close to me. ‘Here I am,’ I said gently. I heard her shuffle closer until her body was pressed against mine. I felt a quiver run through her slender frame and knew she was fighting against fresh tears. She put her head against my shoulder. ‘Adam, are we going to die? I don’t want to die.’

  ‘I don’t want you to think like that.’ Of course I didn’t. It was bad enough one of us thinking it. ‘We must try and figure out how to get out of here.’

  ‘Adam, I know this sounds horrible, but I’m glad you’re here with me.’ Her voice quivered again and I could tell she was on the brink of tears.

  I didn’t know if I was doing the right thing but it seemed natural at the time. I turned my head and kissed her on the cheek. I felt her relax against me. I thought of our situation and desperation swept over me again. I knew what she didn’t. I knew we were surrounded by other victims of the insanity that had afflicted the Rowe family through the generations. I wondered about the dreadful time the others had been through as they waited for the horrible and inevitable end. I knew that was to be our fate also. No swift bullet, no head crushed with stone, but a slow, lingering, and unpleasant waiting and wasting to death.

  That was why I had been brought to Mulgrave Castle in the first place of course. I knew it now. I knew the mad cunning of the mind that had plotted and schemed this. The mind that had suggested I come to Mulgrave Castle whilst all the time scheming this end for me.

  No matter how vile this seemed to me I was aware from reading the journal that far more wicked acts had been committed within the walls of this appalling dungeon. Unspeakable crimes committed by the most perverted minds. How many young girls had been brought to this place, this airless dark and terrible cell, to feed the insane lust of their sadistic captors. Then, when their pleasure was sated, what dreadful deaths had these poor innocents suffered?

  She stirred against me as if my thoughts had disturbed her. The vile obscenity of our fate was a callous indication that the insanity at large now was as potent as that from ancient times.

  The cruelty of the death sentence stiffened my resolve. The anger I felt coursed through my veins like fire, warming me to the thought of action. I knew I had to attempt something. I could not bear to lie here and meekly accept our fate. I must try to escape. I must try to get us out of this hell hole before it was too late.

  I turned to communicate some of this to my companion. As I moved, I felt something hard and bulky press against my waist. I realized with a mild sense of elation what it was. ‘Are you awake?’

  Her head was against my shoulder, she was breathing gently and evenly. It could almost have been a lovers’ embrace we were in. I had to wake her; had to try to get free. I made my voice louder; more insistent, ‘Wake up, we’ve work to do.’

  She stirred, ‘Adam,’ her voice was reproachful. ‘Why did you have to wake me? I was having such a lovely dream, we were …’ She stopped abruptly; then asked, ‘Why did you wake me?’

  ‘I’m sorry, but we must try to escape. First of all we need to get ourselves untied.’

  ‘That’s impossible, surely? Our hands are tied behind our backs. How can we hope to get them free?’

  ‘There is a way, but it will be very hard and uncomfortable work for you. It will probably be very painful for me into the bargain, but that doesn’t matter. Whatever it costs, however painful or uncomfortable it is we must try it, do you understand?’

  I was still puzzled by one thing. Why had my companion been imprisoned with me? That was the only thing that didn’t make sense. It was a while before I worked it out. ‘Tell me something, what are you wearing?’

  ‘What?’

  I repeated the question. ‘What does it matter?’ Her tone was sharp, waspish. She was angry, and for once that was what I wanted.

  ‘Humour me. Tell me what you’re wearing?’

  ‘If you must know, it’s that jacket you were so rude about.’

  That was it. The last piece in the jigsaw slotted neatly into place. ‘Of course you are. You wouldn’t be here otherwise.’

  ‘Have you got concussion again?’

  Despite our terrible predicament, I smiled. ‘No, Evie. I’m not hallucinating. Now, could you for once do exactly as I tell you without argument?’

  Chapter Nineteen

  ‘Here’s what I want you to do. First of all, can you shuffle round so your back is against m
y left side?’

  It took a few minutes before she managed it. ‘Good work; now see if by leaning forward a bit you can feel the pocket of my gilet with your hands.’

  After a few minutes groping about, she said, ‘Yes, I can feel the teeth of the zip with my fingers.’

  ‘The next bit might be a bit trickier but see what you can do. I want you to try and get hold of the fastener and pull it across until the pocket is completely open.’

  After a good deal of fumbling and a few false starts Eve managed to get the zip to move a little. Less than halfway across however, the zip caught in the lining of the pocket and refused to budge one way or the other. Eve swore, from frustration as much as anything, I guessed.

  ‘I’m sorry, Adam I’ve made a mess of it,’ she muttered.

  I knew it was important to keep her morale high. ‘No you haven’t. It was my fault, not yours. I should have warned you the zip on that pocket is prone to sticking. I’m the one who should be saying sorry, not you. We’ll just have to go about it another way.’ I was guilty of a little white lie, the zip had never jammed before but I needed Eve’s courage and resolve to be at its height.

  ‘But you wanted the pocket open and now I can’t either open or close it,’ she insisted.

  ‘In that case we’ll have to make the best of it. There are two things we can try. Inside that pocket you’ll find my Swiss army knife. What I want you to try and do is get hold of the tool through the material of the pocket and slowly work it up towards the gap you’ve made in the zip. It might just be possible to squeeze it out through the opening. If that doesn’t work we will have to rip the pocket. I don’t particularly want to do that so try the other way first, and if you fail a time or two don’t worry about it, just keep trying; we’ll do it between us one way or the other.’

  ‘You want me to get hold of your tool and work it up and down with my fingers?’

  My laughter echoed around that chamber of death, probably the first time such a sound had been heard there. It was only in part down to Eve’s smutty joke, more at the evidence of her returning courage. The joke and the uplift in morale seemed to act as a spur. Eve tried time after time to work the tool up the inside of the pocket but whenever she relaxed her fingers a little or met a fold in the cloth the tool slipped from her grasp and slid back down to the bottom of the pocket.

  I sensed that she was getting more and more frustrated by her inability to complete what was, on the face of it, a straightforward-sounding task. After the fifth attempt had ended in failure, Eve let slip a string of extremely unladylike words.

  The incongruity and shock of hearing what would have been totally unremarkable in a man made me laugh out loud. I sensed my amusement had a relaxing effect on Eve too, for after leaning back against me for a moment she began to try again. ‘Don’t worry if you can’t manage it this time, we can always use plan B if we need to.’ My refusal to be panicked by our repeated lack of success and the calm measured tone of my voice seemed to act as an additional spur to her determination.

  ‘I’m not going to be beaten by this,’ she said through teeth I could tell were gritted. The tone as much as the words themselves heartened me immensely and after a long struggle she eventually succeeded in getting the tool through the gap and passing it to me.

  ‘Well done, Evie; that was brilliant!’ I didn’t need to exaggerate. She had done really well. I certainly didn’t want to dishearten her by telling her that what she’d achieved had been the easy bit.

  Eve was bubbling with excitement after her success. ‘What do we do now?’ she asked.

  ‘Before we start on the next phase I want you to rest for a short while. Are your arms aching?’

  ‘Yes, they are a bit, but I don’t mind, honestly.’

  ‘Try to relax them. The next part is down to me in any case. When the cramp in your muscles eases off we’ll start again.’

  ‘OK, whatever you say.’

  Now there’s a first, I thought. Wisely, I didn’t give voice to the thought. She leaned back against my shoulder and I knew it was for comfort as much as support. ‘Once we’ve got our arms and legs free,’ I told her confidently, ‘things will be much better. When that’s done we can start trying to figure out how to escape from this place.’

  ‘How can we do that, when we can’t even see?’

  ‘We’ll have to do like blind people and use our other senses. We still have our hearing, our sense of smell, and when our arms and legs are free we will be able to move about and touch things. There is one entrance into this place that we know about. I have a feeling there might be a second one. I can’t be sure, but I reckon if there is a second entrance the people who put us here might not know about it. Either that, or they are confident we would never be able to escape through it. If we can find it and get out then we’ll be able to escape and keep clear of danger.’

  ‘You know why those people have done this to us, don’t you?’

  ‘I have a pretty good idea.’

  ‘Will you tell me, please?’

  ‘I will do when the time is right. Just at the moment I want us to concentrate on getting ourselves free from these bonds.’

  I didn’t want to tell her at that stage. I waited patiently until she said, ‘My arms feel OK now. What do we do next?’

  While we had talked, I had managed to open the knife and find the saw-edged blade. ‘I’m going to give you the knife back. I want you to hold it firm whilst I start rubbing the tape holding my wrists against the blade.’

  ‘It sounds impossible.’ I heard renewed despondency in her tone.

  It did sound impossible but I wasn’t about to admit the fact. ‘It might be difficult but I’m sure we’ll manage it given time. Are you ready to give it a try?’

  ‘Yes, of course I am.’

  I was beginning to appreciate the extent of her determination and strength of character. I was glad because I knew she would need every ounce of those qualities if we were to stand even the remotest chance of escaping. I was also aware that I would have to match them and more.

  I started shuffling into position. As I moved my legs, my foot brushed against something, and I heard the sound of an object rolling across the chamber floor. Eve heard the noise as well. ‘What was that?’ she asked.

  ‘I’ve no idea,’ I told her. I could not; I dare not say what I thought it might be. The only object I could think of that would roll across the floor of a cell such as this had to be round in shape – round like a skull.

  Once I had shuffled into place, I leaned back against Eve and grasped her hands with mine. Fortunately for me, the person who had tied me up was an amateur at the job. For one thing, they had used tape. That might have been all they could lay their hands on, of course, but it isn’t the best method of securing someone. Far more likely that they felt confident I wouldn’t be able to free myself. Secondly, they hadn’t bothered to search me. If they had done, they would certainly have removed so useful a tool as a knife; particularly one with a saw-edged blade. Their greatest mistake of all however was the way they had secured my hands. They had bound my wrists together instead of leaving them crossed. This meant that with a little effort I was able to get a reasonable amount of movement in my wrists.

  ‘When I put the knife in your hand, hold it firmly while I move the tape across the saw edge. Once the tape begins to fray I should be able to get free easily enough.’

  It sounded simple. It sounded quick and it even sounded painless. It wasn’t simple, it wasn’t quick, and it certainly wasn’t painless. Eve dropped the knife several times. Locating it on the floor and picking it up again was both difficult and frustrating. Each time it happened I sensed her growing despair. ‘Cheer up,’ I encouraged her. ‘I said it was going to be the tricky bit. I guessed this was likely to happen. Don’t worry. We’ll make it.’

  I hoped my words sounded more convincing to her than they did to me. I lost count of the number of times the saw sliced into me rather than the tape. My hands felt like a
pair of pincushions and I could feel one or two trickles I knew to be blood on them. I thrust the thought of what the smell of the blood might attract resolutely away and continued with grim determination. At least this new pain in my hands and wrists was having the effect of distracting me from the howling agony of my leg.

  Suddenly, when I’d all but given up hope of a positive outcome, I felt the saw bite into the edge of the tape. I rubbed hard and cried out with delight as I felt the tightness against my wrists easing fractionally. ‘It’s working, Evie, keep holding it tight for a minute longer.’

  Three more strokes and a large strand of the tape parted. I was now able to get my hands several inches apart, a couple of strokes more and my wrists were completely free. I moved my arms gently to ease the ache in my shoulders then brought my hands in front of me. I removed the remnants of tape and leaned across to take the knife from Eve.

  She waited in patient silence as I felt carefully for the tape securing her wrists and sliced effortlessly through it. She cried out joyfully as she felt her bonds loosen. We hugged one another in mutual delight and self-congratulation. Then we freed each other’s ankles. We had achieved a minor miracle. Unfortunately, it was a very minor one. We were still held prisoner in that dark and gruesome cell. ‘Let’s take a rest before we begin exploring,’ I suggested.

  I reached across and gently pulled her towards me. We sat for a while, close together, holding hands. ‘What happened to you?’ I asked.

  ‘I was restless, couldn’t sleep, so I got dressed and went downstairs to make myself a drink. There was nobody about apart from Cathy and her husband in the kitchen. They made me a drink and from there I went through into the library to see if I could think of another place that book might have been concealed. Then something hit me on the head and that’s the last thing I remember until I woke up in here.’