The events of this evening, however, have thankfully distracted me from Kirby’s challenge and my unacceptable behaviour yesterday night. I hope Fitzpatrick received my informal apology and I intend to pass by his office tomorrow to do so in person.
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
Swann stepped into the small wooden boat and pushed off from its mooring. He began rowing himself across the lake towards the island, his mind trying to make sense of the events of the previous few days.
He had returned to the school with the intention of talking to Anne, the pupil he believed had surreptitiously placed the ‘Circle of Sappho’ message inside his pocket. On reaching the school, however, he had been informed by a rather shaken Miss Jennings that the girl was dead; having committed suicide by jumping off the roof of the main building, not less than thirty minutes before Swann had arrived. The body had now been removed to the chapel – where the bodies of Miss Leigh and Grace had been laid out only a few days earlier – and the girls allowed back out of their dormitories. Swann had been shown the roof by Miss Jennings and head girl Elsa – the key to which Anne had somehow acquired – and then her dormitory, where Swann had been only a few days previously searching for clues regarding Grace’s murder. There was nothing in her belongings that was of any use to Swann’s investigation, although a disturbance of the ground up on the roof suggested the possibility of a struggle.
Swann spoke briefly with Miss Jennings afterwards and she informed him of the events leading up to his arrival. ‘I arrived at the school in Lady Harriet’s carriage this morning, at approximately eight-thirty,’ she told him. ‘After I had spoken to my deputy, to find out if anything eventful had happened in my absence – nothing had – I went to locate Anne. She was with the rest of her year, along with a few of the older girls, so I beckoned to her. I told her you wished to talk to her and that she should make herself available in the common room at ten o’clock. Not twenty minutes later there was screaming from outside and on looking out from my window, I saw her body on the ground.’
Anne had not appeared anxious about talking to Swann, or so Miss Jennings said. If anything, she seemed happy about his imminent arrival, which made her subsequent action even more mysterious. Swann had then requested to go across to the island, this time by himself, to which Miss Jennings had agreed.
So, if the first two deaths had been at the hands of a third party, then the murderer had struck again, which ruled out Bolton as the killer, given that he himself had been killed the night before. Having checked his case notes, Swann had discovered why his name was familiar. During an investigation a few months earlier, he had chanced upon a discussion concerning Napoleon and his extensive network of agents in this country. Someone had mentioned the aliases French agents assumed while in England and how they differed from county to county. He was not sure of them all, this person said, but knew several of them. In the home counties, for instance, the name ‘John Brown’ was used, in Devon and Cornwall it was ‘John Smith’ and ‘John Thomas’ respectively, and in Somerset, that of ‘John Bolton’.
In Swann’s list of suspects this now left Tom, the gardener. There was definitely something that he was not telling him, something he was hiding, but was it that he was the murderer? The fact that Tom had swum to the island to find the bodies meant he could have swum over earlier, perhaps after discovering the boat was gone.
Swann was heading to the island with one purpose, to retrieve what he believed to be the diary from which the note about the Circle of Sappho had been torn. As he had not found anything in the girl’s belongings, his instinct told him it was on the island. Once retrieved, the diary would hopefully provide the answers to this mystery.
The sky was overcast and threatened rain as Swann rowed across. He reached the jetty and tied the rope to the mooring post. He stepped onto the island and began the short walk to the stone temple. The sound of a branch snapping alerted him to the fact he might not be alone on the island and for a moment, up ahead, Swann thought he saw movement.
Taking the pistol from his jacket pocket Swann swiftly made his way to the temple entrance and cautiously went in. He looked around the gloomy interior but no one was evident. Had it been a figment of his imagination? No, he had definitely seen someone. He examined the walls of the temple to see if there was another way out, a secret passageway perhaps, but Swann could discern nothing that would allow someone to leave other than via the opening he had just entered. There was the inscription he had noticed the first time, above the opening. He read it once more: Procul, o procul este, profani – ‘Be gone, be gone you who are uninitiated’. In Virgil’s Aeneid, the hero of the book, Aeneas, encounters this Latin inscription on the threshold to the underworld. He nevertheless enters and encounters his father’s spirit, who gives a prophetic vision of his future. As well as above the entrance, Swann now saw the same inscription written into the far wall. His instinct told him the walls of the temple hid another way out, but for now he could do nothing further here. He turned and went back outside.
When the island had originally been created, it had been planted with broad-leaved trees – sycamores, beeches, oaks, maples – whose all-encompassing foliage would hide the activities of the island from prying eyes on the main grounds and house. Even in winter, when the leaves had fallen, the density of the trees easily hid any activity, especially that taking place in the small clearing Swann had now discovered within the island’s groves.
As far as Swann could discern, there was a design to the way in which the island was laid out, with small trails and paths leading around it. All the paths, however, eventually found their way to the middle of the island and the small clearing where Swann stood. Within the clearing was an outdoor temple, replete with the statue of a female figure atop a stone plinth, which Swann recognised as Aphrodite. If he remembered his Classical education correctly, the Greek goddess had been the result of a liaison between Zeus and the Titan goddess Dionë. She had grown to be a beautiful woman and was worshipped by the ancient Greeks as the goddess of love, beauty and fertility.
In the clearing there was a stone circle. Was this the Circle of Sappho? There had been nine muses, so he had read the previous evening, with Sappho being the tenth muse. The geography of the seating certainly reflected this, with the nine stone seats in a circle and a tenth, a little way outside the circle, but still having command of the others. A pit near the stone altar, in the middle of the seats, showed signs of a recent fire, as well as several sets of footprints in the clearing.
Swann’s attention was drawn towards a clump of trees to his left. On the ground lay a makeshift wooden shovel, hurriedly abandoned it seemed, beside the beginnings of a freshly dug hole. From the footprints in the soil nearby it looked like there had been two people here who, possibly, had been disturbed by Swann when he came ashore.
Swann picked up the shovel and began to dig. About two feet down the shovel hit a solid object. Swann uncovered the earth and found a small brown wooden box, basic in design. The hinges were not rusted and the exterior did not feel damp. Swann opened the lid. Inside was a piece of dark green material, wrapped around an object. Swann carefully unwrapped the material and found what he was looking for inside: a diary. He turned to a particular date and matched the missing page to that of the piece of paper he had been given. If there had been any doubt before, then there was none now. If Anne had indeed given Swann the note, then the diary either belonged to her or else had recently been in her possession. He lifted the front cover and realised it had been the latter. The name written inside was that of Grace Templeton, the girl who had been killed alongside Miss Leigh, and who had shared a dormitory with Anne. Had Anne taken the diary for safekeeping, after her friend’s death, and had come across to the island to bury it?
Swann began to read the first page but realised this was not the time or place to puruse it. He would read it at home. He decided not to mention the diary to either Miss Jennings or Lady Harriet, but rather pursue this particular line of e
nquiry himself. Within these pages, he hoped, lay the truth behind the murders at the school, and the truth about the Circle of Sappho as well.
Swann secured the diary on his person, wrapped inside the dark green material once more, and put the now empty box back into the ground. He made one final circuit of the island and then briefly went back inside the temple. He concluded that this interior was where initiations into the Circle of Sappho occurred and afterwards they would pass through the entrance, under the inscription, and out on to the island to take part in their rituals and ceremonies. But there was a problem with this hypothesis and that was the question of how they had entered the temple in the first place? For now he did not have the answer to that particular conundrum and so decided to return across the lake. He felt his jacket as he reached the jetty to ascertain the diary was still safe, and then stepped into the wooden craft. As he rowed back across the water he had the distinct feeling he was being watched again by someone on the island.
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
On arriving back in Bath from his visit to the school Swann immediately went to Fitzpatrick’s office. The magistrate was at his desk, reviewing a recent case of manslaughter.
‘There is no need to apologise,’ said Fitzpatrick kindly as Swann explained the reason for his visit. ‘The events of Tuesday evening are already forgotten.’
‘That is very magnanimous of you, Henry.’
‘Think nothing of it.’
‘I was intending to send a formal letter of apology to your club, as well.’
Fitzpatrick responded to this proposal with a dismissive gesture of his hand. ‘There really is no need,’ he said. ‘I have been into the club since and it has been resolved agreeably. Besides, Kirby is just as responsible in this affair. I would not wish for this to go outside of the room, but I think his behaviour was ungentlemanly and verging on scandalous. Have you informed Mary regarding the duel yet?’
‘No and I do not intend to, as I have decided—’
‘Do you not think she deserves to beware of this? If you were to be killed … I mean if anything was to happen to … I am concerned for your safety, Swann, especially as I believe Kirby to be a fine shot.’
‘That is most laudable of you Henry and I appreciate your concern, but you do not have to worry as I will not be taking part in the duel.’
‘What? Has Kirby withdrawn his challenge? That would at least explain why his second has not yet been to see me.’
‘No, Kirby has not withdrawn his challenge; I am no longer going to accept it. I am going to visit him when I leave here to inform him. There will be no duel.’
‘Kirby will not agree to it.’
‘He will have no choice. Despite his insult to my father I have no intention of killing him, and I also do not wish to risk my own life in the process.’
‘Swann, I do not think you fully understand. It is not that simple. For a start, if you do not take part your reputation will be sullied.’
‘A reputable name, I believe, is not required to continue my line of work.’
‘If you do withdraw, Kirby will insist that someone takes your place.’
‘Then I will simply not venture the name of anyone.’
‘If that happens it becomes the responsibility of the withdrawn participant’s second to fulfil the arrangement.’
‘What does that mean?’ said Swann.
‘It means that I will have to fight Kirby.’
‘Henry, I do not wish you to do that.’
‘I will have no choice. There are witnesses to my agreeing to be your second. If your place is not taken and your obligation in regard to this challenge fulfilled, then as your second my own reputation will be ruined. I shall no longer be able to hold my present magisterial position, as my authority will be undermined.’
‘Do not be so rash, Fitzpatrick, the act of duelling is illegal let us not forget. If we are caught, will your reputation not be ruined anyway?’
‘We magistrates are normally lenient on duels, even where one of the participants has died.’
‘Surely there is something that can be done?’
‘Only that the duel is carried out to the satisfaction of the challenger, Kirby.’
‘Did you say Kirby’s second has not been to see you?’
Fitzpatrick nodded.
‘Then perhaps we are worrying over nothing,’ said Swann. ‘Perhaps Kirby has had second thoughts and wisely decided against going ahead with this madness.’
‘Perhaps,’ replied Fitzpatrick, unsurely.
The magistrate then remembered something.
‘By the way, there has been a development with Charles Moorhouse; he has received another demand for money.’
‘When?’
‘This very morning, he came to tell me. Can I ask you something?’
Swann nodded.
‘Why did you change your mind and take on his case? You seemed adamant you would not.’
‘My instinct tells me that in the coming months we are going to need men like Moorhouse within government. I am not a complete advocate of his particular party’s policies, but I do agree with him that Pitt is probably the only man for the job at this current time. At the same time, he will also need a strong set of ministers behind him if we are to defeat Napoleon. I have taken the case because if Moorhouse does obtain a governmental position, the blackmailers will have an even stronger hold over him and a politician within their grasp would be a very valuable commodity to have; that is something I would not wish to see happen, for all our sakes. Has he been given instructions as to where to take the money this evening?’
‘Yes, the old East Gate, near the river. He has been told to be there thirty minutes after sunset.’
‘Then I shall be there too.’
‘You will be in disguise?’
Swann nodded again.
‘I am worried about this.’
‘Do not concern yourself, Henry, I will take precautions against being followed, trust me.’
As Swann walked down the stairs of Fitzpatrick’s building he thought about George and Bridges, and the latter’s friend, Rosie, and her present situation. Fitzpatrick’s concern about Swann being recognised or followed had brought to his mind the warehouse, which he had subsequently rented after the artist had been murdered the previous year. His ‘wardrobe’ only took up the top floor of the building and the fact he only used it at irregular intervals meant it was empty for long periods of time; prone then to possible criminal elements – although he had secured it with the strongest locks he could purchase – or worse, vermin, who would eat away at his disguises. As he stepped out into the city’s afternoon bustle an idea to benefit all had come to mind.
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
Leaving Fitzpatrick’s office Swann headed up the road to his own, in No.40 Gay Street. Once there, he retrieved Grace Templeton’s diary from about his person and undid the green material in which it had been wrapped. He placed the material on his desk and took the small black volume over to the window, where an armchair was situated. He sat down and opened the diary, which he hoped would contain clues to its owner’s murder.
The first few entries, which were dated, related to the start of term. For the most part, however, they recorded only relatively mundane details, comprising the routine of the day: Awoken at 6 o’clock. Prayers, breakfast, morning lessons, luncheon, afternoon lessons, walk, tea, preparation for following day’s lessons, free time, supper, prayers, bed.
There was an entry listing the weekly quota of lessons, which included music three times a week, along with practising every day, drawing on Monday and Wednesday, and on Tuesday dancing. A meal plan showed the type of food the pupils were given: Roast beef on Monday; Tuesdays and Fridays roast shoulder of mutton; a round of beef on Wednesday; Thursdays boiled legs of mutton; and stewed beef with pickled walnuts on Saturday. Fast on Sunday. Two days a week ‘choke dogs’, dumplings with currants in them, while on other days rice or other puddings.
The scho
ol’s personnel were listed and brief observations written down. A very tall and stout but plain Miss Fleming, for example, was listed as having her own sedan chair. Swann observed Miss Leigh was recorded as being kind-hearted, amusing and knowledgeable.
Swann sighed, laid the diary down on his lap and gazed out of the window to the cityscape outside. It seemed as if this had been a false trail. What Swann had hoped for did not seem to be there. The diary had promised so much, yet in actuality it was no more than the musings of an adolescent girl and the recording of the minutiae of school life. Although some of the observations about her teachers had within them wit and sophistication beyond her years, the details themselves gave no clue as to the tragic ending that would befall their writer, or any reference to the Circle of Sappho.
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