Eventually, Charles broke the silence.
"James, do you have any idea as to the possible significance of the name 'Oscar' in the inscription on the sphinx?"
He put his head back and thought for a moment.
"Not specifically, sir. I know that Lord Alfred was quite a follower of the Oscar film award ceremonies, mainly due to the circles in which he used to move in years gone by." Then he gave a little laugh. "There is also an oscar fish in the aquarium."
"Yes, I did notice that."
"I wonder if the inscription might be referring to that in some way?"
Just then a bell tinkled and James announced, "Ah, dinner is served, gentlemen."
They moved over to the large table and waited for what they knew would be a treat. Not for the first time, Charles was thinking that he was being rather spoiled at Heston Grange.
This time, the meal was cod and haddock dauphinoise, and it was cooked to perfection. Mrs Gillcarey positively rippled with pleasure when Charles and Matthew complimented her on both its taste and texture.
"I'm not convinced that the connection between the sphinx and the Oscar awards is the right one," said Charles, between mouthfuls. "I think that's a red herring."
“No pun intended?” asked Matthew, indicating the delicious chunks of juicy fish on his plate. As they continued to feast he quipped, "If that oscar fish does have something to do with our little mystery, I hope he hasn't made an appearance in this fish dinner!"
Charles laughed - then froze. Matthew saw the sudden change.
"What's wrong?" he asked.
"I do believe I've got it," said Charles.
"Got what?"
"This reference to 'Oscar'. I bet it has nothing to do with films or fish."
"What is it then?"
"Isn't it obvious? Lord Alfred loved poetry. Surely he's talking about Oscar Wilde!"
"I thought Wilde only wrote stories."
"That's what he's most famous for, but he wrote a good number of poems too."
"But we've been through every book of poetry in the library...haven't we?"
They both realised simultaneously that they had, in fact, not done so.
"We were working our way through alphabetically," recalled Charles, "but we stopped when we found the book of handwritten poems."
"I was looking through a book of Tennyson at that moment," said Matthew.
"I can't quite remember what I was looking at," said Charles, "but I'm sure we hadn't reached 'W' yet."
Risking the onset of indigestion, they gobbled the rest of their dinner, giving their apologies to Mrs Gillcarey who, having re-entered the room bearing a delightfully tempting tiramisu, was more than a little disappointed as they left her standing there and hurried back to the library, where they began to scan the shelves once again.
Sure enough, there were several small books devoted to the poet, but one in particular caught Charles' eye. It was larger than the others and stood at the end of the shelf, almost acting as a book-end.
"I bet that's the one," he said, pointing to the title on its spine. It read, "The Best of Oscar Wilde."
"My tribute to Oscar's best," breathed Matthew. "Yes, that must be it."
Carefully, he slid the book from the shelf and set it down on the reading desk.
"It feels quite light for such a large book," he observed.
He moved to open the cover but found that he could not do so. It was then that they realised that this was not a book at all. In fact, it was a cleverly disguised box - which was locked.
"Let's just break the ruddy thing open," said Matthew.
In a flash of inspiration, Charles asked, "Do you still have the bunch of keys from Meg?"
"Yes, I do...here."
Charles tried one after another, with increasing frustration, but then he drew a sharp intake of breath as one of the keys finally turned and the lock clicked open. Slowly and carefully, he lifted the lid. What was visible at first were the now familiar folds of thin black fabric, which appeared to fill the box. With trembling fingers, Charles began to carefully move the folds of material aside. He gasped as the light reflected on something blue - the sapphire? But then, as he continued to unfold the cypress cloth, they both suddenly saw what it actually was, and a tingle of excitement ran through them both.
Looking up at them from the box, snugly and smugly enrobed among the folds of black fabric, was a blue plastic spool - a second roll of cine film.
Chapter 12
As the camera started to whirr and hum once again, both Matthew and Charles felt like small children on Christmas Day. They had viewed the first film on a bright sunny morning - had it really only been a couple of days ago? Now they were seeing the second instalment late at night with another violent storm raging outside.
His Lordship had, again, selected the octagonal tower room as the location from which to deliver his oration. At first, all that was to be seen was the reading desk, but then Lord Alfred himself made his entrance, in a very similar manner to that adopted for the previous occasion. Immaculately attired in his velvet smoking jacket he walked round to his leather upholstered chair behind the desk and sat. He regarded his amateur detectives from the screen for a long moment before drawing breath to speak.
"Well, well, well," he began, "I suppose I should start by saying that I'm impressed - although, of course, I don't know for certain who I'm speaking to. I'm fairly sure that at least Charles will be seeing this film - I doubt Matthew would have been able to follow the trail on his own."
Matthew squirmed in his seat.
"So, if he is there, the two of you must have teamed up. That would be a rather mature thing to do, wouldn't it? Well, maybe there's hope for you after all." He paused for a moment, then gave a wry smile and continued.
"Anyway, it would seem that you managed to solve my little sphinx puzzle. Well done. Did you know, according to mythology, the sphinx was a creature that would set riddles for unwary travellers and then strangle them if they couldn't give the correct answer? Somehow that seems to be rather apt, wouldn't you say? And what did you think of my cryptic lines? Even though I do say so myself, I found them to be quite ingenious in the circumstances."
He paused again, seeming to consider his next words carefully.
"And, if you'll listen to my advice, there are still one or two more clues to be unearthed within them."
He gave a little chuckle that might have been a sneer.
"Shall I tell you a secret? For once in my miserable life I'm actually starting to enjoy myself. I hope you're having as much fun as I am."
"You don't know the half of it," grumbled Matthew.
"Now then," Lord Alfred cleared his throat. "I have another little clue which I'm sure will interest you. Pay attention, class; here it comes."
And, with that, he began to recite a second piece of verse:
"Ah! sweet indeed to rest within the womb
Of Earth. Great mother of eternal sleep,
But sweeter far for thee a restless tomb
In the blue cavern of an echoing deep,
Or where the tall ships founder in the gloom
Against the rocks of some wave-shattered steep."
If the reading of the first poem had been in the style of Gielgud, this second performance was definitely an Olivier. There could be no denying that he did bring a true quality to his delivery. Appearing to read the minds of his audience, he sighed and said, "Did you like that? Maybe I should have been a thespian. Incidentally," he added, "in creating this little treasure hunt for you, I thought it might be rather nice to take the opportunity to indulge not only my great love of poetry but also my love of painting too. I hope that meets with your approval?" He raised an eyebrow as if expecting to hear a response.
"Well, I think that should give you what you need for the next stage and it brings us all up to date once more. Do enjoy the game - joy in the journey, that's what it's all about."
He stood up and made as if to leave, but then sudde
nly looked back into the camera and said, "But don't forget, time is of the essence. I am sure my friends down at the Society of West End Theatre would be only too happy if you did not manage to solve this quaint conundrum sufficiently quickly."
He cackled, mischievously.
"Well, I must be going now. As one of my old teachers used to say, 'Onwards and downwards.' Farewell."
He walked away from the desk and, as before, disappeared from the left side of the screen. A moment later the film ended, and both men sat quietly in the dark, trying to absorb the significance of what they had just heard.
"The fact that both films start and end with His Lordship out of range of the camera would suggest that he was alone when he did the filming," said Charles. "He probably started and stopped the camera himself."
"So what if he did?" asked Matthew.
"Nothing. Just an observation."
Matthew looked over to the imposing grandfather clock which stood against the wall as though it were on sentry duty. It was almost midnight.
"Well," he said, "I'm too exhausted to give this any thought now; let's get some sleep."
"Good idea," Charles replied. "Then hopefully we'll be able to make a fresh start with this new clue in the morning."
With the storm so far showing no sign of abating, the two men walked out of the library and headed for their respective rooms.
Chapter 13
Charles closed his bedroom door and leaned his head back against it. He realised that in the last few days he had used up a huge amount of nervous mental energy, not to mention the physical exertion of walking for miles all over the house and creeping around in those underground catacombs, and it was starting to catch up with him. He was no longer quite the spring chicken he used to be and the sudden feeling of fatigue that descended upon him caused him almost to go straight to sleep on the bed just as he was, fully clothed.
Somehow, though, he managed to get himself ready for bed properly. A minute later, as he slid between the crisp, clean sheets he knew he had made the right choice. Just one minute more and he was fast asleep and dreaming. But it was a restless slumber at first: all kinds of pictures flew through his mind...the stark shape of Heston Grange illumined by sudden flashes of lightning...dark corridors and secret passageways...delicious dinners in front of roaring fires...and the faces...faces blurring and merging and re-emerging as other faces...Lord Alfred...James...Matthew...Mrs Gillcarey...Meg...and even his ex-fiance put in an appearance, suddenly transforming into a sphinx, laughing hysterically on a swaying rickety bridge. Gradually, the images faded and, as he tossed and turned beneath his luxurious blankets, Charles moved, little by little, into a deeper and sounder sleep.
Some distance away, Matthew stood in his room also contemplating his bed. Despite his tiredness, though, he was deep in thought. He recalled the terms of this ludicrous contest as set out by his father in the first film:
"There's nothing in this game for coming second. The winner takes all."
What was his father thinking of? Who was this Charles anyway? Only a two-bit solicitor like all the rest. Why should Charles have any claim on the vast fortune that should rightfully pass to him? He sighed and thought about the agreement he had made with Charles. True, it was only a verbal one but it was still an agreement, and Charles was obviously a decent fellow, in his own way. If they continued to work together and managed to solve the riddle they would divide the estate equally. That was what they had agreed - but what if Matthew somehow managed to crack this puzzle alone, and what if he managed to find the sapphire without any further involvement on Charles' part? He felt sure that most of the deduction process was now behind them. The situation, as it stood right now, was that there was this new clue on the cine film...and Charles was sleeping. After thinking for just a moment longer, Matthew reached a decision. Quietly, he eased open his bedroom door, crept out stealthily onto the landing and, while attempting to avoid stepping on any squeaky floorboards, once again entered the labyrinthine network of dark corridors.
He came, at length, into the dining room where the dying embers of the fire were still exuding a dull red glow. Crossing to the fireplace he looked at the high-backed chair where he had been sitting before dinner. The sphinx was still there, just where he had left it. He picked it up and turned it over in his hands, once again reading the inscription underneath. Did this model still have any light to shed on the mystery, he wondered. Certainly, in the second film his father had mentioned that the first set of cryptic lines still contained some further clues. He moved over to the large bay window and looked in the direction of the private cemetery, hidden from view by the many wind-blown trees. Something inside told him, despite his earlier search, that there must be some sort of clue to be found out there. Both poems were infused with references to such a place. Surely the sapphire had to be there. Where else could it be? But something else inside also told him that if he was going to explore the cemetery again he would have to do it tonight. Now - while Charles slept on, blissfully unaware. He gazed out into the deeply black night. The rain was fierce, and the strong wind repeatedly lashed the window panes. The creaking of boughs and branches as they swayed back and forth through huge arcs could be clearly heard through the howling gale. Did he really want to venture out...out into that? Would he be able to find anything anyway, in the darkness? And, if he did, could he be absolutely sure that he would not be spotted?
"Can I help you, sir?"
The deep voice spoke right next to him. With a cry of surprise, Matthew spun round and, as he did so, the sphinx slipped from his grip. As it slid away he tried to grasp it again but it fell and hit the wooden floor with a loud crack, shattering into several pieces with tiny shards of white plaster flying in all directions.
"Oh, I am sorry, sir. It was not my intention to startle you."
"That's ok, James. Er...I couldn't sleep. Here, let me help you clean up the mess."
"Please don't trouble yourself, sir. I can manage. Would you like me to bring you a cup of warm milk? They say that it's really most helpful if you're having difficulty sleeping."
"Thanks, but you don't need to worry. I'm sure I'll drop off eventually." He tried to inject a jaunty tone into his voice, though without much success. "Well, goodnight."
"Goodnight, sir."
With a furrowed brow, James watched as Matthew left the room and disappeared into the darkness. Then he turned and, with the storm beyond the window still at full force, began to collect up the broken pieces of the sphinx.
Chapter 14
Although the rain had stopped it was still very windy and the sky was grey and overcast as Charles and Matthew breakfasted together the following morning.
Charles wasn't sure, but thought he detected a slight tension in the air whenever James and Matthew exchanged any conversation. He did not really give it much thought, however - his mind was far too occupied with trying to discover the significance of the new poem.
"Well," he began, "I was hoping that sleeping on the problem would yield some answers, or at least some sort of idea as to how we might proceed, but I'm afraid I've come up blank; and we now have one day less in which to reach the end of this riddle." He paused as he chewed a mouthful of seeded granary toast topped with a generous spoonful of well-textured homemade gooseberry preserve. "Have you had any new thoughts, Matthew?"
He nodded as James offered to refill his cup and watched as the rich, steaming beverage bubbled forth from the silver coffee pot.
"Erm...no, not really." Matthew seemed slightly distant this morning, thought Charles.
"Is everything alright?" he asked.
With the briefest of glances in James' direction, Matthew leaned forward and said, "Actually, I have a confession to make."
"Oh?" Charles raised an eyebrow.
"Well…er…did you sleep ok last night? Did anything disturb you?"
"I slept like a log. Didn't you?"
"Yes...no. Well...I couldn't sleep at first, so I went down into the
dining room to find the sphinx. I thought that looking at it again might give me some inspiration or something. Since I was still wide awake I thought I might as well try and do something useful."
"Ok, and..?"
"Well, I managed to break it, didn't I? I dropped it on the wooden floor. It would probably have been alright if it had fallen on the carpet, but I had to be standing on the bare floorboards by the window just at that moment."
"Meg especially asked us to take care of it."
"I know that!" he snapped. Then, more quietly, "Sorry."
"If I may, gentlemen?"
"Yes, James?"
"When I collected the broken pieces, instead of throwing them away I took the liberty of taking them back to my room where I laid them out and, with a little care and patience, I think I could make a reasonably good attempt at repairing the model, if you'd like me to try."
"I suppose it would be better than nothing," said Charles, "but it'll still be rather embarassing when we give it back to Meg."
"There's always the chance she might just have forgotten all about it?" suggested Matthew.
"Well, you never know how some people are going to react in certain circumstances do you, sir?"
The ever-so-slightly pointed tone of the butler's remark was not lost on Matthew who shot a dark knowing look at James; but Charles didn't seem to notice.
"Well, we shall just have to hope," he said, "that our little sphinx was not concealing any further clues. If it was, we might now be really sunk."
Matthew decided to change the subject. "I did have a thought about those two poems, though."
"Yes?"
"Well, since they both focus on the theme of death or, more specifically, graves, maybe we should go and take another look at the cemetery in the grounds. I did explore it once already but that was before we had unravelled some of the clues. Perhaps now, with two of us, we might spot something important."
James interjected again, "Forgive me gentlemen but, if I may say so, I find it most encouraging that you have opted to work together to solve this mystery. The spirit of co-operation between you is really very heart-warming."
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