The Shadow of Tyburn Tree

by Dennis Wheatley

  ‘You are wrong there, Monsieur rat. And ’tis the very essence of my plan that no one will suspect me of having had any hand in your death. Should I do as I say, you will be dead before morning, but with not a mark upon you. The gardeners come here from time to time to fetch supplies of ice for the house, but if I conceal your miserable carcass with some care ’twould remain undiscovered for many months. I plan, however, to leave Stillwaters after the inquest tomorrow then to return here secretly four or five nights hence, carry your corpse into the woods and cast it into some ravine. ’Twould thaw out there during the night and when, at length, someone chances upon it there will not be a thing to show how you died. ’Twill be assumed that you decided tonight to go upon a moonlight ramble, were of a sudden taken ill, attempted a short cut back to the house, fell into a gully and there expired before your calls for help could attract attention.’

  Vorontzoff shivered, partly from the intense cold, partly from fear; because he knew now that he was at the mercy of a man as ruthless as himself and one who’s wits had outmatched his own.

  ‘You’ll not do it, Monsieur!’ he declared, but he could not keep the uncertainty out of his voice as he hurried on. ‘ ’Twould prove your undoing if you did. When ’tis discovered in the morning that I have disappeared the investigation into Sir Humphrey’s death will be affected to your detriment. It may be thought that I have voluntarily absented myself because I am unwilling to give evidence, or even that someone has made away with me to prevent my doing so. Remember, I alone can confirm the reason that the Lady Georgina intends to give for the sending of the note. Without the support of my testimony she may be disbelieved; and, once she becomes suspect, shrewd questioning could easily send you both to the scaffold.’

  ‘There is something in what you say,’ Roger admitted, with hidden satisfaction. He was prepared to kill the Russian if he must, but the thought of committing murder in cold blood was most repellant to him; and it now appeared that his enemy was already thinking on the lines he wished; so he asked: ‘You are, then, prepared to buy your life?’

  ‘It seems I must,’ Vorontzoff shivered again. ‘Tell me the price you demand quickly, so that we can get out of this accursed cold.’

  ‘I require you to write a letter to Colonel Thursby. You will begin by saying that, until tonight, today’s tragic events had put out of your mind a meeting of the first importance which you must attend in London at midday tomorrow; therefore you cannot, after all, remain on to attend the inquest. You will go on to suggest that, instead, he should produce this letter at it; then give a full account of how Lady Etheredge and yourself planned to make an April Fool of Sir Humphrey. You will conclude by offering your apologies to the Colonel and Lady Etheredge for the early hour of your departure preventing you making your adieus to them.’ Roger paused for a moment, then added. ‘The production of that letter will support Lady Etheredge’s testimony as effectively as if you had given it yourself. Do you agree to write it?’

  Vorontzoff gave him a crafty look. ‘Do you attach any other conditions to restoring my complete freedom?’

  ‘Only that you should also give me a chit for your coachman, ordering him to be ready to take you back to London at seven o’clock tomorrow morning: and an undertaking that you will set out at that hour without leaving any message behind you or having spoken to anyone at Stillwaters on the subject of Sir Humphrey’s death.’

  ‘In the circumstances, Monsieur, you flatter me by placing any value on such an undertaking.’

  The chill of the icy atmosphere was getting into Roger’s bones and he replied quickly. ‘Of that we will talk later; if you accept my terms?’

  ‘I see no alternative,’ Vorontzoff muttered, with chattering teeth. ‘For God’s sake let us get from this place.’

  ‘Take two of the candles in each of your hands, then,’ Roger told him, ‘and precede me down the passage. Think not of attempting to escape by dropping the lights and running off into the woods; for my legs are longer than yours and I should catch you before you had taken a dozen paces. Any trick of that kind will merely provide me with the excuse I would gladly have to give you a good thrashing.’

  Picking up his bag he followed the Russian to the entrance of the mound, then told him to halt there and sit down on the ground. The candles were set up out of the draught, just inside the doorway; and Roger having taken a pen, inkhorn and paper from his portmanteau, Vorontzoff used its top as a desk on which to write. In ten minutes the business was concluded. As Roger put the letter to the Colonel and the note to the coachman in his pocket he smiled to himself; the whole matter had gone much more smoothly than he had expected.

  Having collected his things he shut the door of the icehouse and walked down the slope with his prisoner to the wheelbarrow. On reaching it he said. ‘This might well have proved your Excellency’s funeral coach. As it has not, you will be good enough to push it back to the shed from whence it came, which I will show you.’

  For a moment the Russian looked like rebelling, but on Roger giving him a vigorous push he picked up the handles of the barrow and set off with it along the path.

  After they had covered a hundred yards in silence Roger remarked: ‘We will now talk a little about the undertaking which you have given me. As you have pointed out yourself, I have no means of preventing you from leaving a completely different written testimony for the chairman of tomorrow’s inquiry, to the one you have just inscribed; or taking some other steps to repudiate your letter and betray Lady Etheredge and myself. Should you do so, have you considered what the result of your act would be?’

  ‘It would result in the Lady Georgina and yourself providing a grim spectacle for the mob at Tyburn, one fine morning,’ replied Vorontzoff with an ugly laugh.

  ‘Indeed, I think you right,’ agreed Roger, placidly. ‘At least all the odds favour such an outcome. You realise, then, that should you repudiate your letter to Colonel Thursby I must count my chance of life exceedingly slender?’

  ‘So slender, Monsieur, that I mean to take an early opportunity of booking a window in a nearby house to see you hung.’

  ‘ ’Twould be waste of money, since you will not be there to occupy it. We have an English proverb which fits the case to a nicety. It runs: ‘ ’Tis as well to be hung for a sheep as a lamb. Do you now perceive my meaning?’

  Vorontzoff gave him a quick sideways glance. ‘You infer that if hang one must, it makes little difference if ’tis for one murder or for two.’

  ‘I am happy that your Excellency should have put so exact an interpretation on my thought. Should aught go awry at tomorrow’s inquiry I shall hold you responsible. I shall have ample warning of any dangerous trend that it may take before I become suspect myself. Temporarily I may have to deprive myself of the privilege of doing what I can to protect my Lady Etheredge, but ’twill be easy for me to slip away, and get to horse without it even occurring to the sheriff’s officers to detain me. Later, no doubt, the Bow Street runners will be asked to undertake my capture. There are some good men among them and they usually get their quarry in the end, I’m told. But I flatter myself that I shall be able to evade them for quite a while; and I now make you a promise. During that time, wherever you may be, I will seek you out and kill you.’

  The Russian knew that he was caught again. He enjoyed his life; and the prospect of having it menaced by an assassin who might spring out upon him from behind any bush or doorway for weeks, or perhaps months, to come, did not appeal to him at all. After a moment he said. ‘It seems that you hold all the cards, tonight, Monsieur. You may place full reliance on my undertaking and if aught goes ill in the matter of Sir Humphrey’s death ’twill be through no act of mine.’

  ‘I felt sure that I had only to put the position to you frankly for you to see reason,’ replied Roger smoothly.

  A few minutes later they reached the rambling outbuildings behind the house. Having replaced the wheelbarrow in its shed they went in by the Orangery and through the now dark suite o
f reception-rooms to the hall. Old Barney was sitting there polishing Georgina’s new riding-boots to a mirror-like sheen. Roger slipped the chit that Vorontzoff had written for his coachman back into his hand. The Russian gave it to Barney for delivery first thing in the morning; then victor and vanquished in this midnight interview went upstairs side by side, to part with a curt ‘good-night’ on the landing.

  It was now getting on for two in the morning, but when Roger peeped into Georgina’s room he saw her by her nightlight that she was not yet properly asleep. She was propped against her pillows with her eyes only half shut, so obviously dozing. The second she heard the faint noise of the door opening she started up, and after one swift look, exclaimed, ‘ ’Tis you! Oh, God be thanked!’

  ‘Surely you were not expecting anyone else to visit you at this hour,’ he smiled. ‘If ’tis so, to spare your blushes, I will withdraw at once.’

  ‘Oh, Roger, ’tis no time for teasing,’ she said reproachfully ‘Tell me without delay. You—you have not killed him?’

  ‘Nay. I have but this moment left the fellow sound in wind and limb, and on his way to bed. ’Tis all arranged, and we need fear nothing from him either tomorrow or in the future.’

  She sighed. ‘How did you work this miracle? Come; tell me all. I can scarce yet believe it possible.’

  Roger perched himself on the side of her bed and gave a laughing résumé of his doings since midnight. When he had done, she suddenly hid her face in her hands, and a moment later he saw that she was crying.

  ‘What ails thee, sweetheart?’ he asked her with swift concern. ‘Think not from the lightness of my tone that I would belittle the danger we were in. But, knowing that we had no intent to shed innocent blood, God has extended His protection to us; and given us both courage and sagacity wherewith to shield ourselves. I do assure thee that thou needest have no further fears. The worst is over, and within a few hours now thou wilt not be called on to give another thought to this tragic business.’

  ‘Nay,’ she murmured. ‘ ’Tis no longer from fear that I am crying, but solely because I love thee so.’

  Gently he drew her hands away from her face, then smiled into her tear-dimmed eyes. ‘Thou hast no cause to weep on that account; for if love be a willingness to give one’s life for another, thou knowest that I would gladly give mine for thine.’

  I know it; and ’tis not sorrow, but my very joy and pride in thee that brings the tears to my eyes. Thou art the most splendid champion that any woman ever had. Dost thou remember how things were with me when I was but a little girl? How all those stupid fools of county people, whom I despise today, sent me to Coventry on account of my gipsy blood. Not a boy nor girl of their oafish progeny would so much as give me a “good-morrow” when I rode past them in a lane. Thou alone hadst the spirit to ignore the ban and cheer my solitude with thy dear companionship. And now thou art grown into an audacious, determined man; and so monstrous handsome that thou couldst have any woman for the asking; yet it seems that thou still preferst me to all others, and would stick at nought to protect me from the results of my own follies. I weep from humility, to think that I am so fortunate.’

  He kissed her hands and smiled again. ‘Then weep no more, dear love; for is not my debt to thee the greater? When I was but a scared schoolboy fearful of what road to take, didst thou not make of me a man, point out the way, and give me resolution? And now; what am I but a near-penniless fellow, trained to nothing and of no position; yet thou, the loveliest lady of all England, rich, powerful, and courted by all, hast taken me for thy lover. ’Tis I who should be humble, as I am, that thou givest me, rather than another the right to protect thine happiness by all means in my power.’

  Like sunshine after an April shower, a smile came to her eyes. ‘Oh, Roger, we are a sad pair; and no one will ever truly understand either of us, except the other. Dost realise that I am free to marry again now? ’Twas but yesterday that thou asked me, would I marry thee if I could? And I said nay; being then too scatter-witted to count my blessings. Ask me again and I’ll give thee a different answer; for I will never know another man whom I will always honour, and at least have the desire to obey.’

  He shook his head. ‘ ’Twas you who had sound sense on your side in that discussion. It arose, you will recall, while you were preparing the ground to tromper me with Vorontzoff. Before the summer is out a similar situation would arise, if not on your side then on mine. Agreements to disregard such things are well enough in theory; but when it comes to the point ’twill always prove that one party only has developed a craving for pastures new, so the other is bound to be hurt in consequence. Had matters gone as you originally planned for this weekend, we would still have parted good friends; but had we been married ’twould have resulted in a most bitter quarrel. And if one decides to marry one should at least set about the business without doubts as to its lasting out the year.’

  ‘You had none of these doubts concerning Athénaïs de Rochambeau last summer; and would have married her out of hand, had it not been for the difference in your religions.’

  ‘Aye, I admit it. But I was younger then and somewhat moonstruck.’

  ‘You are not, then, moonstruck with myself?’

  ‘Nay, Georgina, and I never shall be. Yet, had I any mind to marry at all, which I have not, ’tis the one fact that would induce me to sue for your hand. For, did you grant it me, I would know that I was espousing no figment of my imagination, which might later prove an empty shell; but a woman whose best qualities will always far outweigh her very human shortcomings.’

  ‘It seems, Sir, that you are become illogical,’ she quizzed him. ‘If you would have me on that count, while yet a moment back arguing that you would not, from fear that any lapse from virtue on my part would prove too great a strain on your affection!

  ‘Au contraire, Madame,’ he smiled. ‘I am being logical for us both. You know that in your heart of hearts; confess it now!’

  She stretched and yawned, then gave a little laugh. ‘ ’Tis so, dearest Roger. For if we did marry, and I caught you cocking your hat at a wench, I vow I’d claw her eyes out. But you’ll stay on and love me through the spring, will you not? I insist upon it.’

  His smile became mischievous. ‘I’ll stay on until those wicked, roving eyes of yours look favourably upon another beau—or until my own light upon some toothsome morsel of femininity.’

  ‘Beast that thou art! I do believe thou meanest to pay me back in mine own coin.’

  ‘Nay. I was but joking. My whole object will be to make thee forget this terrible affair as soon as possible.’ He leaned forward and kissed her lightly on the cheek. ‘And now, sweet, ’tis time that I should leave thee to get some sleep.’

  For a moment her fingers gently caressed his hair. ‘Thou art right. I am near exhausted by the day’s events. I only pray that all will go well in the morning.’

  ‘It will, dear heart. Have no fear of that.’ And with this last reassurance Roger left her.

  His prophecy was proved correct. Vorontzoff took his departure promptly at seven o’clock. Half an hour later Roger sent the letter that he had extracted from the Russian up to Colonel Thursby by a footman. A little before ten the coroner’s court assembled in the library. It was composed of honest but simple folk who asked few questions and acted with all the discretion that they felt was due to the persons of quality who were concerned.

  Having decorously viewed the body, they listened respectfully to Colonel Thursby’s statement, and a translation that he gave them of Vorontzoff’s letter. Georgina was called on to make only a brief appearance. She was dressed in black and veiled, but not so heavily that they were unable to see her lovely face. After a few tactful questions and her low-voiced replies, they offered her their deepest sympathy and she withdrew. The doctor then gave it as his opinion that Sir Humphrey had died from a seizure, brought on by intense cerebral excitement following immediately upon the abnormal exertions of his long ride; and a verdict was brought in to t
hat effect.

  Afterwards the members of the court were taken to the dining-room, where an abundance of refreshments had been provided for them, and relaxing into a restrained cheerfulness ate and drank their fill. By two o’clock, well loaded with good liquor they rode away, their somewhat bemused minds now again centred on their individual concerns.

  Roger had not appeared at any part of the proceedings. So that he should not be observed hanging anxiously about he had gone out for a ride, returning only at eleven-thirty. Shortly before midday the butler had informed him of the verdict and he had then settled down to read a book in the Orangery. Soon after the last of the visitors had clattered away a footman found him there and said: ‘The Colonel’s compliments, Sir, and he’d be glad if you would join him in the library.’

  On obeying the summons, Roger found Colonel Thursby sitting behind a big mahogany desk-table, sipping a glass of Madeira. His longish, intellectual face appeared grave but showed, no sign of undue worry. Motioning to the decanter and clean glass that stood beside it, he said: ‘You’ll have heard, no doubt, that all went smoothly and that the matter is now officially closed; but I think it well that I should put certain facts before you. Pour yourself a glass of wine, my boy, and make yourself comfortable.’

  With a word of thanks, Roger did as he was bid, wondering what the devil was coming now.

  ‘As you may be aware,’ the Colonel began, ‘Sir Humphrey having died without issue, his heir is his eldest uncle, who now becomes Sir Isaiah Etheredge. I despatched a courier to him yesterday to inform him of his nephew’s death, and I suggested that the funeral should take place on Wednesday. We may therefore expect him here tomorrow, or even, possibly, tonight, if curiosity moves him to seek a detailed account of the tragedy before the rest of the family arrive. He will benefit to some extent on coming into the baronetcy, but not to the degree that he would have done had Humphrey not married Georgina.’