by Jane Kerr
“It’s difficult sometimes to admit when you’re wrong. And I’ll be honest with you, Danny, I’m no good at it.” Mr. Jameson stubbed out his cigar on the step. “But I’ll put it right tomorrow in court. I’ll tell the judge the truth. I’ve promised Ethel May. And I’ll promise you. I will make it right.”
He got up and went inside. The door banged loudly behind him.
For several minutes, Danny sat alone in the darkness, trying to make sense of what he felt. Angry? Yes, he was definitely angry. But a part of him also felt betrayed—which was funny considering where he’d come from. He should be used to people lying and cheating. After all, he’d lived among thieves.
He wondered what to do. And in the end, there wasn’t much of a choice. He couldn’t watch Mr. Jameson confess in court, and he wasn’t going to risk Maharajah. The case against him was just too strong.
It was time to run.
Danny went straight to the room he was sharing with Sandev. Warily, he pushed open the door, but the place was empty. Rummaging under one of the beds, he pulled out the mahout’s small suitcase and lifted the lid.
Like Danny, Sandev traveled light. There were a few changes of clothing, and a leather-bound book in a language that even he could tell was not English. He tipped everything out.
Quickly, he packed his own belongings into the case. In went the newspaper cartoon of Maharajah, the Wormwell publicity poster, one of the peacock feathers, and a pair of silk and leather slippers. He added a couple of the apples that he now always carried for Maharajah.
The ankus wouldn’t fit, so Danny strapped it to one side with a leather belt. The two sovereigns were already safely tucked in his shirt cuff, along with the bundle of pennies. He shifted the case in his hands, testing the weight, and then slipped out the door. It was much more than he had arrived with.
At the warehouse, he was lucky. Only one guard was on patrol and it was easy to create a distraction with a stone through a window. Danny slipped into the building when the man went to investigate the noise.
Inside, the only light came from a single lantern. Lifting it from the hook, Danny crept to the far corner. Maharajah lay on his side, chains wrapped around each leg. The metal links sat just above the old scars. One must have rubbed through the skin because the surface looked shiny and sore.
Anger swept through Danny. His hands tightened into fists, the fingernails digging painfully into his palms. The powerful creature he’d first seen at the auction was gone. And in his place, was an animal that seemed almost frail, a shadow of what he had once been.
I will not let you die, he vowed. No one will harm you again.
At least Maharajah seemed to be resting. His eyes were closed, although occasionally the heavy lids fluttered as though he was being pulled out of sleep. Danny hated to disturb him, but they needed to leave while it was still dark. He knelt and traced along the links of the first chain, searching for a lock.
“It is no good.”
The quiet words should have startled him, but when Sandev walked out of the shadows, Danny wasn’t really surprised. In his hurry, he’d left enough clues behind. Sandev must have followed him from the hotel.
“You know you cannot take him. He is not yours to take.” Sandev’s voice was still hoarse from the smoke, and his chest rattled. “And you will not even get past the guard.”
Deliberately, Danny turned his head away. He didn’t want to listen. If he listened, he would have to give up, and he wasn’t going to do that. He tugged on the chains again, stretching the links as far as they would go. They needed to get away, to run as far and as fast as possible.
“Listen to me.”
Danny could feel Sandev moving closer. With every step, escape grew more and more impossible. He wanted to stand up and push the mahout away.
“Where can you go? Where is there a place big enough to hide a thief and his elephant? You just have to trust that everything will come right. We all must. Even if the result is not everything that we might wish.”
To his embarrassment, Danny felt his shoulders shake. His breath was emerging in deep, dry sobs. For several moments, he couldn’t make them stop. Every feeling that had been trapped inside wanted to explode out.
Sandev waited and said nothing. After a few moments, he reached for the suitcase. Slowly, Danny handed it over.
So this was the end of the adventure. Neither he nor Maharajah would ever see Belle Vue. The promise of a new life had not just disappeared, it had shattered into pieces. The pain was unlike anything Danny had felt before, worse in some ways than being on the streets. That had left scars, but this left a great, empty nothingness.
And now he had to say good-bye.
Danny trailed a hand over Maharajah’s skin. It was warm in the cold night. He could see the rise and fall of the elephant’s breathing, perhaps a little quicker than normal. Slipping an apple into his palm, he offered up the treat. But there was no reaction.
In the back of his mind, an alarm began to sound. Shrill and insistent. Something was wrong. Quickly, Danny moved to Maharajah’s back leg. At first, it was hard to believe what he was seeing.
He brought the lantern closer and touched the gray, wrinkled skin. It was sticky. He lifted his hand. Under the glare of the lamp, his fingertips were bright red. Blood. Leaking from a long, ugly gash that sliced across Maharajah’s leg.
“What is it? What have you found?”
Wordlessly, Danny shuffled to one side, leaving Sandev enough room to sink to his knees. Just as Danny had, the mahout traced a palm along the bleeding wound—and something else became noticeable. The edges were straight and sharp. Maharajah’s leg had not been rubbed open by one of the chains. He’d been cut with a knife.
“Merciful heavens! No. No. This cannot be …” Sandev’s normal, serene expression had splintered. He seemed bewildered. Devastated. But behind all that, there was an emotion that Danny couldn’t quite decipher. He didn’t have time to work it out; Maharajah needed help.
Using a sleeve, Danny gently wiped the dirt from around the wound. It was already partly closed, and dried blood had formed a crust over one side. And at that moment, everything fell into place.
This injury had not just happened. It was at least a day old. Maharajah must have been stabbed last night, at some point during the fire. And if that was true, it explained his temper. Pain, as well as fear, had driven him to lash out—to knock Tommy Sparrow off his feet.
Danny turned over the suspicion in his mind, poking it for holes, but he didn’t need any more evidence to know that it was true. The only question was: Who had done it?
With a sudden jerk, Sandev pushed upright. His face had tightened into angry lines.
“May God forgive the man who did this because I cannot. He deserves to know how pain feels.” He spat the words like bullets. “I will fetch Mr. Saddleworth. You stay here. And do not let anyone else near. No one.”
Danny didn’t need the warning. He had no intention of leaving, or of allowing anyone else within touching distance. Lying on the floor, he stretched out along Maharajah’s side. He wasn’t sure the elephant knew he was there, but it was reassuring to be close.
Occasionally, Maharajah shuddered, causing ripples to run through his large body. But most of the time he was quiet, breathing in quick, shallow gasps. His energy seemed to be slowly seeping away. Curling closer, Danny hooked an arm across the tough skin, half afraid to let go in case Maharajah was lost forever.
It was probably only a few minutes before Sandev returned, although it felt much longer. At his side were Mr. Saddleworth and Hetty. The warehouse guard was trying to force them back outside. “You can’t come in here. I’ve me job to do …”
“I don’t care what your job is,” Mr. Saddleworth said. “There’s a sick animal in here who needs treatment. And I suspect I’m the only veterinary doctor within twenty miles. Besides, Judge Gulpidge wouldn’t be pleased if he gave a court ruling on an animal that’s already dead. And he will be, if I don’t
get to him soon.”
Sullenly, the guard let them through. Mr. Saddleworth set his lantern near Maharajah and knelt to examine the cut.
“You’re right, Sandev. This was done with a knife.” He peered closer. “And I don’t think it was an accident. It’s too deliberate. The line follows the old injury almost exactly. I think whoever did it was trying to make it look like the scar had reopened.”
Another powerful convulsion shook Maharajah. He lifted his head briefly, but the effort seemed too much. He collapsed back down. The impact shook the floor, and Danny snapped his teeth against a cry.
Hetty gasped. “Oh, Papa! Look at him. He’s in such pain. Can’t you help?”
Slowly, Mr. Saddleworth stood and wrapped an arm around his daughter’s shoulders. But when he answered, he was looking at Danny.
“I’ll try my best, although there may not be much I can do. It doesn’t look good, and you should prepare yourself. It’s possible he might not survive.”
Danny watched as Mr. Saddleworth unfastened his medical bag and took out an assortment of bottles and bandages. The glass vials clinked together importantly.
“I’m going to clean the wound and see how serious it is. But if there’s infection, I’m afraid it may be too late.”
No one mentioned that even if Maharajah recovered, there was a good chance he wouldn’t survive the court case. No one mentioned it, but Danny knew that all of them were thinking the same.
Mr. Saddleworth washed his hands and started work. His movements were quick and efficient. Gently, he cleaned the remaining dirt around the cut using a damp cloth and tweezers. The scab rinsed away and fresh blood oozed. Maharajah’s eyes flickered. He gave another cry, but Danny could tell there was no power in it.
“It’s clear and there’s no discharge, so that’s a good sign.” Mr. Saddleworth dropped the tweezers into a bowl. “I’m going to soak the area in chamomile water, then apply iodine. It needs to be done every day.”
There was something comforting about the way he worked, Danny thought. If anyone could save Maharajah, it was William Saddleworth. He was suddenly fiercely glad that he was here.
“I want to try to stitch the wound—to make sure the bleeding stops completely.” He glanced at Danny. “Can you keep him calm? Like before, when we were at Abbeystead? I’m afraid it’s going to hurt a great deal before it gets any better.”
Danny was already moving, glad of something to do. Kneeling by Maharajah’s head, he looked into the gold eyes. They were half-open and hazy with pain. He stroked the elephant’s face and ears with long gentle movements, and hummed softly. Sandev sat near the back legs, holding them down while Mr. Saddleworth worked. The mahout’s normal, calm expression appeared to have settled back into place.
Maharajah shuddered as the needle pierced his skin, and Danny’s anger bubbled.
Why had no one spotted the wound earlier? Yes, it had been chaotic during the fire. The smoke had been blinding, and no one from Belle Vue had been allowed near Maharajah since.
But surely Lord Cawthorne’s men must have realized the elephant was injured when they brought him here? Perhaps they’d been paid not to care. Or more likely, they’d been too terrified of losing their jobs.
Mr. Saddleworth continued sewing until a neat line of stitches was spaced along the cut.
“Just two more, then I’m done.” Sweat had broken out across his brow. The needle was sharp, and the thread was more like wire than ordinary cotton. But the elephant’s hide was tough. Danny could tell it wasn’t easy work.
At last, Mr. Saddleworth stood back and wiped his hands.
“That’s it. I’ll rub in a salve and bandage it, but I can’t do any more than that. It’ll need cleaning daily. We have to prevent infection.” He looked at Danny. “There’s some swelling around the wound, but if he’s lucky it won’t spread. If it does, there’s not a lot I can do.”
“You were wonderful, Papa.” Hetty’s pride was obvious. She wrapped an arm around her father’s waist. Impulsively, Danny took a step towards them. The need to shake Mr. Saddleworth’s hand, to show his gratitude in some way, was overwhelming. Then as quickly as it had come, the moment was gone. It wasn’t his place. He shuffled backwards.
“Thank you, Henrietta. But let’s see if he makes it through the night, then I’ll have a better idea of his chances.” Mr. Saddleworth rubbed his forehead. “This was almost certainly deliberate. And it wouldn’t surprise me if Arthur Albright was behind it. Perhaps we should speak to the police.”
Hetty nodded fiercely. “Didn’t I tell you, Papa? Albright’s trying to sabotage the Elephant Race. I know it.”
“Miss Henrietta is right. That man is not to be trusted.” Sandev had risen from his position at Maharajah’s side, and Danny realized he wasn’t calm at all. He was coldly and furiously angry. “And you must not forget about the intruder. The person we chased from the stables last night.”
Mr. Saddleworth looked thoughtful. “Yes, it’s just a pity no one got a good look at him. If we knew who it was, we might be able to find out what’s going on.”
Something stirred in Danny’s consciousness. The fire and the stress of the court case had pushed it to the back of his mind. Now the memory returned. It might not be important—but there was a slim chance it could solve at least one puzzle. Anyway, he couldn’t just sit there and wait for Maharajah to live. Or to die.
He had to do something to hold back the fear.
Danny picked up the ankus and tucked it into his belt. He edged towards the door, hoping no one was paying attention. A pull on his sleeve stopped him.
“Where are you going Danny?” Hetty’s forehead was drawn into a frown. “Didn’t you hear what Papa said? Maharajah might not last through the night. You can’t leave now. What if something happens?”
Danny unhooked her fingers from his arm. He knew how this must look—that he was running away just when he was needed most. But he couldn’t explain. Besides, it might all come to nothing. He turned his back and ran out, into the night. And this time he prayed Hetty wouldn’t follow.
Abbeystead lay three miles outside Lancaster, and Danny was close to collapse when he arrived in the courtyard. He’d strained every muscle to reach it.
Above him, the Hall was wrapped in darkness, except for a light that sparked on one of the outside terraces. Cautiously, Danny trailed along a garden wall and crouched behind a low hedge. He couldn’t risk getting caught now. Not when he was so close.
“So how do you think the trial’s going?” It was Cawthorne’s voice, which meant Albright probably wasn’t far away. Danny waited patiently.
“Extremely well, Your Lordship. Sir Harold’s a marvel. You needn’t worry about the verdict.” Albright’s reply held satisfaction. “Of course, there was a time when I wanted Maharajah alive. He and the boy have become famous. They’d have been big attractions for my menagerie.”
“And now?”
“Now, I don’t care whether the elephant lives or dies. All that matters to me is that he doesn’t reach Belle Vue. This court case couldn’t be more perfectly timed. And I have you to thank. I’m very grateful.”
“Grateful enough to grant me a favor? … After the elephant is destroyed?”
“Yes, of course.” Albright chuckled, and it was as though a cold finger had traced a path down Danny’s spine. “I can guess what you want. After Maharajah is killed, his corpse is yours. You can do with him as you please. I’ll have the rest of the Belle Vue menagerie. Although if the taxidermist does a good job, maybe Maharajah could make a guest appearance in Leeds.”
“Good fellow.” Danny didn’t need to see Cawthorne to know he was smiling. “That’s just what I wanted to hear. The beast destroyed half my menagerie. It’s only right he should be the star of my new collection. I’ll order a new display case tomorrow.”
The men went inside but Danny didn’t move. The sick despair that had been with him all day had spread into every part of his body. Somehow, he had to find a way to
save Maharajah. And at the moment there was only the tiniest sliver of hope.
Danny had to pass the burnt menagerie to reach the stable block. Moonlight bounced off a broken window, and he could see the outlines of the dead animals frozen in their strange poses. Their glass eyes reflected what little light there was. He was glad he didn’t have to go inside.
Instead, he crept towards what was left of the stables. Smoke was still rising from the ruins and the crumbling brickwork was warm to the touch. Last night he and Sandev had chased the intruder down the length of the building, past the horse stalls on either side.
Everything had been frantic and confused but one image stood out clearly: when the man had turned to escape, something had fallen from his jacket. This was what Danny had come back to find.
It was the only solid piece of evidence in this entire mess. And, if anything had survived, it had to be here, the farthest point from where the fire had started.
Kneeling, Danny searched blindly through the debris. He had no lantern, so he was relying purely on touch and intuition. His hands brushed along the ground, and came away with nothing except rubble and ashes. This was useless. He wasn’t even sure what he was looking for. But he wasn’t going to give up yet.
Sweeping his arms wider, Danny pushed back the rubble and uncovered the wooden floor. There were cracks between the boards, just large enough for an object to slip through. Perhaps it had fallen underneath.
Danny lay facedown and squeezed a hand through one of the gaps. He stretched as far as he could reach, before sweeping his fingers in a circle. Nothing but stones. He wriggled again, moving so he covered a slightly different area. This time, he brushed something much bigger than a pebble.
Slowly Danny pulled his hand back through the boards. In his palm was a fountain pen. Slim, elegant, and ornately carved. He knew immediately who it belonged to because he had seen it once before. But now he was even more confused.
He’d wanted answers. Instead, he’d only found more questions.