Wilson snorted, his eyes boring into Bartholomew.
The physician had not realised that the Fellows had been so intrigued as to why he had taken so much longer than Michael. Well, he was certainly not going to reveal that he suspected Augustus had been murdered. Aelfrith continued.
'He made his report to the Master, and asked if I would keep vigil for Augustus. I went to Augustus's room, and kept vigil there until I was attacked from behind and knocked senseless. I have the wound to prove it. When I came round, Matthew was helping me to rise. Augustus's body was gone, and his room had been ransacked. I have no idea as to the reasons for either.
Matthew and I made a quick search of this part of the building for Augustus and for the attacker. It was then that Matthew discovered that the commoners, who had been remarkably oblivious to all these goings-on, had been drugged. While examining them, he found that Brother Paul, God rest his soul, had been murdered.
And that is all I know.' His story completed, he stood with head bowed and hands folded in front of him.
There was a silence among the Fellows, and then a clamour of questions. Wilson tried to restore order, first by waving a pudgy hand in the air, and next by shouting.
Bartholomew saw one or two of the drugged commoners stir, and bent down to examine Montfitchet.
'Well, Doctor Bartholomew,' said Wilson unpleasantly, 'what have you to say for yourself? You spend a considerable amount of time alone with Augustus before returning to the hall; you are standing over Father Aelfrith when he regains his senses after being knocked on the head by an unseen assailant; you discover the commoners have been drugged; and you uncover poor Brother Paul's body. What have you to say?'
Bartholomew looked at him in disbelief. The Master clearly thought that he had something to do with the sinister events of the night, an accusation not lost on the other Fellows who looked uneasy.
He took a deep breath, and recounted his story as he had done to Aelfrith, omitting nothing but his suspicions and speculations. When he mentioned his struggle at the top of the stairs, Alcote went to check the knife mark in the plaster.
Wilson watched Bartholomew closely as he gave his account of events. His unblinking eyes made Bartholomew uncomfortable, and he wondered whether this was a tactic employed by lawyers on their victims in court. The others listened with a mixture of horror and fascination, but Bartholomew could gauge nothing from their expressions other than shock.
When he had finished, Wilson stared at him for several long moments. 'Have you told us everything?' he asked. 'Is there anything you are keeping back?'
Bartholomew hoped his discomfiture did not show.
"I have told you everything I know. And everything I have told you is the truth,' he said. Bartholomew considered himself an appalling liar, but his statements to Wilson had been meticulously truthful. He had told the new Master only what he knew to have happened, and had omitted merely to speak of his growing suspicions. And how could he do otherwise? He had no real evidence, only a collection of strange coincidences and suppositions. But, he promised himself, he would have something more than unfounded suspicions soon.
'This is ludicrous!' exclaimed Abigny. 'Disappearing corpses, ransacked rooms of madmen, fights in the darkness! For heaven's sake, this is a College, not the London stews! Bodies do not just disappear. There must be some purely rational explanation.'
'Such as?' asked William.
'Such as,' said Abigny, exasperated, 'a secret exit!
Some door unknown to us that allowed the murderer to escape, or to hide.' He began to look around him as though such a door would suddenly become apparent.
'Do not be ridiculous!' said Wilson aggressively. 'A secret door! Where? This is not a castle. The walls are less than a foot thick. Where could there possibly be such a door?' "I do not know!' Abigny snapped back, his voice beginning to rise. 'It was only a suggestion. Maybe Augustus is not dead and is off wandering somewhere.
Maybe some burglar came into the College, attacked Matt and Father Aelfrith and escaped out of a window.'
'You try jumping out of any of the windows here,' said Michael. 'You would need to be very agile, and,' he said looking ruefully down at his rotund form, 'very slender.
All the windows have stone mullions which would make them very difficult to squeeze through, and the drop is enough to break a leg. Perhaps Augustus or a burglar might have wriggled his way out, but he would not have landed undamaged.'
Wilson seized on Abigny's statement like a drowning man on a rope. 'Of course! Augustus was not dead and it was he who attacked Father Aelfrith and Doctor Bartholomew in the dark. That would explain everything.'
He looked around triumphantly, considering the mystery to be solved. With an air of finality, he rose to leave.
'Augustus was dead!' said Bartholomew firmly. 'And he most certainly would not have had the strength to push me down the stairs. The man I fought with was a man of my size. And it also does not explain Paul's murder and the drugging of the commoners.'
'Yes, it does,' Wilson said. 'Augustus was mad, we all know that. He feigned his death to you, and then hit Father Aelfrith on the head when he came to keep vigil.
He then, in his madness, went into the commoners' room and killed Paul — let us remember that he was insane,' he continued, looking around at each Fellow in turn.
'Perhaps he left the drugged wine for the others to drink when they returned, perhaps they are not drugged at all, but insensible after a night of debauchery.' At this he cast a scathing glance around at the comatose figures of the commoners still motionless on their pallets. 'But regardless, he returned to his room and began his foolish searching for the Lord knows what. When the Doctor surprised him, he attacked, made strong by insanity.
Then, knowing his game was up, he jumped out of the window and escaped.'
'Escaped where?' asked Bartholomew. 'The gates are still locked.'
'Then he is hiding in the College,' said Wilson. Twill order a thorough search to be made.' He looked behind him to where he knew Gilbert would be hovering, and raised his eyebrows. Gilbert disappeared immediately, and the Fellows could hear him summoning the College servants from their other duties. 'Do not worry,' he said to the Fellows, 'Augustus will be found and brought to justice. Paul's death will not go unavenged!' He turned to Bartholomew. "I suppose he is dead, Physician?' he added with a sneer.
Bartholomew shrugged. 'Check for yourself,' he invited. 'And then check poor Montfitchet too.'
'What?' Wilson was momentarily thrown from his pomposity. The Fellows clustered around Montfitchet's pallet. His face had a bluish tinge to it and a small trickle of blood came from the corner of his mouth. Bartholomew gently closed the half-open eyes. Wilson elbowed him roughly out of the way to look for himself.
'Dead!' he proclaimed. 'Augustus has two murders to pay for!'
Outside, Bartholomew heard the servants clattering up the stairs and banging doors as they made their search of the College.
'Now,' began Wilson, taking matters in hand, 'Father Aelfrith, have your wound attended to — by our esteemed Master of Medicine if you trust him not to pronounce you dead. Of course, I will understand perfectly should you wish to consult another physician.'
Bartholomew raised his eyes heavenward. Now Wilson had his theory, he would hang onto it like a dog with a bone, and would take every opportunity to undermine Bartholomew's skills as a physician to give it more credence.