The Marvell house was still silent and unoccupied. No one had as yet arrived from Bristol to investigate further.
I pushed open the door and Hercules and I went in.
FOURTEEN
This time, I didn’t bother to light either a candle or a lantern. There was sufficient daylight from the open door to see my way across the hall to the dais and I knew exactly where to find the discarded clothing.
The same disquieting odour still hung about the place; a mustiness compound of dirt, decay and the peculiar sickly-sweet scent of blood. Hercules whimpered a little but did not hang back, trotting ahead of me, although his tail was drooping. Suddenly he stopped, one paw raised, head to one side, listening. I paused also, straining my ears to hear what he had heard, but the silence, except for the whisper of the dead leaves scuttering across the floor, was as profound as ever.
‘What is it, lad?’ I asked.
He gave a single bark, but then proceeded on his way, making straight for the end of the hall. A bird fluttered amongst the rafters high above us and then resumed its slumbers. I told myself I was getting jumpy for no good reason.
I found Sir George’s clothes where I had dropped them earlier, and yet it seemed to me that the sad little pile was not quite where it had been. I plunged my hand inside the pouch, my fingers groping for the paper …
It wasn’t there. The pouch was empty.
At first, of course, I refused to believe it, thinking the note must have slipped under the lining again and ripping at the silk until I had torn almost all of it away from the leather. Nothing. Then I decided I must have fumbled when I put the paper back and dropped it on the floor, so I went down on my hands and knees, feeling all around me in an ever increasing circle. Finally, I was forced to fetch and light a lantern from the counting-house and make a more extensive search. But there was still no sign of any note.
I sat down on the edge of the dais and closed my eyes, trying to recall my actions of an hour or so ago. And with sudden clarity, I could see myself pushing the paper down inside the pouch and then fastening its flap. The note which had summoned Sir George to his death had definitely been there then. Now it was gone. There was, therefore, only one conclusion to be drawn. It had been stolen.
This meant that someone had been here during the time that I had been visiting the hermitage and Goram Lane; someone who, perhaps, had seen me arrive and who, most certainly, had seen me depart. Someone who, even now, might still be watching me. I felt the hairs lift on the nape of my neck.
I stood up slowly and blew out the lantern, my uneasiness communicating itself to Hercules, who began to tremble. He raised his head, sniffing the air while I grabbed my cudgel, swinging it gently to and fro, feeling the comfort of its weighted end. I could do a lot of damage with my trusty ‘Plymouth cloak’.
I walked forward a pace or two, keeping my eyes on the two lines of doors, one on each side of the hall, which gave access to the other parts of the house. Then I told myself I was being foolish. Whoever had been here in my absence would not have expected me to come back — I had not expected it myself — and had probably gone on his way. No one was lying in wait for me. The best thing I could do was to return home and say nothing about today’s events. I could not mention the note without either implicating young Alyson Carpenter or revealing my intention to destroy evidence, but at least I now knew how Sir George had been lured to his death.
A door softly opened and closed somewhere behind me, and I realized with a shock of dismay that I had forgotten the door which invariably opened into and out of the back of any dais; a door which allowed the head of the household to make his entrance or exit after or before everyone else. I swung round, but was a fraction too late. A cloak descended over my head, muffling me in its folds.
Hercules was barking like a fiend and I could hear his jaws snapping as he tried to tackle my assailant. I dropped my cudgel as I sought to free myself from the thick, all-enveloping wool and the hands which were seeking to choke the life out of me through the cloth. But I was at a disadvantage in that the fellow had seized me from behind and so I was unable to use my legs to knee him in the groin. I heard him curse violently as Hercules bit him somewhere tender, but his grip didn’t slacken. Half-throttled, half-stifled, I was beginning to lose consciousness and fought even harder to get my arms free …
A girl’s voice shouted, ‘What are you doing to him? Leave him alone, you brute!’ The hands were suddenly removed from about my neck and I was pushed to the floor. There was a flurry of movement and the next moment the cloak was removed from about my head and shoulders and Alyson was kneeling by my side while Hercules danced around us, pausing occasionally to lick my face. There was a trace of red on his chin. My attacker had obviously drawn blood.
Alyson smoothed the hair back from my forehead. ‘Are you all right?’ she asked.
I nodded weakly, putting up a hand to my mangled throat. I made a sort of croaking noise and then, to my shame and horror, I fainted.
When I came to again, my saviour was bathing my brow with the edge of her cloak which she was dipping in a small basin of greasy-looking water.
‘Where … Where did you get that?’ I wheezed.
She smiled. ‘From the kitchen. There’s still some water in the barrel. It’s a bit slimy, but it won’t do you any harm. The bowl’s rusty and has a small hole in the bottom, so it must have been left behind as useless.’
I sat up abruptly, feeling extremely foolish, and fended off any further ministrations.
‘How long have I been unconscious?’
‘Not many minutes.’
I doubted this, calculating how long it must have taken her to go to the kitchen, find the bowl and water and return. Five minutes? Ten? Fifteen? There was no hope now of overtaking my attacker who must, by this time, be well away. I leant forward, taking Alyson’s wrist in an urgent grip. ‘What did the man look like? You must have seen him. Describe him to me!’
She shrugged her slender shoulders. ‘I would if I could, but he was masked.’
‘Masked? What sort of mask? Was it a bird with a big, hooked beak?’
‘No. A dog with a silly, flat sort of face.’ She sat back on her heels, regarding me. ‘Are you all right now?’
I scrambled to my feet, unhappily aware that I must cut an undignified figure. ‘Yes, of course I’m all right. I can’t think how I came to faint like that. It must have been the shock of the assault.’
She nodded gravely. ‘And you’re not a young man.’
For a moment, I was speechless. Finally, ‘And I’m not in my dotage, either,’ I snapped. She would have spoken again, but I forestalled her. Any attempt at explanation on her part would, I felt, only make matters worse and shatter my self-esteem completely. Besides, another thought had occurred to me. ‘Why did you come after me?’
Alyson also rose to her feet, putting the bowl down on the dais and wiping her wet fingers in her cloak. She looked a little apprehensive. ‘Are you going home to Bristol now?’ she asked.
‘That is my intention. Unless,’ I added grimly, ‘I get ambushed by my assailant on the way. But this time I shall be on my guard. He won’t get the better of me again. Why do you want to know?’
‘Then will you please take me with you?’ Her face was eager. ‘I can’t risk the journey on my own.’
‘Do your mother and father know of this request?’
She gave me a pitying look. ‘Of course not, stupid.’
‘In other words, you’re running away from home. The answer is no, I won’t take you.’
‘Oh, please!’ She was reproachful. ‘I’ve just saved your life.’
I sighed. ‘Don’t think I’m not grateful. I am. Very. But I won’t help you deceive your parents. Anyway, why do you want to go to Bristol?’