The boy leading the way stopped within sight of the cottage windows. He stood there, with Sherlock, Rufus and Matty clustered behind him, until one of the windows opened and closed again. A signal that it was safe to approach. Sherlock suddenly had a picture flash into his mind of Amyus Crowe sitting in the cottage with a large gun in his hand, pointed out of the window. If someone had approached the cottage without stopping to be identified or being signalled to continue, Sherlock had no doubt that he would open fire.
The boy turned round and said, ‘The big man says it’s all right to go in.’
‘Thank you,’ Sherlock said. On an impulse he delved in his pocket and took out a half-shilling. ‘We appreciate the help,’ he added, holding the coin out.
The boy looked at it wistfully. ‘The big man pays us well enough,’ he said, keeping his hands by his sides. ‘He says that anyone who takes coins from two masters can’t be trusted by either one of them.’
Sherlock nodded and pulled his hand back. ‘Good advice,’ he said.
The boy walked off downhill, whistling.
‘What now?’ Matty asked.
‘Now we find out what all this is about,’ Sherlock said as he set off towards the cottage.
CHAPTER TWELVE
Those last few yards were perhaps the hardest that Sherlock had ever walked. He didn’t know what kind of reception he was going to get – whether Amyus Crowe was going to be pleased to see him or not, he didn’t know if Virginia was going to be there or whether she had been hidden somewhere else, and most of all he didn’t know whether Mr Crowe and Virginia were ever going to return to Farnham or whether this was just a temporary pause before they left the country. He didn’t have enough evidence on which to base a deduction, and that made him uncomfortable.
He reached the door, heart pounding. It was closed. He knocked.
‘Come on in,’ a familiar voice called.
Sherlock pushed the door open and led the way in. It took a few seconds for his eyes to adapt to the darkness inside – a deliberate ploy on Crowe’s part, he assumed. When he could see properly, he realized that Amyus Crowe was standing on the far side of the room. He was wearing a dark suit and holding a gun.
‘Well done,’ Crowe said. ‘You solved the riddles. Ah thought you would.’
‘It wasn’t hard,’ Sherlock said, shrugging.
‘Not for you, perhaps.’ Crowe switched his gaze to Sherlock’s companions. ‘Young Master Arnatt, welcome to mah temporary accommodation. And Mr Stone as well – make yourselves at home, all of you. Ah’ll stay within sight of the window if you don’t mind. Ah’m not expecting any more guests, but a man can never tell when visitors might arrive. Can I offer you a drink – some water, perhaps?’
‘After that walk,’ Rufus Stone said, ‘a drink would be most welcome. I don’t suppose you have any beer? Or cider, perhaps? A flagon of cider would go down very well just at the moment.’
Crowe smiled. ‘Ah might be able to find somethin’ of that kind around.’ He raised his voice. ‘Virginia, you can come out now. We have guests.’
A door behind Crowe opened and Virginia slipped into the room. Her hair seemed to glow like fire in the relative darkness. Her eyes were fixed on the floor, uncharacteristically shy, but she raised them after a few seconds and looked at Sherlock.
And then she was racing across the floor towards him, and her arms were around his neck, and she was kissing him. He’d dreamed about what kissing her would be like, but the reality was so much more than he had ever imagined. The weight of her body in his arms, the warmth of her lips locked against his, the smell of her hair . . . he felt overwhelmed. His mind was unsure what to do, but he suddenly realized that his body was already kissing her back without instructions.
She broke contact suddenly, not pushing him away but stepping back. He might have taken it as a rejection except for the fact that her hands were resting on his arms. She gazed at him from those bottomless violet eyes, and he saw that she was on the verge of tears.
‘You came looking for us,’ she whispered.
‘I had to,’ he said simply. The words came out of nowhere, unplanned. ‘I can’t live without you.’
‘Much as ah hate to break up this reunion,’ Amyus Crowe rumbled, ‘there’s a whole heap of talking that needs to be done, an’ I do believe that Mr Stone might expire here on the mat if he don’t get a drink inside him. Ginnie, be a darlin’ and get refreshments for our guests.’
Virginia’s hands squeezed Sherlock’s arms for a second, and then she let go. She backed away, still maintaining eye contact. He felt as if he could drown in those eyes. It was as if she was sending him a message, but he didn’t know what it was. Perhaps she didn’t either. Perhaps the important thing was that there was a message, not the content.
Virginia dropped her gaze, and Sherlock felt like a puppet whose strings had suddenly been released. He turned to look at the rest of the room, at the others, and the world seemed to have changed. Everything looked the same, but it was different. He couldn’t explain it.
Amyus Crowe was staring at him with a strange expression on his face. He raised a shaggy eyebrow. ‘A handshake will suffice for me, if that’s all right with you.’
Sherlock smiled. ‘I’m glad you’re all right,’ he said. ‘I’m glad you’re both all right. When we found your cottage was deserted, we were worried.’
Crowe nodded. ‘Couldn’t be helped. Ah got wind that someone was in the vicinity askin’ ’bout me and mah girl. Normally ah’d go in search of the people askin’ questions an’ ask them some of mah own, but when ah heard the descriptions of the fellows doin’ the askin’ ah decided that discretion was the better part of valour, an’ made a run for it.’
‘They’re as dangerous as that?’ Stone asked. ‘I have to say that young Sherlock here dealt very well with two of them – a black-haired fellow who appears to be deficient in the hearing department and a friend of his with a face like a potato.’
‘That’ll be Ned Fillon an’ Tom Payne.’ Crowe suddenly seemed to realize that he was still holding the gun and placed it on a table by his side. ‘They ain’t anything more than small fry. It’s the man they work for that scares the bejazus out of me.’
‘I think we met him,’ Sherlock said. ‘I couldn’t see his face, but I heard him speak. He talked really quietly.’
‘I saw him,’ Stone said, ‘and I really wish I hadn’t. He had tattoos all over. People’s names.’ He looked briefly at Virginia, but Crowe shook his head slightly, warning Rufus off. Only Rufus and Sherlock noticed.
‘Bryce Scobell,’ Crowe said heavily. ‘So he’s here.’ He sighed. ‘Ah was hopin’ that he might have just sent his men over to find me, but ah guess ah was too optimistic in that regard. He wants me so badly that he’s made the journey from America himself. You saw him in Farnham, ah suppose?’
‘I’m afraid he followed us here,’ Sherlock admitted. ‘To Edinburgh.’
Even in the dim light Sherlock could see that Crowe’s face seemed suddenly to grow paler and even more immobile than usual. To Sherlock the signs were clear. Crowe was in the grip of some strong emotion. His hand reached out to rest on the pistol on the table, and his gaze flickered towards the window, through which the approach to the cottage was visible. ‘Ah would have expected,’ the big American said, choosing the words carefully, like a man stepping on stones to cross a dangerous river, ‘that you’d cover your own tracks well enough that he couldn’t come after you. Does he know about this cottage?’