Inspector Abberline and the Just King

by Simon Clark

  ‘Difficult to breathe … Oh, it hurts.’

  ‘Maude, best come downstairs.’

  ‘Don’t think I can.’

  ‘Once you’re out in the fresh air you’ll be right as rain. Here, give me your arm.’

  Ivy helped her sister to stand. Carefully, she pulled Maude’s arm around the back of her own neck, then held her so Maude’s face rested against the side of hers.

  ‘Away we go, Maude,’ Ivy told her. ‘We’ll be outside in a trice.’

  By the time they reached the bedroom door Maude couldn’t walk. Ivy had to all but carry her. And when they reached the top of the stairs, Ivy was panting with exertion.

  ‘Ugh … I do feel rotten.’ The words came from her sister’s mouth in a slurred mumble. ‘Stomach’s on fire. Ah, it’s sore.’

  ‘Here are the stairs. Let me get you down them in one piece. Uh, try and take the weight on your feet while I catch my breath.’

  ‘Sorry … can’t. Legs all … like … uh.’

  Ivy felt her sister’s breath in her face as she struggled to carry her down the steps. The exertion was terrible. Ivy felt breathless. Her chest tightened so much it became a struggle to inhale. What’s more, the strain of carrying her sister made her lightheaded. She managed to descend one step… then another … and another. Then….

  ‘Maude. I’m exhausted. I can’t – can’t catch my breath. Need to sit for a while. There. I’ll lower you down. Uh … we can sit for a moment. Side by side. Oh, my throat’s burning.’

  ‘I’m sorry, Ivy.’

  ‘It’s not your fault, dear. If I can just … rest a wee while. The fresh air … that’s what … uh … I do feel odd.’ Her sister’s head felt so heavy on her shoulder. ‘Maude? Don’t fall asleep … not … here on the … the steps … I … I don’t think I …’

  Ivy’s head lolled forward. When she opened her eyes it was dark. A voice called through the door.

  ‘Mrs Giddings? Is all well?’ A man’s voice. ‘May we come in?’

  ‘Hello … I …’ Ivy’s head spun. She was conscious of her sister’s head resting on her shoulder. ‘We’re …’ She began to cough.

  The door swung open. Two large men, carrying candles in glass jars, entered. Both looked up in surprise at Ivy and her sister sitting there.

  ‘We’re detectives,’ one said. ‘Can you say what happened to you?’

  Ivy’s throat felt as if it was on fire. Nevertheless, she managed to croak, ‘This is my sister … Mrs Giddings. We’ve taken poorly.’ She closed her eyes as vertigo engulfed her.

  She heard the men talk for a while then one said, ‘This doesn’t look right. Bolt the door. There might be someone else here in the cottage.’

  Ivy drifted in and out of consciousness. She couldn’t be sure but she thought she heard the sound of clumping feet as the two men searched the cottage. She opened her eyes as a man’s face loomed towards her, lit by the candle in his hand.

  ‘We’ll soon have you out in …’ He coughed ‘… two shakes of a lamb’s tail.’ He squeezed past the two of them on the step and went upstairs.

  The second detective stood at the foot of the staircase. ‘Anyone else up there? Can you –’ A sudden fit of coughing prevented him from finishing the sentence.

  ‘Uh … it’s close in here. No air.’ These words came from the detective behind her. ‘Come on, ladies, let’s get you outside.’

  ‘Did you hear that, Maude?’ Ivy whispered. ‘They’re going to carry us into the garden.’

  ‘Uh?’ Maude tried to raise her head from Ivy’s shoulder. ‘Who is—’

  ‘Don’t worry. You’ll be … right as rain.’ Ivy closed her eyes for a moment. When she opened them again she wondered if she’d been asleep. ‘You know, Maude … I came here in the hope you … you’d help buy me the tavern in Bridlington.’

  ‘Oh?’ Maude answered softly. ‘Tavern …’

  ‘Nice place it is … views of the sea … you can visit any … any time you want. You and the professor.’

  ‘Yes.’

  Ivy licked her dry-as-dust lips. With an effort, she focused her eyes on the man standing at the bottom of the stairs. He seemed to be thinking about something important, because he didn’t move. He just stood there, staring at the banister rail. From just behind her came a loud thump. The stairs shook. She managed to turn her head. For some reason, the second detective had sat on one of the higher steps behind her. He gazed downward into his lap. Ivy looked back at the other man. His expression was strange, quite blank, dreamy, and he kept coughing then grimacing. He attempted to climb the staircase, making swimming motions with his arms, as if trying to do the breaststroke through the air. Almost straightaway he seemed to lose his balance. He grabbed at the banister for support, missed the rail, and fell face down onto the stairs.

  How strange, Ivy thought. Why can none of us stand? Those two men were perfectly healthy when they came into the cottage. Is this island bewitched? Will we sleep for a hundred years?

  Ivy managed to take a deep breath. ‘Maude. I will carry you outside myself. I will … I promise …’

  Her sister muttered some words but Ivy couldn’t make out what they were. Not that it mattered, because her own body felt so heavy now as sleep crept over her and her eyes slowly closed.

  Thomas Lloyd knew he must remain polite and friendly as he ate dinner at the top table in the palace refectory that evening. He occupied the seat beside King Ludwig. He applauded after Virgil Kolbaire played his latest composition on the violin. He attentively listened to Kolbaire’s lecture on a new form of Aeolian harp: a device that transformed the breeze into musical notes. Thomas did all this because he knew that, in effect, he was Inspector Abberline’s representative. Abberline would depend on the goodwill of the people here in order to efficiently continue his investigation into Benedict Feasby’s death. Thomas, however, resented the fact that Ludwig expected him to write glowing reports of the academy for the Pictorial Evening News.

  Thomas listened to more music by Kolbaire, played on the piano. This was after the soup bowls had been taken away and before the arrival of the mutton stew. The tunes appeared quite complex to Thomas, and he doubted if he would hold the melody in his head for long. At last, after a long evening, the final glasses of port were consumed. Thomas walked back through the forest in the company of Professor Giddings and the stunningly beautiful Jo. Night had fallen by this time. They each carried an oil lantern. Every so often, the light revealed a badger or a fox on the path ahead of them. Jo walked lightly, her charisma even seeming to outshine the three lamps.

  ‘Professor,’ she said, ‘will you present your book to the king at the next assessment?’

  ‘Ah, my dear, if only I could. I shall give him a copy of the manuscript. The other copy, fate willing, should have reached my publishers by then.’

  ‘Jo,’ began Thomas, ‘you haven’t told me about your line of work yet.’

  ‘No, my dear Thomas, I have not.’ She beamed. ‘I know … rather than tell you, I shall give you a demonstration tomorrow.’

  ‘You make it sound so mystifying.’

  ‘Your sense of anticipation will heighten your excitement.’

  Professor Giddings chuckled. ‘You tease the poor fellow, my dear. Can you not give him the slightest hint?’

  Jo grinned. ‘Thomas must wait and see for himself.’

  ‘I hope he won’t be shocked,’ Giddings said.

  ‘Oh, I dare say he will be absolutely flabbergasted. He won’t have seen a woman present … ha, I nearly said too much.’

  They walked along the track that led to the cottages. Jo wished them good night and headed towards the cottage she occupied (and occupied it alone as far as Thomas knew). However, instead of walking through the gate, she paused, raised the lamp, and frowned.

  ‘Isn’t that Mr Feasby sitting on your garden fence, Professor?’

  ‘Why … upon my soul it is.’

  Thomas saw William Feasby perched on the top rail of the fen
ce. The man kept his gaze fixed on the front door of Professor Giddings’ cottage.

  Giddings hurried forward, the light from the lantern glinted on the cottage windows. ‘Mr Feasby? Anything amiss?’

  Something about the man, sitting there in the dark, was unsettling enough to send shivers down Thomas’s spine. He glanced at Jo. She wore an expression of deep concern. Clearly the woman sensed that there had been a worrying turn of events. As they approached Feasby, he shielded his eyes against the brilliance of the lamps.

  ‘Feasby, old chap,’ Giddings said. ‘What on earth’s happened?’

  ‘Good evening, Professor. I can’t really say, but there is decidedly strange activity afoot. I am quite puzzled and afraid.’

  Professor Giddings hurried through the gate. Feasby lightly hopped down from the fence and followed.

  ‘Has something happened at my house?’ asked Giddings.

  ‘Yes. Something very peculiar.’

  ‘My wife should be at home with her sister, Ivy. Why are there no lights on in the house?’ He tried to open the door. ‘And why is this door locked?’

  He stood back in order to look up at the bedroom windows.

  Jo lightly rested her hand on Feasby’s arm. ‘Can you tell us anything at all?’

  ‘I stepped out into my garden for some fresh air. The lacquer I used on a lizard skin had made me quite dizzy. I saw two gentlemen in long coats approach the Professor’s house. I knew these men to be detectives. West and Sutton.’

  Thomas looked through the downstairs windows. His light revealed that the living room was empty. There were candles on the table. Not one had been lit.

  Feasby continued: ‘The two detectives knocked on the door. No one answered. The detective with the red moustache saw me and asked if I knew if anyone was home because they wished to interview all the local residents. I said that Mrs Giddings never ventured out during the evening, and that her sister had come to stay. This perplexed the two men because it was dark by this time and there were no lights in the house.’

  ‘My dear Lord.’ Giddings looked worried. ‘What happened?’

  ‘Well, this is the strangeness of it all. The men opened the door, and went inside. One immediately came back out again and said to me, “Please stay where you are. I might need to call on you to help us.” With that, he went indoors, closed the door. I heard a bolt being drawn.’

  Jo raised her eyebrows. ‘I didn’t think any of the cottage doors could be locked or bolted shut.’

  Professor Giddings tried the door again. ‘My wife insisted on a bolt. She didn’t like to be alone with the door unlocked when I was at the palace.’

  Thomas looked in through the other windows. His lamp revealed nothing but rooms with nobody in them.

  Thomas asked, ‘How long is it since the two men went inside?’

  ‘Oh, forty minutes at least.’

  ‘How did they see, if it was dark?’

  ‘They carried candles in glass jars. They must have been without lanterns so they improvised.’

  ‘Oh, this is very alarming.’ Giddings’ eyes were wide as he stared at the locked door. ‘Why is it so dark in the house? What’s happened in there?’

  Thomas put his ear to the door. ‘I can’t hear anything. It’s absolutely quiet.’

  Feasby shuddered. ‘I don’t like this, I don’t like it one little bit.’

  ‘Stand back,’ Thomas said.

  He kicked the door as hard as he could. It remained locked tight. He kicked again. This time the door flew open.

  Giddings rushed to the open door.

  ‘Wait!’ Thomas grabbed hold of the man, stopping him. ‘Let me check first.’

  ‘My wife is in there. She might need me.’

  Jo whispered, ‘Please let Thomas check first.’

  Thomas slowly entered the cottage. He shone the light along the hallway, revealing it to be deserted. Then he looked up the staircase.

  He froze. An extraordinary sight met his eyes. Two women were halfway up the stairs. They lay back with their arms around each other. The two detectives were there as well. One sat on a step, with his back to the wall, near the top of the staircase. This was West. His head hung down and the bowler hat was on his lap. The other detective lay face down on the stairs near the bottom. The way his arms were raised above his head suggested that he’d slipped partway down the stairs. All four people were unconscious. Thomas quickly retraced his steps.

  Giddings, meanwhile, had entered through the doorway. ‘Great Scott! What has happened to them?’

  The man would have rushed upstairs if it wasn’t for Thomas. Giddings was well built and strong. Thomas, however, managed to haul the man out through the doorway and onto the path outside.

  Giddings roared, ‘Let go! I must help my wife!’

  ‘No. You can’t go in there.’

  ‘I must.’

  Jo held onto Giddings’ arm. ‘Please wait out here.’

  ‘Didn’t you see? My wife is ill. Let go of me.’

  He tried to force his way back to the house. Both Thomas and Jo held onto him.

  ‘Professor,’ Thomas panted. ‘Stay out here.’

  ‘My wife needs me.’

  ‘If you go back in there, your wife will kill you!’

  ‘Kill me?! Are you insane?’

  ‘I think I’ve seen this before. There is poison involved. And poisonous gas.’

  Giddings stared at Thomas in astonishment. ‘Poisoned and gassed? I don’t understand.’

  ‘Please wait here. I will go in and see what can be done.’

  This time Giddings did stay as Thomas returned to the house.

  Thomas held up his hand. ‘Jo, you stay outside, too.’

  ‘You will need my help.’

  ‘No.’

  ‘I will come. I will help you. I promise you that, Thomas.’

  ‘All right. Whatever you do, don’t breathe the air inside the house. Hold your breath as if you’re swimming underwater. Understand?’

  She nodded.

  ‘Open the windows,’ he said. ‘When you need to breathe again come outside before taking another breath. That’s important. It’s a matter of life or death.’

  ‘I understand,’ she told him. ‘Ready when you are.’

  ‘All right. Three, two, one.’ He took a deep breath and rushed indoors.

  He darted into one room to open the windows, while Jo entered another. Jo returned outside to breathe. Thomas’s lungs were burning yet he ran upstairs, picking his way past the motionless figures. The small window at the top of the stairs didn’t have a section that opened. Picking up a vase from the sill, he smashed the glass. By the time he ran downstairs his lungs were on fire. He darted out onto the lawn where he released the air from his lungs in a gush and inhaled deeply.

  A moment later, he approached the door again. ‘Are you ready, Jo?’

  ‘Whenever you are.’

  ‘Hold your breath again. The gas might not be clear yet. We’ll move the man closest to us. If we can, we’ll bring him out here onto the lawn.’

  ‘I’m ready.’

  ‘If you need to breathe come back out here. Even if you have to drop the man.’

  They hurried indoors. The detective was immensely heavy. In the end, they could only move him by taking hold of a foot each and dragging him outdoors onto the lawn. Thomas examined the man’s face in the lamplight. The skin was covered in red speckles. It wasn’t blood, it was the colour of the flesh. His lips were blue. He hadn’t so much as grunted as they’d dragged him.

  They returned to the house. Removing Mrs Giddings and her sister was much easier as both were slightly built. Thomas and Jo, however, struggled to move the second detective. It took three attempts to shift him downstairs. At one point, Jo let out her lungful of air. Before she could stop herself she’d inhaled. Her eyes began to water. Thomas picked her up and carried her outside.

  ‘I’ll be fine,’ she protested.

  ‘Stay here. See if you can rouse them.’<
br />
  Thomas held his breath again. This time he managed to haul the second detective outside. Feasby and Giddings helped him drag the man away from the house. Soon all four victims were laid in a row upon the grass. Sutton muttered, opened his eyes. A second later he passed out again.

  Thomas sucked in a huge lungful of fresh air. He glanced across at Jo, who knelt beside Mrs Giddings. Jo shook her head.

  ‘I’m sorry,’ she said. ‘Mrs Giddings has gone. And so has Ivy.’

  Professor Giddings ran his hands across his head. ‘What happened? You said poison.’

  Thomas breathed deeply. ‘I’ve seen this before. If someone is poisoned with a compound of phosphorus and aluminium, it can kill anyone else that comes near.’

  ‘How?’

  ‘The compound reacts with liquid in the victim’s stomach, which produces poisonous gas. When the victim is moved, they – it must be said plainly – belch poisonous gas. It can kill anyone nearby.’ He knelt down beside Sutton. ‘It seems as if either Mrs Giddings or her sister was poisoned with the compound. One tried to help the other downstairs. One of them succumbed to poison, the other died as a result of the gas. The two detectives saw them lying on the stairs. They went in to help but were overcome by the fumes, too.’

  Jo said, ‘The men are still breathing.’

  ‘Nothing can be done for Mrs Giddings and her sister?’

  Jo shook her head.

  Professor Giddings fell to his knees and wept.

  Moonlight shone down on the trees. The mantelpiece clock in Samarkand Cottage struck midnight. King Ludwig sat at the kitchen table. He stared at his hands as he knitted his fingers together. This was a worried man. Jo sat on a chair opposite him. Thomas Lloyd went to check on the two detectives. Sutton had been put in his bed. West occupied the bed that Abberline used when he’d first arrived here. Of course, Abberline had no need of it now. He was back in London on the trail of Jack the Ripper.

  West muttered in his sleep. He didn’t answer when Thomas asked how he was. However, his respiration appeared normal. The red mottle had vanished from his face along with the blue tint of his lips. Thomas was confident that the man would recover. Sutton had opened his eyes when Thomas had gone into the bedroom.

  ‘Is Billy alive?’ Sutton asked in a rasping voice.