The Salisbury Manuscript

by Philip Gooden

  While Foster recounted all this to Tom and Helen, they exchanged

  slightly uncomfortable glances. Both of them could guess why Amelia Slater had reacted so hysterically. But if the Inspector noticed their discomfort, he didn’t mention it. Instead he said, ‘Mr Ansell, you mentioned that you hadn’t actually seen Walter Slater but that you heard he had returned to Venn House. How did you hear?’

  ‘I can answer that, Inspector,’ said Helen confidently. ‘My godfather Canon Selby saw Mr Slater yesterday evening, saw Walter that is. They met . . . somewhere in the town. My godfather said that they talked together and when they parted company, Walter was making his way back to Venn House.’

  ‘He was going home?’

  ‘I suppose you could say that.’

  ‘What would you say?’ said the Inspector, picking up on Helen’s qualified reply.

  ‘Venn House isn’t Walter’s home, in a sense,’ said Tom.

  ‘Well, whether you call it his home or not, Walter is no longer there,’ said Foster with a touch of impatience. ‘Hasn’t been seen in the place since the night of Canon Slater’s murder.’

  ‘You must ask my godfather. He met him last,’ said Helen.

  ‘I intend to. It is a matter of urgency to trace the young man.’

  After the Inspector had departed to question Eric Selby, Helen said, ‘The truth will come out now. My godfather will be bound to tell that policeman what Walter told him.’

  ‘Which will point the finger of suspicion at Walter. It must do. Do you think he is involved in Percy’s death?’

  ‘I don’t know, Tom, I haven’t even met him. Is it likely that a man could kill both his father and his uncle? Can any man feel so strongly and violently against his own kin?’

  Such crimes seemed to be fit only for the most sensational pages of a newspaper or a shocker of a novel, not connected to a curate in a cathedral city. But Tom, who had no uncles and only the most distant memories of his father, could only sigh.

  ‘I don’t know either. Walter seemed a very . . . pleasant, easy-going individual – for a churchman. But who is to say how he or anyone might respond? He discovers the man he thought was his father is his uncle, and vice versa. He might be so furious with both of them that, in his distraction, he does something dreadful. If the Inspector were here, he’d probably tell us not to jump to conclusions. And if I were the Inspector, I’d question Percy Slater’s man Fawkes very carefully.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘I didn’t trust him or his looks,’ said Tom, recalling Fawkes’s gesture of squinting along his finger like a man looking down a gun barrel. ‘He is supposed to have discovered the body of his master early this morning and then come racing into Salisbury to inform the police.’

  ‘Supposed? If he’d had a hand in the business, he’d hardly have rushed off for help,’ said Helen. ‘And what has all this to do with the death of that sexton? And your Atropos?’

  Tom confessed ignorance. They were no further forward. It was only when Tom went upstairs to his room that he came a step closer to a solution to the mystery.

  Hogg’s Corner, Again

  If Tom and Helen had been able to have a glimpse of Seth Fawkes at that moment, they might have been surprised. He was striding up and down the overgrown terrace at the back of Northwood House, his face contorted and his mouth working as he gave vent to his feelings. His grief and anger at the death of his employer were quite genuine and growing stronger.

  He had, as Inspector Foster described, driven at first to Downton and afterwards to Salisbury to report the mysterious demise of Percy Slater to the proper authorities. Seth Fawkes had then returned to Northwood House with a sergeant and a constable. Together, they removed the body from where it lay inside the ring of trees which fringed Hogg’s Corner. They carried it into the house where, after some debate, it was taken to Percy’s bedroom. Nan did her best to arrange the corpse decently. A local doctor was summoned from Downton not so much to pronounce on the cause of death, which was apparent enough, as to confirm the sergeant’s opinion that this was no suicide.

  Percy Slater had died as a result of a chest wound. His shotgun had been found lying nearby. Even a layman could see it would be difficult if not impossible for a man to inflict that kind of damage in that kind of place by his own hand. Seth Fawkes did not dispute this. He merely said that he had no knowledge of how Mr Slater met his end. His story was that soon after first light he had been alerted by a flock of crows circling above the early mist which covered Hogg’s Corner. Also, he had a sense that all was not well. Furthermore, there was no sign of his employer. (He neglected to say that Percy Slater didn’t usually emerge from his room until mid-morning.)

  Fawkes went on to describe how he’d at first gone out alone, to almost stumble over Percy’s body in the clearing at the top of the knoll. He returned to the house and told Nan before taking the carriage and driving to Downton. All this and it was not yet nine o’clock on a November day. He was wild-eyed and dishevelled when he reached the Salisbury police house. Whether it had been suicide or murder, there was no immediate reason to suspect him of having a hand in the death of Percy Slater.

  Yet there was much which Seth Fawkes left unsaid both on his visit to the Salisbury police house and in subsequent answers to the sergeant’s questions – and Fawkes was not a voluble man at the best of times. He had indeed gone out early in the morning to find Percy’s body. There was a flock of crows in the air and on the tree branches round Hogg’s Corner, and Seth did feel that all was not well. But he found his master’s body because he knew it was there, having first seen it some six hours before by the glow of an oil lamp which he had carried from the stables. He had been witness to the events which led up to fatal wounding of Percy Slater. He knew that it was not suicide but murder.

  That gap of six hours had been to allow his brother to make his get-away.

  What happened was this. After consulting the drawing which he laid out on the bare ground, brother Adam had fixed on a particular spot where there was a tiny hollow, three or four feet wide, roughly in the centre of Hogg’s Corner. If the knoll had really been a balding human head, then the hollow would have been the impress of a finger-tip in the topmost point of that head. Adam instructed his brother to start digging, telling him that he would take over after the first couple of feet down, reassuring him that they would not have to dig far.

  ‘How’d you know this is the right place?’ said Seth, unwilling even to begin.

  ‘Because, brother, this here tells me so –’Adam waved the sheet of paper which he taken out of his rucksack – ‘and because any fool can see that this here mound is hollow in the middle and the earth has fallen in at just the point where you’re about to start adigging.’

  ‘Any fool can see that this is a wild goose chase,’ said Seth. ‘It’s a mare’s nest.’

  Adam put down the lamp and crossed the distance between himself and his brother. He closed the space with a kind of caper. The two men were about the same build and height, and Seth was the older, though not by much. Yet Seth felt intimidated by the nearness of the other. He always did, whether Adam was in a mischievous mood (screwing a thumb into his chin) or a more malevolent one (jumping out at him on a station platform).

  ‘It is not a wild goose chase or a mare’s nest or any other silly animal lurking in that head of yours. I know what I’m doing. Leave the brain-work to me. You can do the other. And what you are doing, brother of mine, is digging here.’

  To indicate the place, Adam stamped his foot in the middle of the hollow like a petulant child.

  ‘Do it yourself,’ Seth wanted to say but he did not. Instead he scraped at the surface of the ground to clear it. The edge of the spade clattered against some small stones and pebbles as he flicked them out of the earthen hollow. The sound would carry a distance on the almost windless night, thought Seth. As he worked, he allowed himself to grunt and curse. There was no law against showing Adam he was unhappy. He almost hoped that the
y would be interrupted. Yet there was no one to interrupt them apart from Percy Slater. And, if he knew Percy, his employer would be lolling drunk in his smoking room or snoring in his bedroom.

  At that moment there was an urgent hissing sound from Adam, who’d been crouching on the ground and, with the aid of the lamp, poring over the wretched plan which he’d weighed down with a couple of stones. Seth stopped, his spade poised to cut into the ground. He listened.

  There was no mistaking it. Noises of breathing, of panting and wheezing. Seth recognized the approach of his master, Percy. Despite wanting to be interrupted a moment ago, he now grew alarmed. What was the old devil doing up and about at this time of night? Then a shout rang out. ‘Fawkes!’

  Seth did not move, did not reply. There was more wheezing as Percy Slater began to climb the short slope to the crown of Hogg’s Corner. Adam moved the few paces which separated him from Seth and took hold of the spade. Seth was holding on to it so tight that his brother had to prise his fingers from the handle. At first Seth thought, why does he need the spade when I have already started doing the digging for him?

  The light cast a subdued circle in the immediate area of the plan while everything beyond was in shadow. Seth could not see clearly what his brother was up to as he scampered towards the ring of trees at the approximate point where Percy would appear. But he could guess.

  Time passed. There was a pause in the heavy breathing and then a sigh. Again came the call ‘Fawkes?’ but it was less a shout, more of a question. It crossed Seth’s mind that he might cry out a warning to Percy but even as he opened his mouth, there was a clang and clatter from the edge of the knoll. Seth stumbled towards the spot.

  Under a tangle of low branches stood Adam. He was holding the spade which he had just used as a weapon. On the ground lay Percy. Seth got down on his hands and knees. His master was still breathing, breathing steadily, all things considered. It didn’t sound as though there was anything much wrong with him. He might have been asleep. A great fury seized Seth but, when he clambered to his feet, he spoke calmly enough.

  ‘What have you done, brother?’

  ‘Didn’t want us to be disturbed. I gave him a rap on the noddle.’

  ‘And now you give me that spade.’

  Adam surrendered the spade. It was a heavy, old-fashioned implement, with a wooden handle and shaft around the bottom of which an iron blade was fitted like a kind of tunic. Adam must have hit Percy with considerable force because the blade was loose. As if divining his thoughts, Adam said, ‘He’s a tough ’un with a thick noddle. Only gave him a tap. Keep him out long enough for us to finish the business.’

  For almost the first time in his life, Seth detected a note of apology or justification in his brother’s voice. It gave him heart for what he did next.

  Flinging the spade behind him, where it would be out of his brother’s reach, he said, ‘I’ve had enough. No more business here. You will help me take Mr Slater back inside and you had better hope, Adam, that he keeps breathing steady.’

  Adam stooped down and picked up something from the ground.

  ‘To be honest, brother, I don’t care whether Mr Slater keeps breathing steady or whether he keeps breathing at all. I came here to get a job done and I’m not going until it’s finished. Now, pick up the spade and get back to it.’

  There was only the little light of the quarter moon and the trio was in the shadow of the trees. More by outline than because he could see clearly, Seth realized that Adam was holding a shotgun. Seth knew it belonged to Percy. His master must have taken it from the cabinet in the smoking room before coming out to see what was going on. A sensible precaution – until someone else got their hands on it.

  Neither man moved. On the ground Percy Slater started to snore. The sound was incongruous in the circle of Hogg’s Corner.

  ‘See,’ said Adam, ‘no harm done. He’s sleeping sound as a nipper. Now, Seth Fawkes, you go and pick up the spade and you get digging. Otherwise I swear I’ll let loose with this. Not at you, maybe, but at him.’

  He waggled the shotgun in the direction of the snoring man.

  Seth knew he was defeated, for the time being. He turned round andbegan to cast about in the dark for the spade. He couldn’t find it straightaway. He went across to pick up the lamp and search for the spade. He swung the light from side to side. The spade was lying a few yards off. Seth had just picked up the spade when it happened. The snoring ceased and there was a scrabbling sound. Seth turned back, to see Percy in silhouette sitting up and then rising unsteadily to his feet. Brother Adam was standing a few yards off, cradling the shotgun. He did not hesitate but swung the weapon towards the staggering man. There was a flash of light and a ringing report, which stunned Seth.

  Afterwards Seth could not decide whether Adam had deliberately fired or whether the gun had discharged by accident. Either way the result was the same and Percy Slater lay stretched out in the middle of Hogg’s Corner with a dark hole in his chest.

  Nor did Adam seem overly troubled. ‘Should have rapped him a little harder in the first place,’ was all he said.

  ‘You bugger,’ said Seth.

  ‘Give me the spade,’ said Adam. ‘I’ll dig if I have to.’

  ‘Come a step nearer and you’ll get your head stove in. That gun is empty. It’s only got the one barrel. I’ve got the spade and a longer reach than you.’

  Seth swung the spade towards his brother’s head. It made a whooshing sound in the air.

  ‘Not very fraternal, Seth.’

  Nevertheless, Seth’s tone and behaviour together with the disastrous turn the night had taken must have persuaded Adam that he was going to get no further. He dropped the shotgun on the ground.

  ‘All right,’ he said, ‘all right. Hold your horses. Here’s what you’re going to do. You’re going to give me a few hours to get clear of this place and after that it’s up to you. Whether you bury this big bag of bones or whether you go running off to the peelers with some story, it’s up to you, brother. But if I get taken, I’ll make sure you get taken as well. And if I swing for it, I’ll make double sure you swing alongside me. I saw a public hanging once, in Aylesbury many years back, a Quaker who’d gone bad and poisoned his fancy bit of stuff. It went bad for him at the end too. He died hard, as they say. Course, we don’t hang people in public now, we’re too civilized for that palaver. But there’s still the scaffold and the rope and the drop, and you will be there with me to share it, indoors or out. Got that?’

  He did not wait for a reply – anyway, what was there left for Seth Fawkes to say? – but seemed to drop into the darkness beyond the edge of the mound. Holding the oil lamp and the spade, Seth went over to Percy’s body to confirm that his master was dead. Then he retraced his steps across the field and scrambled up the ha-ha and so round the side of the house and back into his eyrie in the stables.

  Seth didn’t doubt that his brother meant what he’d threatened. That if he was apprehended, he would do his worst to ensure that the blame and the punishment for Percy’s death were shared. Seth felt a touch of grief for Percy but, much more, he felt angry with Adam. His immediate concern, though, was to preserve himself and to stay where he was. He did not want to live the life of a fugitive, let alone face the scaffold. His position at Northwood House should be secure. The master might be dead but there were others with a legal stake in the place, Percy’s wife and that clergyman son of his.

  Seth Fawkes did not sleep that night but, as soon as first streaks of grey were showing in the east, he went back to Hogg’s Corner. The crows were circling above the mound. Percy Slater’s body lay where it had fallen, arms and legs outflung and a great red tear in the centre of his chest. The corpse was stiff and cold. The shotgun was a couple of yards away. The spot in the middle of the mound, where Seth had been directed to begin his excavations with the spade, looked untouched. There was no visible evidence as to why Percy Slater – or anyone else for that matter – should have been out at Hogg’s Corner in
the middle of the night.

  Seth had thought hard in the last few hours. Although he was not as quick-witted as his brother Adam, he was no fool. He realized that the death of the owner of North-wood House would have to be reported to the law, and sooner rather than later to avoid arousing suspicion. He also realized that his first idea, that Percy’s death might be made to look like a suicide, would not hold water. The fatal wound was in the wrong place. Seth contemplated spinning some yarn about spotting a band of gypsies in the neighbourhood of the estate, or seeing thieves being pursued from the house by Percy and then hearing a single shot. But he decided to keep things simple, he decided to stay close to the truth. Spinning a story meant getting tangled up in lies, and remembering what was true and what was false. Ignorance was the best defence.

  Accordingly Seth Fawkes alerted Nan to what he’d found. The woman, who was as tough as old boots, tottered out to Hogg’s Corner and saw for herself. She seemed perturbed by the sight and wrung her hands but she asked no questions, as if the discovery of a body was an everyday event. When she returned to the kitchen, she settled down to a bowl of porridge while Fawkes took the carriage to Downton and then on to Salisbury.

  Now, several hours later, Seth was striding up and down the weed-strewn terrace while Nan, indoors, was fussing over the corpse of Percy and assisting the local doctor. Meanwhile the sergeant and the constable were tramping over Hogg’s Corner as they examined the scene of the crime, stroking their chins and looking wise and coming to the conclusion that a crime had been committed.

  The sergeant had asked Seth and Nan a few questions. When had they last seen Percy? Had they been disturbed in the night? Was there any sign that the house had been broken into? Did they hear the sound of a shot? That kind of thing. Nan had professed genuine ignorance while Seth pretended to his. The old woman had prepared some supper for her master early the previous evening and then left him to his own devices in the smoking room, as usual. Seth said that he’d seen his employer at some point in the previous afternoon, which was true enough.