Rose Campion and the Curse of the Doomstone

by Lyn Gardner

  Gandini was explaining very clearly what he intended to do. The audience was quieter than the grave, hanging on every word.

  “So,” concluded Gandini, “someone in this audience will be selected at random. They will be given a bullet. They will mark that bullet in a distinctive way and then they will insert that marked bullet into the barrel of the gun. They will then fire the gun from the auditorium directly at me, and I will catch the bullet in my mouth.” He smiled at the audience. “And not a hair on my head will be harmed.”

  The audience broke out in excited cheers and shouts. Even the Tanner Street boys looked impressed at Gandini’s calm bravery. Gandini raised a hand and silence once again cloaked the room.

  “Effie, please show the audience the gun.”

  Effie lifted the gun and held it high in the air so that it caught the light.

  “It is an ordinary gun. It has not been tampered with. Would anyone like to examine it, to verify the truth of this statement?”

  Some men near the front raised their hands. Effie went over to them and handed them the gun. They examined it and announced their satisfaction that it was not a fake or adapted in any way.

  “I want to see it,” shouted the Tanner Street boy with the scar on his face, who had pushed his way down from the gallery.

  Gandini smiled. “Ah, my young friend, you may examine it by all means.” He nodded to Effie, and she gave the unloaded gun to the young man, who looked at it carefully.

  “It’s no fake,” he shouted.

  Rose glanced at Thomas. It was clever of Gandini to get the Tanner Street boys on his side.

  “But if anyone still thinks that it is, I will give you a little demonstration.” Gandini produced two bullets from his pocket, held them up and beckoned Effie over. Then he inserted the bullets into the gun. He nodded again at Effie, who disappeared offstage and returned holding a small Chinese-style pot in each hand.

  Effie stood with both arms outstretched, balancing a pot in either palm. Gandini raised the gun and took aim. Rose sensed Thomas half rising from his seat, a look of panic on his face and the word “no” forming on his lips, but he was too late. Two quick shots rang out and the pots both shattered. Effie hadn’t even flinched. There was a shocked silence and then the crowd roared. Thomas settled back in his seat, wiping the sweat from his brow. He was angry.

  “He didn’t tell me he was planning to take potshots at Effie.” Rose placed a hand on his arm to calm him.

  “Now,” said Gandini, “to the main event.” He held the gun up in one hand and produced another bullet. He looked slowly around the audience, fixing them with his gaze. “Who is the man or woman who is brave enough to aim the same loaded gun at me and pull the trigger?” He kneeled and picked up a large shard of pot as if to underline the gravity of what he was saying.

  “You, sir?” he asked a man in the front. The man shook his head quickly.

  “What about you, madam?” Another head was shaken.

  “Mr Campion? Will you oblige me?”

  “I must decline, Mr Gandini,” said Thomas. “It wouldn’t feel right to go round shooting the artistes.” Everyone laughed.

  “Mr Stratford-Mark?” The theatre owner looked surprised at being addressed. But then he reached towards the cushion in a surprisingly graceful gesture, picked up the gun and turned it over and over in his hands as if caressing it. He looked up and met Gandini’s eye.

  “Not me,” he said quietly.

  “Are there no volunteers? If not I will have to ask my charming assistant, Miss Effie, to do the deed. But I would prefer a volunteer from the audience.”

  “I’ll do it,” said Edward quietly, but he didn’t sound at all happy at the prospect. Lydia looked surprised. Clearly Edward hadn’t shared the plan with her, but she clapped and pressed his hand to her cheek.

  “M’lud, I am most honoured,” said Gandini with a bow. He walked over to Edward, who rose to his feet. He handed him the bullet and Edward marked it with a spot of red paint and then inserted it in the gun.

  As Gandini leaned over to take the gun back again, Rose saw him look directly at Lydia, and she thought she heard him murmur something to her very quietly. She thought he might have whispered the words “I know; I’ll stop it”, but if he did, nobody else seemed to hear, and it made no impression on Lydia’s demeanour. She stared straight ahead, her face a beautiful mask. Gandini placed the gun on the cushion and Effie held it aloft for all to see.

  Then he invited Edward to step forward and stand on a marked square on the floor in front of the stage. He made a great play of getting Edward to stand in exactly the right spot. Edward was very pale, as if he now regretted his rashness in volunteering to shoot Gandini. Gandini turned to Effie, who was by his side.

  “I will now take my place, and then you will hand the gun to his Lordship and count to three. On the count of three he will fire it directly at my mouth, and I will catch the bullet between my teeth.” Gandini turned and walked back on to the stage. All eyes were fixed on him. He turned around to face the audience and stared out back at them, his face and eyes grave. The air was thick with silence. Then he nodded to Effie, who handed the gun to Edward. Edward’s hand trembled. He slowly raised the gun as if to take aim. Rose sensed Lydia starting to rise to her feet, Edward’s name forming on her lips, but she hesitated as Edward’s arm went slack and he dropped the gun. There was a buzz of both disappointment and excitement as the tension broke.

  “I’m sorry. I can’t do it,” said Edward ruefully. The words were barely out of his mouth before Lydia was by his side, swooping down to pick up the fallen pistol. Her head almost collided with Effie’s as the woman and girl both reached for the pistol, but Lydia’s hand reached for it first and swept it up. All eyes were on Edward.

  “I’m sorry, Gandini – I thought I could shoot at you but I can’t bring myself to do it. There is too much at stake. What if I killed you? I’d never forgive myself.”

  Gandini nodded. “I quite understand. It has happened to many men before you. It goes against all human instincts to deliberately shoot at a man in cold blood,” he said, but his voice was tight.

  He walked to Effie, who was holding the pistol she had rescued from Lydia. He plucked it from her hand and rested it almost reverently on the cushion on the table. The gun gleamed menacingly. If all had gone according to plan, and Edward had fired, Gandini would now be bowing in triumph. But instead he was once more facing the uncertainty of having the gun fired directly at him. Effie ushered Edward and Lydia back to their seats. Edward looked a little bashful; Lydia was unusually ruffled, as if she was flustered. Once they were settled, Gandini gazed around the audience.

  “Would somebody else like to volunteer?”

  The room fell silent.

  “I’ll do it,” came a voice. Everyone turned to look. It was Billy Procter. He walked to the cushion and picked the pistol up. He weighed it in his hand and turned it over, as if examining it.

  “Ah, Mr Proctor,” said Gandini with a silky smile. “You are quite sure that you are up to the task?” There was a moment of hesitation in Billy Proctor’s demeanour. “Quite, quite certain?” asked Gandini again. Rose saw that the inspector was looking at Billy and frowning.

  “Maybe not,” said Billy, and he flushed beetroot red and replaced the gun on the cushion, knocking the table so that the pistol clattered to the floor and skidded towards the side of the stage. There were a few whistles of derision but Gandini silenced them with his hand. Tobias Fraggles appeared from the side of the stage, retrieved the gun and placed it back on the cushion. Gandini smiled at Effie.

  “Then it appears that my delightful assistant, Miss Effie, will have to step into the breach. I know that she will not falter. Are you willing, my dear?”

  “Yes, Mr Gandini. I will do it,” said Effie, her voice loud and clear.

  The audience cheered. Gandini raised a hand.

  “Complete silence, please.”

  Once again Gandini took his place near
the back of the stage. Effie picked up the gun from the cushion and stood in the marked square. She raised the gun and took aim. Thomas shifted uncomfortably in his seat. Lydia’s eyes glittered feverishly. Edward was almost wincing. Billy had his eyes half closed.

  “One,” said Effie confidently.

  “Two.” Her hand didn’t shake.

  “Three,” she shouted, and as she did so she pulled the trigger and a shot rang out. Gandini staggered back, a look of astonishment on his face.

  “Treachery! My assistant! … My…” he gasped in low voice that only those close to the stage could hear, and he fell forward and lay quite motionless. There was a moment of silence before the first person began to scream.

  20

  Effie stood like a statue, holding the still-smoking pistol, a look of horror frozen on her face as others, including Rose, raced to the aid of the fallen magician. Then she took a dazed step forward, dropped the gun and ran towards Gandini’s body. Rose tried to stop Effie forcing her way through the small crowd of people including Inspector Cliff, Thomas, Edward and Billy Proctor, who were gathered around him creating a human barrier. But Effie was like a wild, distressed animal. She was shouting, “No! No! No!” Gandini had fallen face forward but the inspector, with help from some of the men, was turning the conjuror’s prone body over. As they turned Gandini there was a tiny sound and something small, white and bloodied hit the stage floor and began to roll. The inspector stopped it and picked it up. Gandini was lying on his back now, quite clearly dead. There was a small, dark round hole near his left temple, where Rose could just see a few strands of sandyish hair that had grown out. The inspector gazed at the hole and then looked down at the small object in his open palm.

  “This is quite clearly what did the damage,” he said. “Does anyone recognise it?”

  Rose’s heart stuttered. She saw Edward turn ashen and Thomas’s hand go to his mouth, and then Effie said in a tiny voice, “It’s my pearl. My lucky pearl. The one Edward gave me.” Effie’s hand clutched her neck. The pearl and ribbon were gone. She began to cry, the heart-breaking whimpers of a wounded animal.

  “Effie,” said the inspector gently, “did you put the pearl in the gun?” Effie shook her head. “Effie, do you have any idea how the pearl got in the gun and who put it there?”

  Effie was overcome by weeping. “No.”

  “Are you quite sure that you couldn’t have accidently inserted the pearl into the barrel of the gun?”

  Effie’s tears turned to anger. “Of course not,” she said indignantly. “I’d never do such a thing. I know the dangers. Mr Gandini taught me well. I know that putting the pearl in the gun and firing it at someone would be a murderous thing to do.”

  The word “murderous” hung in the air.

  “Effie,” said the inspector, “tell me exactly how the trick is supposed to work.”

  “The marked bullet is placed in the chamber by the volunteer, but then while Gandini is distracting the audience by placing the volunteer in exactly the right place on stage, I substitute the marked bullet for a wax one and slip Gandini the marked bullet.”

  “So,” said the inspector, “when the gun is fired, the wax bullet is ejected but the heat melts it so it causes no damage, even if it hits Mr Gandini?” Effie nodded tearfully. “And you made the substitution after Lord Easingford had loaded the gun with his marked bullet?” Effie nodded again. “And nobody else could have tampered with it?”

  Effie shook her head. “Only meself, Gandini, Edward and Lydia touched the gun after it was loaded, and Lydia barely at all. Oh, and Billy Proctor, but I was watching him like a hawk cos I never much cared for the fellow. And Tobias Fraggles, one of the stagehands. But I had me eye on him too. It would be impossible for all but the most skilled magician to make such a substitution. Not without everyone seeing what was happening.”

  “And you have no doubts that you loaded a wax bullet, not the pearl?”

  But Effie was no longer listening. She had sunk to her knees by Gandini’s body and began whispering, “Forgive me, forgive me,” over and over.

  “Effie,” said the inspector, much less gently. “What does Mr Gandini have to forgive you for?”

  Effie raised her head, her eyes like pools. “I should have checked again. After the trick was halted when Edward lost his nerve. I should have checked the wax bullet was still in place. Instead I just pulled the trigger. I’m a murderer.”

  There were protests from all the Campion’s folk.

  “You’re not a murderer, Effie,” said Rose. “It was a terrible accident.”

  “No,” said Effie. “Mr Gandini always said that there was no such thing as a fatal accident, only fatal stupidity. It was my fault. I wasn’t careful enough and I killed him.”

  The inspector looked sorrowfully at Effie.

  “Effie, what was your relationship like with Mr Gandini? Did you get on well?”

  “Yes,” whispered Effie. “He was very kind to me.”

  “Are you telling the truth? Because if that is true, why were Mr Gandini’s dying words ‘treachery’ and ‘my assistant’?”

  Effie shook her head, bewildered. Another policeman appeared by Inspector Cliff’s side. He whispered something in his ear and showed him something in his hand. The inspector looked hard at Effie.

  “Effie Madley, I’m arresting you for the murder of Mr Gandini.”

  There was a howl of protest from Rose, Thomas, Edward and all the Campion’s staff. Thomas stepped forward and put his hand on Effie’s shoulder, and Rose was suddenly aware that Lydia was now by her side. Lydia flung her arms around Effie in a theatrical gesture of comfort, and even in this moment of turmoil Rose thought how like Lydia it was to claim the centre of attention. Effie said nothing and didn’t move, her arms poker straight at her sides, as if she was locked in a world of her own.

  “Inspector,” said Thomas, “surely you can see that Effie cannot be held responsible…”

  The inspector raised a hand to silence him. “Mr Campion. I’m afraid the evidence suggests otherwise. There has been a death, Mr Campion, and I must do my duty. I’m afraid that means I’m also arresting you, Mr Campion, for negligence, and issuing an order for the immediate and indefinite closure of Campion’s Palace of Varieties and Wonders.”

  Rose sat quite alone in an empty Campion’s. The place was deserted, sullen and silent, as if it resented having been abandoned. She had gone to Newgate Prison that morning with Mr Cherryble to try and see Thomas, but without success, and she had also written to Julia Devonish at Holloway asking if she might be permitted to visit Effie, but without much hope of achieving anything. Mr Cherryble had patted her hand and hurried away after their failed Newgate visit, telling her he was sure that he would soon be able to get Thomas released, as the police had no evidence that he had been involved in the shooting of Gandini. He seemed far less confident about securing Effie’s release.

  “Inspector Cliff says there is some significant evidence against her, although he has not yet divulged what it is, and of course there is the fact that nobody but Effie had the opportunity or skills to tamper with the gun in full sight of the entire Campion’s audience.” Mr Cherryble shook his head. “It doesn’t look good for little Effie, particularly as it is common knowledge that her mother was in Holloway for stealing. It counts against her.”

  Rose slumped miserably, her head in her hands. She felt useless and helpless and very alone. The thought of poor Effie incarcerated in the very same prison where her mother had been imprisoned and died was unbearable. Surely Inspector Cliff and the police would come to their senses and realise that Effie couldn’t possibly be responsible for killing Gandini? But how to explain the fact that Gandini had been shot dead by the pearl that belonged to Effie? The substitution of the pearl for the wax bullet couldn’t have been a mistake. Whoever had done it must have known that when the gun was fired, it was certain to kill Gandini. But how had it happened? The only people to touch the gun other than Effie were Edward and L
ydia, and Billy Proctor and Tobias, and in his dying words Gandini had appeared to point the finger directly at Effie. But why on earth would she try to kill him?

  Could Edward have been responsible? Rose had promised Effie that she would put all thoughts of Edward being involved in the disappearance of the Doomstone out of her mind, and accept that Amy had stolen it and taken it to the bottom of the Thames with her. But she couldn’t help thinking that what had happened to Gandini must be connected with the theft of the Doomstone. It was too much of a coincidence to think otherwise. It felt as if the curse of the Doomstone was spreading – so many people present on the night of its disappearance had been affected. Somebody had been prepared to try to kill Lydia to get it, Amy and Gandini were both dead, Jem was lying in hospital seriously beaten up, Effie and Thomas were in prison, Rose’s friendship with Aurora was broken, and Campion’s itself was closed down indefinitely.

  She felt bereft. She had lost Thomas, her friends, her Campion’s “family” and the only place she had ever had to call home. But even so, she knew all this loss was nothing beside what Effie was facing if she was found guilty of killing Gandini. She was pulled from her daze by the sound of knocking at the bolted stage door and her name being called. She ran to the door and slid back the heavy bolt.

  Aurora stood there, dressed in everyday street clothes, her hair untidy and a large smudge of soot on her nose. For a second the two girls stared at each other hesitantly, and then they fell into each other’s arms, crying.

  “Oh, Rosie,” wept Aurora. “I had to come. Effie! Thomas! It’s like a waking nightmare.”

  “Yes,” whispered Rose. “If I didn’t know better I’d think it was something to do with the curse of the Doomstone.”