The Vulture of Sommerset

by Stephen M. Giles

  ‘Hush!’ commanded the doctor.

  Isabella giggled, pointing at the old man. ‘Only two days and you look like that? Oh my, by the end of the week there will be nothing left of you but a puddle of skin on the floor.’

  ‘One more word from you,’ warned Dr Mangrove, ‘and I will let your maid do as she pleases.’

  Rather sensibly Isabella held her tongue – not that Hannah was paying any attention.

  ‘You said we would be off this island by nightfall.’ She kicked the bronze duck across the chamber. ‘You promised! What are we to do now?’

  Slowly the old man bent down and picked up the mallet, replacing it on the wall beside the other objects of torture. ‘We require Isabella’s cooperation,’ he said. ‘In order to gain it we must first offer her some encouragement.’

  ‘There is nothing you could offer that would make me tell,’ said Isabella, wiping the blood from her arm with a handkerchief. ‘Nothing at all.’

  ‘That is where you are wrong,’ said Dr Mangrove.

  Without warning two torches sparked to life behind the wall of glass, thanks to a small remote control in Dr Mangrove’s hand. The restless orange fire flickered above the two chairs, illuminating Aunt Rosemary and Levi in gloomy detail.

  ‘I built these chairs many moons ago,’ said Dr Mangrove, ambling towards the glass wall. ‘I confess they were very crude . . . but most effective. A few years ago, at your uncle’s request, I was able to improve upon my creation. But I never had the opportunity to test the chair with a live subject. Until now.’ With a click of his remote control the glass door flew open and Dr Mangrove entered the sealed room, walking towards his subjects. He stopped before the large rectangular box adorned with gauges and switches. ‘This machine gives me complete control over whoever sits in those chairs. I can wake them up, send them to sleep, make them laugh, make them scream. Right at this moment I am allowing them to breathe, but that privilege will not continue unless you cooperate, my dear.’ He grinned at Isabella, running his tongue across a row of cracked teeth the colour of pineapple. ‘Allow me to demonstrate.’

  ‘Really, Doctor, that is not necessary,’ said Isabella anxiously.

  ‘Turn it on, Dr Mangrove,’ said Hannah, her eyes glistening like a hungry tiger’s. ‘Show her what you can do.’

  The doctor turned a black knob to the left and flicked a switch here and there before moving to the side of the box and pulling down a large lever. The machine let out a sharp buzz, like an alarm clock going off, and in an instant Aunt Rosemary and Levi were wide awake. Unable to move their heads due to the restraints, the bewildered duo was reduced to exploring the world around them with mad, jutting eyes which darted back and forth like spectators at a tennis match.

  ‘Over here, Aunt Rosemary!’ shouted Isabella. ‘I’m over here!’

  Her aunt’s gaze swept wildly about the chamber. When her eyes finally found Isabella and she saw the girl chained to the wall, her arm stained with blood, Rosemary began to scream. But her cry had nowhere to go, sealed as it was behind the thick black tape gagging her mouth.

  ‘Please, Aunt Rosemary,’ yelled Isabella, ‘do not be upset. We will get out of here, I promise you we will.’

  While Hannah sneered and muttered that none of the Winterbottoms would make it out of the secret room alive, Isabella noticed with growing alarm that Dr Mangrove had busied himself at his odious contraption, pushing more buttons and turning each knob sharply to the right. Once again he approached the lever at the side of the machine. As he gripped the handle he cast a benevolent smile across the chamber.

  ‘Will you tell me where the Vulture of Sommerset is hidden?’ he asked Isabella.

  The girl looked at her aunt and Levi. She saw the pleading in their eyes and understood it. ‘No,’ she said, shaking her head slowly. ‘My aunt would never forgive me if I helped you . . . and I would never forgive myself.’

  ‘My dear Isabella,’ said Dr Mangrove. ‘I will ask you the question once more. But only once. Think on this most carefully.’

  He pulled down on the lever and a faint buzz crackled to life and began to charge the air. In mere seconds Aunt Rosemary’s body began to twitch and jolt, her eyes rolling back until only the whites remained, and thick tufts of black smoke rose up around her. Isabella let out a curdling scream. Levi was faring no better, his small body convulsing as small blisters popped up on his face and hands.

  ‘Stop!’ cried Isabella, cowering behind her hands. ‘STOP IT!’

  With a flick of Dr Mangrove’s wrist the heavy lever was pulled back and the electric charge vanished from the air as quickly as it had arrived. Aunt Rosemary and Levi had slipped into unconsciousness, both of their faces blackened by smoke and ash.

  ‘You know the question,’ said Dr Mangrove, stepping through the glass door. ‘What is your answer?’

  Isabella found that she could not look out from behind her hands. She heard Mangrove’s shuffling footsteps coming to a halt in front of her.

  ‘Well, my dear?’

  ‘The piano,’ she whispered. ‘The Vulture is hidden in the grand piano.’

  THE VANISHING DECOY

  ‘It’s gone.’

  Adele let the short section of board drop from her fingers and watched as it fell easily into place beside the other planks of polished cedar on the floor of Isabella’s vast wardrobe. The board was worn down on one side, making it easy to pick up and therefore an ideal place to hide an object that you wished to be found – like a decoy.

  ‘The traitor took it,’ said Adele, getting to her feet. If the girl had had any doubts that Isabella had been snatched by Dr Mangrove, they were swept away when she set her eyes upon the empty space underneath the floorboard.

  ‘But we cannot say for certain that Isabella was kidnapped,’ said Milo. He was standing next to Mrs Hammer, who was muttering to herself about dark days and wicked deeds.

  ‘No, we cannot say for certain,’ agreed Adele, ‘but the evidence is hard to ignore. We know Isabella was in the kitchen late last night eating pie, and we know her ribbon was found early this morning near the elevator. Isabella would never leave a ribbon lying on the ground. Especially that one, which I know is a favourite. And Thorn has been prowling around the entrance hall all morning right where the ribbon was found.’

  ‘I finally had to lure him away with a side of pork,’ said Mrs Hammer, unable to hide her irritation. ‘My girls refused to cross the entrance hall with Thorn in there growling and carrying on.’

  ‘He knows Isabella has been taken,’ said Adele.

  ‘He does?’ said Milo, cocking his eyebrow.

  ‘He knows,’ said Adele again. ‘Perhaps Thorn saw who took her. He must have come down with Isabella last night. I’m quite certain the traitor would not have been able to come in here and steal the decoy if Thorn had been around.’

  ‘That’s true enough,’ said Mrs Hammer, scratching at her chin. ‘Miss Isabella fed him most of this week’s buffalo meat and she left a trail of cracked pepper on my counter top.’

  ‘I think Isabella was snatched in the elevator,’ announced Adele.

  ‘How can you be certain?’ said Milo.

  ‘I can’t, not for sure. But it makes sense. Isabella’s ribbon was found right outside the cage doors, and that’s right where Aunt Rosemary’s rose was found the night she vanished.’

  ‘If Isabella has been captured, why have we not received a ransom note?’ said Mrs Hammer.

  ‘That’s a good question,’ said Adele, sitting down on the edge of Isabella’s bed.

  The room fell into a bleak silence and Milo gently closed the wardrobe door. Finally he said, ‘If the traitor took the bait and has the duck then Dr Mangrove must know by now that he has been set up.’

  ‘He won’t be happy,’ said Adele gravely. ‘The decoy was planted in Isabella’s room; Dr Mangrove will know she was in on it.’

  ‘And he will probably guess that she knows where the real Vulture is hidden,’ said Milo, his heart burning.r />
  ‘He will do anything to make her tell him,’ whispered Adele.

  ‘Mercy,’ whispered Mrs Hammer. ‘The poor, wretched child!’

  ‘If he hurts her I will . . .’ Milo buried his clenched fists in the pockets of his jacket, muttering, ‘I will make him sorry.’

  Adele got to her feet again and walked to the window, where she paced back and forth, turning over in her mind this new discovery. ‘Mrs Hammer, have all of the servants reported for duty this morning?’

  ‘I should think so, miss,’ said Mrs Hammer, who kept a list of which maids and butlers were scheduled to work and in what areas of the house. ‘I haven’t had word that anyone is missing.’

  ‘It was just a thought,’ said Adele, looking deflated. ‘I should have known better. The traitor is much too clever to get caught out reporting late for work.’

  ‘Traitor?’ said Mrs Hammer.

  Adele took a deep breath. ‘Mrs Hammer, we believe that someone on your staff has been working with Dr Mangrove. I think Levi knew it too, and that’s why he was taken.’

  ‘Mercy!’ The old woman’s legs gave way and she slumped into an armchair. ‘But who . . . who would do such a devilish thing?’

  ‘We don’t know,’ answered Adele.

  ‘I realise this is a terrible thing to say,’ said Milo, ‘but do you think Isabella will tell Dr Mangrove – about the real location of the Vulture, I mean?’

  ‘If she does we cannot blame her,’ said Adele. ‘We all know what the doctor is capable of . . .’ The girl felt a surge of torment so powerful it made her tremble. ‘We must assume that one way or another he will find out where the Vulture is really hidden.’

  ‘Then we must move it immediately,’ declared Milo.

  ‘No,’ said Adele, ‘I don’t think we should.’

  Milo was frowning. ‘But why?’

  ‘Because it is our best chance of finding the secret room,’ said Adele. ‘We must keep watch over the Vulture and hope the traitor comes to call.’

  ‘And if the fiend does come for the Vulture,’ said Mrs Hammer anxiously, ‘what then?’

  ‘That is the easy part,’ said Adele. ‘We let them take it.’

  ‘Wait, my dear.’

  Dr Mangrove walked slowly through the dim passageway, reaching Hannah Spoon as she stepped onto the platform far beneath the entrance hall.

  ‘Don’t worry, Doctor,’ she said, her eyes blazing with confidence, ‘it is safe for me to go up. The east wing is being cleaned today so the entrance hall will be deserted. I know what I have to do. The Vulture of Sommerset will be yours within the hour.’

  ‘Do not be a fool,’ snapped the doctor. ‘Go up by all means, but if you act in haste the whole mission could be jeopardised. Be cautious, my dear. We are near the finish line but now is not the time to take unnecessary risks.’ His beady eyes regarded her coldly. ‘Straighten your uniform and pin down your cap properly. To the world above you are still a humble servant – as obedient as you are innocent. We must not give anyone reason to think otherwise. The Winterbottom children are not stupid and we must assume they will know by now that we have taken that ridiculous duck. They will also know that Isabella has vanished. If they have not moved the Vulture from the piano then you can be sure they are watching it closely.’

  ‘Yes,’ said Hannah, sliding the last pin into her cap, ‘you’re right. I’m sorry for being so hasty. I will take my time . . . I’ll try to find out what they know before I do anything.’

  ‘Very good.’ Mangrove’s smile was ghoulish, the worn muscles in his face barely able to lift the wilting flesh of his cheeks. ‘The grand piano is an ideal haven for the bird of prey. The only person who ever plays it is the boy’s grandfather, and he is away on tour. Yes, very clever.’

  ‘I should go. Mrs Hammer will be wondering where I am.’

  ‘Just a moment, my dear.’ He opened his coat and removed a small dagger, passing it to the girl. ‘In case there are any complications. I know you will do your best to be discreet, but should you meet any resistance, any at all – remove it.’

  Hannah’s smile was luminous. ‘Yes, Doctor. I will do whatever it takes.’

  The bucket entered the bright, airy room before she did, pushed along by the mop which rose up out of the soapy water. The maid shut the door behind her and gave a satisfied sigh as she looked around – alone at last! The music room had large bay windows on two sides, polished oak floors and a curved ceiling painted with harp-playing cherubs sitting on plump clouds. Every pocket of the room was devoted, not surprisingly, to the playing of fine music. There were two cellos, several priceless violins in a glass cabinet, a collection of rare kettledrums, a handful of trumpets and horns and a gilded harp that had once belonged to a Spanish king. And in the very centre of the room, like the jewel in a musical crown, sat a 300-year-old grand piano carved from mahogany.

  Reaching into the pocket of her apron, the maid pulled out a square bag. Her nerves were aflutter but she reminded herself that nobody came near the music room when the maestro wasn’t at home. With that in mind she took a deep breath to calm herself and opened the parcel.

  ‘What are you doing in here?’

  The maid had her back to the door and had not heard it open. Startled, she clenched the bag shut, dropping it into her apron pocket before slowly turning around.

  ‘Miss Adele,’ said the maid, gulping.

  Adele stared at her for a few moments before entering the room. ‘I could have sworn Mrs Hammer told me she cleaned the music room yesterday,’ said Adele (knowing full well that this was true). ‘I must have misheard. Otherwise you wouldn’t be in here with your bucket and mop . . . would you?’

  ‘No, miss.’

  As Adele gazed at the young maid she tried to picture her as the traitor in action; sneaking about the halls, eavesdropping, holding clandestine meetings with Dr Mangrove. What would drive a sweet young girl with her whole life before her to make such a wicked pact? Was it a black heart or simple greed or even madness? And yet Adele could find none of these when she looked into Florence Puddle’s eyes.

  ‘Well,’ said Adele finally, ‘I should let you get back to work. I’m sorry to have disturbed you, Florence.’

  Adele smiled kindly and began to depart. If Florence was guilty it was vital that she did not feel the shadow of suspicion cast upon her. Clearly she would not make a grab for the Vulture unless she was certain of victory.

  ‘Miss Adele, wait!’

  ‘What is it, Florence?’ said Adele, turning around.

  ‘There’s something I have to tell you,’ answered the maid, her ears burning red (which they tended to do whenever she was upset or embarrassed). ‘You’ll find out when you speak to Mrs Hammer anyway so there’s no use trying to cover it up. I’m not really supposed to be in here, you see.’

  ‘You’re not?’

  ‘No, miss. You see, I come in here sometimes to eat my lunch.’ Florence dug into her apron pocket and pulled out a wrapped cheese sandwich. ‘I like sitting over by the window and looking out at the gardens. I know we’re not meant to eat in the main house but I never leave a mess and I don’t touch any of these fine instruments, I promise, miss.’

  ‘Oh . . . I see.’ The girl was as cunning as a fox! In fact, Adele found her honest face and pleading voice utterly convincing. She would have to tread very carefully. ‘Well, I don’t see why you shouldn’t eat your lunch in here, Florence. The view is lovely and it’s not as if anyone else is using the room. Let’s say no more about it.’

  Florence’s eyes widened. ‘Really, miss?’

  ‘There you are!’ came an excited voice as another young maid charged into the music room, all arms and legs, panting like a packhorse. Hannah Spoon acknowledged Adele with a shy ‘Afternoon, miss’ then turned to Florence. ‘You’d best hurry back to the kitchen. Cook is looking for you high and low and he’s in a foul mood. He says you must pick the spinach before you take your lunch break.’

  ‘Oh my,’ said Florence, gaspi
ng. ‘I’ll do it right away. Excuse me, Hannah, Miss Adele.’

  Adele smiled at her (which took some effort) and said, ‘Remember what I said, you’re welcome to eat your lunch in here any time, Florence.’

  ‘Thank you, miss!’

  As Florence raced from the music room, her wispy blonde hair flying from under her cap, Hannah began to giggle. ‘Poor Florence, she tries so hard to keep Cook happy.’

  ‘Does she?’ said Adele with considerable interest. ‘Do you . . . do you know her well?’

  ‘Not really, miss,’ said Hannah casually. ‘She’s only been here since the spring but I know how much she loves her job and this house. Even on her afternoons off she likes to stay close, wandering around looking at all the beautiful art and antiques. Mrs Hammer gets cross with her sometimes but I think it’s sweet. And she thinks the world of you and your cousins. There are times when I’ve seen her watching you all so closely, practically hanging off every word you say. I swear, miss, if I didn’t know better I’d think she was spying on you!’

  A chill was working its way over Adele’s flesh. ‘I had no idea she felt so strongly about us.’

  ‘Oh, she does, miss!’ Hannah shrugged, giggling again. ‘You are the world-famous Winterbottoms, after all.’

  ‘Not so world-famous, Hannah,’ said Adele sheepishly. ‘But please don’t tell Isabella that I said so.’

  ‘No, miss,’ said Hannah Spoon, but her smile had dissolved. She stared anxiously at Adele. ‘Forgive me, but I’m very worried about Miss Isabella. She wasn’t at breakfast and I was supposed to wash her hair before lunch but there was no sign of her. The whole house is full of whispers saying Miss Isabella’s been kidnapped. Please, miss, tell me it isn’t true.’