by Ben Hammott
"The explanation is simple, greed! I learned of the brothers lost inheritance and how much it's rumoured to be worth, so I thought why have crumbs when you can have the whole cake."
"So you came here to steal Ebenezer's painting, that I understand, but how will that help you? You must know both paintings are required to find out where the treasure is hidden."
"I must admit, my current plan was not my first, but when I saw someone, who I now assume to be you, also disguised to look like me and take that damn fool of an actor's place in the carriage, I thought you must be a thief hired by Ebenezer to steal Sebastian's painting. This was good, as it left me free to concentrate on stealing Ebenezer's. I would then steal Sebastian's from you if you managed to steal it, which, because you are here, I assume is something you have already done."
Furtive nodded. "But you still don't know where either of the paintings are hidden?"
"You or Butler will have hidden Sebastian's upstairs somewhere," he glanced at the half destroyed bookcases, "the other is in here. Soon both will be in my possession and the brothers' lost inheritance shortly after."
"I must say I am impressed, if very doubtful you will succeed."
"Okay, I'll play your little game a while longer. Why are you doubtful?"
There was a change in the hunchback that worried Furtive. He had suddenly grown more confident. "What game would that be?"
Without turning his gaze away from Furtive, Crakett thrust the arm holding the pistol to aim at Butler a few steps behind. "The game where your accomplice creeps up behind me and cracks me on the head, of course."
"Oh, that game," said Furtive.
Butler froze with the hand gripping the pistol by the barrel paused above his head.
"I suggest, Butler, you drop the weapon before I am tempted to send a bullet speeding toward your heart."
Butler's pistol clattered to the floor.
"You should have shot me while you had the chance," said Crakett.
"So that's where I went wrong. How silly of me. Would you mind if I had another go?"
Crakett motioned with the pistol. "Come and stand beside your friend."
"Friend is pushing it a bit. I hardly know the man."
"Thanks for that, Butler. Another name to cross off my Christmas card list."
Butler looked at him doubtfully.
"What's that look for? You think I don't have any friends to send cards to? Well, you're wrong. I have many."
Butler's doubt remained.
"There's Lurch for one, Ebenezer, for two. Arthur the actor. Yes, I tied him up, but he seems a forgiving kind of person. Now let me see, who else…"
"Shut up. What in god's name is wrong with you two? Don't you realize the situation you are in? God give me strength. I feel like putting a bullet in my brain just to put an end to this madness."
"Don't let us stop you," said Furtive.
"But if you do shoot your brains out, would it be possible to aim the pistol away from me?" He stroked a hand over his sleeve. "You see, brains are so hard to remove from wool."
"Shut up both of you. You're giving me a headache."
"Maybe you should go upstairs and lie down for a while until it passes, Sir. We'll wait here, won't we Shadow?"
"As sure as lamb is mutton," Furtive stated firmly.
Crakett took a deep breath to calm himself. "I believe you two fail to recognize the advantage I have."
"What advantage would that be then?" Furtive asked.
Crakett waved the pistol in his face. "This advantage."
"Hmmm, yes, though it does seem that way, I'm quite convinced you believe you have more of an advantage than you actually do. There are two of us and if my observation is correct, as it normally is, the pistol you hold steadily aimed at Butler's heart is a single shot. As soon as you pull the trigger I shall be upon you before the bullet enters its victim's flesh and you will be dead before Butler falls to the ground."
"Um, let's not be too hasty with these assumptions. I'd prefer a solution where my body did not end up on the ground, I mean just look at it. It's damp and there's mold and mildew on everything. My clothes would be ruined."
"I think, with that particular scenario, Butler, damage to your clothes should not be the most drastic outcome you should be focusing on." He turned to Furtive. "Now, whoever you are, because Shadow you certainly are not or I would be dead, to answer your concern about two against one." A pistol, which he pulled from under his coat so swiftly it was almost impossible to notice the man had actually moved, appeared in his other hand with it steadily pointed at Furtive.
Furtive stared down the barrel of the menacing weapon. "Well, I am certainly glad we cleared that little matter up."
"I've had enough of all this time wasting. Butler, where has Ebenezer hidden his painting?"
"I'm sure I have no idea. I know it's down here somewhere, but I was never allowed to stay when Ebenezer removed it from its hiding place."
Crakett thrust the pistol in Butler's face. "I don't believe you."
"That may be, Crakett, but that doesn't automatically mean I am lying. Believe me, there is nothing more likely to persuade me to speak the absolute truth than that tarnished thing perched at the end of my nose. Don't you ever clean it? Look, give it here; I have some excellent stuff upstairs that will have it looking like new in no time."
With eyes filled with suspicion, Crakett glared at the two men. "You two are up to something." Keeping the weapons trained on his captives, Crakett shot a quick glance behind. He saw nothing to cause him concern and focused his attention back on his captives. "I'll tell you what, I'll give you ten seconds to tell me where it is or I shall shoot your friend."
Butler glanced toward the entrance. "Has someone I like arrived?"
"He means me," said Furtive, sulkily.
Crakett began counting down. "Ten…nine…"
"Hey, hold on a minute, you are counting too fast," Furtive said. "You should say, ten elephants…nine elephants, and so on, that's how you count real seconds."
Crakett smirked. "eight…seven…"
"Sorry to interrupt your speed counting, Crackett," Butler apologized, "but is it alright if I took a step to the side. It's the blood spray I'm worried about. The wool suit you see."
"You so much as twitch and I'll put a large hole directly over your heart in that damn precious suit of yours." He focused back on Furtive. "Now, where was I?"
"Nine, I believe, Sir," said Furtive, hopefully.
"Six…five…!"
"It's very musty down here don't you think, Crakett? I'd like to go outside and breathe in the fresh air and let it out in a long gasp to clear the lungs."
Crakett and Furtive looked at him strangely.
"You are going nowhere, Butler," Crakett told him.
Butler looked at Furtive. "Yes, a nice big breath of air is what is needed to clear the lungs of this foul air."
"Stop talking!" ordered Crakett. "Four…three…"
A look of recognition appeared on Furtive's face. He smiled. It wasn't very cunning, but it should be very effective.
"Two…"
Furtive drew in a lungful of air and let it out in a violent whoosh directed at Crakett's face.
"One!" Furtive's breath dived into Crakett's mouth and clawed its way up his nose. Crakett gagged. His eyes watered. His stomach heaved. His lips screamed.
Furtive grinned and knocked the gun aside as the hunchback's finger squeezed the trigger. The bullet buried itself in the moldy stuffing beside his head. The loud retort echoed around the chamber before fading to a whisper.
Butler wrenched the other weapon from the man's hand, turned it over, gripped the barrel, brought the butt down on Crakett's head and quickly moved away from the drifting cloud of vomit inducing breath.
Crakett's consciousness heaved a sigh of relief and went to sleep. His body slumped to the ground.
Shadow, watching proceedings from halfway across the room, encountered the dissipating tendrils of Craket
t's foul breath. With hands firmly clamped over nose and mouth, the urge to gag and run screaming from the cavern suppressed, the thief assassin slunk to a safer distance.
"Great idea of yours, that, Butler. I've never thought as using me smelly breath as a weapon before."
Butler, who had retreated a safe distance away and covered his face with his hands, nodded. "Just promise when I am around, you'll only use it in a dire emergency."
"For you, Butler, anything. By the way, yer weren't serious were yer, when yer told Crakett I'm not your friend?"
"As serious as you were about your Christmas card list."
Furtive tried to work out the meaning, but it was too much. He gave up and accepted that Butler had been joking and playing for time. "What do we do now?"
"We grab the painting and get out of here before Shadow turns up."
"Oh, yeah, I forgot about that complication. Yer really do know where the painting is then?"
"Of course! But first we need to do something about the hunchback." Butler thought for a few moments before deciding on a solution. "Do you have any rope in one of your bottomless pockets?"
"I'm a burglar, ain't I? Of course I've got rope." Furtive stuck a hand in a pocket. "Do yer have any preference to colour, thickness or weave?"
"I don't care as long as it's strong enough to keep Crakett secure. I'll send Lurch down to carry him up top."
When Crakett was tightly bound, Butler retrieved his pistol and headed for the exit.
Furtive was again confused. "I thought we were going to get the painting?"
"We are. It's not in this room."
Furtive followed Butler.
Shadow, at a safe distance, followed Furtive.
Butler halted at the edge of the wide natural pool, knelt, plunged a hand into the cold water and after a quick search reappeared with a chain gripped in his fingers. He pulled up the slack and then hoisted out a thin metal cylinder.
"Very sneaky, I never would have thought of looking in there."
"We hoped no one would. When Sebastian's attempts to get his hands on the painting became more aggressive, I suggested to Ebenezer we move it from the other room as it was a too obvious a hiding place. I suggested the pool would be far better and less obvious. I had this made and for the last two years this is where it has lain." Butler unscrewed one end of the watertight canister and tipped it up. Another slighter smaller metal container slid out. He dropped the larger tube on the floor and led Furtive up to the house.
With an impressed expression hidden beneath the black mask, Shadow paused to stare at the empty cylinder for a few moments. It was as Furtive said, a very sneaky hiding place and one that even Shadow would have overlooked. It was evidence that Butler was not a foe to be underestimated.
Butler and Furtive returned to the study. Lurch was sent to collect Crakett from the cavern and returned a few minutes later with the hunchback slung over one shoulder.
Butler had brought another dining chair from the nearby room and instructed Lurch to place him upon it. Furtive tied him securely with another length of rope fished from one of his pockets. Taking the opportunity to relax for a few moments, Butler and Furtive sat down and had a glass of brandy.
Arthur Milkwood studied the unconscious hunchback. "So that's the real Crakett Murdersin, is it?"
"As far as we know," said Butler.
Arthur looked at Butler hopefully. "Could you do me a favour?"
"If it's to scratch an itch in an embarrassing place, then no, I can't."
Arthur shook his head. "No, nothing like that. It's just, well, as you mentioned earlier, my performance during this charade has not exactly been of the standing ovation variety, which I once had for my performance of King Leer in Coventry." He paused to glance at Butler and Furtive, but when no form of congratulation was exhibited by either, he continued. "To this end, I believe Crakett's wiliness to pay me the fee we agreed on, might be a little bit lacking in enthusiasm."
"Quite a bit lacking I should say," said Furtive, puffing on another cigar that had magically appeared.
"I can see how that might be appropriate," agreed Butler.
"I believe this is an ideal opportunity for me to take what is rightly owed, because you see the fee was not dependant on a successful outcome, but for my services."
"When you say, 'an ideal opportunity,'" said Butler. "I assume you are alluding to Crakett's unconsciousness and being firmly tied to the chair?"
Arthur nodded. "I think it is the perfect moment."
"Also when you said, 'for me to take what is rightly owed', you actually mean you want me to search through the unconscious hunchback's pockets for any money he may have concealed about his person, and if I find sufficient funds, to take out your fee and stuff it in one of your pockets?"
Again Arthur nodded, but added a smile this time. "Plus any bonus you think I might be entitled to, but I'll leave that to your no doubt kind and generous consideration."
"While you're rummaging through his pockets, Butler, if yer come across his legendary fruit knife, I'll have it," said Furtive. "It'll be a nice little keepsake of this adventure."
"I am not rummaging through anyone's pockets. Your fee, Arthur, is something you'll have to discuss with Crakett at a later date." Butler took a sip of his drink.
"And the fruit knife… is that also off the table?" asked Furtive hesitantly.
Butler sighed, glanced at the clock and drained his glass. "It's almost midnight. I have to go and fetch Ebenezer." He stood and glanced at the two captives. "Lurch…"
"Oh, it's not more instructions, is it Mr. Butler? It's just I've had so many today my head is spinning."
"I was just going to say what a good job you have done tonight and I am proud of you."
Lurch's smile was so wide it reached behind his ears. "Thank you, Sir. I don't think anyone has ever been proud of me before."
"Well someone is now. I want you to stay in this room and guard the prisoners, can you do that?"
"Of course, Sir, it will be an honour."
Butler turned to look at Furtive. "You can help Lurch guard our two prisoners and the house while I'm away. Sebastian may yet have another trick or two up his sleeve and there is still Shadow to worry about."
Furtive gave Butler a mock salute. "I'll keep an eye on things, don't yer worry about that."
Butler plucked the cylinder from the table as he passed. "I don't like leaving both paintings in the same location, so I'll be taking this one with me." He ended the sentence with his eyes resting on Furtive.
Furtive blew out a stream of thick cigar smoke and grinned. "Probably a wise precaution under the circumstances."
"Yes, I thought so." Butler turned and headed toward the door. "I'll be back within the hour."
CHRISTMAS EVE BALL
Ebenezer's first glimpse of Havasham Hall that night was from the arched glow polluting the night sky. The carriage topped a low hill and there it was in all its glory; in Ebenezer's opinion a slap in the face to decorum. Whereas Ebenezer's house was as brightly lit as a Jewish Christmas tree, Havasham Hall would have made Oxford Street's Christmas lighting displays dim and understated in comparison. One almost needed sunglasses to look in its general direction. So bright was it, the moon was sulking.
Butler pulled the carriage to a halt at the end of a line of similar, but in far better condition, conveyances emptying their cargo of titled and wealthy passengers that stretched out from the building's large columned entrance. Butler climbed down, opened the carriage door and helped Ebenezer step down.
Ebenezer winced as his feet touched the gravel drive.
"Bunion's playing up, Sir?"
"It's these damn shoes. They are too tight. I should have worn my slippers," he grumbled.
"And how fine they would look with you dressed so smartly in your evening suit. I'm sure all in attendance would have commented on them, Sir."
"Bah! But at least I would have been comfortable."
"Would you like me to esco
rt you inside, Sir?"
"I'm not a child. I can walk to the door unaccompanied."
"As you wish, Sir."
"Anyway, you have much to do tonight. If it all goes to plan, your plan, it will be worth all the pain and suffering I will endure this night, and I don't just mean from these damn bunions."
"I'm sure it will, Sir. The only unknown is the full extent of your brother's scheme to acquire your painting."
Ebenezer's stare was both stern and pleading. "He must not get it. I…we, will be ruined if he does. You must ensure whatever he has planned fails."
"I will do my best, Sir, of that you can be certain."
"Well, let's hope for both our sakes your best is adequate." Ebenezer turned away and using his cane as support, hobbled as gracefully as he could muster toward the front entrance. "Pick me up at midnight."
Butler watched him go. "Yes, Sir." He climbed onto the carriage, encouraged the two horses to start moving, turned in a wide circle and headed back to Drooge Manor and the forthcoming night's activities.
Ebenezer climbed the marble steps and entered Havasham Hall.
"Oh, look, Ebenezer Drooge has arrived," called out a woman's voice.
Ebenezer handed his hat, coat and gloves to the doorman and turned to see who had mentioned his name. His hosts, Mr. and Mrs. Havasham, walked over with warm smiles on their faces.
Mr. Havasham held out a hand on their arrival. "Ebenezer Drooge, how wonderful it is to see you again."
Ebenezer felt obliged to take hold of the offered hand in his bony grasp. "Well, don't think the greeting is returned. I'm only here because it's a family tradition, not because I find it or the people in attendance particularity pleasurable."
The couple laughed.
Mrs. Havasham smiled and grabbed Ebenezer's hand before he could hide it down by his side. "Still the same grumpy Ebenezer." She released his reluctant grasp, took his arm and led him into the large marbled hallway.
Music and the babble of confused conversation and laughter drifted out of the ballroom filled with people drinking, chatting and dancing.
A waiter holding a tray of drinks balanced on one hand approached. He leaned forward stiffly and proffered the tray at Ebenezer. "Champagne, Sir?"
