The Unpleasantness at Baskerville Hall (Reeves & Worcester Steampunk Mysteries Book 4) (10 page)

“The constable called him the Clerkenwell Cat.”

“That’s him,” said Morrow dejectedly.

“Will he really come looking for you, Morrow?” asked Henry.

“I fear he will. He has it in his head that I am his master — something which I assure you I never intended. It just ... happened.”

“But how would he know you’re here?” asked Stapleford. “You’ve only been here for six months.”

I mentioned the Daily Bugle article, but kept quiet about the shoes and the stomach. The air was charged enough as it was, and we consulting detectives don’t like to spread panic.

“Is he dangerous?” asked Ida.

Everyone looked at the unfortunate doctor. As did I. How does one say ‘deranged homicidal cannibal’ without causing panic?

The good doctor appeared lost for words, but, fortunately, I hit upon a few optimistic ones to fill the tense silence.

“The good news,” I said. “Is that he
has
eaten.”

“I don’t understand,” said Ida. “What’s that got to do with anything?”

“Morrow?” said Sir Robert.

“Perhaps we should discuss this in private, Sir Robert,” said Morrow. “There are ladies present.”

Ida stamped her foot. “No! Lily already knows. If she can take it, so can I.”

“Very well,” said Morrow. “Selden is a troubled individual — delusional. He ... he thinks he’s a cat.”

“Did you say cat?” asked Sir Robert.

“I did. As I said, he’s delusional and ... he kills people.”

“Does he chop their heads off like he did to Pasco?” asked Ida.

I felt for Morrow. I’ve frequently been in a similar posish — wishing to put a gloss on a tricky sitch and finding no such
mot juste
exists.

“Not exactly,” said Morrow.

“Out with it, man,” said Henry. “We need to know what we’re up against. Is he a strangler? A cut-throat? A brawler?”

“He ... kills like a cat,” said Morrow.

There was a considerable intaking of breath from the gathering.

“But he
has
eaten,” I said, deciding to move things along somewhat. “So no one’s in immediate danger.”

“When you say ‘eaten’ do you mean
eaten
?” said Stapleford.

“I think I do,” I said.

“I don’t understand,” said Ida, looking puzzled. “Why’s everyone talking about eating?”

“He kills like a cat, Ida,” said Emmeline. “He leaves bodies on his master’s lawn. Sometimes ... not all of the body.”

“Oh,” said Ida, looking not a little rattled. Indeed the entire company fell into a sombre, reflective mood.

I thought it timely to mention the good news again. “But he did have a good meal before he escaped. Pretty stuffed, I’d say, from what the constable said. I expect he’ll be sleeping it off for hours yet. Probably curled up in a sunny spot miles from here.”

“What does this Selden look like?” asked Henry. “Is he like one of your promethean creations?”

“He’s not a true promethean,” said Morrow. “He’s never been dead. He’s more of an augmented human. Most of the time he could pass for a man if he’s wearing a hat and loose-fitting trousers.”

“I don’t understand,” said Sir Robert. “How did you become involved with this individual in the first place?”

“It’s a long story,” said Morrow. “I read Vivisection at Oxford and was a member of the Young Alchemists Society. There I met Professor Jekyll and was much taken with the work he did with potions. I thought I could combine vivisection and potions to produce a human hybrid. A hybrid that would have all the best attributes of humans and animals. But I was young and foolish. I never once considered the ethics of what I was undertaking. I never considered the consequences, only the science.”

“And Selden?” asked Sir Robert. “Was he one of these Young Alchemists?”

“No. He was a patient at the Clerkenwell Asylum. Poor Selden. He had so many plans. He wanted to be a fashion designer, you know? Foundation garments. But his main obsession was with cats. He wanted to be one. When I met him he told me he felt like a cat trapped in a man’s body. He was desperate, and I ... I thought I could help him. Though, looking back, I think perhaps I was fooling myself — whatever I told myself, it was the science I was more interested in, not the patient. I took risks that no man should ever have taken.”

“Surely you blame yourself too much, Morrow?” said Sir Robert. “I have observed you these past six months and you have always taken the greatest care of our promethean actors. You treat them no different from the servants.”

“I try to make amends for my youthful failings, Robert.”

“What did you do to him?” asked Ida. “You didn’t give him a cat’s head, did you?”

“No, I gave him the ears of a lynx and the tail of a panther. He was very taken with them. As I said, most of the time he could pass for human as long as he covers them up.”

“You say ‘most of the time,’” said Stapleford. “What exactly does that mean?”

“Ah,” said Morrow looking down at his feet — probably searching for another
mot juste
. “The potions I gave him affected his metabolism. It’s mainly at night but, if he becomes distressed, it can happen at any time.”

“What can happen at any time?” asked Henry.

“He changes into a beast — physically — half man, half giant tabby. He’s not evil. You
must
understand that. He just ... thinks differently. Like a cat.”

“We must return to the Hall,” said Sir Robert. “We have enough guns to arm the footmen. We can mount a guard there until this Selden is apprehended.”

“Let’s not be hasty,” said Henry. “It seems a shame to waste a sunny day like this. If Selden thinks he’s a cat, he’s going to wait until night to hunt. And Roderick says the man’s already stuffed to the gills. You’ll stay, won’t you, Lily? I have a corker of an idea for a new scene.”

“I’ll stay,” said Ida. “I’m not frightened at all.”

“Are you sure, Ida?” asked her father. “This Selden is a killer.”

“I have every confidence in Henry, father. He’ll protect me.”

“What about you, Lily?” asked Henry.

Emmeline looked torn. She looked at me, and she looked at Lily before replying.

“No, Emmeline’s the actress, not me,” she said.

“Are you sure you won’t reconsider?” said Henry.

“Let her go, Henry,” said Ida. “Can’t you see she’s scared?”

I don’t think Ida realised she was one rock away from being floored. Emmeline balled both fists and gave Ida a scathing look. “I am not scared, Ida, and I do
not
need Henry or
any
man to protect me!”

“Indeed not,” I said. “After seeing you deal with that Lizard Man, I was rather hoping you’d come back to the Hall and protect us. Don’t you agree, Sir Robert?”

“Indeed, so,” chuckled Sir Robert.

Ida did not see anything to chuckle about. She returned Emmeline’s scathing look with interest and I rather felt she’d have given a better account of herself than the Lizard Man had.

~

Most of the party opted to remain at the quarry. I had the feeling that Henry would have quite welcomed an appearance by Selden, regarding it as an opportunity to add an extra scene to his moving picture. He did post an armed guard though, handing a shotgun to one of the stouter Lizard Men and giving him strict instructions to keep his eyes peeled and his body out of the shot when they were filming.

The rest of us — Sir Robert, Morrow, Emmeline, Reeves and I — hastened up the track towards the Hall.

We were a silent bunch, deep in thought one would imagine, pondering giant tabbies whilst keeping a vigilant eye on the undergrowth.

After a minute or two, Morrow broke the silence with an unexpected, and troubling question.

“Why did you call Emmeline Lily,” he asked Emmeline.

“Did I?” said Emmeline.

“You did,” said Morrow. “When you saw her on the ground.”

“Well, it
was
her nickname at school,” said Emmeline. “I don’t know why. One of the other girls started it and it stuck I suppose. I haven’t called her Lily in ages though. Must have been the shock of seeing that monster about to attack her.”

“And come to think of it,” said Morrow. “Didn’t you call Lily, Emmie, Roderick?”

“I don’t think so,” I said, not liking the direction this conversation was taking.

“I believe Mister Roderick did utter an invocation to the Argentinean saint, Madre Esmeralda, sir,” said Reeves. “It is common in the mining camps to use the shortened form of her name utilising only the initial letters ‘M’ and ‘E.’”

“That’s right,” I said, joining in the subterfuge. “She’s our patron saint. I often feel called to invoke her name in times of stress, don’t I, Reeves? Em Ee, I say.”

“Indeed, sir.”

“I’ve never heard of Saint Madre Esmeralda,” said Morrow.

“Few people have,” I said. “She didn’t get out much. Bit of a hermit, I think. Lived in a cave.”

“I can’t see that fire any more,” said Emmeline thankfully changing the subject.

“What fire?” said Sir Robert.

“There was a large fire on the high moor beyond the mire,” said Emmeline. “We saw it on our walk earlier.”

The fire had indeed gone out — or was burning lower. I scanned the far horizon and saw not even a wisp of smoke.

“I wouldn’t pay any attention to any lights or fires you see on the mire or beyond,” said Sir Robert. “We’ve all seen them. Stapleford says it’s marsh gas. Berrymore says it’s piskies. All I know is that it’s best to stay well clear. The mire is no place for the curious.”

Eleven

s the constable still here, Babbacombe?” Sir Robert asked the armed footman loitering by the main door to the Hall.

“What constable, sir?” said Babbacombe.

“The constable who brought the news about the escaped convict.”

Babbacombe looked confused. “Ain’t seen no constable, sir. Ain’t seen nobody since Master Roderick and Miss Lily left.”

I had one of those forebodings that we consulting detectives get just before events turn rummy.

“He might have entered by the mire gate and knocked at the servants’ door,” said Morrow.

Sir Robert strode purposefully into the hall. “Berrymore!” he shouted.

The ancient b. appeared a few seconds later. I wasn’t sure if it was his age or his extreme height, but Berrymore in motion always looked like a man walking into a strong headwind.

“Have
you
seen the constable, Berrymore?” asked Sir Robert.

“What constable, sir?” said Berrymore, tacking slightly to the left.

Sir Robert turned to me. “He
did
say he was coming straight here, didn’t he?”

“He did. When we left him he was heading this way. He couldn’t have been more than a half a mile from the Hall, wouldn’t you say, Reeves?”

“Perhaps a thousand yards, sir, but no more than that.”

“He wouldn’t have strayed into the mire, would he?” asked Emmeline.

“He’d have no reason to,” said Morrow. “The track is straight and well marked. You can see the Hall tower from a mile away. He couldn’t have got lost.”

The drawing room door opened and out came Lady Julia. “What is the reason for this commotion?” she said. And then she noticed me and her eyes narrowed. “Oh, you’re here, are you? I might have known. Who have you lost this time — the coachman?”

“No, a policeman,” I said. “He was on his way here to warn everyone about the escaped convict.”

Sir Robert brought his sister-in-law up to speed viz Selden and his unusual eating habits. She took the news considerably better than Berrymore, whose knees almost gave way the moment Selden’s name was mentioned.

Sir Robert sent Berrymore off to question the servants about the missing policeman. Babbacombe was despatched to question the outdoor staff, and check the lawns for any signs of stomachs or regurgitated helmets.

“Did this policeman give his name?” asked Sir Robert.

“No,” I said. “We didn’t chat for long.”

“I wonder if it was Hatherleigh,” said Sir Robert. ”Was he a large, square jawed chap with a ruddy complexion and a helmet.

“I wouldn’t call him square jawed. Or of a ruddy complexion. But spot on about the helmet and being large.”

“But where was he coming from?” asked Morrow. “You say he was coming across the moor from the north, but there’s nothing to the north of here for fifteen miles.”