“Come on, Erasmus,” said Pole, when Darwin, still looking east and deep in thought, showed no signs of action. “This was your idea, and you’re twice my weight. Get that arse on the end of the beam here, and see if we can’t have a little lift of the sulky. Use your heft.”
“You perceive at last the virtue of substance,” said Darwin, settling his ample rear at the very end of the beam. The sulky at once rose several inches in the mud. “A pity that you yourself are so much of skin and bone. ‘Let me have men about me that are fat’—an excellent philosophy for our present plight.”
“Hmph!” Pole grunted, heaving away on the same timber. From his spreadeagled position on the beam he could see little more than the expanse of blue cloth that covered Darwin’s broad buttocks, a few inches from his face. “Erasmus, you’re all mouth and britches. If you had been my size, we wouldn’t have bogged down at all.” He raised his voice. “Come on, lads. When I call to heave, bear down all together on the other side.”
“We must get to the manor before moonrise,” said Darwin. “If not, I am much afraid that blood will be on my head.”
“I think not.” Pole’s voice came as a series of grunts between concerted heaves at the timbers. “I still don’t see anyone going to the pit tonight, unless we are there too.”
Darwin was bouncing energetically on the beam, and the sulky gradually lifted free of the grip of the clinging mud. “Ledyard and Alderton may stay in the manor. The one that I am worried about is Alice. We know she is headstrong. She wanted to go to the pit even before we left, and I am sure that she is even keener to do so now. When that young lady makes up her mind about something, I am not sure that Philip Alderton, or James Ledyard, or even Cicero himself, has the persuasive power to change it.
“Aha!” The wheels had lifted suddenly, spilling Darwin from his position at the end of the beam full-length onto the gluey Norfolk mud. The mare, slipping as she went, managed to keep moving and haul the sulky free of the quag.
Darwin scrambled to his feet and cast an anxious look at the western sky. “An hour to sunset, at most. And feel that breeze. It’s freshening from the east. We have to get back and keep them out of that pit at moonrise.”
Pole was hurriedly handing out silver to their four helpers, then checking the wheels and axles of the sulky. “We’ll never do it. We’ll have to slow our pace when twilight comes on us, and Rebecca has had a hard time getting us clear of the muck. She won’t be able to make her best pace without an hour or two of rest.”
Darwin picked up the reins and grunted his disgust. “It’s scarcely credible. Twenty places between here and Kings Lynn where we could have had a change of horse, and now we find there is none to be had before Lambeth. Come on, Jacob, Rebecca must forget her age for tonight.”
The old horse pricked up her ears at the mention of her name, and pulled willingly south through the deepening dusk. As they drove, the cloud cover broke and dispersed before the freshening wind. The moon shone through the remaining wisps, the sun’s rim dipped below the horizon, and the first stars appeared.
By the time they were finally within sight of the lights of the manor, full dark was upon them. The old mare slowed her pace and stepped gingerly through the gloom, wisely ignoring Darwin’s encouraging words and Pole’s blistering curses.
At last they were in the grounds of the manor. They turned the coach in along the private road, through the landscaped garden with its formal topiary, and on to the servants’ wing, nearest to the west entrance. Pole thrust the reins of the sulky into the hands of a startled footman, who had stepped outside to empty a pail of peelings and kitchen scraps into the poultry run. The two men rushed together through the great house to the east wing dining room.
Bretherton was alone there, sitting at the side table and enjoying a surreptitious glass of wine. He stood up quickly, confused and embarrassed by their sudden entry. Darwin waved away his stammered explanation.
“Where are Mister Philip and Miss Alice?”
“Gone down to the mill, sir, and I fear to the pit also. Miss Alice said that she was going tonight since you had said the Beast might appear, and you had not returned. Mister Alderton said he would go with her for her protection, because he was afraid she would come to harm alone.”
“And Dr. Ledyard?”
“He followed them down, not five minutes ago. He had been out on a case, and he got here after they had left.”
Darwin swore. “Come on, Jacob. And you too Bretherton. Get down to the pit, as fast as you can go. You both have the legs of me. I’ll explain this later.”
Pole at least did not stay to question. He had heard that tone in Darwin’s voice only once before. He grabbed the startled Bretherton by the arm and dragged him off on the double. Darwin followed as fast as his age and weight would permit, but he quickly realized the folly of a headlong rush over unfamiliar ground. He slowed, and was soon far behind.
The full moon had risen in a clear sky, and lit the hill ahead. On its brow Darwin could see the sweeps of the mill turning rapidly in the easterly wind, the latticed arms black and silver in the moonlight. A little closer to him lay the dark opening of the flint pit.
He could see no sign of the others, but as he came closer he heard a loud outcry from the depths of the pit. Hurrying to the edge of it, he looked down. Alice Milner was easily visible in her long, white dress. Next to her, one arm still held in a sling, stood Philip Alderton. They were both watching a group of struggling figures, rolling around the chalky floor. It took some time for Darwin’s eyes to adjust to the deeper darkness below. When they did so, he could see that Pole and Bretherton were holding the struggling figure of James Ledyard firmly between them.
“Hurry up, Erasmus, and give us a hand,” cried Pole, as soon as Darwin called down to them. “He was attacking Alderton, just as we arrived. It’s a good thing Philip has the use of one arm now, or he might have been badly hurt before we could get Ledyard off him.”
Darwin, puffing and gasping for breath after his exertions, did not descend into the pit. Instead, he sat down heavily on the first of the chalk steps, and leaned his broad back against the pit wall.
“I’m not coming down there,” he wheezed, after another few moments to recover his wind. “Get out of the pit. All of you. Quick as you can, unless you want a close look at the Lambeth Immortal. Go on back to the house. I’ll follow you, as soon as I have my breath back. Then I believe I can show you something about this whole business. Go to it!”
His tone was urgent. Still holding Ledyard tightly, the others began to scramble up the chalk steps and move back toward the comforting lights of the manor.
The mysterious clockwork device had been freed of its sacking cover. It stood now on the dining-room table, an intricate assembly of gears and escapements. A shuttered lantern had been placed behind it. At the opposite end of the table sat the somber figure of James Ledyard, his dark clothes scuffed and whitened with chalk marks from the floor of the pit. Pole and Bretherton flanked him, also seated. Their expressions were wary and watchful. A little behind them sat Alice Milner and Alderton. Darwin alone was at the other end of the table, fiddling with the mechanism. The others watched him closely, with looks that ranged from impatience in Alderton to tight-lipped tension in Ledyard.
“How much longer, Dr. Darwin?” Alderton’s voice was exasperated. “We are putting up with your fiddling and posturing from deference to your reputation. But is it not clear from tonight’s events that Ledyard is no more than a common assassin? He was responsible for my injuries and for Barton’s death. Why do we wait here, when we ought to be delivering him to justice?”