The Deadly Curse (11 page)

Next
to the mummy something glinted in the gaslight – it had fallen between the cloth wrappings and the side of the coffin. Even before I had extricated it and held it up in the dim light I had guessed what I would find: it was the snake armlet that we had found by the body of Dr Limonov, and which I had stowed away in the bottom drawer of my room in Van Helsing’s villa.

I
turned to show my discovery to my friends, but as I looked towards them I noticed that the life size statue of the jackal god Anubis stood against the far wall of the room. I had begun to step towards it when I felt an urgent grip on my upper arm. It was Mina: she was pointing towards the twin thrones, and something had made her turn rigid with shock. Then the rest of us saw it, too. Protruding from behind the wooden plinth on which the thrones were fixed was a pair of woman’s indoor shoes – with a few inches of ankle visible above each. I ran towards the thrones, knowing only too well what we would find there.

My
premonition was sadly quite correct. There on the floor lay Mrs Cynthia Flinzer, stone dead. It would not in this case require the expertise of a police doctor to determine the cause of her demise: her throat was horribly torn and disfigured, and the teeth marks around her neck showed that this was the work of a large and vicious carnivore.

‘Quickly
– come here!’ Sarah Wilton shouted from the end of the room. She was standing over the black marble statue of Anubis. Sarah touched the jackal’s muzzle and held up her hand. The dim lighting in the room meant that we had to peer closely to see what she had discovered, but when we came closer it was clear that her fingers were covered with fresh, sticky blood. The yellow gemstones that formed the creature’s eyes glittered in the reflected gaslight, briefly giving its cold marble features a malign, intelligent animation.

Chapter
9

We did not remain long in the house of the late Mr and Mrs Flinzer after our ghastly discovery in the strongroom. Inspector Delland expressed his intention to rouse the household and question each servant one by one, but it was clear from his subdued manner that his rational theories had suffered a severe blow. As it was by now very late, Miss Wilton agreed to return to St John’s Wood with us, and to occupy one of Van Helsing’s guest rooms that night. Before we left we arranged with the Inspector that he would call on us at ten o’clock on the following morning, when Sarah would be able to present him with her translation of the inscription in the canopic jars.

*

Just before the appointed hour on Saturday morning, Mina and I were seated in Van Helsing’s drawing room awaiting the arrival of Sarah, the Professor and Inspector Delland. An hour earlier a telegram had arrived for Mina – a maid had brought it up to our bedroom – and she had read it with evident interest. As she had not been inclined to volunteer the contents I decided not to give her the satisfaction of a direct request, as I was sure that she would reveal the secret later that morning.

The
entrance of Sarah and Van Helsing was followed very shortly by Inspector Delland, who had lost some of the brisk enthusiasm that had typified our previous meetings with him. After tea had been served and the maid had departed, the Inspector turned to us glumly.

‘As
you’ve taken such an interest in this puzzling case, and provided such expert advice’ – he nodded towards Sarah, who coloured slightly – ‘let me tell you the latest developments. First thing this morning I broke open the late Mr Flinzer’s writing desk and discovered the notebook where he kept an inventory of the Wilton Collection. Fortunately the items were described – intentionally, I believe – in such a way as to allow an ordinary person like me to identify each one. I went through the strongroom with Constable Jeffries and the collection now seems complete once more, other than the canopic jars, which we can of course return. The rest of my news is less helpful, more’s the pity. I’ve found out that Signor Fosco Peretti left Italy after he’d fallen foul of a group of Sicilian criminals, and was himself entirely blameless. Likewise, Dr Limonov appears to be a perfectly respectable gentleman –foreign of course, but otherwise above suspicion. I have to admit that my theory regarding a
vendetta
has suffered a severe setback. As to the mysterious dark-haired youth who delivered the vases to Peretti – there’s no report of him anywhere.’

Mina
cleared her throat. ‘It’s possible that I may be able to help you there, Inspector,’ she said with a smile. ‘However, let us not forget the purpose of your visit. I’m sure you’d like to have Miss Wilton’s explanation of the inscription we found inside the vases.’

The
Inspector agreed, and Sarah Wilton passed him her translation, which he read in silence. When he had finished, the Inspector sat back in his comfortable armchair and surveyed us one by one.

‘I’m
not what you might call an educated man, ladies and gentlemen, but I hope I’m not a fool either. And a man with a closed mind
is
a fool. Taking the transcription together with the tablet that Sir Edward found in the tomb – and the two are of a piece, as you’ll agree – I confess that we have a
possible
explanation of the horrible deaths that we have witnessed in London this week. The Assistant Commissioner has asked to see me on Monday, to find out what progress I’ve made. How do you think he will react if I tell him that I believe the four fatalities to be the direct result of a powerful spell or curse invoked by an Egyptian priest over three thousand years ago? I’d be confined to an asylum – or thrown out of the police force at the very least. No, I’ll have to think of another explanation. Now, Mrs Harker: did you say that you had some information for me?’

‘Why
yes,’ Mina said. ‘And I have not yet shared it with my husband and friends, so I expect everyone to listen with great avidity! Yesterday morning, when Jonathan and Professor Van Helsing visited Havelocks Bank, I decided to carry out my own investigation into the Flinzer
ménage
. Adopting the persona of the owner of a private hotel, I approached a number of the smaller wine merchants in the capital, and managed to introduce the name of Mr Algernon Manton into the conversation.’

‘Ah
– the brother of the late Mrs Flinzer,’ Van Helsing said. ‘I wonder if that gentleman is now to inherit his sister’s estate? But do continue, Mina.’

‘The
second wholesaler that I visited was most upset when he heard the name, and I had to assure him that I had no personal connection with the gentleman, but that an acquaintance had mentioned that he had bought wine from Manton. The wholesaler – Mr Reginald Skipton, of Piccadilly – told me that Manton had swindled him out of the cost of a dozen cases of Burgundy, and that Algernon Manton
was
not
the
man’s
real
name
. He’d discovered that “Manton” was actually called Harland Delacroix, an Englishman of French parentage.

‘I
then visited the General Register Office at Somerset House. There was no time for me to undertake the research that I wished to carry out, and so I persuaded a young clerk to help me. The staff at the office are not, strictly speaking, empowered to provide such a service, but I paid him two pounds down, with the promise of a further two pounds if he could provide the answer to my question.

‘Well,
this morning I got a telegram from the clerk, and I will certainly send him his two pounds before we leave London. My query was something of a long odds bet, but in this case – to continue the metaphor – the horse has won by a length. In short, it appears that on February 1st 1894 a marriage was contracted between a Miss Cynthia Anne Pettigrew, spinster, aged twenty-three, and a Mr Harland Jules Delacroix, bachelor, aged twenty-eight.’

Having
delivered this
coup
de
théâtre
, Mina sat back with an expression that the uncharitable might have characterised as self-satisfaction.

Inspector
Delland clapped his hands. ‘Excellent work, Mrs Harker. Of course the unusual names of the couple have helped enormously. If they’d been Miss Smith and Mr Jones...but as it is there can hardly be any mistake. I take it that you have a theory as to the actions of this couple?’

‘At
any rate I have a hypothesis,’ Mina said. ‘A bigamous marriage is relatively easy to contract without detection, and Mrs Flinzer (or rather Mrs Delacroix) and her husband must have seen poor Theodore Flinzer as a means of obtaining a considerable sum of money, ostensibly to support Mrs Flinzer’s “brother”. No doubt when they had accumulated enough, Mrs Flinzer would have announced that she was leaving her husband and that would have been the end of the matter. When he so inconveniently died, she must have resolved to turn the relics into cash as quickly as she could. I believe that there is every possibility that the delicate and handsome young man employed to take the canopic jars to Signor Peretti was in fact Mrs Flinzer in disguise! It was her good fortune that in that instance Nebet’s protectors took their revenge on the recipient of the relics – poor Dr Limonov. On the next occasion she was not so lucky – Anubis turned upon her, and not on the purchaser.’

‘It may be that whoever bought the statue has suffered a similar fate,’ Sarah said. ‘If so, we shall doubtless hear of it soon. But why did “Mrs Flinzer” not wait quietly until she had inherited her supposed husband’s estate?’

Mina
shrugged. ‘I dare say that she did not welcome the scrutiny that she would have been under when probate was proved, which might have risked her discovery. I suspect that she and Delacroix intended to raise what money they could and then disappear.’

‘Mina
may well have cast some light on how and why the relics were disposed of,’ I said. ‘But we have still to decide on our next steps. It is apparent, however, that the bigamous marriage of Mrs Flinzer/Delacroix has simplified matters somewhat. Miss Wilton, I have every confidence that your father’s collection – the items in Flinzer’s strongroom – will shortly belong to you.’

Sarah
looked puzzled for a moment. ‘But...ah, I see it! Cynthia Delacroix can have no claim, as they were never married – and so as my father was Flinzer’s closest relative,
I
will
inherit
the
Wilton
Collection
! That is excellent news, but whatever am I to do with it? I have to say I would like to snap my fingers and have it safely reburied in the Valley of the Kings forever.’

Van
Helsing chuckled. ‘That is unfortunately impracticable! Such a scheme could hardly be accomplished in secret, and if we were observed by the local inhabitants, the relics would soon be dug up again. However, perhaps I can suggest a plan of action almost as satisfactory. The villa that I now occupy’ – the Professor waved his hand around the room – ‘was built with half a dozen others ten years ago in the grounds of a much larger dwelling, Brentley Hall. That edifice – now demolished – had in its extensive acres an icehouse, dug deep into the side of a hillock. It is still there, although long disused, and is now within the boundaries of my own garden. Once Flinzer’s inheritance has been settled and the Wilton Collection passes in the ownership of his daughter, I would be happy for the Egyptian tomb relics to be placed there. My servants are loyal, and I’m sure would never speak of the matter. I would of course first put the old structure in good repair. Once sealed up behind a new stone wall and a few tons of earth the collection could happily remain hidden forever.’

*

Unsurprisingly,
Miss Wilton agreed with the Professor’s scheme, and Inspector Delland promised to ensure that the storeroom in Flinzer’s house would remain locked until Sarah took up her ownership of it. The Inspector had decided that he would tell the Assistant Commissioner that his informants had revealed that the four murders had indeed been perpetrated by the Sicilian
Mantello
Rosso
, and that the perpetrators had fled the country. Delland’s high standing in the Metropolitan Police Force would, he hoped, protect his subterfuge from too great a scrutiny.

One
last task lay before me. On Monday afternoon I arrived at Flinzer’s house in Islington carrying the two cardboard boxes that contained the broken canopic jars and the desiccated internal organs of High Priest Nebet and Queen Merhote. Delland met me there, and we descended the stairs to the strongroom.

‘Let
me know if your wife ever considers employment in the police service,’ he said. ‘She’d make a fine detective. And tell her this: when we searched through the late Mrs Flinzer’s belongings we discovered a young man’s suit of clothes, overcoat, felt hat and a short black wig. Your wife was right – it seems that the “lad” who delivered the canopic jars to Limonov was really Mrs Flinzer. As for Delacroix, or Manton, or whatever he calls himself now – he’s skipped it. Seen getting on a boat at Dover. All he’s guilty of is bigamy so he’s not a great loss. I daresay we’ll catch up with him sometime. Oh – one thing more. The Yard has received a complaint from Mr Blenkinsop, a bric-a-brac dealer in Whitechapel. Claims he bought “a big stone dog” from a young lady for ten pounds, and now it’s vanished – stolen, or so he thinks.’

Whilst
Inspector Delland waited on the threshold I entered the strongroom alone, and placed the remains of the canopic jars next to the two coffins. I did not ignite the gas jet, as the dim light that entered from the stairs provided enough illumination for my needs. As I pulled the heavy steel door closed I took one last look at the contents of the ancient burial chamber. The tall double throne that stood against the far wall was deep in shadow, but for a fleeting moment it appeared to be occupied once more. On the left sat a personage familiar to me: his ceremonial tunic, powerful bearing and aristocratic features were those of the High Priest Nebet. On his right was a figure that I had never seen before, and yet her identity could be in no doubt. Her face was proud and beautiful and on one of her slim, dark skinned arms she wore a glittering snake-headed armlet. As the door clanged shut Queen Merhote turned to place a hand against Nebet’s cheek, and her smile was one that seemed destined to last for all eternity.

*

The
next day Mina and I were once more ensconced in a comfortable first class railway carriage, this time bound for Exeter and our home.

‘I
hope your taste for the metropolis has been satisfied for the time being,’ I observed to my wife. ‘After our recent adventure I for one will enjoy the prospect of a straightforward property transaction, or drawing up a simple will. Let us hope that your Aunt Phyllis has not spoiled young Quincey beyond redemption.’

Mina
smiled. ‘I cannot pretend that some quiet days at my writing desk will not be welcome. However, I shall miss the company of Miss Sarah Wilton. Perhaps we could invite her to visit us in the New Year, provided, of course, she promises to leave any supernatural phenomena behind her. Tell me, Jonathan, are you confident that once the items in her father’s collection are transferred to Van Helsing’s old icehouse they will remain there undisturbed?’