The Unburied (21 page)

Curious to know what Austin had been reading, I forced myself to peruse the tale open before me. To my surprise, although it was a conventional enough story of a brave young prince and a beautiful princess and an enchanted castle, I found it profoundly disturbing.

When I had finished it, I lay for some time thinking again about certain passages in my life. After about an hour I heard Austin creeping into the house and up the stairs. It was another half-hour before I was able to fall into an uneasy slumber.

Thursday Morning

Austin probably slept worse than I did, for when I came down for breakfast at a quarter to seven he was not there. I prepared coffee and toast for both of us and he descended a few minutes later looking pale and haggard. I waited in the hope that he might say something about what had happened during the night and, as a result, neither of us spoke more than a few sentences while we ate our breakfast. I noticed that his hand was shaking as he lifted the cup to his lips. He seemed to be avoiding my gaze and I was trying to do the same for I felt embarrassed in case he had by some means discovered that I had followed him. He might have seen me or, it now occurred to me, have noticed traces of melted snow in the hall when he returned.

At last he spoke: ‘I will wait for you outside the Library when it closes.’

‘Whatever for?’

He looked at me in apparent surprise: ‘Have you forgotten that old Mr Stonex is expecting us to tea this afternoon?’

For a moment I could not think what he was talking about. Then I realized that the name he had uttered was familiar. Of course! It had been mentioned by the elderly banker yesterday as that of his ancestor who had purchased the house. ‘But it was for tomorrow that he invited me. Us.’ I couldn’t imagine how Austin knew of this.

‘Today. He meant today.’

‘I’m certain he said tomorrow. Friday.’

‘He has altered it.’

‘But Austin, how do you know about it? I forgot to mention to you that I met him yesterday when I went to read the inscription.’

‘I am aware of that.’

I was astonished. Was he admitting that he had been spying on me? Feeling suddenly embarrassed on his behalf and not wanting him to say any more about his strange behaviour, I went on: ‘I didn’t even think you would want to come. How do you know he has changed the date?’

‘How do I know? Because he told me. I happened to meet him yesterday evening. I myself forgot to inform you of it last night.’

‘But how did he come to learn that you are a friend of mine? I’m sure I didn’t tell him.’

‘There are no secrets in this town,’ he said flatly, and it seemed that I had to be content with this. ‘So I will meet you outside the Library when it closes and we will go there together.’

I nodded. It was strange. If Austin had not been watching me yesterday afternoon while I conversed with the old gentleman at the back of the New Deanery, why should he have spoken to Mr Stonex? My suspicion that he had been following me must be correct. And he had presumably wanted to find out what had passed between me and the old man.

A few minutes later Austin, who had made a hasty toilet but still looked ill-shaven and untidy, was ready to leave. I had waited for him so that we would leave the house together. When we opened the door we found that several inches of snow had fallen in the last few hours. We trudged in silence through the almost immaculate whiteness.

As we reached the door of the transept, we passed two boys. One had hold of the other and I smiled at Austin, wondering if he saw them as reminders of our youthful selves, but he appeared not to have noticed them. The bigger boy, who glanced at Austin with contempt, was in what I assumed to be the required dress of the Grammar School – blue gown and knee-breeches with buckled shoes – while the other wore a plain black jacket and breeches and was presumably a Choir School pupil. I remembered that Austin had talked of the rivalry between the two institutions which this vignette seemed to belie. As we passed them, the younger boy was saying something – or trying to say something for he stammered agonizingly – about being late and getting into trouble.

A moment later I looked round and saw that the larger boy had seized the other by the neck and was stuffing a snowball down the back of his collar. The younger one struggled and his antagonist hit him quite hard twice on the chest in rapid succession. I was about to turn back but I saw him release the smaller boy who ran off. Austin – unlike the ever-vigilant schoolmaster of my childhood – gave no sign of having noticed.

We reached the end of the Cathedral in silence and parted with another reminder from Austin of our appointment. At that moment I saw young Quitregard rounding the corner of the ambulatory and we greeted each other and covered the last few yards together. I mentioned the incident I had just witnessed and he said he had seen the Choir School boy a few minutes earlier, remarking that he himself had a brother at the school. It was a few minutes before half-past seven when we reached the Library, whose great door Quitregard unlocked.

‘Were you a pupil there yourself?’ I asked.

‘I was at Courtenay’s – the Grammar School.’

‘I’m surprised that brothers should be sent to the two institutions,’ I said as I stamped my feet on the mat just inside the door to get the snow off my boots.

‘I can’t sing a note, you see.’

‘Even so I am puzzled, for I understood that the two schools detested each other.’

He laughed. ‘The boys fight each other, of course. But I don’t believe there is any official ill-will between the schools.’

‘My friend – Fickling – told me that suspicion between the two institutions went so far that his friendship with a master at the Choir School was disapproved of.’

The young man said quickly: ‘Oh, I don’t think it’s the friendship itself which is frowned upon.’ Then he flushed and said: ‘Dr Locard has asked me to convey his apologies, Dr Courtine. He will not be able to help you this morning as he had hoped. He has to prepare for the meeting of the Chapter. Some important business has unexpectedly arisen.’

‘That is most regrettable from my point of view.’ It was of a piece, I reflected, with the invitation to dinner which the Librarian had offered and then withdrawn, and it reduced even further my chances of finding what I was seeking.

The young man must have seen the disappointment on my face for he offered me a cup of coffee before I resumed my dusty labours in the undercroft and added: ‘When Pomerance arrives he’ll light the fires so if we wait a while it will be warmer.’

I accepted with gratitude, though reflecting that the heat would not penetrate to where I would be working. As he led the way to the snug bay in which he made coffee, he said: ‘I think I can tell you without betraying any confidences, that there is something of a crisis today. The Chapter meeting will be long and difficult.’

I remembered Gazzard saying that the school was to be discussed this morning and assumed that the crisis was connected with the gossip I had heard in the tap-room last night. I was unwilling, however, to put Quitregard in an embarrassing situation by asking him any questions. We seated ourselves and waited while the kettle boiled.

‘Of course I’m very sorry that Dr Locard is unable to lend me his valuable assistance,’ I remarked. ‘But I fear that all the help in the world would not advantage me. Even if the manuscript is here I could spend six months searching down there and still miss it.’

The young man looked a little self-conscious as he bent over the stove. I wondered if he was embarrassed because he had overheard me talking to Dr Locard about this. ‘I wish I could help you,’ he said. ‘I would give anything to find it for you, and I’m sure Dr Locard would much prefer it to be found by one of his staff.’

‘I wish so too. Dr Locard talked of you in very flattering terms and was kind enough to say that he might be able to release you for a few hours to give me the benefit of your assistance.’

‘Did he?’ Quitregard turned away to reach down a jar of coffee and said over his shoulder: ‘However, I’m dismayed to have to tell you that Dr Locard reminded me only yesterday afternoon how important it is that we continue with our cataloguing of the manuscripts and has given me work that will keep me occupied for the next week or more.’

‘That is unfortunate. But I have at least had the advantage of Dr Locard’s advice. His interpretation of the single piece of evidence I have was masterly. I should explain that it is a letter written by an antiquarian of the Restoration called Pepperdine who ...’

‘I have to confess that I overheard your conversation,’ the young man said apologetically, looking up from his labours over the coffee-pot. ‘I had no reason to assume it was confidential.’

‘It wasn’t in the least confidential. But in that case you will know how brilliantly Dr Locard read beneath the surface appearance of the evidence to find its truer significance. It was an impressive demonstration of historical analysis.’ He bent over the kettle so that I could not see his face. I went on: ‘And you probably also heard us talking about the new perspective the letter gives on the Freeth affair?’

‘Yes, I did. And it’s an incident which I’ve always been fascinated by.’

‘In that case you will be interested to learn that I am to hear yet another version of it this afternoon. Yesterday I went to read the inscription on the wall of the New Deanery.’

‘The famous Satanic inscription,’ Quitregard said turning round with a smile. ‘Though I doubt if it has anything to do with the death of Dean Freeth.’

‘No, indeed. It was in connection with the story of Treasurer Burgoyne that I went to read it.’ The young man raised an eyebrow to express equal scepticism. ‘But that’s beside the point,’ I went on. ‘I was going to tell you that I happened to fall into conversation with the old gentleman who now lives in the house, and he invited me to tea tomorrow.’ I corrected myself. ‘I mean this afternoon.’

Quitregard looked astonished. ‘Really? Mr Stonex?’

‘Yes. He mentioned that he knows a story about Freeth’s death which he inherited with the house. He is to tell it to me this afternoon.’

‘I can’t tell you how surprised I am. You are honoured indeed. He is very reclusive. Or perhaps you are not so fortunate. I’ve heard that he is far from gracious.’

‘Well he was perfectly charming to me.’

Quitregard raised his eyebrows. ‘You astonish me immensely, Dr Courtine.’

‘That anyone should be charming to me?’ I asked playfully.

He smiled. ‘Such an invitation is quite at odds with all that I have ever heard about him. And I grew up in Thurchester and have heard gossip about him all my life. He is friendly to children only – in fact, only to the boys of the Choir School which he attended himself. As it happens, I saw him talking to one as we were arriving.’

‘And what is said about him in the town?’

‘Although he is a personage who is much talked about, very little is known for sure about him. He is very prominent in his capacity as the sole proprietor of the Thurchester and County Bank.’

‘It’s possible that he is affable only to people who have no knowledge of his position in this town – like children and strangers. But I may take it, then, that he is wealthy?’

‘Did he not give you that impression?’ the young man said with a smile.

‘Very far from it. His appearance was somewhat threadbare. And the house looks – from the outside at least – to be in a poor way.’

‘He is – not to mince words – a famous miser and spends as little as possible on himself and his comforts and nothing on anyone else’s. But the truth is that he is one of the town’s wealthiest citizens – probably the wealthiest. Yet he lives in the most frugal and reclusive manner. I have never heard of anyone being invited into his house.’

‘He has no friends or relatives?’

‘No relatives with whom he is on good terms – or any sort of terms – though it is said that he had a sister with whom he quarrelled many years ago. And certainly no friends.’

‘Then I have been favoured indeed. I wonder how I shall be received. What shall I find?’

‘I shall be intrigued to hear from you,’ the young man said with a smile. ‘The house will be clean and tidy for a woman comes every day to take care of it. Everything will be in its exact place but you will notice that nothing in the house has been newly purchased. Apart from his collection of old maps, he has an absolute horror of spending money.’

‘Is he merely eccentric, or is it something more serious?’

‘He is not in the least deranged. Perhaps I should not even say that he is eccentric since a prosperous banker to whom people entrust their money can hardly be said to be eccentric – but, rather, that he is an original. And his originality might be said to lie in the extreme orderliness of his life. He is like Kant, the philosopher, whose daily movements were said to be so regular that the citizens of his town would set their watches by him.’

‘Is there any reason for his punctiliousness in regard to time and for his unsociability?’

‘Both seem to arise from his terror of being robbed. They say that he keeps a fortune in cash and gold in a hiding-place in his house. I have no idea if that is so. I would imagine that he entrusts his valuables to the strong-room at the bank. But that is the belief in the town and I suppose that it might have been prompted by the elaborate precautions he takes to avoid being robbed. And perhaps he now has to take such precautions only because of the belief that his house is worth breaking into.’

He laughed and I smiled with him.

‘What are these precautions?’

‘He receives nobody at the house. Hence the unusual honour accorded to yourself.’ Here he half-rose and gave me a little mock-bow. I was beginning to like this young man a great deal. ‘The house is never left unoccupied and he himself leaves it only to go to the bank. There is only one set of keys which he keeps on a chain on his person and so nobody apart from himself has a key – not even the single servant – an old woman, Mrs Bubbosh, who comes every day to clean and do the laundry and prepare his meals.’

‘If she has no key and Mr Stonex spends much of the day at the bank, how does she enter and leave?’