The prince’s candor did much to disarm Conan Doyle’s anger, but the heir apparent had not finished. “It has not been easy, growing up in my mother’s shadow. I am cognizant of my many failings. Indeed, for much of my life I have rebelled against my station in life. But after this dreadful episode, the scales have fallen from my eyes. When I finally sit upon the throne, trust that I shall be a changed man. Perhaps I could even prove worthy of a hero such as Detective Blenkinsop.” The prince shifted his feet. “Now if in the meantime there is any favor you wish to ask of me. Any. No matter how grand. Please name it.”
Although not fully placated, the prince’s self-abasement did much to assuage Conan Doyle’s wrath. As both men muttered their thank-yous and bowed, a clatter of hooves announced the approach of a carriage. They were surprised to see Rufus DeVayne’s landau, complete with its four zebras, draw up before them.
“What will happen to the carriage?” Wilde asked.
The prince shook his head vaguely. “I understand the zebras are to find a new home at London Zoo. I’m not sure what will become of the landau.”
A sudden notion occurred to Conan Doyle. “Your Highness mentioned a favor? I wonder if I might beg a small indulgence…”
CHAPTER 34
THE SUN BREAKS THROUGH
Conan Doyle found his children, Kingsley and Mary, tossing crusts to the swans gliding the periphery of the circular pond in Hyde Park. His wife, Louise, was ensconced in a bath chair. The day was bright and breezy, but chilly. Pushing the bath chair was a tall, graceful young woman of striking beauty: Miss Jean Leckie.
“Arthur?” Louise Doyle called out as the Scottish author strode across the grass lawns to join them. “Is it still Arthur? Or must I now curtsey and call you, Sir Arthur?”
Conan Doyle smiled sheepishly. “I’m afraid I remain just plain Arthur for now.” He laughed at their disappointed faces. “But not to be sad—the role Oscar and I played has been recognized. And now I have a happy surprise for you all.”
“A surprise?” Jean Leckie asked. “What kind of surprise?”
“A carriage ride,” Conan Doyle answered, and added, mysteriously, “A very special kind of carriage ride.”
When the family emerged from the gates of Hyde Park, the yellow landau drawn by four zebras waited at the curb, where it was rapidly drawing a crowd of curious onlookers. As they caught sight of it, the Doyle children shrieked with glee and ran to pet the zebras. Conan Doyle held the carriage door open for Jean Leckie, and then put his arm about his wife and lifted her into the carriage. Both women were delighted to find Oscar Wilde already ensconced inside.
“Hello, Touie. Hello, Miss Leckie.”
“But whose is this wonderful carriage?” Miss Leckie asked. “And the zebras?”
“A princely favor,” Conan Doyle explained. “We have use of the landau until nightfall.”
Wilde patted a straw hamper on the seat next to him. “Arthur and I stopped at Fortnum & Mason’s on the way here.” He hefted it from the seat and set it down upon the carriage floor to make room for the children. “It’s a tad brisk out, but we thought the occasion called for a ride through the park followed by a picnic.”
And so on the first fogless day in weeks, the friends set off on a long, lazy circuit of Hyde Park, drawing stares of wonder and stopping traffic wherever they went.
* * *
A gray morning where dawn was slow arriving beneath a pall of winter clouds. A crowd stood assembled in the courtyard of Newgate Prison. The doors of the execution shed had been thrown open and now, at precisely three minutes to nine, a grim procession filed out: a black-frocked chaplain (whose faltering gait suggested he had, once again, been sampling the communion wine), a balding physician, a pair of uniformed guards, and the dour prison warden, William Bland, bringing up the rear. As usual, Dr. John Lamb accompanied the party, only this time he walked with his hands pinioned at his sides, a burly warder gripping either arm. Without ceremony, he was led onto the trap, where one warder dropped to a crouch as he pinioned his legs. The chaplain stumbled through the prayer of benediction, and then Warden Bland asked if the prisoner had any last words.
Dr. Lamb’s hair had clearly not enjoyed the application of curling papers, and had instead been chopped into spiky clumps by the prison barber’s dull shears. Yet, he stood tall, wrapped in the tattered rag of his former dignity, as he addressed the crowd in a clear, unwavering voice, devoid of fear.
“I believe in the Resurrection,” he said, but then added with a sick smile, “the resurrection of the Marquess Rufus DeVayne. For he will rise aga—”
Warden Bland’s gray face turned black, his frown lines crevassed. At a nod from him, the executioner stepped forward and roughly snatched a white hood down on the doctor’s head, silencing him. With unseemly haste, he looped the heavy hawser about Lamb’s neck, stepped smartly from the trap and gripped the release lever in his gloved hands. The hour began to sound: CLONG … CLONG …
And as the final bell tolled, the executioner yanked the lever, the trap dropped open, and Dr. John Lamb plummeted from this life into the next.
* * *
After a brief religious ceremony (which he would have despised), the Marquess of Gravistock, Rufus DeVayne, was quietly interred in the family crypt at the DeVayne family seat, the underground remains of which were the only part of the house not to have been razed by the fire.
Three days later, a gardener found the bronze tomb door wrenched loose from its hinges and the crypt empty apart from a torn burial shroud.
Although the grounds were searched, the mortal remains of the late marquess were never found.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
VAUGHN ENTWISTLE grew up in Northern England. He completed a Master’s degree at Oakland University, and in the early nineties he moved to Seattle to work as a writer. In his spare time he ran a successful gargoyle-sculpting company. He often writes with one cat on his lap, a Brittany lying across his feet, and one or more cats sauntering across the keyboard. He recently moved back to England, where he lives in North Somerset.
Visit the author’s Web site at www.vaughnentwistle.com, or sign up for email updates here.
ALSO BY VAUGHN ENTWISTLE
The Revenant of Thraxton Hall
The Angel of Highgate
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CONTENTS
TITLE PAGE
COPYRIGHT NOTICE
DEDICATION
CHAPTER 1. MURDER MOST ’ORRIBLE
CHAPTER 2. THE MURDERER IN THE CUPBOARD
CHAPTER 3. FENIANS, ANARCHISTS, AND DYNAMITARDS
CHAPTER 5. RAISING GHOSTS
CHAPTER 6. AN ILL-TIMED LETTER
CHAPTER 7. SHANGHAIED IN WATERLOO
CHAPTER 8. A MASSIVE ATTACK OF HEART
CHAPTER 9. JEDIDIAH’S EMPORIUM OF MECHANICAL MARVELS
CHAPTER 10. A WILDE NIGHT AT THE THEATER
CHAPTER 11. AN UNHOLY RESURRECTION
CHAPTER 12. A WONDERFUL EVENING ENDS HORRIBLY
CHAPTER 13. THE ASSASSIN KILLS AGAIN
CHAPTER 14. A DEEPLY DISTURBING DISCOVERY
CHAPTER 15. CHECK AND MATE
CHAPTER 16. LOOK UPON MY WORKS AND TREMBLE
CHAPTER 17. A DROWNED OPHELIA
CHAPTER 18. INVITATION TO AN EXECUTION
CHAPTER 19. RIGHT COFFIN, WRONG CORPSE
CHAPTER 20. AN ENCOUNTER IN A PORNOGRAPHIC BOOKSHOP
CHAPTER 21. BEFORE RIGOR SETS IN
CHAPTER 22. CAKES AND CORPSES
CHAPTER 23. A DINNER DATE TO REMEMBER
CHAPTER 24. USELESS FRIENDS AND DANGEROUS DRUGS
CHAPTER 25. DESCENT INTO THE UNDERWORLD
CHAPTER 26. A NICE NIGHT FOR A DROWNING
CHAPTER 27. A PLEASANT NIGHT CRUISE UPON THE THAMES
CHAPTER 29. THE IMPORTANCE OF BEING IN DEADLY EARNEST
CHAPTER 30. CHASING MONSTERS
CHAPTER 31. A TOAST TO DEATH
CHAPTER 32. A WAGNERIAN DEATH
CHAPTER 33. A SUMMONS TO THE PALACE
CHAPTER 34. THE SUN BREAKS THROUGH
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
ALSO BY VAUGHN ENTWISTLE
COPYRIGHT
This is a work of fiction. All of the characters, organizations, and events portrayed in this novel are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.
THE DEAD ASSASSIN. Copyright © 2015 by Vaughn Entwistle. All rights reserved. For information, address St. Martin’s Press, 175 Fifth Avenue, New York, N.Y. 10010.
www.minotaurbooks.com
Cover photographs: bridge © Mark Owen / Arcangel Images; man on right © Lee Avison / Arcangel Images
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The Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data is available upon request.
ISBN 978-1-250-03506-6 (hardcover)
ISBN 978-1-250-03507-3 (e-book)
e-ISBN 9781250035073
First Edition: June 2015