The Vesuvius Club

9. The Horror in the Cardboard Tube

WELL, there it was. Dead. A bloated body had been pulled out of the Thames and though rats had made short work of her face, the dress, reticule and certain papers found on the corpse had led the husband to a positive identification. How tiresome it was.

The wretched Miracle had been formally charged with murder and I was allowed to visit him, giving what assurances I could. Of course, I couldn’t possibly take off to Italy at a time like this, I told him. I wouldn’t rest until his good name was cleared. That sort of blather.

I missed the boat to Naples and, later that day, slipped off to see the ascetic banker, Mr Midsomer Knight.

«Mr Box, have you been retained by Scotland Yard in this matter?» he positively hissed. «Really, I cannot see what the deuce business it is of yours.»

Mr Midsomer Knight looked at me coldly as I sat across from him in his frightful, over-furnished Norwood home. I spread my hands before me in a gesture of supplication. «It is only that I believe Mr Miracle to be entirely innocent of any crime and I wish to help in any way I can in bringing the true perpetrator of this horrid deed to justice.»

Knight gave a small nod so I continued.

«Can you tell me how your wife came to attend Mr Miracle’s drawing class?»

Knight thought for a moment. «I took some convincing, Mr Box, I don’t mind telling you.» He placed his hands on the knob of his stick, leaning forward like a minister at his lectern. «I believe a woman’s place is at her husband’s side. However, amongst a lady’s accomplishments a little music, a little French a little… drawing are pleasant.»

«You seem to imagine your wife was in training to become a provincial governess.»

«I sought merely to protect her,» he bristled. «Her… disfigurement, you understand. She could not have stood the mocking voices, the averted glances…»

«But finally you gave into a little, what shall we call it, female emancipation?»

Knight regarded me coldly. «She was most insistent. I was surprised, I admit. She had never shown any facility in drawing. But, I thought that, after all, the change would do her good.» He closed his eyes. «How foolish I was. But there is… there was… a streak of obstinacy in her that I made it my business to stamp out. It was a consequence of the unhealthy amount of freedom she was granted by her first husband.»

I cocked my head. «Her first husband?»

«A free-thinker. It was quite a blessing for her that he passed away.»

I sighed heavily. «As far as I can see, Mr Knight, there is nothing to suggest that your wife didn’t simply leave Miracle’s studio a short time after you left her.»

«And went where?»

«Wherever you prevented her from going in the past.»

Knight’s pallid features coloured. «What the devil are you suggesting?»

I waved a placating hand. «Merely thinking aloud. Now, would it be possible — I understand how delicate must be your feelings just now — could you tell me how your wife came by her injuries?»

«The police tell me that… rats had»

«No, no. Her old injuries.»

The banker’s face was impassive. «Fire.»

«In her younger days?»

«Yes. I believe she was seven- or eight-and-twenty at the time.»

«You did not know her then?»

«Gracious, no. We were married two or three years later. In fact, our anniversary is fast approaching.»

He fumbled in his waistcoat for a moment and produced a small parcel of tissue paper. Spreading it out on the table before him, he revealed a pair of modestly bejewelled earrings.

«These were to have been my gift. I suppose I will be able to claim back the expense.»

He sniffed lightly and replaced them in his pocket.

I persevered. «How did you meet?»

«When her previous husband died abroad, my firm sent me to advise her on financial affairs. We became… attached. One day, I asked her to marry me, and she agreed. It was a very suitable arrangement.»

I wondered whether he made bank-loans sound as appealing.

I returned home and was astonished to find Delilah waiting in a brougham outside. «Hevening, sir. Compliments of Mr Reynolds, sir. ’E’s ’eard abart Mr Miracle’s spot ho’ bovver, sir, and wonders hif ’e can be hof hany ’elp.»

«Most kind of him. How lovely to see you restored to health, Delilah. You did give us a turn the other day, you know.»

She clambered from the vehicle as I opened the door of Number Nine. «Nah. Hit’s well known that hi’m himmortal, sir,» she chuckled throatily. «Unless you cut horf me ’ead and stick ha pike through me ’eart hi’ll be ’ere for ha few years yet.»

We stepped inside then, a moment later, I pulled up sharply as Delilah’s great thick arm suddenly barred my way. I had the door of the drawing room half open. Something was awry.

«What is it?» I whispered, eyes flashing from side to side.

Delilah stooped to pick up a cardboard tube that was lying on the cork-matting of the hallway floor. One end of it was curiously ragged, as though chewed open.

She stepped in front of me and then beckoned as we made our way silently into the room.

I stopped dead. Lying in a heap, surrounded by letters, was the body of a uniformed postman — stopped dead in a more literal fashion.

«Cor! Look hat ’is bloody face!» gasped Delilah. The skin of his face was hideously inflamed and swollen and almost as black as his boots. «You reckon the bobby next door let ’im hin?»

I nodded. «Must have. I was expecting something. Yes. That must be it.»

Clutched in the postman’s hands — which were screwed up like rusted keys — was a squarish, brown-paper parcel. «Get back!» I said, dropping to one knee to examine the body. «Ah!»

There were two puncture wounds in the right wrist, the skin around them a vile, blistered mess.

«He’s been bitten by something,» I whispered.

Delilah looked down at the dead man. «Come hin this tube, you reckon?» Folding her arms, Delilah looked uneasily around the darkened room. «Whatever hit was,» she breathed, «his probably still hin ’ere.»

«Indubitably.»

I glanced down at the Turkey carpet. In the gloom, every shape took on a twisted serpentine form.

«Stay exactly where you are, Delilah,» I murmured. «I’m going to cross the room and open the curtains. Then we’ll get a clearer look at this thing»

«Stay still, sir! For the love hof God, stay still!» Delilah gasped in genuine horror.

I needed no urging for I could feel a soft, appallingly ticklish movement on my trouser leg. Rooted to the spot, I managed to swivel my gaze around to get a glimpse of the creature, but in the shadows I could make out little more than a spiny shape perhaps a foot in length. It was moving inexorably up my calf.

«What shall hi do?» hissed Delilah.

I rolled my eyes. «Get the blasted thing off me!»

Shuddering involuntarily, I struggled not to cry out as the creature undulated again and, with its horrible, creeping motion, reached my thigh.

«Light!» I whispered.

Nodding, Delilah crossed clumsily to the window and carefully raised the blinds. Milky light flooded the room.

Delilah’s cry of disgust did little to assuage my fears.

I risked a look down. Clamped (there is no other word for it) to my leg was the most disgusting animal I have ever laid eyes upon. Yellowy-black in colour it was somewhere between a scorpion and a centipede, its thick carapace glinting dully like amber beads on a string. Its head — upon which were mounted the vicious pair of pincers that had undoubtedly done for the postman — was moving slowly from side to side in a ghastly, skin-crawling oscillation.

«What his it?» cried Delilah.

«Don’t know! Don’t care!» I managed to gurgle from between compressed lips. «We have one advantage on our side though.»

«What’s that?»

I peered for a longer moment at the insect-like abomination. Every part of me thrilled with horror at its touch. It was all I could do to stop myself from grabbing the thing and wrenching it from me.

«I think it’s blind,» I hissed. «Must avoid… agitating it.»

Delilah nodded slowly. «Where’s your cane? Hi could knock hit off.»

«No!» I swallowed hard, trying not to let my agitation show. «It’ll bite before you could get to it, you dolt!» The creature moved again, its swaying legs pattering hideously against the fabric of my suit.

«Come over here,» I said carefully. Delilah obeyed. «Now… stand behind me…»

Beads of salty sweat were puddling in my eyebrows.

Delilah assumed the position, as it were, standing about ten inches behind me.

«Now what?» she said in a high, dry voice.

«Now you must take down my trousers.»

«Heh?»

I tried to steady my breathing. The creature slid further up my leg until it was practically nestling in my groin. «Don’t argue, woman,» I said at last. «Reach around and unbutton my braces. One… at… a… time.»

She did as she was bidden. Her right hand reached out and slid around my waist, under the waistband of my trousers and found the first button. Her thick, ruddy hands were shaking as she tried to manoeuvre the loop of the braces from around the button.

Without a sound, she brought her left hand to bear on the problem and, after much agonizing fumbling, managed to release first one loop then the next. My trousers sagged slightly.

«Must keep them up!» I croaked. «If they fall too soon, those fangs will be sunk in me in seconds!»

«Righto,» breathed Delilah. «Moving to the hother side now. Can you—?»

I could. I moved my own hand down with agonizing slowness and grasped the waistband to keep the trousers taut.

Delilah was already at work on the left-hand braces. The loop slid gently from one, the other was proving more difficult.

«This one’s ha bugger,» she muttered. «Bleeding Tailoring Department and their fiddly ways. Have to go carefully hor else»

My heart-rate accelerated sickeningly as the second button popped from its stitching with a loud snap and my trousers drooped distinctly.

The insect’s head shifted and cocked almost as though it were listening. Its feelers paused in their feeling.

Delilah had moved her attention to the back buttons but I could see from the creature’s activity that we had no time for such details.

«It’s going to strike!» I screamed. «Quickly, Delilah. On my word, pull them down and swamp the bloody thing!»

I seemed to draw back from my own flesh as I watched the monster’s gleaming head rise, its razor-like pincers juddering and dripping…

«Now, Delilah, now!» I cried.

With amazing speed, Delilah whipped down my trousers and wrapped them around the insect as she dragged them to my feet. Wasting not one moment, she stamped her boot heel down hard and repeatedly on the dreadful lump in the material. I winced, despite myself.

A moment later, I had my revolver from my coat and loosed off a round between my own feet. Only as the smoke was rising from the ghastly sticky ooze did I feel able to drag the remains of my trousers over my shoes and hurl them into the corner.

A second attempt on my life! It seemed that someone was absolutely determined to prevent me getting to the heart of this baffling matter. But who?

I set Delilah to work packing my trunk and collapsed into an armchair with a glass of brandy, contemplating mortality. As the invaluable Domestic clumped about upstairs, I sifted through the less lethal portions of my correspondence. I opened the parcel and found inside, as expected, an old book, its pages brittle with age and a square of paper that read BAIT! Appointment with Quibble — Seven-thirty. 387 Via San Fontanella. M

Friend Miracle had not let me down. Despite being banged up he seemed still able to pull any amount of strings. He had fixed up an appointment for me with the elusive Professor Quibble and now I had something to entice the Professor into imparting secrets. I turned the book over and the soft binding flashed in the firelight.

Also in the unfortunate postman’s pile was a delicately scented note from the divine Miss Bella Pok. I held it to my face and grinned like a love-struck schoolboy. It ran:

I placed the note carefully amongst my shirts. The thought of returning to one such as Bella was enough to sustain me through any danger. For now, I had to try to wrap up this Miracle business as expeditiously as possible. I could not afford to miss my appointment in Naples with Quibble. I was unlikely to get a second chance.