Part 56 (1/2)
”You need never ask apology of me to reflect on Oxford, Magistrate, ” Johnstone said with what seemed to Matthew an admirable grace. ”I too still walk those halls in my memory. Now... if you'll please forgive me... my knee also has a memory, and it is calling for liniment. Good night to you all.”
”I'll walk with you, Alan, ” Winston offered, and Johnstone accepted with a nod. ”Good night, Mr. Bidwell. Magistrate. Mt. Corbett.”
”Yes, good night, ” Bidwell replied.
Winston followed as Johnstone limped out of the room, leaning even more than usual on his cane. Then Bidwell poured himself the last few swallows of wine from the decanter and went upstairs to avoid any discourse or possible friction with Matthew. As Woodward half-dozed in the chair, Matthew awaited the arrival of Dr. s.h.i.+elds.
The question of Linch Lancaster was uppermost in Matthew's mind. Here, at last, might be some hope to cling to. If Smythe could positively identify Linch as this other man, it would be a starting point to convince Bidwell that a fiction had been created around Rachel. Was it too much to hope for that all this might be accomplished on the morrow?
Thirty-Four.
A pa.s.sing thundershower had wet the earth just before dawn, but Sat.u.r.day's sun shone through the dissipating clouds, and the blue sky again reappeared before the hour of eight. By then Matthew had finished his breakfast and was on his way to the maskers' camp.
He discovered-by sense of hearing before sense of sight- Phillip Brightman in discourse with two other thespians, all of them sitting in chairs behind a canvas screen, reading over and reciting pages from one of their morality scenes. When Matthew asked where he might find David Smythe, Brightman directed him to a yellow awning set up to protect a number of trunks, lanterns, and sundry other prop items. Beneath it Matthew found Smythe inspecting some brightly hued costumes that one of the troupe's women was adorning with rather used-looking peac.o.c.k feathers.
”Good morning, Mr. Smythe, ” Matthew said. ”May I have a word with you?”
”Oh... good morning, Mr. Corbett. What may I help you with?”
Matthew glanced quickly at the seamstress. ”May we speak in private, please?”
”Certainly. Mrs. Prater, these are coming along very well. I'll speak with you again when the work is further advanced. Mr. Corbett, we might go over there if you like.” Smythe motioned toward a stand of oak trees about sixty feet behind the encampment.
As they walked, Smythe slid his thumbs into the pockets of his dark brown breeches. ”I think an apology is in order for our behavior last night. We left so abruptly... and for such an obvious reason. At least we might have tempered it with a more diplomatic excuse.”
”No apology is necessary. Everyone understood the reason. And better the truth than a false excuse, no matter how diplomatic.”
”Thank you, sir. I appreciate your candor.”
”The reason I wished to speak to you, ” Matthew said as they reached the oak trees' shade, ”concerns Gwinett Linch. The man you believe to be Jonathan Lancaster.”
”If I may correct you, not believe to be. As I said last night, I would swear to it. But he appears... so different. So changed. The man I knew would not be... well, would not be caught dead in such dirty rags. In fact, I recall he had a marked affinity for cleanliness.”
”And order?” Matthew asked. ”Would you say he had an affinity for that as well?”
”He kept his wagon neat enough. I remember one day he complained to my father about not having a supply of wheel grease on hand to silence a squeak.”
”Hm, ” Matthew said. He leaned against the trunk of an oak and crossed his arms. ”Exactly who was... I mean, who is... Jonathan Lancaster?”
”Well, I mentioned he had an act that involved trained rats. He had them jump through hoops and run races and such. The children loved it. Our circus travelled through most of England, and we did play London on several occasions but we found ourselves restricted to a very bad part of the city. So we mostly travelled from village to village. My father was the manager, my mother sold tickets, and I did whatever needed doing.”
”Lancaster, ” Matthew said, guiding Smythe back to the subject. ”He made his living with this trained rat show?”
”Yes, he did. None of us were exactly wealthy, but... we all pulled together.” Smythe frowned, and Matthew could tell he was forming his next statement. ”Mr. Lancaster... was a puzzling man.”
”How so? Because he worked with rats?”
”Not only that, ” Smythe said. ”But because of the other act he performed. The one that was done... well... that was done only behind closed curtains, for a small audience of adults-no children allowed-who wished to pay an extra coin to see it.”
”And what was that?”
”His display of animal magnetism.”
”Animal magnetism?” Now it was Matthew's turn to frown. ”What is that?”
”The art of magnetic manipulation. Have you not heard of such a thing?”
”I've heard of the process of magnetism, but never animal magnetism. Is this some theatrical whimsy?”
”It's been more popular in Europe than in England, I understand. Particularly in Germany, according to what my father told me. Mr. Lancaster was once a leading light of the cult of magnetism in Germany, though he was English-born. This is also according to my father, who if nothing else has a fortune of friends in the craft of public entertainment. That was, however, in Mr. Lancaster's younger years. An incident occurred that caused him to flee Germany.”
”An incident? Do you know what it was?”
”I know what my father told me, and wished me to keep secret.”
”You are no longer in England and no longer under your father's jurisdiction, ” Matthew said. ”It is vital that you tell me everything you know about Jonathan Lancaster. Particularly the secrets.”
Smythe paused and c.o.c.ked his head to one side. ”May I ask why this is so important to you?”
It was a fair question. Matthew said, ”I'm going to trust you, as I hope you will trust me. Obviously Lancaster has hidden his true ident.i.ty from Mr. Bidwell and everyone else in this town. I wish to know why. Also... I have reason to believe that Lancaster may be involved with the current situation in which this town finds itself.”
”What? You mean the witch?” Symthe offered a nervous smile. ”You're joking!”
”I am not, ” Matthew said firmly.
”Oh, that can't be! Mr. Lancaster may have been strange, but he wasn't demonic. I'd venture that his closed-curtain talent appeared to some to be witchcraft, but it was evidently based on principles of science.”
”Ah.” Matthew nodded, his heartbeat quickening. ”Now we approach the light, Mr. Smythe. What exactly was his closed-curtain talent?”
”Manipulation of the mind, ” Smythe answered, and Matthew had to struggle to suppress a victorious grin. ”By the application of magnetic force, Mr. Lancaster could deliver mental commands to some members of his audience, and cause them to do, believe, and say things that... um... would probably not suit the eyes and ears of children. I have to admit; I sneaked behind the curtains and watched on more than a few occasions, because it was a fascinating show. I recall he would cause some to believe day was night, and that they were getting ready for their beds. One woman he caused to believe was freezing in a snowstorm in the midst of July. A particular scene I remember was a man he caused to believe had stepped into a nest of biting ants, and how that man jumped and hollered was nothing short of ludicrous. The other members of the audience laughed uproariously, but that man never heard a giggle of it until Mr. Lancaster awakened him.”
”Awakened him? These people were put to sleep in some way?”
”It was a sleep-like state, yet they were still responsive. Mr. Lancaster used various objects to soothe them into this state, such as a lantern, a candle, or a coin. Anything that served to secure their attention. Then he would further soothe and command them with his voice... and once you heard his voice, it was unforgettable. I myself would have fallen under his magnetism, if I hadn't known beforehand what he was doing.”
”Yes, ” Matthew said, staring past Smythe in the direction of Fount Royal. ”I can well understand that.” He directed his gaze back to the man. ”But what is this about magnetism?”
”I don't quite fathom it, but it has to do with the fact that all bodies and objects hold iron. Therefore a skilled pract.i.tioner can use other objects as tools of manipulation, since the human body, blood, and brain also contain iron. The attraction and manipulation is called magnetism. That, at least, is how my father explained it when I asked him.” Symthe shrugged. ”Evidently it was a process first discovered by the ancient Egyptians and used by their court magicians.”
Matthew was thinking 7 have you now, Sir Fox.
”This must be very important to you indeed, ” Smythe said, dappled sunlight falling through the oak branches and leaves onto his face.
”It is. As I said, vital.”
”Well... as you also said, I am no longer in England or under my father's jurisdiction. If it's so vital that you know... the secret my father asked me to keep concerns Mr. Lancaster's career before he joined the circus. In his younger years he was known as a healer of sorts. A faith-healer, I suppose, in that he could use magnetism to deliver people from illnesses. Apparently he travelled to Europe to practise this art, and drew the attention of a German n.o.bleman who wished Mr. Lancaster to teach him and his son how to be magnetizers themselves. Now... be aware that all this I recall my father telling me, and I might have garbled it in the retelling.”