Part 11 (2/2)

'It's Alice,' he said. 'One of the servants found her in her room, unconscious. I hoped that the Doctor might be able to explain '

Doyle and the Doctor virtually leaped from the landau, Doyle clutching his medical bag. 'I'm a doctor, sir,' he said briskly. 'I'd be happy to offer my opinion.'

'Thank you,' said Sir Edward gratefully. 'This way.' He led the three of them up to Alice's room. Roger was there, wringing his hands helplessly, as was one of the serving maids, presumably the girl who had discovered Alice.

It took Doyle and the Doctor a very brief time to come to the same conclusion. 'She's been drugged,' Doyle explained.

'The effects should wear off in a short while and leave her with no ill effects.'

'Drugged?' her father exclaimed, aghast. 'But who would do such a thing?'

The Doctor glanced around the room. 'Offhand,' he suggested, 'I'd suspect the one person missing from this picture.

Which is Colonel Ross's room?'

Roger gave a strangled cry. 'You can't think that Edmund would possibly '

'I can and I do,' the Doctor snapped. 'He's a very secretive person, and he's conspicuous by his absence.'

'But he's my friend,' protested Roger. 'I'm sure '

'I'm sure you're a blithering idiot,' Sir Edmund grunted. 'Come along, Doctor. I've long said that the man is a scoundrel. Let's take a look in his room.'

Sarah was torn for a moment between staying to look after Alice, who she rather liked, and keeping up with the action.

Action won, and she gave Doyle a quick wave before diving after the Doctor and Sir Edward.

Ross's room was further down the corridor, past the one Sarah had been given. Sir Edward rapped hard on the door and then threw it open. 'n.o.body here,' he reported, disappointed.

'But his bags are,' the Doctor said, going to his knees in front of the first. He didn't touch it until he had conducted a thorough examination of the straps. 'Aha!' he exclaimed happily. 'Just as I expected.' Taking his magnifying gla.s.s from his pocket, he held up the strap using the handle. Sarah saw the glint of something in the leather. 'Ingenious. He's b.o.o.by-trapped it so that anyone who opens his bags unaware gets drugged.'

Sarah frowned. 'So you're saying that Alice was trying to rummage through his things?'

'It looks that way,' the Doctor agreed. 'She was obviously suspicious of his motives and wanted some information.' His eyes sparkled. 'I wonder why Ross felt it necessary to rig this kind of trap for his bags? It's hardly the action of an honest man, is it?'

'The man's a scoundrel,' repeated Sir Edward. 'I should have Faversham arrest him.'

'On what charge?' asked the Doctor. 'He hasn't actually done anything criminal that we know of, and the only way your daughter could have been injected is if she were burgling his trunk. I think we'd be better off leaving the constable out of this.'

'But we have to do something,' protested Fulbright.

Sarah jerked her head at the two trunks. 'He won't go too far without his luggage, will he?' she said. 'That they're rigged suggests there's stuff in there he needs.' She looked down at the Doctor. 'You going to open them up?'

He shook his head. 'I don't think so. There may be other traps, and I doubt Ross would have left anything terribly incriminating behind. Let's just wait for him to turn up again, shall we?'

'So now what?' asked Sarah.

Getting to his feet, the Doctor slipped his gla.s.s back into his pocket. 'Rest,' he suggested. 'We'll need all our energies and wits tonight when the sun goes down.'

The hunger in his stomach almost overcame the fear in his soul. Waiting in the ancient mine for the sun to go down taxed him almost beyond endurance. He tried to sleep, but hunger continually wakened him. It was only the certainty that if he ventured out in the daylight then he might as well just kill himself that kept him from throwing aside caution and padding out onto the moors.

The wind had risen, whipping at the gra.s.ses and spa.r.s.e shrubs, bringing to his sensitive nostrils the scents of life. He could almost taste the prey in his mouth, feel the blood pulsing in their furry bodies, hear their bones snap as he bit down . .

. He whimpered in agonized indecision, desperately wanting to feed, but terrified of the consequences.

He had not asked for this fate, didn't deserve it. Why was he so tortured and so afflicted? He stared down at the paws he now possessed instead of hands. They were much more powerful in some ways than his old hands bad been. He could kill with a single blow, and the claws he possessed could rip through branches, bone or flesh. But he couldn't hold a pencil. And his mouth! The fangs he had grown were capable of ripping the throat out of a horse, but he had lost the ability to speak. All he could manage were the whimperings he was now producing, or the growls, barks and howls that he gave vent to in the night.

Despite all of that, he knew that he had been human once. A long, long time ago. Now what was he? Neither man nor beast but some terrible, cruel mixture of the two, twin natures that could never intermix as his physical forms had done.

He wanted to howl out his pain, his fear and his rage, but he knew that would bring the hunters to him faster. One day, he was sure, they would kill him. One day, perhaps, he would get some peace in the arms of death. He wasn't afraid of that so much. Death would be welcome, though he would never actively seek it. What terrified him the most was that he might not be killed. He'd been human once. He knew what people would do with him if they ever captured him.

Worse, he knew what Ross would do if he found him. This was all because of Ross in the first place! Had it not been for the man, he wouldn't be in this state. He would still be human. If he was doomed to die, he'd die happily if he could only kill the man who had done this to him. He envisioned fastening his fangs into Ross's throat and shaking the man like a rat until his spine cracked, his skull split and he could eat the fiend's brains for a final meal! Ah, then they could kill him!

But he knew that he was fooling himself. There was no chance that Ross would give him the opportunity for vengeance.

Ross was too smart for that. He'd have others out to do his work. The hunters would be others, either bought by Ross or else fooled into doing his black deeds.

Hunger gnawed at his insides again, and he whimpered once more. He stopped pacing up and down in the confines of the tunnel and stared at the darkening sky. It would be twilight in an hour, and then he could venture out. In the darkness, he knew, he could give any human the slip. All he needed to do was to kill, quickly and silently, the first prey he came across.

And if it was a hunter, a human? Well, so much the worse for that man, then. He had only wished to be left alone, and the men with their guns wouldn't allow him to live. So be it. If there was to be a confrontation, he would not shy from killing.

And, though the thought was repugnant, his stomach insisted that good food could not be wasted. Has it come to this? Has it come to this? he agonized. he agonized. Am I really considering cannibalism? Am I really considering cannibalism?

But was it cannibalism? He had been human once but he was not human now, and could never be again. He'd take animal flesh if he could, and he was more animal than human now. If that was right, how could it be wrong to feast on the flesh of those who would kill him? He resolved that he would kill whatever prey came to him first, man or beast. And he knew that he would eat anything that was presented to him.

He settled down to await the setting of the sun. Then the hunt would begin.

Alice joined the rest of them in the dining room for an early supper, though she didn't eat much. She insisted that she was feeling much better, but appeared pale and still tired despite her long, enforced rest. Roger fussed over her, and her father appeared much relieved. Sarah could see that Sir Edward was genuinely fond of his daughter. Despite his somewhat gruff manner, she realized that Fulbright was actually quite a pleasant person. He became much more animated with the reappearance of Alice.

After they had eaten, he led them all onto the patio overlooking the back lawns and the beautiful fountain. Sipping at her wine, Sarah found it very relaxing to be here. It was difficult to turn her mind to the evening's activities. She simply wanted to sit out here and enjoy the cool of the dying afternoon. Despite the rising breeze, it wasn't uncomfortable at all.

'I've arranged for the grooms to prepare four horses for us,' Sir Edward told the Doctor. 'I take it you can ride?'

'Naturally,' the Doctor answered. He looked satiated. Considering how much of the supper he'd packed away, Sarah reflected, he should. 'And so can Sarah.'

'Miss Smith?' Sir Edward stared from her to the Doctor. 'I a.s.sure you sir, this is no expedition for a woman.'

'And I a.s.sure you,' the Doctor retorted before Sarah could start her own protest, 'that I would sooner have Sarah beside me than any three men. I know I can rely on her implicitly.'

'Thank you,' Sarah said, touched by his compliment. He wasn't often that generous with his praise.

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