Part 3 (2/2)

'Yes, I do, don't I?'

Lord Urton spoke for the first time since they had left the drawing room. His voice was level, a monotone. 'The work at the mine may take some considerable time.'

'So you have told me,' his wife said with rather more emotion. 'And when, may I ask, am I to be told what this work entails?'

'Oh, but you did not, I think, come here to discuss the mine,' Nepath said easily. He was standing directly in front of her. He still held the carved figure, one hand caressing the smooth surface as he held it up for her to see. 'She is beautiful, don't you think? From South America. Perhaps as much as four thousand years old.' He stared into the small statue's blank eyes. 'Imagine how many hands have touched this surface, how many memories are locked within her structure.' He looked back up suddenly. 'You have come perhaps to advise me that it is almost time for dinner?'

'I have come,' Lady Urton said in a steely voice, 'to insist that whatever you are doing to my husband is to stop this instant.'

Nepath raised an eyebrow. Lord Urton neither moved nor spoke.

'I am doing nothing,' Nepath said after a short pause. 'Tell her. Urton.'

'He is doing nothing,' Lord Urton said at once, his voice maintaining its earlier flat tone.

'And you expect me to believe that?' she demanded. 'He's not been himself since he met you, since you came to this house. Anyone can see that.' She took a step towards Nepath and was pleased to see that he instinctively stepped back. His foot caught an the edge of a packing crate and he stumbled slightly. 'I want you out of my house and out of my life,' she said.

Nepath's expression did not change as he regarded her. 'I can see that you are upset,' he said slowly. 'And we can't have that, can we?'

'We can't have that,' Lord Urton murmured in response.

'We have other guests,' Lady Urton went on. 'Invited before you arrived. So, you see, I'm afraid we shall need the s.p.a.ce.'

'Indeed?' Nepath nodded in apparent understanding. 'Yes, I thought I heard the door bell. Who are these guests, may I ask?'

'You may not.'

His eyes narrowed, just slightly, just enough to betray his anger. 'I was addressing Lord Urton,' he said in a low voice.

'Professor Isaac Dobbs and Mr Alistair Gaddis of the Society for Psychical Research,' Lord Urton responded immediately.

'Really?' Nepath seemed if anything to be amused at this information. 'How very impressive.'

'Then I shall take it you will leave tomorrow,' Lady Urton cut in. 'Dinner will be at eight. I will leave you to make your own arrangements for transporting yourself and your...' She looked round the room again. 'Your belongings.'

'You are too kind, Lady Urton. My sister and I shall join you for dinner at eight, then.'

'Your sister?' She glanced at her husband, but could not tell from his neutral expression whether this was news to him or not.

Nepath froze, a sudden look of puzzlement on his face. 'But you have not yet met Patience, have you Lady Urton? She arrived this morning. With my... belongings.' He stepped away from her, heading towards the door that led to the outer room. 'Please,' now he was the perfect gentleman, beckoning for Lord and Lady Urton to follow him. 'Please, come through and let me introduce you.'

A smile spread across his face as they followed, carefully picking a path through the open crates and packing materials.

'I am sure my sister can explain everything, put your fears well and truly to rest, Lady Urton.'

He opened the door to the other room and stepped back to allow them to enter first. Lady Urton looked closely at Nepath as she stepped over the threshold, but she could read nothing in his expression.

The room was in near darkness. A single gas lamp burned on one wall, casting a pallid glow over the immediate area. Beneath the lamp, the light spilling over it and into it, was a large display case. Like the cases in the larger room, it was largely made of gla.s.s. It was difficult to make out anything else in the room.

Nepath stepped past her. She was aware of her husband behind her. 'I thought you said...' she began.

'Lady Urton,' Nepath interrupted. 'Please allow me to introduce my sister.' He stepped towards the light, extending a hand.

She followed his hand, saw where he was pointing. Saw what he was pointing at. For a moment she stood absolute frozen, her blood running cold. When she started screaming she found she could not stop. There was a part of her that tried to rationalise what was happening, that listened to herself, to her cries echoing round the room. There was a part of her that heard Nepath speaking to her husband.

'I think it is time you explained matters to your wife, my dear Urton.' His voice was calm, cloying, menacing.

There was a part of her that was aware of her husband beside her, of his hands reaching for her, of the hissing and spitting of his fingers as they touched her throat. A part of her felt the blistering heat as his fingers scorched their way through the skin, smelled the charred flesh, saw his thumbs closing on her eyes as her vision blurred in a heat*haze of the most excruciating pain.

Her screams were breathless, stuttering and dying in the torrid atmosphere. But through her pain and her disbelief, through the searing, molten remnants of her eyes she could still see the afterimage of what Nepath had shown her. His sister.

There was a part of her that was aware that she had stopped screaming, that her husband's white hot thumbs were pressed deep into the scorched sockets of bone where her eyes had been, and were still pressing.

Until there was only the burning.

Chapter Five.

Heated Conversations The heat of the preceding days had given way to a sudden dry, cold calm. He had noticed the change even as he drove the cart up the drive to the manor house. He could have walked, but he was late already. It was as if, he reflected as he stood an the doorstep, a pressure valve had opened and the heat had been released into the upper ether. As if it had evaporated to allow the winter to reclaim her territory and take her proper course.

The door opened and Mrs Webber's familiar form stood framed in front of him. Her mouth twisted into the closest approximation of a smile that his experience led him to believe she was capable of.

'Doctor,' she said, 'how good to see you again. Come in.' She stood back and allowed him to enter the house. He handed her his hat and his top coat and she carried them through, leading him to the drawing room. 'Dinner will be at eight, Doctor,' she informed him.

There were two men in the drawing room. He did not recognise them. One was an elderly man, though he seemed full of energy. White hair erupted from his head like wire. The younger man was more sombre looking, with dark hair and long sideburns. His face was round and made him look younger than he probably was.

'Good evening,' he said as they stood in response to his entrance. They had been sitting opposite each other, warming themselves by the coal fire that burned in the grate.

'Good evening, sir,' the older man replied. 'Are you Mr Nepath?'

He smiled. 'Alas, no. I a.s.sume from your question that you are not a.s.sociates of Mr Nepath?'

'We are not,' the younger man said. 'I am Alistair Gaddis. This is Professor Dobbs of the Royal Society.'

'I am impressed. A scientist.'

'Indeed,' Dobbs told him. 'Did I hear correctly, sir, that you are a doctor?'

'I am. Of divinity. So I am equally used to being called Reverend.' He tapped his clerical collar and smiled. 'Matthew s...o...b..ld. DD. I am delighted to meet you both.' He sat down in a free chair. 'Robert Lord Urton had mentioned that he was expecting some guests from the Society for Psychical Research. Yourselves?'

'Yes,' Gaddis answered, sitting down again.

'Forgive me,' s...o...b..ld said. 'I was afraid that you would be attention*seeking sensationalists rather than men of science and learning. I am, I must say, relieved.'

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