Borrower of the Night - Elizabeth Peters [75]
I wished he hadn’t raised the point. Because, of course, our chemical experiment had not only solved a crime, it had solved the secondary mystery too. Now I knew what had happened to the shrine. There was only one place where it could be. And Tony, whose mind works the way mine does, saw the truth at once.
‘I’ll be damned,’ he exclaimed, bounding to his feet.
He almost was. Something streaked past his arm, chunked into the tree behind him, and hung there quivering.
I snatched at it – Count Burckhardt’s dagger, which I had last seen lying among the dried ribs of the steward.
Tony was staring incredulously at his left arm. His shirt was slit as neatly as if by scissors, and a thin dark trickle darkened the white cloth.
‘That son of a gun tried to kill me!’
‘What an ungrateful ghost,’ I said. ‘Here we are trying to clear Burckhardt’s name, and he throws knives at us. He’s a practical ghost, though. He must have sharpened this thing recently.’
‘Burckhardt, hell. Stop trying to distract me with spooks, Vicky, I’m already way ahead of you. Blankenhagen was in the crypt alone with the bones and the dagger for a good ten minutes. Hey – ’
Blankenhagen was already gone, presumably in pursuit of the knife thrower. With a few well-chosen words, Tony took off after him.
I followed. I wasn’t anxious to stay in that haunted garden alone. As I ran, I wasn’t sure whom Tony was chasing; he surely didn’t think the doctor could throw a knife like a boomerang. Too many people had had access to the steward’s belongings – including the cloaked grave robber.
I reached the Hall in time to see Tony disappearing through the door which led to the cellars. When I got to the bottom of the stairs, I was relieved to see that Tony had had sense enough to bring a flashlight. By its glow I found the two men in the kitchen. Tony had apparently decided to keep his suspicions of the doctor to himself. The conference sounded reasonably amicable.
‘I lost him when he descended here,’ said Blankenhagen. ‘Where do these doors go? I do not know this place.’
‘That’s a dead end.’ Tony indicated the passage leading to the dungeons. ‘I assume our quarry knows that;. he knows this place too damned well. He must have gone the other way.’
The trail was easy to follow – too easy, though this didn’t occur to us till it was too late. One of the storeroom doors swung invitingly open. The room was empty. The only break in the walls was a ventilation slit too narrow to permit egress of a lizard, much less a man.
Tony swept the floor with his flashlight. One of the paving stones was out of line by a full inch.
Tony handed me the flashlight. Dropping to his knees, he tried to get the fingers of his right hand into the crack between the stones. Meanwhile, Blankenhagen picked up the crowbar which was lying conveniently in a corner and inserted its edge into the crack. He grunted as he put his weight behind the tool; and the stone flew up with a jaunty swing that threw Blankenhagen over on his back and almost decapitated Tony.
‘Balanced,’ said Tony, feeling his chin as if surprised to find it still there.
‘Wait,’ said Blankenhagen, getting to his feet as Tony prepared to lower himself into the hole. ‘Should we not go for help?’
‘And let this guy get away?’ Tony was getting suspicious again. ‘You go first, Doc.’
Blankenhagen shrugged, but complied. There was a streak of romanticism under that stolid exterior of his; by now he was as reluctant to abandon the chase as Tony was.
Tony lay flat, shining his light down into the hole.
‘Vorsicht!’ The doctor’s voice came hollowly up. ‘Careful when you descend. The stairs are of wood, and shaky.’
Tony turned around and prepared to follow. He glanced up at me. I could see his face; it wore a broad grin.
‘Go call the cops, Vicky,’ he said, and started down.
From where I stand now – and even from where I was to be standing an hour later – I can see that this might have been the smartest thing to do. But at the time