Doctor Who_ Foreign Devils - Andrew Cartmel [41]
Elder-Main nodded at Zoe. 'It was her was supposed to come and visit Mr Thor last night. He gave her a fiver as well, misplaced generosity if you ask me. But he always had a generous nature, Mr Thor. Then he put on his best toilet water and favourite dressing gown and lay down on the sofa to wait there for her while I was stationed in the viewing gallery, behind the mirror. I was supposed to watch them.' He looked at Zoe with disapproval. 'But she didn't turn up. Someone else did.' 'Who for God's sake?'
The butler looked bleakly at Carnacki. 'Your friend sir. Miss Celandine Gibson, the celebrated medium.'
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'The man is obviously unreliable,' said Carnacki. 'His breath was reeking with whisky. Did you notice?' He glanced at Zoe and the Doctor, who stood by the window of the west dining room. Like all the other windows in Fair Destine, these looked out onto a darkness more profound than any night.
'Yes, he reeked of whisky,' said the Doctor. 'But only after he broke down and confessed.'
Carnacki was busy with his contraption, connecting the batteries in their big mahogany boxes up to the wide delicate glass hoop he'd mounted on the table. Now he looked up at the Doctor angrily. 'What are you saying? That you give credence to his ridiculous story?' He turned to catch Zoe's eyes but she looked away, not wishing to meet his gaze. Instead she peered at the constellations outside the window and realised with a deep cold thrill that they were different from the ones you'd expect to see from the Earth, in 1900. Or any other year. The Doctor was unperturbed by Carnacki's anger. 'What I'm saying is that the man was stone cold sober when he confessed what he saw and that I believe he was in full command of his wits.'
'Exactly,' said Carnacki, tightening a brass screw to hold down a braid of silver wire. 'He was cold and calculating, a shrewd liar.' 'You're contradicting yourself,' said the Doctor.
'No I'm not. The man was clearly a liar. You surely didn't believe his story? Celandine, entering Thor Upcott's bedroom, moving like a sleepwalker? Bending over the disconcerted but amenable Thor and . . . ' Carnacki faltered. 'And then the most ridiculous part. Her kissing him.' He looked up suddenly and caught Zoe's gaze before she could look away. 'He said it was her kiss that killed.' He stood up abruptly and shoved the big battery roughly into place. 'The kiss of death, delivered by Celandine Gibson.' He was trying to sound flippant but again his voice faltered. He turned away from Zoe and flipped a switch on the side of the battery. He moved around the table to the battery on the other side. 'Anyway, I looked in on Celandine, immediately after he told his ridiculous story.' 'We know,' said Zoe gently. 'We were there.'
Carnacki looked at her again, his eyes blank with distraction and
torment. He had been profoundly shocked by the butler's revelations and had rushed to Celandine's side. She had been lying on the sofa in the library, eyes closed, breathing softly. 'She was asleep,' said Carnacki. 'Just like she has been ever since that night. Innocently asleep.'
'But she is a medium,' said the Doctor in his most reasonable and persuasive voice. 'She is naturally open to outside influences . . . ' 'Celandine is not a murderess!'
'If she was under the influence of some outer force, then it wasn't Celandine acting that way.'
'Sophistry,' snarled Carnacki. 'I repeat to you, Celandine Gibson is not responsible. She is not the guilty party. She is not a killer.' 'You have an alternative theory?' said the Doctor pleasantly.
'The ghost of Roderick Upcott is the culprit. When the dead can't rest, they rise and prey on the living. The dead, do you hear? Not Celandine.' He viciously twisted a silver wire onto the second battery. 'These killings