Doctor Who_ The Banquo Legacy - Andy Lane [37]
‘And Irving Braxiatel is… ?’
‘My –’ he hesitated. ‘My colleague and occasional collaborator in adventures of the mind, the soul and the body.’ With an emphatic thud he closed the book he was holding. ‘The Necronomicon of Abdul Alhazared: possibly the most misunderstood, mistranslated and misused book the human race has ever produced.’
My eye was caught by a slip of paper protruding from between the pages. I moved closer to the Doctor and removed it. Written in a childlike script was what appeared to be a series of notes on the history of the book:
Al Azif circ. ad 730 in Damascus. Trans to Greek ad 950 by Theodorus Philetus, all copies burned ad 1050.
Retrans. Greek from Olaus Wormius Latin ed.
Both supp. by Pope G. IX. Spanish trans. around ad 1600?
Prob. from orig. Arabic. Cf quote: ‘To things immortal, time can do no wrong/And that which never is to die, for ever must be young.’ Poss. Blake? Check roots against Alhazared.
‘Harries’s writing?’ I asked, showing the paper to the Doctor.
He nodded. ‘I imagine so. Inspector, I have a most terrible suspicion that –’
A squeal from the far side of the room cut across his words. We both whirled round and scanned the room for the source of the noise. Even as my eye encountered the large wooden cage which almost filled one windowsill, the door to the cage swung open and two hellishly large rats leaped out. For a second they paused, their tails flicking restlessly behind them as their noses twitched, searching the air for danger. A glance passed between them as if they were discussing their next move; then they scurried in opposite directions along the sill. One I lost sight of as it darted behind a pile of books; the other paused beside a broken pane of glass. Daintily placing its forepaws on the razor-sharp shards, it looked out upon its new kingdom. Then it was gone.
‘I don’t like rats,’ muttered the Doctor darkly. ‘I once had a friend who was almost eaten by one.’
‘If they were the ones Harries used in his experiments, shouldn’t they have been locked up?’
‘They were.’ He crossed the room to where the cage stood vacant and examined the wire door. ‘The cunning little brutes have removed the hinges.’ He glanced up at me, and there was something brooding in his eyes. ‘There’s a word for what that man Harries has been doing to the laws of nature.’
It suddenly struck me that I was treating the Doctor as a fellow investigator rather than as a witness to a fatality. Attempting to pull control of the conversation back to where it belonged, I said, ‘I doubt if there is anything significant here, but Sergeant Baker and I can give it a thorough search after Simpson has caught the rat. What I need to do now is view Professor Harries’s body. Are you acquainted with its location?’
‘Indeed, and if you don’t mind I’ll examine the body with you.’
‘You’re a medical practitioner? I had assumed you were a doctor of science.’
He gave me a quizzical glance. ‘I am qualified in many things, Inspector Stratford, including several that have yet to be invented.’
I followed the Doctor through the house to the main staircase, matching what I remembered of the journey to the conservatory to what I could see now. I had already decided that a thorough knowledge of the immediate geography could be valuable. From the study I could hear Baker continuing the questioning of the maid. Odd girl… She had given me the most appealing glance when I had passed her in the corridor earlier. Perhaps she disliked and feared Richard Harries as much as everyone else in this unusual household. Baker could reassure her. She was local, with a large family in the village. I wondered if Baker would start on Simpson. I hoped not, I was looking forward to tackling him myself. And Hopkinson.
The Doctor showed little inclination to speak as we scaled the stairs. I had hoped that he would continue