Phantom of Blood Alley by Paul Stewart

Author:Paul Stewart [Stewart, Paul]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 978-0-375-89618-7
Publisher: Random House Children's Books
Published: 2009-08-24T04:00:00+00:00

There was no question of Tilly staying in the Oliphants’ residence after the strange events of that night, and I escorted her to her aunt’s house in Mulberry Court, not far from my rooms in Caged Lark Lane. Despite the lateness of the hour, one look at her niece’s terrified face convinced the old fishwife that this was indeed an emergency, and she was happy to take her in.

I returned to my rooms, exhausted and disturbed by the day’s events in equal measure, and went straight to bed. I fell almost immediately into a deep sleep, only to be plagued by nightmares of a hideous apparition emerging from the lock-up and pursuing me down Blood Alley. Suddenly, I was cornered, and it pressed its appalling face close to mine, its fetid breath suffocating me. I tried to raise my hands, to push away the unseen head that was pressing closer and closer into my face. But I couldn’t move. I couldn’t get away.

I felt something wet graze my chin and draw slowly up my grimacing face; over my nose, across my forehead. Then again. And again …

My eyes snapped open. ‘Kaiser!’ I exclaimed.

The dog cocked its head to one side, then leaned forward for another lick.

‘Kaiser! Down, boy!’

Shamefacedly, the huge hound stepped down from the bed and sat on the floor, staring back at me expectantly. I sat up and patted his head, then glanced across at my clock.

It had seemed like a good idea the night before, having the guard dog in my attic rooms, sleeping on a blanket by the door. Now, wide awake at only half past six on a Sunday morning, I was beginning to regret my decision. Rolling over and going back to sleep was out of the question. I pushed the covers back and climbed out of bed.

‘Just give me half an hour,’ I told the dog, ‘and I’ll take you for a walk.’

I don’t know for certain whether the creature recognized the word walk, but his tail started thumping noisily against the floor. I washed and dressed quickly, and was putting the kettle on to boil when there was a soft knock at the door.

My heart missed a beat, and I had to remind myself that, as a general rule, phantoms don’t knock on doors. With Kaiser standing alert at my side, I unlocked the door and opened it.

‘Barnaby,’ came a familiar voice, and Will Farmer, his wheelboard clamped under one arm, stepped into the room. ‘I thought …’ His gaze fell on the dog. Grinning broadly, he crouched down and looked into the dog’s eyes. ‘And who are you?’ he said, stroking and patting his head, and then laughed as Kaiser licked his face and neck.

‘His name’s Kaiser,’ I told him. ‘He belonged to Laurence Oliphant, the brother of that client I was telling you about. The late Laurence Oliphant,’ I added.

Will looked up in surprise.

‘Laurence Oliphant has been murdered,’ I told him. Just then, a low, flutey whistle filled the air as the kettle came to the boil.

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