The Murderer Inside the Mirror by Sarah Rayne

Author:Sarah Rayne [Rayne, Sarah]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Severn House
Published: 2024-01-31T00:00:00+00:00

EIGHTEEN

A village clock was chiming the three quarters after eleven as Jack and Byron left Girdlestone Halt and walked down the tree-lined lane towards the hall.

‘It was lucky we were able to get such a late train,’ said Byron. ‘I was worried that we might have to sit under a hedge waiting for midnight to toll its iron tongue. I’ve brought Montague’s leather wallet with the tools of the forger’s trade with me, of course. Scraping implements and little pointy instruments and blades. And a bottle of some solution for cleaning, as well. I have no idea what it is, but I’ve seen him use it, and I’m hoping it will work on that layer of paint that somebody added. And you’ve got the silk ladder, haven’t you, in case the gates are locked?’

‘I have.’

The ladder was folded inside Jack’s overcoat. It was thin and light and immensely strong – his father had designed it with help from Rudraige, who liked to tell how he had broken into more houses in his youth than the rest of them would ever know. The ladder had slender steel hooks at each end, which, judiciously flung upwards, bit into stone or brick, allowing for a cautious ascent by way of the silk rungs. He answered Byron somewhat absently, partly because he was watching and listening for anyone who might come along this remote country road and remember seeing two strangers, but mainly because his mind was filled up with Catherine – with knowing he would shortly see that disturbing blue stare again, and that air of challenge and defiance.

It was just on midnight when they reached the hall. They paused, looking at the gates, then Jack reached out to try the latch. Unexpectedly it gave way, and the gates swung quietly inwards.

‘Very hospitable of Gertie,’ he said, grinning. ‘Or is it that it wouldn’t occur to her that anyone would have the impudence to walk in uninvited.’

They went inside, closing the gates behind them to avoid attracting notice. Keeping to the thick shrubbery that fringed the drive, they went towards the house, carefully avoiding the gravel paths and the patches of moonlight that silvered the ground.

As the house came into view, Byron pointed to its right-hand corner. ‘Picture gallery,’ he said, softly. ‘Third window from the end. It’s the window you unlatched – and left unlatched in case we did decide to return, you remember.’

‘I do. But if there’s even half-decent housekeeping in there, the window will have been properly closed and latched long since.’

‘It didn’t look as if people went into that part of the house very often, though. That drainpipe looks fairly secure – plenty of leering gargoyles, as well, for you to grab hold of.’

‘Some of them look as if the stonemason used Gertie as a model,’ said Jack, studying the wall. ‘But there’s a ledge just outside the gallery window up there – d’you see it? If we can get on to that we should be able to get inside.

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