Artie Conan Doyle and the Gravediggers' Club by Robert J. Harris

Author:Robert J. Harris [Robert J. Harris]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781782503859
Publisher: Floris Books
Published: 2017-05-20T16:00:00+00:00

Inside it was as busy as a market and just as noisy. The walls of the large room were made of plain, discoloured brick, and the whole place was lit by oil lanterns which gave off a greasy smell. A score of rickety tables had been set up where groups of men played games of chance with dice and cards, greeting each turn of fortune with a roar of triumph or a groan of despair.

Artie set down the bucket and moved through the crowd with his head down, doing his best not to draw attention to himself. In the far left corner of the room a fiddler played a lively jig, to which some couples were dancing unsteadily.

Off to the right a dozen chairs had been set up on a raised stage. Here sat Colonel Braxton Dash, gazing down at the gathering like a king surveying his court. Seated around him was a band of men that Artie guessed were his fellow ‘gravediggers’. Their round tables were laden with platters of roast chicken, cheese and bread, along with bottles of wine and tankards of ale. A pair of women in grubby aprons and thick make-up passed among the company, replenishing their drinks.

What really caught Artie’s eye, however, was the huge black dog lying on the floor at Dash’s left hand. It was a ferocious-looking mastiff wearing a studded leather collar. Its long leash was wrapped around the arm of the colonel’s chair. Artie had no doubt that this was the beast whose eerie howls had so unnerved him at Greyfriars Kirk.

At Dash’s other hand sat Benjamin Warren, his head bowed low, toying unhappily with an empty glass. He looked uncomfortable in this raucous company and for an instant Artie felt a twinge of sympathy for the young student. Then he recalled that Warren had brought the police to their door, and finding him in this disreputable place only confirmed his suspicions that the lodger was up to no good.

Dash stood up and twirled his gold-handled cane flamboyantly in one hand before rapping it three times on the stage. At this signal the hubbub died down to a scattering of murmurs and whispers.

“Fellow Gravediggers, friends and honoured guests,” Dash addressed the crowd in a loud, commanding voice. “I also include, of course, toadies, hangers on, and,” he added with a thin smile, “those who have sneaked in to rob the place.”

Sneaked in! Artie’s blood ran cold with sheer terror. Dash must mean him. He had been spotted. And now here he was defenceless in the hands of a band of ruthless cutthroats!

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