Page 54

I blinked through my tears, and into the wide, watery eyes of Flora Gifford. ‘Grand,’ I wheezed, solar plexus on fire.

My brain was on fire, too. Flora was another suspect and here she was, on our road, as well, right beside the crime scene. ‘What are you doing here?’ I repeated.

‘Oh!’ she squeaked, blushing furiously. ‘Umm … well if you must know, I was looking for you. Or your apartment, rather. I tried to leave a letter with your porter, but he wasn’t in, so I thought I’d come back later. Then I came out and I saw Ripley coming! So I had to scarper behind some bins before she saw me.’

‘Letter?’ I asked, baffled.

Flora now looked so flustered that there was a real danger that she might pass out. ‘Yes! Nothing important! Just a little …’ Her eyes darted behind me for a moment, and her face suddenly fell. ‘Oh my goodness. That poor man.’

I turned around and followed her gaze. On the other side of the road, there was a man on his hands and knees.

‘Oh Lord,’ I muttered.

It was Clarence Gussett. He was down in the gutter, his head almost fully inside one of the drains that lined the cobbles. He’d taken off his jacket and he wasn’t wearing any shoes. Even from here, I could hear him ranting and raving.

‘Do you know him?’ Flora asked, concerned.

I swallowed. ‘A little. Wait here.’

I marched over to Clarence. He was reaching inside the drain, his shirtsleeves caked with filth. I cleared my throat. ‘Mr Gussett? Clarence?’ I paused. ‘Tubby? Are you all right?’

He snapped around, and I could see at once that he was not all right. His eyes were manic and bloodshot; he was sweating even more than usual. He jabbed a finger at the drain. ‘He was in there! I saw him!’

I frowned. ‘Who?’

‘The policeman!’ he shouted. ‘He was standing right there in the sewer, looking at me!’

He scrambled back on his belly and started ferreting about inside the drain. I could see now that he was holding a bamboo cane, with a little dental mirror tied to the end with a shoelace. There was a single hairline crack in the glass, splitting it in half.

‘They think I don’t know their schemes!’ he snarled. ‘They think I don’t know what they’re up to. Ha! I’ll show them! If I can just work out where he’s got to …’

I was completely at a loss. ‘Mr Gussett, you need to get up …’

I felt a hand clap on my shoulder as Flora shoved past me. Within seconds, she had hoisted Clarence to his feet like it was nothing. ‘Now, now, this just won’t do! That’s it, up off the road with you!’

Clarence just let it happen, baffled. There’s something about a posh person barking orders at you that never fails to work. It works on hounds, it works on horses, and it works on people having nervous breakdowns, too. Clarence looked around blearily.

‘He … he was just there,’ he murmured. ‘In the gutter. With his helmet. And whistle.’ He glanced at the empty gutter. ‘He must have run off somehow.’

‘Of course he did!’ said Flora. ‘Awfully clever of you to spot him, too, jolly well done. Now let’s get you back home, shall we? I’ll take your little stick.’

Clarence nodded shakily and handed over the bamboo cane. Whatever spell had fallen over him had gone. What was left behind was very cold and very tired. ‘Y-yes. Thank you.’

Flora and I led him back to his apartment. There was no ranting or raving now: he was like a sick boy on his best behaviour. He’d left the door wide open in his hurry so we led him into the ruined parlour, laid him down on the sofa, and within seconds he was fast asleep.

Flora gazed around the wreckage with wide eyes. ‘Oh my goodness. The poor man. We really should do something to help him.’

‘I think it’s best to leave him for now,’ I said. ‘Miss Decima and I will keep an eye on him. Thanks for all your help – you were brilliant.’

She waved me quiet. ‘Oh! It’s the least I could do. Especially after all the help you’re giving Lavinia.’ She gazed around the apartment again and sighed. ‘It’s just so sad, isn’t it? You never know who’s around you.’

‘Can I walk you back to your dormitory?’ I offered.

Flora shook her head. ‘Best not – Mrs Ripley has views about that sort of thing.’ Her face lit up. ‘But you could walk me to the quad, I suppose, if you’d like.’

We made our way out of the building. It was an awkward moment, given everything that had just happened. Not to mention the fact that Flora was one of our key suspects in the case. I probably should have been asking her questions, but instead I was distracted by a dead pigeon on the pavement. That’s the third one I’ve seen this week, I thought to myself.

‘That poor man,’ Flora repeated sadly. ‘Uncle Egg was just like that, you know, towards the end. Ranting and raving about some big plot against him and how he was going to reveal a great secret to the world. Poor old Egg.’