Terror by Gaslight Read Free

a good piece of Cheddar, sir, and a nice ripe Stilt—’
    Her employer cut her short. ‘Yes, yes, anything. I’m a busy man. I can’t waste time discussing catering trivia!’ And then, after a moment, he added, ‘Just make sure there’s a good pickle. The strong, not the sweet. Put in some slices of cucumber. And a small bottle of pale ale. And some sweetmeats for the digestion.’
     
    Clare Austin closed the front gate behind her, turned right, and walked briskly eastward along the Highgate Road.
    Five years older than her sister, Clare did not share Harriet’s good looks, partly due to a two-inch horizontal scar on her left cheek. She was used to this being the first thing people registered when they met her. She had seen so many eyes drawn to that side of her face, and then instantly flick away, pretending the scar hadn’t been noticed. There’d been a time when the reaction had hurt her. But that was long gone. Now, as a keen observer of human nature, she found it mildly amusing, a prime example of compulsive behaviour.
    But she would never forget the day the wound was inflicted. Nor would she ever forgive the perpetrator. It wasone of the factors that made her more determined, stronger, and more self-possessed than her sibling.
    Like all the residents of Hillside, she had lost most of her night’s sleep, and she had then been subjected to an hour of questions from a detective inspector, with a portly police sergeant taking notes. (The ordeal which Harriet had so far been spared on medical grounds.) Clare had remained calm and articulate throughout and, when the inquisition was finished, had felt no inclination to retire to her room and lie down. Her remedy for stress and weariness was not rest, but fresh air and exercise. Besides, she had a mission to complete.
    Clutching the precious envelope in her gloved hand, she approached the pillar box on the corner. At this moment a little girl was being lifted up by her mother to put a letter in the slot, an adventure she was clearly enjoying.
    The woman looked up at the approaching Clare, and there was the usual tiny flicker of the eyes before she smiled and apologized for keeping her waiting. Then mother and child moved off, the little girl skipping with pleasure.
    Clare checked again that her envelope was correctly addressed and stamped and securely sealed, and then she thrust it into the pillar box. She paused briefly to think what consequences might arise from what she had just done. Then she turned on her heels and walked back the way she had come.
    She was not returning to Hillside immediately, however. It was a bright day, her father was in a foul temper, and the atmosphere in the house would be even more oppressive than usual. There would be many hours spent indoors today as she took refuge in her room, writing at the small table. No need to start too soon.
    Beside her, the heathland stretched for miles, wild and exciting in the morning sunshine. And she had her naturenotes to compile. There should be no danger on the Heath at this time of day. There was no reason why she shouldn’t take a good walk.
    She turned left and entered the Heath by the broad path that led due south towards Gospel Oak. But she quickly left this, branching off onto a narrow footpath that took her downhill and westward into a clump of trees. Passing quickly through this, she emerged into open country.
    Away to her right, she could see Hillside and, on the grassy plain in front of it, half a dozen policemen pacing the area, and sometimes going down on hands and knees to examine the ground. They were looking for traces of blood, or anything else that might tell them exactly where Kemp had received his fatal wound last night. And they hoped they might find evidence of a struggle.
    Clare gratefully turned her back on that scene; she had swallowed her fill of crime and police work in the last twelve hours. Now it was time to relax.
    At first she thought of heading for the tumulus, over