eager hand. “Ha!” he proclaimed, casting groats and pennies to the ground but brandishing a small object with a jubilant flourish. “Behold – the knave’s guilt is proved beyond further doubt.”
Held between the secretary’s fingers was a second phial of glass, identical to the one Adam had discovered – yet this one was full.
“Who can say for whom this was meant!” Master Tewkes cried, shaking the blue fluid within. “One of Her Majesty’s own steeds perhaps?”
Jenks stared at the bottle with a look of horror etched into his face. But, before he could voice any protestation, Doctor Dee prowled forward, his keen eyes sparkling.
“Your next words may condemn you,” he warned. “So choose them with wisdom. Tell me truthfully, what happened here this night?”
Jenks blinked and nodded at the other mechanical horses which were still standing at the darkened end of the barn.
“I saw to the beasts,” he said. “Unloaded them, polished the dust away, brushed the manes and tails then sat and ate the bit of supper the kitchen girl brought out to me.”
“Is that all?”
The groom nodded. “It was then that Belladonna started. A frightful noise she made.”
“No, no, no,” the astrologer remarked with a disappointed air. “That will never do. Like many puzzles this is merely a question of mathematics. You have left out the most significant factor in your account.”
Jenks shrank against the wall, looking like a cornered animal of the old world about to be delivered to the wolves. “It’s true I tell you!” he cried wretchedly. “Every word.”
Master Tewkes spat at him. “The rack will teach you the meaning of truth,” he promised.
“Hold!” Doctor Dee’s voice rang sharply. “I had not finished, hear me out.” He waited until he had their complete attention, then continued. “Observe the groom’s appearance,” he said. “Does it not speak of more than he has related?”
“I always thought he looked like a surly gypsy!” the secretary put in, unable to stop himself.
A warning glance from Walsingham caused Master Tewkes to bite his own tongue and say no more.
“Note the particles of straw in this man’s hair,” Doctor Dee resumed. “There is also a quantity upon his back; is that not suggestive? Look also to the great heaps piled yonder – mark you that singular depression?”
He indicated the hills of straw kept at the back of the barn. Upon the lower slopes there was a curiously deep hollow.
“The fact you omitted to tell us,” he said, returning his attention to the groom, “is that you fell asleep. Replete with Mistress Dritchly’s victuals, you sat at your ease and were awakened only when Belladonna began making those horrible sounds. No doubt there were preliminary whirrs and other signs of distress, but you missed them entirely until they were loud enough to rouse you from slumber. Perhaps in all the confusion you did not realise you had even closed your eyes, but it is the only hope of salvation you have for the moment.”
Walsingham pursed his lips and considered what the astrologer had said. “Then some other party may have stolen into this place and tampered with the horse,” he said. “It is possible.”
“Fanciful nonsense!” Master Tewkes blurted. “The groom had the other phial in his keeping. Of course he is the one! He was the only person here this night and he is responsible!”
To everyone’s surprise, the Doctor gave a slight chuckle. “Oh no,” he corrected. “There you are mistaken. As I have said, the solution to this enigma is mathematical in nature. I shall demonstrate how, in this instance, one plus one can equal three. Jenks was not alone in the barn – there was another.”
Stepping aside he lifted his lined face and called out, “Lantern!”
Still kneeling by the ruined wreck of Belladonna, Adam picked up the light that was nearby and offered it to him. Doctor Dee declined with an amused smile and pointed to the shadow-filled corner of the barn, beyond the remaining horses.
“The illumination I seek,” he said, “is of another sort.”
Everyone stared. Standing by the entrance, Henry peered around the door and held his breath.
From the gloom he heard a rustling. There, in the dun murk, one of the straw mounds was moving. It shook and wobbled for a moment, then a dark shape clambered free and Jenks choked in fright.
“The imp from Hell!” he breathed.
Both Henry and Adam recalled what the groom had told them about Doctor Dee. Over there in the unlit corner, a small, dwarf-like figure was brushing the dust and hay from its shoulders, then through the shadows it came.
“Gentlemen,” the old astrologer announced, “permit me to introduce my own personal secretary – Lantern.”
The squat shape ambled towards them, the discs of its eyes glowing with a pale green radiance. Adam gazed at the stranger in wonder. It was a mechanical, but the most peculiar one that he had ever seen.
Fashioned in the shape of a short, round man, Doctor Dee’s secretary was wrought almost entirely from copper. The head was a gleaming globe and, apart from the large circular eyes, the only other feature was a hinged hatch in place of the nose.
The body was also hammered out of the flame-coloured metal, forming a tubby doublet with rivets for buttons, and a high collar with a crimped and corrugated edge. Scarlet velvet covered the arms and legs, and the hands were protected by white gauntlets. A conical hat, almost as tall as the rest of him, sat on top of the domed head and Adam was intrigued to see that a grilled window was cut into the front. It was too dark to see what, if anything, was within.
Standing before the astrologer, the outlandish creation executed a low, courteous bow and three copper feathers affixed to a riveted band about the hat scraped over the floor.
“Good evening, Lantern,” Doctor Dee greeted as warmly as if addressing a real person. “I trust your journey here in the travelling chest was not too disagreeable?”
Not even the most expensive mechanicals had the power of speech. Lantern’s burnished head slid from side to side, then the secretary bowed once more.
“Tell me,” the astrologer said, “have you witnessed all that occurred this night?”
Lantern nodded and the trio of feathers jiggled up and down.
Doctor Dee indicated the fearful groom. “Did Jenks commit this dastard crime?” he asked.
The mechanical gave a forceful shake of its head, and the groom sank against the wall, sobbing his gratitude.
“I was convinced as much,” the old man muttered. “What, then, were the circumstances of this tragedy?”
Executing another bow, Lantern trotted over to the four remaining horses and began to mime the events he had seen. Reaching as high as his diminutive stature allowed, he pretended to polish their flanks and brush the tangles from their tails.
It was rather embarrassing for Jenks because the mechanical repeated everything he had observed in accurate detail. He was adept at mimicking the groom’s mannerisms and copied the arrogant jaunty swagger perfectly. It was soon proved, however, that Jenks adored the horses in his care, for Lantern kept throwing his arms about them in a fashion which appeared quite absurd and comical.
Then, with a nimble hop, he sat cross-legged on the ground and shovelled imaginary food into his non-existent mouth, wagging his head and rubbing his copper stomach as if enjoying it heartily.
“The supper was to your liking I see,” the Doctor remarked to the groom.
Jenks managed a weak smile; the provisions had been tastier than anything he was accustomed to.