Mark Gatiss - The Vesuvius Club

«I see,» I said quietly. «And you’ve been supplying this filthy stuff to someone, haven’t you? To what end?»

«I cannot tell you…»

I pressed the pistol further into his face. Sweat was streaming over his oily skin. «Please! Please! I know only my instructions! I deliver purple poppy and I hear no more.»

I stepped away from the perspiring fat man while still keeping him covered with the pistol. «Deliver it where, exactly?»

Lee smiled his fat smile. «I can give you address, but it is impossible for me to leave these premises, my business, you understand»

I levelled my revolver at his nethers. «You will take us there, Lee. Or the Neapolitan castrati will be acquiring a new member.»

The darkness was thickening as I commandeered a dog-cart and set off with Charlie and the reluctant Chinee into the sleeping streets. We must have made a pretty sight, lashing away at the skinny steeds but then Naples is accustomed to strange sights; half-mad city that it is.

Lee spoke little but contented himself with pointing and urging as we clattered through the narrow alleys, ducking wet washing that was strung between the houses and shops.

We clattered out of the city and along the coastal road.

«Now look where we’re heading,» observed Charlie with a grunt. It was no great surprise to see the great volcano looming before us, its fiery crown smoking like a beacon. After an hour or so, we rolled on into an area of broad parkland. A strange collection of buildings formed a squared «C» shape around the perimeter. In the ruined isolation of the C’s centre stood a blackened villa, its windows fogged with soot.

«This place,» said Lee. «Place where I bring poppy.»

I jumped from the cart and swung my pistol round to cover Lee. «Come on, out!»

The Chinaman shook his head. «Please. Do not make me. I not want to go in there.»

«What’s the matter?» cried Charlie, clambering out and lighting a lantern. «We’ll look after you.»

Lee did not appear to be reassured and shook his head violently, eyes glittering like jet. «Not that. I never see anybody when I come. But… house haunted.»

«Pah!» I ejaculated.

«No, no!» protested Lee. «Is the truth, sirs! Please let poor Lee go home now.»

I shook my head. «I fear not, old man. Don’t worry your top-knot, though. Any spooks will get a blast of this.» I cocked the revolver and the three of us began to make our way stealthily across the grass.

A dim light shone in the lower floor of a neighbouring house. We slipped into the shadows so as to remain invisible. I looked about. A pair of old, blistered black doors were visible at the base of the building. The coal cellar.

«Where did you bring the poppies, Lee? To this cellar?»

Lee shook his nervous head. «No, no. Through front. Come, come.»

We moved silently forward to the blackened edifice of the villa and crept over the gravel to the porch. The front door seemed intact but all the windows that were visible had been boarded up. I reasoned it was wiser not to advertise our presence so, in a very few moments, I had pulled down some of the splintering wood and exposed a smoke-blackened window-pane. I took off my muffler and, wrapping it around my fist, smashed the glass. It gave with only a faint tinkling.

The three of us clambered inside, our feet sinking slightly into a carpet of glass and debris, Lee whimpering and squealing like a nervous child.

The atmosphere was at once oppressive with decay. The lantern showed fire-damaged furniture, their varnished surfaces blistered and cracked.

I turned to Charlie. «Seems quiet enough.»

«As the grave.»

Lee wailed softly. I grabbed him by his robe. «Where did you leave the opium?»

The Chinaman was looking about in terror. «Here in hallway. Not want to stay longer than need to.»

The dusty floor of the entranceway had clearly been disturbed. Charlie held up his lamp revealing a series of trails, as though sleds had cut swathes through the dust.

I tapped him on the shoulder. «You explore the house, Charlie,» I whispered, lighting my own lantern. «Mr Lee and I will take the cellar.»

«Righto.»

I watched him heading for the mouldering staircase then began swinging the lantern about in search of the entrance to the coal cellar. I found what I was looking for in a recessed corner beneath the stairs.

«Please, sir,» whimpered Lee. «Let us go now. This place bad.»

I felt for a door handle. It was big and carved into a hexagonal shape. To my very great surprise, it turned easily and the door creaked softly open.

Gingerly we stepped down on to a poorly lit wooden stair. The smell of damp assailed me at once but my attention was riveted on the curious sight before me.

The coal cellar appeared to have been adapted into some kind of laboratory. The remains of tubes, flasks and retorts littered benches and there were fragments of geological charts pinned to the wall. Fragments, merely, as the place now resembled the flue of some great chimney. The broken walls were soot-streaked and wet. Glass lay twisted into fantastic shapes on the remains of benches and cupboards. In the corner was a broad, fat-legged table and on it burned a single candle.

There was someone else in this house.

Just as the thought crossed my mind, I heard a terrible moaning.

For a moment I took it to be Lee but the fat creature was jibbering with fear right by me, his eyes clamped shut. I glanced over my shoulder and back the way we had come. The sound was coming from up the stairs, an awful, wretched groan, followed by a burst of ragged sobbing.

«Charlie!» I cried. «Is that you?»

At once the noise ceased. I felt the hairs on the back of my neck rise.

«Charlie?»

I jammed the pistol in Lee’s back and quickly we mounted the cellar steps, pushed open the door and stepped back into the hallway.

I held the lantern high above my head but could see no one.

Then the moaning began again, as though a soul were in torment. It seemed to be coming from upstairs. I swung the lantern in that direction and, just for an instant, caught a glimpse of something white on the landing above. It seemed to flutter into the shadows like a great bird. I started. Lee absolutely yelled in shock.

«Shut up, you fat fool!» I spat then, and, urging him forward with the revolver, made for the staircase.

The creak of our feet on the rotten stair seemed to halt the sobbing once more. We pressed on, ascending swiftly.

I called out for Charlie, then swung the lantern round as I caught sight of the whitish shape again, still above us on the staircase. It was a figure, dressed in some sort of billowing white gown. Or shroud, I thought dully.

I strode towards the phantom shape, determined not to be rattled.

«Who’s there?» I demanded. «Show yourself!»

With Lee almost hysterical at my side, I reached the top of the staircase and was confronted by a door. Gingerly, I reached out a hand and took hold of the knob.

I swallowed, nervous in spite of myself, and began to turn it.

A hand reached out of the shadows and clasped my arm. I pulled back in undisguised alarm, thrusting the lamp aloft and shining a light down on the frightened face of Charlie Jackpot.

«Bloody hell, Mr Box! Did you see it? Did you see it?»

I nodded, a little too quickly. «I saw it!»

«The face!» he whispered. «Did you see its face?»

All at once, the door in front of us flew open and the figure in white seemed to swarm upon us.

I yelled in stark terror and batted at the thing with both hands. Lee took to his heels and pounded down the rotten stairway. Charlie threw himself behind me and we sank back against the wall as the spectre went hurtling down the stairs after the Chinaman, screaming and sobbing as though it were a denizen of Hell itself.