Mark Gatiss - The Vesuvius Club

«Truth? What truth?»

She put down the glass and from her dress produced a dainty pistol which she levelled at my chest. She laughed. It was that gay, musical laugh I had grown so fond of. «You remember a chase by coach through London?»

«Of course.»

«I drove that coach! I! I sent the venomous insect to your home! I did it all, to get my revenge on you !»

«On me?» I said, all innocence.

«I believe I once told you I am Dutch by birth. That is not quite true. I am Afrikaans. I lived in Pretoria till I was nine. Just me and my beloved father. Everard Supple!»

I shook my head desperately. « Who? »

«Can you have forgotten so soon? The man you gunned down in cold blood! I know, Mr Lucifer Box, I know all!»

Everard Supple? Everard Supple! It seemed incredible. The old fool I’d killed all those weeks ago as a routine assignment. But how could she have found out? This was just the sort of thing Joshua Reynolds was meant to protect me against!

«Supple was your father?»

«Yes! A great man. A man whose feet you were not worthy to kiss!»

I wasn’t having this. I struggled to my feet, tears of agony springing to my eyes. «A dangerous anarchist!» I yelled. «I despatched him because he planned to assassinate the foreign secretary!»

Bella’s eyes blazed in fury. «I will not listen to your lies! I only know that I have spent these last weeks planning how best to despatch you , Box. I was not sure, at first, despite my information, that you were responsible.»

«Information?»

«My father’s diplomatic contacts.»

«Ah,» I gasped. «Spies.»

«I had no idea how I might engineer a meeting and then your little advertisement came along. It was too perfect. I came to your studio and I confess I could not believe you to be a killer. And then…»

«Then?»

«There, amongst the paints and brushes, I saw it. My father’s glass eye!»

«Ah»

«And then my heart hardened, Mr Box. I swore I would destroy you!»

«You didn’t manage very well, did you?» I piped up, eyeing the door. Despite my weakened state I was going to make a break for it. Fool! Why had I sent Charlie away? There were hotel staff about. But could I make it in time? If I could but raise the alarm…

«Unlike you, Mr Box, I am not a professional murderer.»

I looked at her with as much stoicism as I could muster. «What do you want me to do?» I asked. «Beg for my life? I won’t do it, my dear. You must know me well enough by now. I may be a cad but I’m not a coward. I stand by what I did to your father. I should do it again.»

«Ha!»

«You must understand, that I am a servant of His Majesty’s Government. I never kill without taking the greatest pains to ensure that what I’m doing is right! Of course I feel for you and your loss but you must believe me when I say your father was a dangerous fanatic.»

«And what does that make you! The fêted artist, the dashing dandy. But by night — philanderer, sodomite and assassin!»

As a thumbnail sketch of me that wasn’t half bad.

Bella aimed the revolver at my face and cocked it. «And so… farewell…»

Then things moved very quickly. I sprang forward, throwing the deadly contents of the whisky glass towards Bella’s face. Her arm shot up defensively and the liquid splashed harmlessly over the sleeve of her gown. An instant later she fired the revolver, but I had already thrown myself to the floor and, gasping in pain, rolled over and behind my easel.

Bella skittered towards me. I grabbed at a pot of brushes and flung it at her. The glass shattered against the wall and the pistol spat fire again.

I scrambled under a chair, the pain of my wound making me giddy, and struggled to think. I would never make it across the room alive.

«Come out, come out wherever you are!» cried Bella with a kind of dreadful gaiety.

She dragged the easel aside on its squealing castors and my ludicrous hiding place was exposed.

«What an ignominious end, Mr Box!» she crowed. «Now, Papa! You shall be revenged»

All at once, and to my utter astonishment, the bedroom door flew open and Charlie launched himself on to Bella’s back.

The two of them careered around like a carousel, Bella’s skirts sending painting materials flying. She bellowed alarmingly and began to twist her arm from Charlie’s grip so that she might get a clear shot at him.

«Lucifer!» cried Charlie. «Quick!»

I needed no prompting. I dashed out from under the chair, grabbed at a half-finished canvas and cracked Bella viciously under the jaw with it. She toppled backwards and Charlie fell from her, the gun grasped in one hand. He threw the weapon to me and I had raised it ready to fire when I stopped dead.

Bella had fallen back against the dresser and now stood stock still. Her shaking hands flew to her back and came away bloody. She sank to her knees, seemed to pause for a moment, and then pitched forward on to her face with an awful gurgling moan.

Stuck in her back was the lance of that frightful spelter statue she had drawn so prettily on the first day of our acquaintance.

Charlie dashed to my side and lifted my head on to his knee. Fatigue and nausea were washing over me. «Charlie…»

We both watched as a torrent of blood as red as lava began to flow from Bella’s back, drenching her gown. Then her eyes turned glassy and she lay still.

«This is meant to be my day off,» said Charlie. «Who do I talk to about overtime?»

I looked him directly in the eye and managed a smile. «Charlie, what can I say?»

He stroked my hair with uncommon gentleness. «All part of the service.»

«Well, I’m glad you mentioned that, Charlie,» I murmured, managing to prop myself up on one elbow. «You know, my pal Beardsley always said that his indisposition made him frightfully horny. No doubt one is not quite in control of oneself when one’s glands are up.»

I smiled what my friends call, naturally enough, the smile of Lucifer.