Free Death and the Black Pyramid by Deryn Lake

Street in a two-storey cottage. I don’t know the number – and I swear that’s the truth, Sir.’
    â€˜Very well.’ John let go of the ear and handed over the coin. ‘Now I’ll have the ale if you please.’
    He sat consuming it, trying to plan what he should do next. He had seen all the men who had travelled down to Exeter with him – namely the Black Pyramid, Nathaniel Broome, Cuthbert Simms and Martin Meadows – and two of the women. But Paulina Gower and Fraulein Schmitt still eluded him. He vaguely recalled that Paulina had mentioned the theatre in Exeter and determined to take Elizabeth there soon. But that left the abominable German woman. Where was she and who could possibly be putting her up? Or perhaps, indeed, she lived here. Steeling himself against the thought of trying to question her, John finished his ale.
    And then there was one of those extraordinary twists of fate that people say never happen. The door of the inn opened and in walked the Constable himself. He ran his eyes swiftly over the people within and John felt them coming to rest on him. He had the impression of a small, dark bird-like man with a pair of black eyes that could possibly be very frightening indeed, and then the constable made his way towards him.
    â€˜Well, well. We meet again, sir. How have you been keeping?’
    â€˜Very fine, thank you.’ He motioned the man to sit down. ‘I’m glad you’ve come in because I was just about to call on you.’
    â€˜Oh really? And why would that be?’
    John thought rapidly and decided to reveal his interest to the intelligent being sitting opposite him. ‘Have you heard of Sir John Fielding?’ he asked.
    â€˜Would that be the magistrate in Bow Street? The blind one?’
    â€˜It would indeed.’
    â€˜Ah,’ said the constable, and relapsed into an expectant silence.
    â€˜Years ago,’ stated John, ‘there was a murder in Vaux Hall Gardens. I was a suspect but somehow I managed to convince Sir John – he was plain Mr Fielding in those days – of my innocence. Indeed he asked me to help him solve that case. And I have been working with him on and off ever since. To be honest with you I enjoy the challenge.’
    The Constable shot him a look of wry amusement. ‘I doubt you would if you were at it day in and day out, Sir.’
    â€˜You have a point there. But regardless of that there is something I have to tell you about the murder of William Gorringe.’
    â€˜Oh? And what might that be?’
    â€˜That he feared some fellow passengers on the coach. He told Mr Meadows that he felt threatened.’
    â€˜By whom?’
    â€˜The Black Pyramid, the bare-knuckle fighter, for one.’
    The Constable sat silently for a moment or two, then he said, ‘That is very interesting indeed, Sir. It corroborates Meadows’s statement to me.’
    â€˜At the time he believed that the man was suffering from delusions, in fact he asked me about the condition. But now it appears that Gorringe was speaking the truth.’
    â€˜So it would seem. I have made some enquiries about him and it seems that he is not from round these parts.’
    The potboy appeared, somewhat late in the day, and grinned rather sheepishly at John.
    â€˜This is the Constable, Sir. May I get you another pot of ale?’
    John turned to the man.
    â€˜If it is all the same to you, Sir, I’ll take a small glass of canary.’
    â€˜Of course. And I will have a refill.’ He held his empty tankard out to the boy. ‘I am Tobias Miller. Known to the world in general as Toby.’
    He grinned in a friendly manner but the Apothecary had the feeling that behind the smiles lay a brain like a vice. Nor were the dark eyes readable, completely shuttered from all outside penetration.
    The drinks arrived and the Constable downed the glass of bright yellow liquid. ‘And now, sir, I’d like to ask you a