Free Candleman by Glenn Dakin Page A

someone to look after, someone completely in your power. It had been fun to see the disappointment on his little face when his hopes and plans were crushed on a daily basis. Misery brought out a nice side in people, Dr Saint was right about that.
    ‘How could you not have known – not
smelled
that Clarice was a spy? The two of you worked side by side for years!’ Lord Dove was screaming at him now.
    And he had hit a nerve. There
had
been something about a smell. One day Clarice had surprised him by wearing a really chic perfume – the kind of scent a very elegant lady would wear, not a dull little maid. But he had only noticed the smell once, never again. That wasn’t worth mentioning.
    Mr Nicely was in such a state of exhaustion and distress now, he was flat out on the floor, his clothes soaked in sweat. His head was singing with pain from where those robbers had struck him two days ago, and it felt like it was about to explode.
    He came back to his senses and found Lord Dove looking down on him, holding the headset and electric leads that had been attached to the butler moments before. Mr Nicely gazed up at his tormentor with well-concealed loathing. The soft lavender-coloured gloves, the white suits, the affectation of a monocle. Dr Saint would never dress in such a vain fashion.
    ‘That was most unpleasant!’ Lord Dove complained. ‘You said you wouldn’t scream. Not in the tradition of the regiment, indeed. You nearly popped my ears, you big baby.’
    The butler sat up. His head was spinning. For an instant he recalled Theo staggering out of the Mercy Tube. Perhaps this was how Theo had felt too, every day of his life.
    ‘You have Dr Saint to thank for curtailing the process. He said you would have blabbed by now if you were hiding anything,’ Lord Dove said, turning away to accept a cup of chilled kiwi juice from Masters, his own servant.
    Mr Nicely rose to his feet and took a deep breath. He hadn’t been hiding anything before, but he might do so one day – under the right circumstances.
    Dr Saint was in Theo’s old room, which in the space of the last twenty-four hours had been turned into a laboratory. The Mercy Tube was now connected by several wires to a control panel the butler had never seen before, and all around there were computers and monitors. The master of Empire Hall had set up a workstation in the middle of all this technological clutter.
    ‘Where’s my tea?’ Dr Saint asked abruptly, without looking up from a screen he was studying.
    ‘I shall fetch it straight away, sir,’ said Mr Nicely, who had recovered enough to resume his duties. ‘The new girl, Veracity, didn’t have the kettle on. She doesn’t – you know – anticipate things like – like the other one did.’ The butler suddenly had a distinct feeling of having said the wrong thing.
    ‘Oh, the
other
one anticipated things, all right!’ replied Dr Saint. ‘The coming Liberation, for instance, the fulfilment of my plans … and she tried to destroy everything you and I have worked for our whole lives,’ he added bitterly. ‘So it is generous of you, Mr Nicely – exceptionally generous – to have fond recollections of her tea-making ability!’
    ‘Yes, sir.’ The butler turned to leave but his employer called him back.
    ‘I suppose you’re sulking because Lord Dove was kind enough to spare some of his time to eliminate you from suspicion, Mr Nicely?’ Dr Saint peered at the butler over his reading glasses.
    ‘Yes,’ said Mr Nicely. ‘I mean no,’ he added. ‘I mean whatever you mean, sir,’ he concluded brightly.
    ‘Can’t you see?’ railed his employer. ‘We failed – abominably – in our task to protect the Vessel. We became complacent!’ He got up, put an arm round Mr Nicely and turned the butler to face the window. Dr Saint pointed out into the thick grey fog with a shaking finger.
    ‘There is another society out there! The Society of Unrelenting Vigilance! Doesn’t that name chill your blood?