Read Online Death and the Cornish Fiddler by Deryn Lake - Free Book Online Page B

Isobel had concluded, the Apothecary walked slowly round the Pool - a very goodly stretch - wishing that this strange feeling of dread would dissipate. Eventually, though, he tired of wandering aimlessly and set direction for Coinage Hall Street once more. He had reached the bottom of it when he heard the sound of running feet and Tim Painter, sweating slightly and not looking as calm and collected as usual, came panting down.
    “Have you seen Isobel?” he asked abruptly.
    The Apothecary’s fears returned. “Not since this morning, no.”
    “Well the little bitch has vanished and her mother is ina high hysteric. I tell you I’ll wring that child’s neck when I catch up with her.”
    John cast his mind back to the earlier scene, seeing again the look of anguished surprise on the face of the young male dancer and the spiteful expression on that of little Isobel.
    “She went running away towards the meadows and beyond. But I’ve just come from there and there’s nobody around. The place is deserted.”
    “Don’t worry we’ve searched the area high and low and she’s not there. Her mother is even suggesting that some brave chap dives in the Pool and looks for a body.”
    John frowned, thinking to himself that the lake was vast and wondering where a diver would begin.
    Tim looked at the town, which had filled up with even more people since John had left it. “And who are we going to get to do it on a day like this? You can see for yourself that it’s a public holiday,” he said.
    “Have you informed the Constable?”
    “No, not yet. I doubt that he’s on duty either.”
    “Constables are always on duty,” John answered severely. “Well, will you go and find him? I’m too busy searching.” Everything inside the Apothecary rebelled at the very idea but his sense of responsibility battled with the emotion until he eventually said, “Oh all right.”
    “Thanks old chap. I’ll continue the hunt for the horror and she’ll feel the back of my hand when I catch up with her.”
    A good plan,” said John with feeling, and continued up the road.

Chapter 8

    I t seemed that there was to be no let up in the festivities. The dancers continued on, the fiddler now being joined by the rest of his musicians who played the rousing tune with great enthusiasm. The monkey, sent round once more with the hat, returned with it full and, realising it had done well, chattered enthusiastically. John, fighting his way through the crowd, which was building up to enormous proportions, eventually managed to find Elizabeth and Rose.
    “I’m sorry I was so long but something fairly annoying has happened.”
    “What?”
    “I met Tim Painter and Isobel has vanished.”
    “Dreadful child! When was she last seen?”
    “Apparently it was this morning. In fact I witnessed her departure. She flew off down the street towards the meadows and possibly Loe Pool, and has disappeared without trace.”
    “What caused her to go?”
    “She bit one of the Hal-an-Tow men on the hand and I think she was afraid that someone was going to punish her. So she fled, with her mother in hot pursuit I might add.”
    “And now nobody can find her?”
    “Correct. Anyway, I promised Tim that I would tell the Constable for him.”
    Elizabeth pulled a face. “Who is he, do you know?”
    “I’m afraid I haven’t an idea. That’s another bit of research I must undertake.”
    “Well, Rose and I were going off to get refreshment. We can ask along the way.”
    They all set off in the direction John had just come from and by the time they had reached The Angel had discovered that the Constable was a local blacksmith named William Trethowan. They were further informed that he would no doubt be in The Blue Anchor at this hour. John looked apologetic.
    “It’s not really a suitable place for a child. Do you mind if I go alone?”
    “As long as you promise to catch up with me later.”
    “What are you plans?”
    “Rose and I are going to wander through the