the Topsham road and made their way up what was known as Holloway, eventually reaching the narrow confines of the South Gate, through which they entered the original old walled city. To their left lay The White Hart Inn, to their right The Bear. But though Tom looked longingly and tapped the window with his whip, John ignored him and the conveyance continued on through the Large Market to the Carfax, a word derived from the French carrefours or crossroads. This was the heart of the city where the main thoroughfares High, North and South Streets met each other, and was marked by a Great Conduit, providing a distribution point for piped water. At the Carfax the coach turned right, passing the massive hulk of the Cathedral and its adjacent buildings.
Ahead of them lay the East Gate, in the shadow of which, so enquiries had revealed, were housed the Exeter Free Grammar School and the Blue School, where the sons of the poor were educated. Feeling that his mission was indeed a delicate one, John was eventually shown into the office of the headmaster, where he sat turning his hat in his hands until the door opened behind him.
A big boisterous fellow with little eyes stood there, puffing and blowing with the exertion of climbing the stairs. Observing John with a narrowed porcine gaze, he demanded, “Are you the constable, Sir?” Startled, the Apothecary rose to his feet. “No, Sir. I am merely a visitor.”
“Visitor, visitor? Am I expecting one?”
“I don’t know,” John answered, feeling utterly foolish.
“No, I’m not, by God. Are you sure you’re not the constable?”
“Quite sure. I’m an apothecary by trade.”
“But I didn’t send for one of those. Why have you come?”
“Hopefully to see a boy, Sir.”
“Boy? What boy?”
“Richard van Guylder.”
The effect of those words was extraordinary, from porcine to wild boar, the teacher’s tiny eyes glinted and he almost seemed to grow tusks.
“Don’t shilly-shally with me, Sir. You are the constable, now don’t deny it.”
John thought on his feet. “Why do you want the constable so urgently?”
“You know why. I told your wife.”
“I haven’t seen my wife since early this morning,” the Apothecary answered truthfully.
“Then she can’t have told you,” the teacher replied, making John wonder which of them was going mad. “But you’re right. It’s about that very boy, that wretched pustulated creature.”
“Richard? Why, what has happened to him?”
“Heaven knows,” answered the master, angrily throwing the book he was carrying to the ground.
“What do you mean by that?”
“I mean, Sir, that the snivelling little beast has vanished, disappeared. He left school early on Tuesday morning and has not been seen since. For all I know, he could be dead.”
“Oh my God,” said the Apothecary, and sank back down into the chair, all the breath suddenly gone out of him.
5
T he Apothecary could hardly believe what he had just heard. He had last seen Richard van Guylder boarding the Exeter coach with his tragic sister. Now it would appear that he, too, had gone missing. A ghastly fear that he had suffered the same fate as Juliana gripped John and he felt himself break out in a cold clammy sweat.
“You say you have called the constable, Sir?”
“Indeed so. Yet the wretch has so far failed to put in an appearance.”
“You have sent word to Richard’s father?”
“I certainly have, but up until now there has been no response.”
“That is because he is away from home. I have been searching for him myself.”
The little eyes narrowed again. “Who did you say you were?”
“I am a friend of the family.” John adopted his upright citizen face. “Would it help you at all, Sir, if I joined in the hunt for your missing pupil?”
“Shouldn’t that be left to the constable?”
“But he’s not here and I am.”
The headmaster considered, his tight little eyes narrowing then widening in concentration. Finally he
Ahead of them lay the East Gate, in the shadow of which, so enquiries had revealed, were housed the Exeter Free Grammar School and the Blue School, where the sons of the poor were educated. Feeling that his mission was indeed a delicate one, John was eventually shown into the office of the headmaster, where he sat turning his hat in his hands until the door opened behind him.
A big boisterous fellow with little eyes stood there, puffing and blowing with the exertion of climbing the stairs. Observing John with a narrowed porcine gaze, he demanded, “Are you the constable, Sir?” Startled, the Apothecary rose to his feet. “No, Sir. I am merely a visitor.”
“Visitor, visitor? Am I expecting one?”
“I don’t know,” John answered, feeling utterly foolish.
“No, I’m not, by God. Are you sure you’re not the constable?”
“Quite sure. I’m an apothecary by trade.”
“But I didn’t send for one of those. Why have you come?”
“Hopefully to see a boy, Sir.”
“Boy? What boy?”
“Richard van Guylder.”
The effect of those words was extraordinary, from porcine to wild boar, the teacher’s tiny eyes glinted and he almost seemed to grow tusks.
“Don’t shilly-shally with me, Sir. You are the constable, now don’t deny it.”
John thought on his feet. “Why do you want the constable so urgently?”
“You know why. I told your wife.”
“I haven’t seen my wife since early this morning,” the Apothecary answered truthfully.
“Then she can’t have told you,” the teacher replied, making John wonder which of them was going mad. “But you’re right. It’s about that very boy, that wretched pustulated creature.”
“Richard? Why, what has happened to him?”
“Heaven knows,” answered the master, angrily throwing the book he was carrying to the ground.
“What do you mean by that?”
“I mean, Sir, that the snivelling little beast has vanished, disappeared. He left school early on Tuesday morning and has not been seen since. For all I know, he could be dead.”
“Oh my God,” said the Apothecary, and sank back down into the chair, all the breath suddenly gone out of him.
5
T he Apothecary could hardly believe what he had just heard. He had last seen Richard van Guylder boarding the Exeter coach with his tragic sister. Now it would appear that he, too, had gone missing. A ghastly fear that he had suffered the same fate as Juliana gripped John and he felt himself break out in a cold clammy sweat.
“You say you have called the constable, Sir?”
“Indeed so. Yet the wretch has so far failed to put in an appearance.”
“You have sent word to Richard’s father?”
“I certainly have, but up until now there has been no response.”
“That is because he is away from home. I have been searching for him myself.”
The little eyes narrowed again. “Who did you say you were?”
“I am a friend of the family.” John adopted his upright citizen face. “Would it help you at all, Sir, if I joined in the hunt for your missing pupil?”
“Shouldn’t that be left to the constable?”
“But he’s not here and I am.”
The headmaster considered, his tight little eyes narrowing then widening in concentration. Finally he
Similar Books
