Lockwood & Co.: The Screaming Staircase

she was so tightly curled up they could not unbend her to see her face or check her pulse. Not that there was much point in that. She was stone dead too, of course. I am sorry to say they never discovered what happened to the boy.’
    ‘You mean they couldn’t tell how he died?’ George asked.
    ‘I mean they never found him.’
    ‘Excuse me, sir,’ Lockwood said, ‘but when the man used the telephone at midnight, did he say what kind of phenomena they’d been experiencing?’
    ‘No. He did not.’ Mr Fairfax took a pocket watch from his jacket and consulted it briefly. ‘Time is passing. I need to be in Pimlico in fifteen minutes! Very well, to the point. As I say, your agency has caught my eye; I am surprised and intrigued by your capabilities. So: here is my proposition for you. I am prepared to pay your costs in the Sheen Road case. That will settle the damages caused by the fire, and keep DEPRAC quiet into the bargain. To earn your sixty thousand pounds, all you need to do is commit yourself to the investigation. In fact, I shall wire the sum to your account the moment you arrive at the Hall. Additionally, if you succeed in uncovering its mysteries, and locate the Source within it, I shall pay you a further handsome fee. What is your standard charge?’
    Lockwood named a figure.
    ‘I shall pay twice that. Combe Carey, I can assure you, is not to be taken lightly.’ Mr Fairfax grasped the bulldog’s head and shuffled forward, preparing to rise. ‘Another thing: when I require something, I act quickly. I would want you there in two days.’
    ‘Two days?’ George said. ‘But we’d need time to—’
    ‘Let me tell you at once,’ Fairfax said, ‘that my proposal is not up for negotiation. You are not in a position to imposeterms. Oh, and I have another stipulation. No flares or explosive devices may be brought into the Hall, which contains a great deal of ancient and valuable furniture. It is not that I don’t trust you, but, forgive me’ – the silver-capped teeth glittered – ‘I do not want my property burned down.’ Squeaks of protest from the chair; he stood, towering over us on his brittle limbs like some kind of giant insect. ‘Very well. I don’t expect a decision from you now, of course. Let me know by the end of the day. You’ll find my secretary’s number on this card.’
    I sat back in the sofa, blowing out my cheeks. Too right he wouldn’t get an immediate decision. Fittes agents were the best, we all knew that. And three of them had died in Combe Carey Hall! To follow them in, without time for proper preparation, would be bordering on madness. The Red Room? The Screaming Staircase? Yes, the money Fairfax was offering might save the company, but what good was that if we lost our lives? There was no doubt about it: we needed to debate this very carefully.
    ‘Thank you very much, sir,’ Lockwood was saying, ‘but I can give you our answer now. We’ll definitely take the case.’ He stood up and held out his hand. ‘We’ll make arrangements to be down at the Hall as soon as possible. Shall we say Sunday afternoon?’

IV
    The Hall

17

    It’s fair to say we’d had our differences, George and I, during the months I’d been at Lockwood’s. We’d bickered about the big things (such as when one of us had got a face full of salt or been nearly scalped by the other’s wildly swinging blade), and we’d scrapped about the small (the laundry rota, the tidiness of the kitchen, George’s habit of leaving the ghost-jar in unexpected places, like behind the toilet door). We fought about almost everything. What we almost never did was argue on the same side.
    That lunch time, after Fairfax left, was one of those rare occasions.
    No sooner had the Rolls-Royce purred away than we both rounded on Lockwood for not consulting us in hisdecision. I reminded him of the deadly reputation of the Hall. George argued we’d need at least a fortnight, and preferably a month, to properly research its history. Anything less was probable suicide.
    Lockwood heard us out in cheerful silence. ‘Are you done?’ he said. ‘Good. Three things. First: this is probably our only chance to save the company before we go bust. We can pay off the Hopes at a stroke and get DEPRAC off our back. It’s an extraordinary opportunity and we simply can’t turn it down. Second: I’m in charge here, and what I say goes. Thirdly: isn’t this the most enticing job any of us have ever had? The Screaming