I climbed back inside the motor-car, and asked the driver if the day's steamer to Orkney had left.
“Might not, considering this wind,” he answered, and put the motor-car into gear for the short drive along the water.
There, at last, I caught scent of my quarry. My description of Brothers had the ticket-seller shaking his head, and mention of a child the same, but when I asked about a tall bearded individual with an English accent, his face brightened.
“Ach, yais, him. Peculiar feller. He was here airlier.”
“Just him? Not another man and a child?”
“No, just the one.”
I did not know what to make of that. Had Brothers gone ahead? Had he taken the child instead of Damian, leaving Damian trailing desperately behind? Or was Damian operating independently, for some unknown reason?
“Which day was that?”
“Airlier,” he repeated, as if I were hard of hearing.
“What, you mean today?”
“That's right.”
“Good heavens. Has the steamer for Orkney left yet?”
“That's her there,” he said, pointing.
The first good news since we'd left York. I threw a thanks over my shoulder, touching the pocket that held my revolver as I moved in the direction of the waiting boat. Then I heard the man's voice tossed about on the wind.
I turned around and called, “Sorry?”
He raised his voice. “He's not on it, if tha's what ye're wanting.”
I retraced my steps. “Why not?”
“I told him she wouldna'be leavin' fer hours yet, what with the wind wanting to blow her halfway to Denmark.”
“Did he buy any tickets?”
“No. Last I saw'im, he was heading back t'toon.”
Town. Surely not to take a room, not if the solar eclipse was to take place tomorrow. Did they have another-
Town: The harbour was in Thurso itself; only large boats put in here at Scrabster.
I trotted back to my unofficial taxi and directed him to the harbour.
The harbour master's office was empty. All the boats I could see were lying at anchor, not setting out into the gale. I studied the buildings along the shore until I spotted a likely one.
The air inside the pub was thick with the smells of beer, wet wool, and fish. It was also warm and damp, which made my spectacles go opaque, but not before I had seen the universal outrage on the faces of every man in the place. I removed my glasses and, as long as I had their attention, spoke clearly into the silence.
“Pardon me, gentlemen, but I'm looking for a man who may have tried to hire a boat earlier today. Tall, thin, Englishman with a beard. Has anyone seen him?”
If anything, the hostility thickened. I cleaned my glasses and threaded them back over my ears, then dug into my pocket for one of the two remaining gold coins. I held it up. “He's trying to get over to the islands. I'd really appreciate it, if anyone has news of him.”
There was a general shifting in the room, and someone cleared his throat. After a minute, a chair scraped. A man in the back rose and threaded his way forward.
“Keep your coin, mum,” he said. “Let's step into the saloon bar and Ah'll tell yeh what yeh want to know.”
I followed him into the adjoining empty room, a bare closet of a space that might have been designed to discourage any lady who might have mistaken permission for approval. One could just imagine a daring local feminist bravely venturing inside, ordering a sherry, and forcing it quickly down.
However, I did not intend to drink.
“When was he here?” I asked the man. A fisherman, by the looks of him, waiting out the wind.
“Who's he to yeh?”
“My husband's son,” I said.
He looked startled.
“My husband's quite a bit older than I,” I told him impatiently. Asymmetrical marriages were commonplace, in the wake of a devastating war. Perhaps here in the North fewer men had died? Perhaps women were more resigned to their solitary lot? Perhaps it was none of his business. “What does it matter? Have you seen my step-son?”
He surprised me by grinning.
“If that was the step-son, Ah'd laik t'meet the father. He was a stubborn one, that. Up and down the boats, not about t'take no for an answer. Started out askin' ta be taken o'er t'Mainland, and-”
“He wanted to go to the mainland?” I interrupted. Weren't we on the mainland?
“Mainland's the big island. Kirkwall 's the town.”
“I see. Go on.”
“Laik Ah say, he wanted to go to Mainlan', and when we all looked at ‘im laik he was ravin’, he then offered t'buy a boat outright.”
“Oh, Lord. I hope no-one sold him one?”
“Nah. You'll find few here willin' t'send a man t'his death for money.”
I was aware of a hollow feeling within. “You think the wind is that bad?”
“D'ye think we're in the habit of taking a holiday every time there's a wee breeze?”
“I see. So, where did he go?”
“He's on a boat.”
“But-”
“You're willin' to pay enough, there'll be a man desperate enough for yer gelt.” The heavy disapproval in his voice gave a different cast to the thick silence in the next room: This Englishman's need threatened to take one of their own.
“Just him, or another man and a child?”
“Just the one.” Although Brothers could have been waiting along the coast, with E'stelle.
“When did they leave?”
“Two hours. Maybe more.”
“They should be there by now, then.”
“If they're not at the bottom, or in Stavanger.”
Norway? I hoped he was making a grim joke.
“I am sorry. It's… I'm sorry.”
“It was a lot of money.” He made no attempt to hide his bitterness. “Enough to keep a family a year or more. A young man'd be tempted. Young men always think they'll come back safe, don't they? E'en when they have two wee bairns at home. Ach, at least he had the sense to leave the purse with us, in case he's not around to bring it home.”
I thanked him and went back out into the wind. What more was there to say?
We were halfway to Magnuson's farm when I remembered the telegraph office. Should I bother to go back, on the chance something had come through? I already knew where my quarry was.
But Mycroft didn't. So I had the driver turn back into the town, and went into the office to compose a telegram. When I had it written down, I took it to the window. The man recognised me.
“Miss Russell, was it? There's two come through for you. Shall I send this for you as well?”
“Wait, there might be an answer for one of these.”
I carried the flimsies to one side. The first was from MacDougall:
IDENTITY OF TRIO CONFIRMED STOP ATTITUDE
QUOTE FRIENDLY ENOUGH BUT SOME
ARGUMENT AND YOUNGER MAN SEEMED
IMPATIENT STOP MESSAGE FROM LONDON
QUOTE TWO PIECES ORKNEY NEWS FIRST
CATHEDRAL STAIN TREATED WITH QUERY
SODIUM CITRATE TO STAY LIQUID AND SECOND
CREMATED REMAINS ARRIVED STENNESS HOTEL
WITH REQUEST TO SCATTER THEM AT BRODGAR
RING ON FOURTEEN AUGUST STOP
The other message came from Mungo Clarty in Inverness:
TWO ADULT ONE CHILD STEAMER TICKETS
PURCHASED TUESDAY MORNING ABERDEEN STOP
SELF WENT ABERDEEN FOUND TRIO BOUGHT
TICKETS TO KIRKWALL STOPPING WICK FIRST
STOP FOUR PIECES NEWS FROM LONDON STOP
ONE CATHEDRAL STAIN TREATED TO STAY LIQUID
TWO CREMATED REMAINS SCATTERED BRODGAR
RING FOURTEEN AUGUST THREE GUNDERSON
RELEASED FOUR PALL MALL FLAT RAIDED NO
ARREST STOP GOOD HUNTING STOP
Raided? Mycroft's flat? Had Lestrade completely lost his mind? I did not even want to think of Mycroft Holmes in a rage. Or was something else going on in London, something larger and darker than my current hunt for a religious nut-job?
I tore my eyes away from that part of the telegram, and tried to concentrate on the rest.