14

I need not, I think, dwell too much on these events. My treatment was abominable, and the accusations leveled against me a disgrace. While it is necessary and reasonable that criminals be treated in such a fashion, to incarcerate and humiliate gentlemen in such a brutal manner is beyond comprehension. The period I spent awaiting trial was one of the deepest distress and, in my weakened state, the Blundy girl sensed her opportunity, and I was driven near mad by the constant pains and visions that she sent to me, night and day.

I had been ready for the witch to launch another attack, but did not realize she had such strength and evil purpose. It took some thought to grasp the full cunning of what had happened, and once understood the explanation is straightforward. It cannot be doubted that Sir William heard me leave the house and came to investigate, and at that moment his form was taken over by a demon so effectively that my eyes could not penetrate the disguise; after I stabbed it with my dagger, the spell dissolved and the fiendish cloak evaporated. It was a devilishly evil attack, for the witch must have realized by then that she could not destroy me. So she thought instead to have others act for her—having me hanged would accomplish the task perfectly.

When I was thrown into the jail cell, and shackled with chains to its wall, I quickly came to realize that, without extraordinary fortune, she would succeed. For I had indeed stabbed Sir William and brought him near to death and, what was more, he had survived and would undoubtedly say that I attacked without warning. My defense was no defense at all, for who would believe me if I told the truth?

And for many days, I could do little but sit in my loathsome cell and wait. I was not without visitors and messages, but they were of little comfort. My dear uncle wrote to say that he washed his hands of me entirely, and would not help my cause in any way. Thomas tried his best, although I could see his disapproval very clearly on his face. But he tried, at least, when he could tear his mind off the fact that the final contest with Grove for the living was nearing, and would take place when Lord Maynard came to dine in the college.

Then came Lower, accompanied by Marco da Cola.

I will not repeat a description of Lower’s impudent (and premature) demands for my corpse; Cola’s account is accurate enough. On that first occasion, the Italian did not acknowledge me, and I pretended also not to know him as he clearly wished it. But he returned, alone, that same afternoon on the pretext of bringing me some wine, and we had a conversation in which he told me of what had transpired that terrible night.

For himself, he said, he spoke from hearsay alone; he had heard and seen nothing of importance. It was only the sudden commotion, of people shouting, women wailing and dogs barking that aroused him and brought him from his bed to investigate. From then on his whole occupation was with Sir William and his wound, for he had labored hard throughout the night and was alone responsible for the fact that he had not died. He assured me that Sir William would recover, and had already made so much progress that he felt free to leave him in the care of his wife.

I told him my heart was glad. Although I knew it would not yet be welcome, I begged him to deliver a message assuring Sir William of my joy at his safety, telling him of my total innocence, and asking whether he was conscious of the fraud perpetrated on his body. This he undertook to do, and then (having formed my plan for escape) I urgently repeated my request that Dr. Grove come to see me as soon as possible.

I was astonished when Wallis turned up in his stead the next evening, but my mind quickly saw that this happy chance presented fresh opportunities. He questioned me about Sir William, and asked a huge raft of inane and pointless questions about Marco da Cola which were so imbecilic I will not trouble to record them here. Naturally, I told him as little as possible, but subtly kept the conversation going with little hints and suggestions until I was sure the jailer would be too drunk to pay much attention. Then I overpowered him, trussed him up—I confess I tied the knots tighter than I would have done for Grove—and left. He was so surprised and indignant, I almost burst out laughing with pleasure. It was so very simple, I could scarcely believe my good fortune.

Knowing that Wallis was safe and sound gave me an opportunity I could scarcely dared have hoped for, as I knew that his room would be open to my attentions. So I crossed the town to New College, and used his key to get through the main gate. Again, the simplicity of the task made me believe that I was under special protection—the door to his room was unlocked, the bureau was easily opened, and the folio of documents—even labeled “Sr Ja—Prestcott”—was in the second drawer; half a dozen sheets of papers all so incomprehensible I assumed they must be the coded missives I sought. These I stuffed under my shirt for safekeeping, and prepared to leave, delighted with my success.

I heard the low but horrible scream when I was on the landing about to descend. Instantly I froze, convinced first that the devils had come for me once again and, when I was reassured on that point, worried that my luck had changed, and that the noise would draw attention and lead to my discovery. Hardly daring to move, I held my breath and waited; but the quadrangle remained as quiet and deserted as it had been before.

I was also perplexed; it was a noise of great pain, and clearly came from Dr. Grove’s room immediately opposite Wallis’s. With some trepidation, I knocked on the inner door—the great outer door was not closed—then quietly pushed it open and peered inside.

Grove was still alive, but only barely so, and the sight tore at my heart and drew anguished protest from my mouth. His face was contorted with the most excruciating pain, his limbs twitching and fluttering, as he thrashed about on the floor like a madman in the throes of an attack. He looked at me as I lit a candle in the grate and held it over him, but I do not think he recognized me. Rather, with an unsteady hand he indicated something on the table in the corner, then, with froth and spittle gurgling from his gaping mouth, he fell back on the floor and expired.

I had never witnessed such an agony, and pray with fervor that such a sight should never again assault my eyes. I was petrified by the sight, and dared not move, half afraid he was dead, and half that he would come back to life again. It was only with the greatest of effort that I stirred myself and looked to see what he had pointed at in that last, pathetic gesture. The bottle and glass on the table still contained a great deal of liquid. I sniffed cautiously and it gave no hint of mortal danger, but it seemed at the very least likely that poison lay behind what I had just witnessed.

Then I heard the footsteps coming up the stairs, and terror gripped my heart as tightly as my hand gripped a knife I saw on Grove’s desk.

Louder and louder they grew, up one pair, pausing on the landing, then the other. It could not be Wallis, surely, I thought. He could not have escaped. And I knew that if any man came into this room, I would have to kill him.

The steps grew louder, and stopped on the landing, and there was a long pause before the thunderous knocking came on the door to Grove’s room. Perhaps it was not; perhaps it was simply the lightest of tapping, but it seemed to me loud enough to waken the dead from their graves. I stood there in darkness, and prayed desperately that the visitor would think that Grove was not there, and go away. But in my nervousness and efforts to be quiet I accomplished the opposite, for I brushed against a book on his table, and sent it crashing to the ground.