The Black Crow Conspiracy Read online

  “What do you know of my experiments?”

  Penelope struggled, but Röntgen’s grip was too tight. There was no way she could free herself without causing a scene. Her saviour came, though, from an unexpected source.

  A sudden fanfare of trumpets turned the gaze of every guest to the front of the grand ballroom.

  “My lords, ladies and gentlemen, his Imperial Majesty, Kaiser Wilhelm the Second.”

  Dressed in a Prussian-blue uniform, the German Emperor entered the room, flanked on both sides by his guards. His steely gaze swept across the ballroom, inspecting the guests gathered there as if they were soldiers assembled for parade inspection. Beneath the gold braid that decorated his shoulders, the Kaiser’s chest was covered in more medals than material, the most glittering of these the Order of the Black Eagle hanging from a chain around his neck. As the Kaiser stepped on to a dais that had been set in front of a huge portrait of himself, a respectful hush settled over the room.

  Penelope felt Professor Röntgen loosen his grip on her arm. There was no way he could risk a disturbance in the middle of the Kaiser’s address.

  The Kaiser stood there in silence, his expression stern as his left hand clutched the hilt of his sword. Forgetting for a moment the danger she was in, Penny stared in fascination at this regal figure she had only seen before in the pages of newspapers. His dark hair was slicked back in the military fashion, and the ends of his extravagantly waxed moustache stood to attention as well, its bristling spikes forming a W beneath his nose.

  “My lords, ladies and gentlemen,” the Kaiser began. “It warms my heart to see you all gathered here this evening. I am proud to come back to this land that my grandmother, Queen Victoria, ruled with such great dignity: the land of Shakespeare, Dickens and Flinch. Our two nations share a great heritage: scientific endeavour, artistic expression and, of course, our military might. We belong to the same great Teutonic race that Heaven has entrusted with the culture of the world. What other nation could match our accomplishments? Not the French,” he spat. “Nor those upstart colonists in America who you so unfortunately misplaced.”

  Near the front of the audience, Penny caught a glimpse of Balfour as he listened intently to the Emperor’s address; the First Lord of the Treasury was frowning at this last remark.

  “As I said,” the Kaiser continued, “we share a great heritage and a common destiny as well. Eighteen months ago as I sat by my dear grandmother’s side, she beckoned me forward to hear her dying wish. ‘Our two great nations should stand together,’ she told me. ‘Together we shall keep the peace of the world. You will make sure of that, won’t you, my dear boy?’”

  The German Emperor paused for a moment, dabbing his eyes as if moved by the memory. Then, seemingly recovering himself, he clicked his fingers imperiously, beckoning for a nearby waiter to bring him a glass of wine.

  “Unfortunately my Uncle Bertie cannot be here this evening as I hear he has succumbed to a digestive disorder.” In the audience, the British guests shuffled awkwardly, uncomfortable to hear their king spoken of in such a familiar way. “Whilst this may mean that the coronation is postponed, I hope that it will not be too long before your new King rises from the throne in Westminster Abbey.”

  His piercing blue eyes twinkled with a mischievous gleam as he raised his glass.

  “But for now, I bid you to toast the eternal friendship that rests between us. To Germany and Great Britain – may the ties that bind us grow even stronger still.”

  The assembled guests raised their glasses in reply. “To Germany and Great Britain,” they chorused.

  Applause rang out as the Emperor stepped down from the dais, his aides ushering forward a cluster of handpicked guests to greet him. As an excited hubbub of conversation resumed around the room, Professor Röntgen redoubled his grip on Penelope’s wrist.

  “Now, I think we should continue our conversation in a more secluded setting,” he hissed. But as the scientist turned to drag her through the throng, he found the figure of Monty blocking his path.

  “There you are, Penelope!” Monty exclaimed, his wine glass now refilled. “A capital speech from the Kaiser, don’t you think? It was almost enough to make me feel fond of our neighbours across the water.” He lifted a sausage from the plate of a passing waiter and stuffed it into his mouth. “And this bratwurst is a delight!”

  Noticing for the first time Professor Röntgen’s hand on Penelope’s arm, Monty brushed his own greasy fingers down the front of his dark tailcoat and then extended his hand in greeting.

  “I don’t think I’ve had the pleasure of making your acquaintance, sir. Please allow me to introduce myself. I am Montgomery Flinch – you may well know my stories from the pages of The Penny Dreadful.”

  Professor Röntgen glared at Monty’s outstretched hand, the thwarted expression on his face revealing the scientist’s frustration. He had no choice but to release his grip on Penny’s arm, extending his hand to meet Monty’s in a stiff handshake.

  “I am Professor Wilhelm Röntgen,” he replied. “And I am afraid that I am not familiar with this ‘Penny Dreadful’ of which you speak. I am a man of science, not a follower of the fripperies of fiction.”

  He broke off the handshake with a barely courteous nod, before turning his attention to Penelope again.

  “Now, if you would care to accompany me, Penelope, we can resolve this matter without interruption.”

  Penny shook her head in reply.

  “The matter is already resolved. As I have already said, Professor Röntgen, I believe that you have mistaken me for another.” With a swish of her violet evening gown, she manoeuvred herself until she was standing by Monty’s side. “Now, if you will excuse me, I am afraid I am feeling a trifle unwell.” She took hold of Monty’s arm, angling her face upwards to meet his gaze. “Uncle, would you be kind enough to take me outside for some air?”

  “Are you sure that you don’t just need some sustenance, my dear?” Monty asked, beckoning towards a passing waiter with a tray of canapés. “Perhaps a bite of this bratwurst will restore your spirits?”

  Penny shook her head, waving the waiter away whilst Professor Röntgen watched her with a wolfish scowl.

  “No,” she replied faintly. “It is the atmosphere here that I find oppressive.” She tightened her grip on Monty’s arm, feeling him twitch as she pressed her nails in. “I would be most grateful if you could accompany me outside for a brief respite.”

  Hiding a wince behind his whiskers, Monty swiftly nodded his head.

  “Of course, my dear,” he replied with as much grace as he could muster. He turned towards Röntgen again. “Delighted to make your acquaintance, professor, but for now I must bid you Auf Wiedersehen! My niece Penelope has a delicate constitution and such a grand occasion as this is all rather overwhelming for one so young.”

  Penny fanned her face, her features a mask of innocence as Röntgen glared back at her. With a vexed growl, the scientist turned on his heel, heading back into the crowd of distinguished guests as Monty took Penelope’s arm in his and steered her towards the door.

  “Are you feeling quite yourself?” he asked as they swept a path through the swathes of Anglo-German aristocracy, their braying voices blending in a North Sea stew. “Didn’t the Prime Minister ask us to act as his eyes and ears here to help track down the King?” Monty cast a mournful glance at a passing tray of wine and spirits, the brimming glasses just out of reach. “We can hardly do that if you ask to leave before the party is over.”

  Penelope glanced back over her shoulder, catching a glimpse of Professor Röntgen’s electrified coiffure joining the throng of guests surrounding the Kaiser. As the German Emperor held forth, his face fiercely earnest, she spotted Balfour there too, a worried expression lining the politician’s brow.

  “Professor Röntgen recognised me,” she replied, turning back as Monty led her through the crowded ballroom. “From my visit to the Society for the Advancement of Science next door.” Penny glanced d
own at her bare arm, seeing the red marks of Röntgen’s fingers there. “He said that I was meddling in matters beyond my imagining and demanded to know what I knew of his experiments.”

  “Hmmph,” Monty grunted as they neared the grand doors overlooking the embassy’s private garden. “He seemed a rather arrogant fellow to me.”

  Sidling past the last of the reception guests, Monty gestured for the guard standing sentry at the doors to open them to let them pass.

  “My young niece is feeling a trifle unwell,” he said, slowly enunciating every word as though he was speaking to a child. “I believe that a spot of fresh air in the garden will help her to recover herself.”

  Puzzled, Penelope glanced across at the guard as he turned to unbolt the doors. Her heart skipped a beat as she saw he was dressed in the same dark-blue naval uniform she had last seen hanging next to the clothes of the radiant boys. Its brass buttons glinted beneath the glow of the electric chandeliers, and as Penny’s gaze tracked upwards to the sailor’s face she feared she would see the same green glow that she had glimpsed in the shadows of St James’s Park. The old sailor peered back at her with a look of concern, his ruddy features framed by a pair of mutton-chop whiskers. This was not one of the radiant boys.

  Holding the door open, he let them both pass with a respectful nod of his head, Monty ushering them out into the garden as the sun began to set behind the trees. Penelope shaded her eyes against the slanting rays. Before her, she could see a sight more graceful than the assembled elegance of the guests inside the ballroom: lush ferns and flowering shrubs, azaleas, rhododendrons and exotic trees; the splendour of the ambassador’s walled garden taking her breath away. Instead of the empty chatter of conversation and clinking glasses, Penny could hear the sound of birdsong now; nature intruding on this square of London soil.

  She shivered, goosepimples creeping across her bare arms as the evening chill descended. Noticing her discomfort, Monty turned back towards the door.

  “Let me fetch you your shawl, Penelope. We don’t want you to catch your death out here. I’ll only be a moment.”

  Before Penny could protest, Monty had darted back inside the ballroom, his path to the cloakroom taking him past a passing tray of canapés. Through the window, Penny spied Professor Röntgen in conversation with the Kaiser, the two men standing apart from the throng. The German Emperor’s brow was furrowed with a frown, and beneath the ridiculous topiary of his spiked moustache, his mouth was set in a thin-lipped scowl. From the animation of the scientist’s gesticulations, she suspected that her presence there was the subject of their conversation.

  Following a path leading between the herbaceous borders, Penelope hurried out of sight of the ballroom, the ornamental shrubbery shielding her from view. She could hear the sound of a water feature hidden in the depths of the garden, the twisting path leading her beneath a canopy of trees as the birds nesting above sang out a song of warning.

  Penelope froze. Sitting in the shadow of the furthest ash tree, she saw the figure of a boy dressed in a dark-blue naval uniform. As the last slanting rays of sunlight illuminated his face, she saw with a shiver that it was same face she had glimpsed in the shadows of St James’s Park. The radiant boy – now unmasked at last.

  XVII

  The boy was completely unaware of Penny’s presence, a small notebook perched on his knee as he sat watching the starlings and sparrows gambol in the last rays of sunshine. With a pen in his hand, his eyes followed the birds, tracing their movements with unhurried strokes.

  Emboldened by his absorption in his task, Penelope crept forward silently. The noise of birdsong in the branches above grew more animated as she stepped from the path, the nesting birds aware of her presence even if the young sailor wasn’t. She took this opportunity to study him more closely, his pale features showing no hint of the eerie glow she had glimpsed in the park. The boy’s lips pursed in concentration as he sketched the scene in front of him.

  From the place where she was standing, Penny could just peek over his shoulder. As his pen moved across the notebook page, she could see a sketch of a starling take shape, black lines extending from the boy’s pen to capture its tail as it twitched; the bird’s pointed beak was illustrated with a finesse beyond even any of the artists that Penelope had commissioned. There could be no doubt about it. This was the author of the anonymous letter that had been sent to The Penny Dreadful. This was the Black Crow.

  “Ah, there you are, Miss Tredwell!” Monty’s booming voice made her jump in alarm. The starlings and sparrows launched themselves into the air, flocking together to take sanctuary in the trees. “Now, here is your shawl – I don’t want Mr Wigram to accuse me of letting you catch a chill.”

  Glancing up at them in surprise, the young sailor scrambled to his feet, his fearful gaze flicking from Monty to Penny in turn. Penelope stared back at the boy. He looked scarcely older than Alfie, his dark-blond hair trimmed short in the naval fashion, whilst his wiry frame was tensed as if awaiting an order as yet unspoken.

  “No need to stand to attention on our account, my boy,” Monty said, stepping forward to drape Penny’s shawl across her shoulders. “There’s no harm in taking the weight off your feet for a while, especially on as fine an evening as this.” He tapped his nose conspiratorially. “Don’t worry, I won’t tell the Kaiser.”

  The young sailor stared back at Monty, seemingly transfixed.

  “It’s you,” he breathed. The boy’s voice was surprisingly gentle, a faint accent marking each of his words. “Montgomery Flinch – you’ve come to help me at last.”

  For a brief moment, Monty’s face glowed with pride at being recognised. Then his brow clouded as the last of the boy’s words hit home.

  “Help you?” he said, scratching his head in puzzlement. “I’m afraid I’ve just stepped outside for a moment to take the evening air with my niece here. If you are in need of assistance, I suggest that you call on your compatriots inside.”

  The boy shook his head with an unexpected vehemence, the shadows of the fading light lending his features a haunted expression.

  “I need no help from my countrymen. It is their acts of cruel folly that drove me to seek out your aid, Mr Flinch.” He stepped forward. “Do you really not know who I am?”

  With an expression of mounting unease, Monty glanced across at Penelope, willing her to come to his assistance. She stared up into the young sailor’s face, seeing the gleam of defiance that shone in his eyes. His handsome features were a far cry from the ghostly spectre she had last glimpsed in the shadows of Buckingham Palace. She turned towards Monty.

  “This is the author of the anonymous letter – the one that inspired The Thief Who Wasn’t There.” Monty’s eyes widened in surprise as she spoke, staring at the boy in disbelief. “This is the Black Crow.”

  For a second, the three of them stood there in silence. Faint peals of laughter from the ballroom and the birds chirruping in the trees were the only sounds that could be heard. Then, with a growl, Monty reached out to grab hold of the boy’s naval collar.

  “You!” he spat, his face flushed with anger. “You are the reason that I languished in that blasted cell for days! The things that they said – that I was a traitor to my own country – when all the time it was your words that had put me in that place!”

  Penny tugged at Monty’s sleeve to try and prise his hands free.

  “Monty, please—”

  The young sailor stood firm in the face of Monty’s rage.

  “I am sorry if the letter I sent caused the finger of suspicion to fall on you, Mr Flinch. That was never my intention, but I could see no other way of warning you of the conspiracy that was afoot. I am Sea Cadet Alexander Amsel of the Imperial German Navy and the only traitor here is me.”

  With an exasperated snarl, Monty released his grip on the boy’s collar, turning on his heel in the direction of the ballroom.

  “And you will pay for your treachery,” he said. “When Balfour learns that I’ve caught
the Crown Jewels thief, the stain on my name will be removed at last, whilst you will have the chance to learn the meaning of British justice. If you are lucky, your youth might allow you to escape the gallows.”

  “Monty, wait!” Penelope’s cry caused the actor to pause in his step. “We have to listen to what he has to say. Remember, it is not the theft of the Crown Jewels that has brought us here this evening, it is the fate of the King.”

  As Monty stood glowering behind her, Penny turned back to face the young sailor. Straightening his collar, Amsel’s gaze flicked to her, the blaze of his blue eyes filled with some hidden torment.

  “Thank you, Miss Tredwell,” he said, his English impeccable. “I can see from your actions that it is true what they say about the British sense of fair play.”

  Penelope fixed him with a calculating look as if weighing the evidence in her mind.

  “There’s something I don’t understand,” she said finally.“If you stole the Crown Jewels, then why send a letter to my uncle confessing your crime?”

  “Shame,” Amsel replied, his head hung low. “I joined the Imperial Navy to serve my country, not sneak about like a thief in the night. My father served the first Kaiser and he taught me that the only glory that could be found in war was amidst the heat of battle when you faced an enemy who was worthy of your hate.” He glanced up again to meet Penny’s gaze. “I thought Great Britain was that enemy.

  “You must understand, Miss Tredwell,” he continued, “the poison that had been poured into my mind. Every day I had been told that the British were a parasite feasting on the riches of the globe. A country grown fat and complacent from the proceeds of Empire; a decadent nation now led by a fool of a king. Your ministers corrupt, your policemen incompetent – how could I trust my secrets to your authorities?”