Dodswell and Gillies were waiting, mounted, at the side of the house, both holding a pair of horses saddled-no sidesaddles, Lucifer noted. There was quite a little party gathered in the twilight, none of whom seemed to find anything remarkable in Flick's or Phyllida's attire. As they lifted their respective ladies to their saddles, then mounted alongside them, both Cynsters' hackles subsided-a little.
They set out. Lucifer kept a close eye on Phyllida; she sent him a sidelong glance. After she soared over the first fence and left him pushing to regain his position beside her, he stopped watching her and paid attention to their direction.
Crossing field after field, they headed south to the coast. Phyllida led the way-she was the only one who knew where they were going. The breeze strengthened, the salty tang increasing. A cottage appeared through the gloom, dwarfed by the huge barn behind it. Phyllida turned up the rutted track; she led them to the barn. They'd agreed to leave the horses there so as not to risk alerting Appleby.
The old farmer and his wife greeted Phyllida, clearly old friends. Dodswell returned from tethering their mounts. "Quite a few already in there-looks like Thompson with Sir Jasper and the others."
"Good." Lucifer looked around. "Oscar will walk in with the gang and ponies as usual."
Demon, too, had been scanning the woods. "How do you want to do this?"
"Strung out, single file, slowly. The meeting's not until full dark-we have time to be careful."
They were. With Phyllida in the lead, Lucifer at her shoulder, they walked quietly through the woods, silently skirted two fields, then entered the last stand of stunted trees close by the cliff's edge.
The others were there, waiting. Without words, the party from the Manor spread out, clinging to the deepening shadows under the trees almost encircling the grassy knoll. The land sloped up from the tree line to the cliff's edge and up from either side; beyond the knoll, the cliff fell away.
They settled, crouching in the shadows, the sounds of their shuffling subsumed beneath the relentless pounding of the surf on the rocks far below. The wind was strong, blowing cold in their faces. No ship would dare approach this treacherous coast with such a wind behind it.
An hour later, the storm had taken possession of the skies; darkness had fallen like a shroud across the land. Muscles had stiffened, joints were aching, yet still they waited patiently.
Then the tramp of feet reached them. Minutes later, the night shift of the Colyton Import Company arrived on the scene. They were all there-Oscar, Hugey, Marsh, and the rest. They milled about on the lower slope of the knoll, huddling against the wind.
"How long do we have to wait for this blighter?" Hugey asked for them all.
"He'd better make it soon," Oscar growled. "We got better things to do."
"I'm here," said a voice. "If it's me you're waiting for."
They all turned, peering through the darkness. Lucius Appleby staggered up from a hollow off to the side of the knoll. His clothes were disheveled. He clutched the volume of Aesop's Fables to his chest. His hair ruffled wildly in the wind. For a moment he appeared drunk, uncoordinated, then, with a visible effort, he pulled himself together. "About time you got here. I want nothing more than to leave this wretched place."
Every word stung, bitter as gall. He swayed, his gaze fixed on the supposed smugglers. He spared not a glance toward the trees. "Well?" he grumbled, voice rising. "What're we waiting for? Let's go."
He took an unsteady step toward them.
The smugglers, all except Oscar, backed away. They fanned out as they went, eyes never leaving Appleby. Then they joined with those moving forward, out from under the trees.
Appleby's eyes widened. Even in the poor light, the shock on his face as he took in the solid cordon and realized its meaning was evident. "No!"
Whirling, he scrambled up the knoll.
"Here!" Oscar remained on the knoll's lower slope. "Don't go near the edge."
Sir Jasper stepped forward. He regarded Appleby sternly. "In my capacity as magistrate, I charge you, Lucius Appleby, with three counts of murder and three of attempted murder, to all of which you stand self-confessed." He waited for a moment, then beckoned. "Come down, man-you can see there's no escape. No sense making it worse."
Book clutched to his chest, Appleby stared at him, then threw back his head and laughed maniacally. "Make it worse?" He caught his breath on a gasp and stared at Sir Jasper. "
You have no idea.
"You see this?" Appleby thrust out the book, staggering back as he did so. "I killed three men to get my hands on this. Bartered my immortal soul and worse. Five long years I patiently searched, and for what? What do you think my life, my soul, would be worth?"
He wrenched open the front cover, holding it for all to see. The cover paper had been ripped away, the padding, too, exposing the blank board of the inner face. "Nothing." Appleby's voice dropped to a sobbing whisper, then abruptly rose to a shriek. "There's nothing there!" He yelled it to the skies. "Some bastard got there before me!"
Eyes wild, he flung the book at Sir Jasper, then whirled and raced onto the knoll.
"No! Don't-!" Oscar scrabbled up the slope. Thompson moved up behind his brother; Lucifer and Demon stepped forward.
Lips drawn back, Appleby turned on them. "Come and get me, then." He brandished his knife. "Who'll be first?"