Phantom of Blood Alley Read Online Free PDF

pioneer of the exciting new science, or art, of painting with light. And fascinating stuff it is, too …’
    As so often happened when the professor and I got talking over a pot of Assam Black, we became so immersed in our conversation that we both lost all track of time. Before I knew it, night had fallen and the lamplighters had come and gone. I heard the bells of Montgomery Hall chiming. It was seven o’clock and, as I noted the lateness of the hour, Clarissa Oliphant’s disapproving face suddenly appeared before me. I placed my cup and saucer hurriedly on the table and jumped to my feet.
    ‘I must go, Professor,’ I said. ‘I’m late. Thank you for my tea.’
    ‘And thank you, Barnaby, for your cure,’ he replied. ‘I don’t know what I’d have done without you.’
    The evening rush, when crowds of cobblestone-creepers compete with countless horse and carriages in the city streets below, was all but over as I highstacked back across town. The air was still, the sky clear and, with the temperature dropping fast, I had to be careful not to slip on the roof tiles as a thick hoarfrost formed. Three quarters of an hour later, a perfectly executed Drainpipe Sluice brought me down in front of 12 Aspen Row. It was a little late for the genteel folk of Hightown to be receiving unannounced visitors, but I guessed that for me, Clarissa Oliphant would make an exception.
    I was right.
    ‘Mr Grimes!’ she exclaimed enthusiastically when Tilly the pretty maid showed meinto the drawing room. ‘Tell me what you have been able to discover.’
    Seated before a roaring fire, I told her everything I’d found out that day. Everything, that is, except for my outlandish thoughts about the ghastly apparition that had stared out at me from the window which, in the clear light of day, seemed too fantastical to put into words.
    ‘I glimpsed a figure at the window,’ I told her simply. ‘A strange figure that I don’t think was your brother, Miss Oliphant, though I couldn’t be absolutely sure …’
    ‘A strange figure!’ exclaimed Clarissa Oliphant, then paused, for at that moment the door opened and in strode her brother, Laurence Oliphant. The collar of his baggy green overcoat was up, the wide brim of his Brompton down, while a thick, tartan scarf covered his mouth and nose. He glanced across at me, and in that fleeting moment, I saw a flicker of recognition in his eyes.

    He glanced across at me, and in that fleeting moment, I saw a flicker of recognition in his eyes
.
    ‘Clarissa, I think you owe me an explanation,’ he said, turning to his sister.
    ‘Indeed,’ said Clarissa. ‘Mr Grimes was just leaving.’
    She ushered me to the door, pressed that second crisp banknote into my hand with a soft ‘thank you’ and closed the door behind me. I was glad to be out of the room, I can tell you. There had been a look of despair in Clarissa Oliphant’s eyes and, for a moment, I felt guilty about my original thoughts that she was overbearing and controlling. This was a proud and concerned sister, at the end of her tether. What was more, despite the heat from the fire, the look that Laurence Oliphant had given me had chilled me to the marrow in my bones. I was heading for the front door, when Tilly the maid came out of the scullery and took me by the arm.
    ‘Oh, Barnaby!’ she exclaimed, her pretty eyes clouded with concern. ‘They’re going to have one of those rows of theirs. AndI hate it when they argue, I really hate it!’
    In the drawing room, I could hear Laurence’s voice, shrill and peevish, growing increasingly agitated, and Clarissa, speaking firmly, endeavouring to calm him down. It wasn’t having the desired effect.
    ‘Stop trying to control me!’ Laurence protested.
    ‘But, Laurence, dear …’
    ‘Snooping round and prying into my affairs. It’s intolerable.’
    ‘But I worry so for your well-being,’ said Clarissa. ‘You don’t look after yourself, and you never had the strongest of