Page 83 of A Ruse of Shadows
“Without showing the photographs, you can still hint that to Bancroft,” said Lord Ingram. “That thought should make Bancroft lose sleep, especially if he has already promised the money to Moriarty.”
That prospect made Mrs. Watson lie down with a smile on her face.
?She slept until about eight. Lord Ingram had already left. She and Miss Charlotte dressed and returned to their hotel to wash and change. When they arrived, however, they found that an urgent telegram had come overnight from Paris.
Penelope had been barred from visiting Miss Bernadine the previous evening. Even young Fontainebleu had been kicked out. And they had been told in no uncertain terms that they would not be allowed back inside again.
There was also a typed, unsigned message, which could only have come from Lord Bancroft: If they wanted to see Miss Bernadine alive and well again, they must assist in his escape from Ravensmere.
Tonight.
Twenty-eight
The estate at Ravensmere had a ten-foot-high outer wall running around its entire periphery. Within those boundaries, there was a solid secondary wall topped with glass shards that secured the large French garden. Near the manor itself, the garden was divided yet again by a wrought iron fence across its entire width, which made for three sets of obstacles altogether if one approached from the front.
But from the back one did not need to deal with the wrought iron fence, only the two sets of walls.
Bancroft’s instructions were specific. Sherlock Holmes and company were to provide him passage over those two walls and transportation to a spot of his choosing—and they were to be ready at quarter past one in the morning.
There was no surveillance beyond the outermost wall, so they put up a ladder. Lord Ingram, his back laden, climbed up and waited, his hands tight on the ladder’s side rails.
“Nice, isn’t it?” said Bancroft, barely twenty years of age. He had been handsomer then, and laughed more.
“It’s wonderful!” exclaimed a seven-year-old Lord Ingram, his heart bursting with pride and happiness as he beheld the model railway that took up an entire dining table. “I don’t think I’ll ever love anything more. Thank you, Bancroft!”
“Of course. Anything for my little brother.”
He closed his eyes and listened.
There were three guards patrolling the grounds, one within the wrought iron fence, one in the French garden, and a third between the two sets of walls.
The heavy footfalls of the third guard thumped past after fifteen minutes. Lord Ingram had walked along the peripheries outside the walls and estimated that at the guard’s current speed, it would take him thirty minutes to come back to the same spot. He let three minutes pass, then carefully lowered himself to the ground on the other side of the wall.
In the wide corridor between the two walls, there was only short grass. He crossed to the second wall, helped by the darkness of an overcast night.
Here his task became trickier. On the other side of the wall was the manor. The guard in the area immediately outside the manor had the least ground to cover. He made a round every five or six minutes, and would hear any loud noises.
The guard trundled past. Lord Ingram unfastened the items on his back and imitated a nightingale’s warble. No replies came, but shortly after the guard went by again, he heard a softthud. He made the nightingale call again and this time, after fifteen seconds, an answering call came from almost directly opposite him on the other side of the wall.
He tossed a thick mat above the embedded glass shards atop the wall and threw over a rope ladder. Immediately the ladder tautened and pulled. A darker shadow appeared atop the wall. Bancroft.
As soon as Bancroft lowered himself to the ground, Lord Ingram retracted the rope ladder and yanked down the mat. Without a word, they marched to the outer wall. Bancroft sounded out of breath, his footsteps uneven, but he kept up.
When they reached the spot where Lord Ingram had entered Ravensmere, he again tossed the rope ladder over. On the other side, Holmes’s and Mrs. Watson’s combined weight would anchor it.The brothers scaled the wall, Lord Ingram last, gathering up the rope ladder as he stood atop the other ladder before descending to the ground.
Mrs. Watson, who held the ladder, hugged him briefly. Could she feel his heart pounding? Inside Ravensmere he had felt strangely nerveless. But now that Bancroft was free, he was sick to his stomach.
Holmes took the rope ladder from him, Mrs. Watson the mat; he hefted up the ladder. They were about to depart when Bancroft whispered, “Give me all your firearms.”
They glanced at one another and submitted four pieces, one revolver apiece from Lord Ingram and Mrs. Watson, and one derringer apiece from Mrs. Watson and Holmes.
Holmes began walking. Everyone else followed in single file, with Bancroft bringing up the rear, a revolver in each hand. Lord Ingram, directly in front of Bancroft, felt the presence of those revolvers, their muzzles a pair of metallic eyes boring into his back.
?They walked for more than a mile before they arrived at a cabin in a clearing by a stream. Lawson was there, waiting, a pair of lanterns next to him. “Ma’am, Miss Holmes—”
Bancroft preempted him. “Where is the balm I asked you to bring?”
Mrs. Watson handed him a tin, thoughtfully opening the lid as she did so.
