Saturday 5 March 2016

J&L: Curse of the Pharaoh (4)

Second House, New Regency Theatre.

"Will you marry me, he asked, Oh will you marry me?
Of course, of course, I will my dear,
My Darling Duckie Do!
My Darling Duckie Do!"
The crowd howled with mirth. Upon the stage, Henry Jago drank in the applause for several moments, before slowly silencing the crowd.
"I'm afraid that that brings us to the end of another evening's exemplary entertainment!"
The crowd jeered, playfully.
"The erstwhile Edmund is exhausted, and Cleopatra's Canaries are conked out!" Thank you all for your pleasurable patronage, and remember: If you liked tonight's performance, tell your friends, and if you didn't?"
"TELL YOUR EMEMIES!" the crowd roared in response.

Exterior of the New Regency, a short time later.
The theatrical audience had long since dispersed by the time Jago exited onto the street. Buttoning his overcoat against the evening's chill, he noted that it was a rare clear night in London, with barely a trace of the nigh ubiquitously prevalent fog.
"Looks like a pleasant night, Henry!"
Jago spun around rapidly, looking for the source of intrusion to his repose.
"Corks! You, ah, you startled me, Ms. Cleopatra. You have the silent footfalls of a bally ballerina."
"Most kind, Henry. But please, call me Jane when I'm off the stage." She flashed him a quick smile, the kind that proved she was suited to a life treading the boards.
"Would you care to allow me to chaperone you home, Jane? A young woman like yourself must surely fear the sinister schemes of the sadistic scum, plaguing our streets. Especially with that business with Mary. It would be no trouble at all, ma'am."
"Thank you for your most generous offer, Henry. But I fear my home is in the opposite direction to your path, and I couldn't ask you to go out of your way like that. Besides, it's a clear night, I'll see any ruffian approaching. And, I have this revolver, a gift from my father."
"Blimey! What has the world become, if women feel the need to wield weaponry,just to be safe on the streets! If you're sure then, Jane... I'll see you for tomorrow's matinee."
"Goodnight, Henry!"
"Goodnight!"

Jago continued on his path, alone, intending to have a quick stop off at the Red Tavern before retiring for the night. As he walked the deserted streets, his mind began to wander once more. Firstly, to Mary, then Jane. He thought of Edmund's overreaction to a trick photograph, and of the more recent phenomena he and Litefoot had yet to resolve: several mysterious disappearances in the last week, strange glowing reported across the city, a charlatan he had met near Hyde Park trying to sell a newspaper from 1937 of all things! He was just thinking if there might be some connection between these occurrences, but the strange family in medieval dress who had just wandered into his path were distracting him. Jago was about to confront them about the raucous they were causing, when a loud sharp crack echoed around him. He had spent enough time, both as an amateur detective and a stage manager, to know the sound of a gunshot.
"Jane!" he bellowed, racing back in the direction he came from.

He passed the theatre and continued West along the path Jane had taken. He came to a stop at a street corner, panting, his face an even deeper crimson than usual. While debating which direction to head in, Jane cried out, a frantic, pained, terrified scream.
"Unhand her, you ruffian! Scurrilous swine!" Jago roared, heading around the corner onto the lane he was sure the cried had emulated from. As he rounded the corner, he hesitated slightly. What if the rum cove had a weapon. A gun? Lummy! It was too late to reconsider.

Jago surveyed the scene. He saw no victim, no assailant, and no other exit from the lane. Not even a drainpipe or doorway with which to escape.
"A dead end."
The only thing of note in the laneway was a large stone statue of an angel, it's face the very ideal of angelic beauty.
"Suspicious stone statue! What secrets have you seen with your stony sight? What's this?" he asked, bending down to the angel's feet. "A revolver? It looks like Jane's! She was here! Any idea where she went?" he asked the statue idly. If he hadn't been so fixated on the missing girl, he may have noticed the sudden snarl that had formed on the angel's face. In the near distance, a policeman's whistle rang out shrill and loud. Jago turned to look towards the top of the alley, turning his back on the statue.

A young constable appeared at the mouth of the alley moments later, puzzled by the sight before him. He saw a stone angel, wearing a furious expression, it's clawlike arms stretched out, inches away from a blustering figure, holding a gun.
"Drop the weapon, sir. You're under arrest!"
"Corks!"

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