with the patient. Having listened to the man’s breathing and heartbeat, the doctor turned to her with a raised eyebrow. ‘Will you tell me what happened?’
For the first time since entering Bredon House, Betsy relaxed. Without hurrying, she gave Catlin a full account of the evening’s events, up to the Alderman’s collapse.
The doctor listened in silence. Then, after prodding Blake in various places, peering into his eyes and his mouth, he sat back. ‘I’ve seen similar cases. When he’ll emerge from this paralysis – or even whether he will – I’ve no idea—’ he broke off as Lord Caradoc re-entered, and both he and Betsy rose to face him. Quickly, the doctor gave his verdict: Alderman Blake was in a static condition, supposedly induced by severe shock. It was impossible to tell whether he could hear or see what went on around him. Hence there was little the doctor could do but recommend the man be taken to his own house, under the care of his servants and his own physician. In time, perhaps, he would recover.
Lord Caradoc looked down at Blake, and shook his head. ‘My thanks to you, Catlin,’ he muttered. ‘My coachman will drive you, and Mistress Brand too, of course.’ He glanced at Betsy, then added: ‘I’ll make arrangements to have the Alderman taken home, and his physician notified.’
But as the other two realized, His Lordship had more to say. ‘This business confounds me,’ he went on. ‘For reasons that elude me, it would seem that someone arranged for that pie to be made, placed this … this salamander inside it, then had it conveyed to my house, to a private feast,’ he spread his hands. ‘But why? You say the creature’s a species of newt?’
Catlin looked thoughtful. ‘What have they done with the animal?’ he enquired. ‘Might I be permitted to look at it?’
‘Well, if it hasn’t been destroyed, I see no reason why you shouldn’t,’ His Lordship replied. ‘Do you think it important?’
Now Betsy spoke up. ‘My Lord, I did not repeat everything I heard the Alderman say when he pointed to the animal,’ she said. ‘But now it strikes me as curious. His words were: The Salamander – he lives, and he sends me a sign .’
His Lordship stared at her. ‘ He lives?’ he echoed. ‘What can that mean?’
Now Catlin was intrigued. ‘I cannot guess, my lord, but it grows deeper by the minute. I confess I won’t be able to put the matter from my mind until I learn the cause of it.’
At that, Caradoc’s manner grew brisk. ‘Then follow me,’ he said. ‘For I’ll not rest until I’ve got to the bottom of it, either!’
As luck would have it, the dead salamander had not yet been disposed of. A short while later, the three of them stood round a table in Lord Caradoc’s library, staring down at the sorry-looking creature. A servant had carried it from the dining-room in a box. After a moment, his lordship wrinkled his nose in disgust. ‘Well, is there anything you can tell us?’
Catlin’s brow had furrowed the moment the animal was brought in; now he looked almost excited. Despite the evening’s events, Betsy had to suppress a smile. Especially when the doctor startled Caradoc by picking the salamander up by its tail and peering at it.
‘My curiosity increases, my lord,’ he answered, as he lowered the lifeless creature back into its box. ‘For unless I’m mistaken, this is a fire salamander. One sees them in France and Italy, though they are generally marked with yellow rather than orange.’
Turning to face Caradoc, he went on: ‘The ancients believed it one of the elementals, defined by the sage Paracelsus. As gnomes were said to inhabit the earth, nymphs the waters, and sylphs the air, so the salamander’s domain was fire.’ He shrugged. ‘Pure superstition, of course. The belief that the fire salamander was born of fire comes from its habit of hibernating in crannies such as wood piles. When logs were carried indoors and put on the hearth,
For the first time since entering Bredon House, Betsy relaxed. Without hurrying, she gave Catlin a full account of the evening’s events, up to the Alderman’s collapse.
The doctor listened in silence. Then, after prodding Blake in various places, peering into his eyes and his mouth, he sat back. ‘I’ve seen similar cases. When he’ll emerge from this paralysis – or even whether he will – I’ve no idea—’ he broke off as Lord Caradoc re-entered, and both he and Betsy rose to face him. Quickly, the doctor gave his verdict: Alderman Blake was in a static condition, supposedly induced by severe shock. It was impossible to tell whether he could hear or see what went on around him. Hence there was little the doctor could do but recommend the man be taken to his own house, under the care of his servants and his own physician. In time, perhaps, he would recover.
Lord Caradoc looked down at Blake, and shook his head. ‘My thanks to you, Catlin,’ he muttered. ‘My coachman will drive you, and Mistress Brand too, of course.’ He glanced at Betsy, then added: ‘I’ll make arrangements to have the Alderman taken home, and his physician notified.’
But as the other two realized, His Lordship had more to say. ‘This business confounds me,’ he went on. ‘For reasons that elude me, it would seem that someone arranged for that pie to be made, placed this … this salamander inside it, then had it conveyed to my house, to a private feast,’ he spread his hands. ‘But why? You say the creature’s a species of newt?’
Catlin looked thoughtful. ‘What have they done with the animal?’ he enquired. ‘Might I be permitted to look at it?’
‘Well, if it hasn’t been destroyed, I see no reason why you shouldn’t,’ His Lordship replied. ‘Do you think it important?’
Now Betsy spoke up. ‘My Lord, I did not repeat everything I heard the Alderman say when he pointed to the animal,’ she said. ‘But now it strikes me as curious. His words were: The Salamander – he lives, and he sends me a sign .’
His Lordship stared at her. ‘ He lives?’ he echoed. ‘What can that mean?’
Now Catlin was intrigued. ‘I cannot guess, my lord, but it grows deeper by the minute. I confess I won’t be able to put the matter from my mind until I learn the cause of it.’
At that, Caradoc’s manner grew brisk. ‘Then follow me,’ he said. ‘For I’ll not rest until I’ve got to the bottom of it, either!’
As luck would have it, the dead salamander had not yet been disposed of. A short while later, the three of them stood round a table in Lord Caradoc’s library, staring down at the sorry-looking creature. A servant had carried it from the dining-room in a box. After a moment, his lordship wrinkled his nose in disgust. ‘Well, is there anything you can tell us?’
Catlin’s brow had furrowed the moment the animal was brought in; now he looked almost excited. Despite the evening’s events, Betsy had to suppress a smile. Especially when the doctor startled Caradoc by picking the salamander up by its tail and peering at it.
‘My curiosity increases, my lord,’ he answered, as he lowered the lifeless creature back into its box. ‘For unless I’m mistaken, this is a fire salamander. One sees them in France and Italy, though they are generally marked with yellow rather than orange.’
Turning to face Caradoc, he went on: ‘The ancients believed it one of the elementals, defined by the sage Paracelsus. As gnomes were said to inhabit the earth, nymphs the waters, and sylphs the air, so the salamander’s domain was fire.’ He shrugged. ‘Pure superstition, of course. The belief that the fire salamander was born of fire comes from its habit of hibernating in crannies such as wood piles. When logs were carried indoors and put on the hearth,
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