Death in the Dark Walk by Deryn Lake Page A

somewhere.
    Dropped at the Coach Entrance situated at the corner of Kennington Lane, the Apothecary proceeded the rest of the way on foot and, after making an enquiry at the admission gates, was shown to an office in the rooms to the left of the entrance where, sure enough, he found the Proprietor himself, seated behind a desk.
    â€˜Yes?’ said Mr Tyers, not looking up from the ledger of accounts over which he was poring.
    â€˜Sir, I am here on behalf of Mr John Fielding,’ John answered steadily and was rewarded not only by getting Mr Tyers’s full attention but the sight of him rising to his feet as well.
    It was an interesting face that John was regarding, handsome in a hawkish kind of way. The clearly defined features were dominated by a great beak of a nose above which a pair of fine, rather melancholy, eyes stared out as if they were seeing all the troubles of mankind. It seemed extraordinary to John that the creator of such a glorious fantasy as Vaux Hall should be revealed as profound rather than frenetic. Yet perhaps the very nature of such a dream world revealed a need to escape.
    â€˜How may I help you?’ said Jonathan Tyers in a dark voice which, too, was tinged with a certain sadness.
    â€˜Very simply by telling me all you know about the night of the murder, Sir. Mr Fielding informs me that your knowledge of your patrons is formidable. It is my hope, therefore, that you will share some of it with me.’
    Mr Tyers nodded silently, the curls of his elegant wig brushing against the hollow of his cheeks. ‘I will do all that I can, naturally. Such a dreadful affair will not help the reputation of my Gardens, to say the least of it. It is in my own interest that the matter be cleared up without delay.’ He sat down again, indicating the chair opposite his desk to John. ‘Now, where would you like me to start?’
    John took a seat, grateful beyond measure that he had changed his clothes, for the Proprietor was a man of understated elegance and enormous style. ‘Well, Sir, perhaps you could begin by discussing the evening itself. Was there anything unusual about it as far as you were concerned?’
    Jonathan Tyers smiled wryly. ‘Yes, in that I took a night off. Normally, as you may already be aware, I sit at the counter and see the patrons in, take their money if one wishes to be blunt about it. But on that particular occasion I had gone to have supper with friends, though thankfully not far distant from the Gardens.’
    â€˜Then how did you hear about the murder?’
    â€˜I have an assistant who deputises for me when I am away or indisposed. He sent a beadle running to fetch me. I returned at once and despatched a rider to the Public Office, from whence Mr Fielding sent forth a set of Brave Fellows.’ Mr Tyers smiled once more, though no humour reached the rest of his face. ‘Is it not a profound indictment of our times that such men as these are always kept ready to venture to any part of the kingdom at a quarter of an hour’s warning?’
    John shook his head. ‘I cannot entirely agree with you, Sir. I find it heartening that the Blind Beak has formed such a squad, able to fly anywhere at such short notice.’
    The deep eyes fixed themselves on the Apothecary. ‘And what is your connection with the Public Office, if I may ask? Are you one of the Magistrate’s Runners?’
    There was no question of lying to such a powerful individual. ‘No, sir. Truth to tell my only association with the case is that I was the one to find the body.’
    Interest quickened the hawkish features and Mr Tyers looked positively animated. ‘Really? How did this come about?’
    â€˜I was one of your patrons that night. I came here with my friend Samuel Swann, celebrating the fact that our indentures had finally reached an end. I am a newly fledged apothecary and, thus, when I heard a scream emanating from The Dark Walk ran to see if I