Deadlight Hall (Nell West/Michael Flint #5)(88)

‘Professor, if you wish, I could ask Ashby’s to forward a letter to David Bensimon,’ said Nell.

She had not been sure how he would react, but the light came into his eyes again at once. ‘Could you do that? Would they agree?’

‘Let’s try,’ said Nell.





TWENTY-SIX


Professor Rosendale’s study was not particularly small, but as Nell and Michael waited with him for David Bensimon to arrive, Nell thought the room was filled almost to suffocation point with anticipation.

She had thought the professor was taking it very calmly, but when they heard the step on the stair, he stood up to face the door, and she saw that he grasped the back of his chair so tightly, his knuckles whitened.

David Bensimon came in quietly enough, and shook hands politely. He was around forty years of age, and Nell had the impression that although he wore casual, unobtrusive clothes, he had taken considerable care in the choosing of them. He had dark hair and eyes, and sensitive hands. He acknowledged Nell and Michael, then stood looking at the professor for a long time, before putting out his hands. As their hands met and gripped, Nell felt as if something had sizzled on the air – as if two electrical leads had been joined and become live.

‘Professor Rosendale,’ said David, at last. ‘I feel I am meeting a part of my great-uncle’s past.’

‘You have a strong look of Maurice. I’m so pleased to meet you.’ The words were conventional; the tone in which they were spoken was filled with emotion. ‘Please sit down,’ said Leo. ‘There is coffee there, or whisky if you prefer.’

‘Coffee, please. I shall keep a level head. Later we can get drunk.’ He smiled, then said, ‘I was right about the golem, wasn’t I? It’s the one Maurice tried to find?’

‘It is. It came to England seventy years ago,’ said Leo. ‘I had no idea your great-uncle tried to find it.’

‘He spent years in the search,’ said David. ‘The family legend is that he was trying to trace two girls. He hoped that if he could find the figure – if someone was trying to sell it – then that might give him a path to them.’

‘But … he didn’t find them?’ Nell thought she and Michael both heard the hope in the professor’s voice.

‘No.’

‘Did he ever mention a man called Sch?nbrunn?’

David Bensimon’s eyes lit up at once. ‘Ah, Sch?nbrunn,’ he said. ‘There were so many stories about that man. Maurice died in 1970 – I was only ten at the time, but I remember all the stories. He regarded Sch?nbrunn as a god, I think.’

‘We all did.’ Leo leaned forward. ‘You said you had letters written by Maurice …’

‘Written by him, and also to him. A number of them weren’t in English, of course, but over the years my family translated them. I’ve brought photocopies of the translations for you.’ He reached into his briefcase and brought out a manilla folder. ‘Some were written to our village – to a man there who was thought to work for Sch?nbrunn’s network. Later, the letters were found in that man’s house.’

‘Later?’

David Bensimon said, ‘You had better read them for yourself.’

He opened the folder, and Nell and Michael saw the heading – The Village School House, Nr Warsaw, 1942 and the opening line.

The Village School House, Nr Warsaw, 1942

Autumn

My dear M.B.

We agreed that, in the British expression, there would be ‘no names, no pack drill’ in these messages, so I address you by your initials only, and sign in the same way. Forgive the discourtesy, my good friend.

With great reluctance, we have agreed that despite the emotional cost to their families, the children in our village may need to be removed to safety. You mentioned a possible escape plan from the man we both know as Sch?nbrunn. Does such a plan actually exist? Can you give me information about it? And can it – and Sch?nbrunn himself – be trusted?

Affectionately,

J.W.

Leo looked up, his eyes clouded with memory.

‘You should read them all,’ said David. ‘It won’t take very long. I’ve put them in chronological order. In places they’re harrowing, but it may answer some questions for you.’

‘Let me pass them to Nell and Michael as I read,’ said Leo. Then, to Nell, ‘You don’t mind that?’

‘Professor,’ said Nell, ‘I’d have been devastated if you hadn’t let us see them.’

For a long time there was no sound in the study, save the rustle of papers. Nell and Michael sat next to each other, reading together. David Bensimon watched, nodding occasionally as Leo looked up having read a particular section, not quite questioningly, but as if to say, This is right?

The clock ticked steadily on the mantelpiece, but Nell thought it was almost as if it had been wound backwards so they could be pulled into this strange, troubled fragment of the past.

When Leo picked up the last letter he recoiled slightly. Then he said, ‘It’s a remarkable story you’ve brought me, David. Your great-uncle – that gentle scholarly man – he did all that. He tried to find the twins – he came to England to search.’

‘And,’ said Nell, ‘he and Sch?nbrunn went to Deadlight Hall as part of that search.’