"Alexander Cavendish, history recounts, owned estates covering a quarter of North Yorkshire's eastern region. Alexander had two sons: Jacob and Edward.
The story goes that Edward was barren, childless after ten years of marriage. Jacob, the younger brother, was blessed with a child a year after marrying Marta, a Latina woman said to be an exceptional violinist.
Edward's wife grew envious and resentful. Edward, deeply in love with her, suggested she sleep with his brother, Jacob, to continue their esteemed family line. The violinist found out about this and went mad. She threatened to commit suicide if he went through with it."
20Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡGJBpLcvzMI
"And then what happened?" Marcel asks
20Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡGf8nC4kgff
Ablegate continues, "No one knows if Jacob actually slept with his brother's wife, but Marta was already consumed by paranoia. The family doctor at the time advised them not to leave her alone, but Jacob paid her no heed."
"What a monster," Marcel says.
Ablegate pulls out a knife, opens a bag of candy, crunches on one, and continues.
"Rumor has it he was a domineering libertine. Women were mere engine oil to him, discarded after a few uses. His wife, Marta, was no exception. He perfected his shameful rituals upon her until she submitted and even started requesting them. But Jacob grew bored when she suddenly decided to become sensitive woman. She refused food, couldn't sleep, isolating herself in one of the houses to play the violin every night"
"Poor woman," Marcel says with empathy. "Continue."
"The crushing loneliness and the constant cries of her baby tore her apart. She wanted to harm herself, so she drank cleaning acid, but the pain was unbearable. Flailing like a wounded bird, she picked up the bow that had once sung beautiful melodies and fired a shot of mercy, a mournful tune severing her delicate neck artery. With her last remaining breath, she held her little one to her chest and then fell to the ground dead. The maid who found her fainted from the terrifying scene. The family decided to cover it up, dumping her body in the sea and spreading the news of her death by drowning."
20Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡEJxhVPGKnj
"Good Heavens. This is a terrible story. Regardless of whether it's true, what does all this have to do with us now?" Marcel asks.
20Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡCd1q2cqxVp
"Marta, that violinist," Ablegate replies, "burned documents of vast land and estates that the family owned, so vast, they didn't even know where they were. That is one version of the story, however the other story, which I believe..."
He looks towards the raging sea, leading a dark cloud fleet, and says: "The violinist didn't burn the documents, she hid them in a secret place."
20Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡHehFzE0eNr
"But in that case," Marcel says, "all tangible property will pass to the Crown!"
20Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡVAArpiVnrK
"And no one will claim it," Ablegate replies.
20Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ6vP2yObwPs
"Hmm," Marcel says, intrigued, standing up and hanging his jacket on the balcony railing. He walks forward and straightens up in front of the door, turns the knob twice, bends over and looks through the keyhole, runs his hand along the frame, passing it over the top lintel. Suddenly, a bronze key with a handle shaped like horns falls in front of him. He picks it up, and puts it in the keyhole, turns the handle, and it opens.
20Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡQbDyLmjlbO
Ablegate jumps up, exclaiming, "Wow! You saved us! My god. You saved us!"
20Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡWcx81jQiAd
The two step inside the house; a somber darkness swims in the place, as if it were a groove in the bottom of the ocean, the daylight refuses to reach it. All the furniture is lined up and covered in white cloth, momentarily resembling victims of a drive by air strike.
Mr. Ablegate turns on the lights.
"Hurry, Marcel, use your sixth sense. Think! Where would a distraught woman hide her valuables?"
"Hsss," Marcel opens a dresser drawer, which makes a hissing sound.
"Focus on things you wouldn't normally focus on," Ablegate comments.
"A musical instrument, a wall clock, a sewing machine...any place that wouldn't cross one's mind."
Ablegate rushes up the stairs to the attic and comes down shortly after.
20Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡfJqHHbfK9V
"Anything, Marcel?" he calls out.
20Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡIwJp3qIG2m
Marcel stands still, staring at the door. Ablegate comes to stand right next to him and stares, "What! What is it?" he asks.
"There's a second lock, from inside the door," Marcel points out.
Mr. Ablegate approaches it, "Ah. Damn. We need another key."
Marcel pulls the key out of the handle, then flips it around and puts it into the hole. A camouflaged cover opens in the door structure, inside of which is a leather bag securely hidden. Applegate shoves it under his jacket and locks the cover, the two hurry out, Marcel closes the door and puts the key back in its place, hears the sound of a motorcycle and turns around.
20Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡpZ8DuQjHfw
"Are you two leaving?" Juan—arrived.
20Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡKy33NALHxn
"I brought some friends along" he says and pulls out bottles of beer from a paper bag.
Ablegate presses the hidden bag under his armpit, and replies, "Next time, Juan. I remembered I have a dentist appointment today."
The two descend the rocky bluff and get into the car, Marcel looks in the rearview mirror and exclaims in terror: "He's coming, go, go!"
20Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ6EYohmUqLM
"Wait!" Juan runs waving from afar, and his dog runs after him
20Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡqD3kYjJMay
.
Ablegate loves the gear and presses on the gas pedal; the back wheels rub in the ground twice before taking off with force.
Juan arrives, the car had left, he remains on his knees.
20Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡyYxrDLVUXD
"Hah, hah" (panting). Then turns to his dog.
20Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ6hWiX0OyFM
"Ivy. Navy boy, forgot his jacket" the dog barks wagging its tail.
"Yes, I know" he says, "it would be a perfect fit on you."
20Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ8xQZuNENxL
---
20Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡTUlBgk5jTz
"Damn," Marcel's voice echoes as he opens an old notebook with a brown cover. A photo falls out of it, showing a man and a woman with a small child.
Ablegate steps on the brakes and stops at the side of the road.
"What! What is it? Is someone following us?"
20Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡnA3jUOMB2L
"It's in Latin," Marcel says.
20Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡO6Mj6Qnart
"Let me see," Ablegate says.
He opens the notebook, encountering a name written in elegant black ink:
20Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ9J1TPijRmx
• Samantha Wilfred Daily Notes -
20Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡZlfWYmU81w
Then a page with the title:
• I am alive, thanks to God who watches over us. Below it is an unclear writing. He flips the next page, half of it torn, and after that all the pages are in Latin.
"Hmm. This wasn't in the cards," Ablegate mutters. "But it's not the worst thing I expected. Let me see that photo."
He stares at it for a moment then says: "If I'm not mistaken..." He pauses for a moment, watching a car as it passes them, looks in the rearview mirror and says:
"Marcel, do you know who this is?"
"No, who is it?" Marcel replies.
"If I'm not mistaken, this is George Cavendish; but who is this woman!" Ablegate wonders.
"And why is the boy's face scratched out? As far as I know, George didn't have any illegitimate affairs."
"Interesting," Ablegate says, scratching his chin:
"Marcel, when I say interesting, I mean it."
Marcel holds a closed envelope in his hand, sealed with a black wax stamp, and is about to open it; "No, no, don't open that," Ablegate shouts and snatches it from his hand.
He looks at Marcel with icy eyes and whispers:
20Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡyL9whn5JIE
"Never pull the trigger if you don't know the barrel of the gun. Got it!"
20Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡqZOYhRxBQS
"Did you understand?" Ablegate emphasizes.
"Yes, I understand," Marcel replies.
"You take the wheel now, my foot hurts," Ablegate says.
On the way, Marcel grips the steering wheel tightly, amidst the heavy rain, and asks, "Do you think that boy in the photo is Juan?"
"I tend to not think so," Applegate replies.
"What about the notebook, should we call Professor Cuthbert?"
"No, we need to investigate the woman first," Ablegate replies, putting the wallet in the car drawer and moving the seat back, then adds,
20Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ2jPggagAZl
"We will head to Beryl."
ns216.73.216.13da2
and then Add to home screen.