Mystery and Mayhem and St Marks

Mystery and Mayhem At St Mark's

by

Joel

Some of the Characters Appearing or Mentioned: Mark Henry Foster The storyteller Tristan (Tris) Price-Williams His well-proportioned boyfriend Francis Michael [Microbe] Foster Alias Toad Angus Alexander McKenzie (Zack) A young man with panache Brandon McKenzie His younger brother Fiona McKenzie His elder sister Dina Patel A friend of Louis Toby Barker A bright boatie and actor Louis Mantegnant Another bright boatie and actor Ivo Richie Carr Mark's cousin: chunky and cheeky with it Adam Benjamin Carr Ditto, as his twin Oliver Jensen A Musical undergraduate with allure Edward Jensen Oliver's younger brother with extra allure Charles Fane-Stuart The 'Bursar-in-Waiting'! Jason Knott A newly minted Porter Liam Moore A Lodge Boy Sean O'Malley Servery lad and Lodge Boy Curt Stein Another Servery lad and an habitue of the Club

1. Zack's Party then Cambridge. Wow! (Part One)

Frankie was back to school in the morning, resplendent in Prefectural blazer. We had the rest of the week but wanted to get back to Cambridge on Sunday after Zack's party. It was to be the usual eighteenth birthday affair - the local Parish Hall, eats, drinks and disco.... Zack, ne Angus Alexander McKenzie, was eighteen! A man now as far as the law was concerned.

We arranged to go to Barnet by tube train where Fiona, bless her heart, would meet us and drive us to Arkley. We would have a grand sleepover and Dad would drive up next day to take us to Cambridge.

Of course, Oliver and Eddie were already there. A gaggle of Zack's friends, male mainly, from the Grammar School the boys attended, plus sundry girlfriends, rolled up well in time. Tris and I were surrounded as the finding of the body had been hot news when Zack had told his pals we were involved. Zack was obviously popular and I saw at least two of the girls eyeing him up speculatively. As we'd given him some of the latest Matteoli products for trendy young men he'd changed into them for the party and Brandon insisted on wearing the latest full outfit Uncle Francesco had designed for an American tennis prodigy. Frankie and Steady Eddie were well away. They had 'the chicks' as Frankie insisted on calling them, falling over the pair. They danced to the noisy disco all evening and were busy chatting up any female who came near them. From snatches of his conversations as he brought young ladies over to ply them with another drink - soft mainly - I could see why Gobbo was the perfect nickname for him as bestowed by his friends. Dina was there with her young brother, Lucas. A slim, good-looking lad who also never seemed to lack a partner. Of course, figures of awe for the mainly Sixth Formers, were Toby and Louie, large and impressive and full of bounce and good humour.

Commander McKenzie and his wife were there, with other relatives, and we told them a bit of our adventures at Ulvescott as well as giving the Commander our version of the finding of Aubrey Devereux. "Yes," he said, "I often wondered what really happened to old Augustus and to think I was living on top of that cellar for three years with his killer in it. No, I never felt I was haunted!"

The sleepover was hilarious. I think there were eight, or maybe nine, male bodies strewn in borrowed sleeping bags or rolls of blankets over the floor and in Zack's bed. As I was emerging, rather groggily, from my bag in the morning to visit the lav, Louie poked me in the back. "Wait till I tell my lot I slept with two nice gay guys during the vac!" His lot, I assumed were his rowing pals. What he'd got wrong was that he had slept with at least four nice gay guys as Oliver and Zack were still snoring on top of the bed.

Dad turned up in good time just after lunch and he had all our bags already in the boot. Frankie had been almost jumping up and down all morning as he was going to pull the stop that opened the secret door. When he started on about it again in the car I threatened not to show him how to get out if he misbehaved. I'm sure Dad heard the 'Bollocks!' from beside me on the back seat of the Volvo. He shut up and said nothing more until we drew up at the back gate of the College. We left the bags in the car and went in and up to the Porter's Lodge. There ranged behind the counter were Charles and Jason with a cheerful Liam in the background.

"My dears," said Charles, "Welcome back. Mr Foster it is so good to see you." This to Dad who was standing back looking amused. Frankie was congratulating Jason on his promotion and eyeing Liam to see if he had more spots I was sure. Charles was waving his hands, attention was needed. "There is a large crate delivered and placed in your set. Mr Tomkins was quite sure it was a coffin after the last incident but I disabused him of that misapprehension and suggested it was some type of musical instrument. It says fragile and handle with care."

He was angling for an explanation. The instructions I had received were to get in touch with a firm in Cambridge who would unpack it, set it up and arrange to have it tuned again. Luckily my big room was large enough to accommodate it and the grand piano and it would be just perfect for concerts in the Chapel as it was easily moveable.

"It's a harpsichord," I said quite simply. "I've been given it as a present and I'll tell you everything that's happened in all good time."

Liam went off with the trolley to unload our bags and we went along to our set. All looked just as we had left it in December. Tris went off to the kitchen and did the first thing one always did - put the kettle on. Dad was inspecting the row of organ stops and laughing as Frankie was jumping up and down even more by the time Liam came back and our bags were safely brought in. I was particularly puzzled by an extra one which was rather heavy and must have belonged to Tris.

At long last I gave Frankie the instruction of what to do. "Pull the Gambe slowly until you hear three clicks." He did this. There was a 'Wow' as the panelling opened and the inner door was revealed. I leaned in as the door was pushed open and switched on the darkroom light. We had a stool which we put to prevent the door from closing and armed with the two torches we let Frankie lead the way into the upper passageway with the darkroom and the big side-room with it's now-empty shelves.

"The electrical contractor is coming on Wednesday to install proper lighting here and down into the cellar as well," announced Charles, "The Brigadier has authorised the expense from the Pennefather account as he says it is part of this set and comes within the remit of the Pennefather Bequest."

Tris nudged me. "Bet Charles told him that."

"My dear, the Brigadier is always open to good advice when freely and generously given," said Charles with a hint of tartness in his voice.

"Has Jason found anything with his metal detector?" I asked, stifling a laugh at Tris having been reprimanded so severely!

"Precious ones, that has been a sorry enterprise so far. I return from Venice to find half the turf has been removed," His left hand was flicked derisively. "And a great heap of sundry objects laid out for inspection. At least there was a guinea piece from 1846 and quite a collection of small coinage, but nothing much of any great interest or value, other than discarded piping taken by a Metallurgy don as he wished to analyse it. There was one thing, however...," The finger went to the side of his nose. "...Which I keep on my person until it is valued and deposited somewhere. I will show you once we return.."

We filed down the stairs with the torches showing the bare stone walls and the stone- flagged floor. "We are most curious how dry the place has remained. We are having an inspection sometime but the consensus of opinion is that there is a constant flow of air somehow regulated which realizes some equilibrium. This would account for the mummification of that unfortunate man." He pointed his torch upwards. "There are small vents there as you can see."

"Is that anything to do with the noises in the wall I've heard," asked Frankie. "When I slept in Tris's room last year that scared me."

"Perhaps," said Charles, "But we will have to wait for the investigation. All I know is that Dr Matthews has pointed out the College itself is built on a slight mound so water would not seep from the river and that level has been lowered over the years in any case."

I looked at Tris. He was smiling. I bet he'd had the same thought as me. If there was a cellar here, was there one under Charles' set as well. A question to raise in all good time.

Frankie was all abuzz when we got back up into my main room. "What will you use all that for?"

Charles shook his head. "No decision has been made on that at present.

So far, it is part of this set and it up to the Pennefather Scholar to decide until then."

"Good place for a disco," said Toad, "Wouldn't disturb the neighbours with walls that thick. Two quid a time entry, you'd make a packet, Marky! I know Bozo's cousin, he's a DJ and he could give you advice."

This did not go well with Charles, remembering no doubt, Pinch-Bum's suggestions for the use of the Chapel. "I do not think your brother would want the bother of such a venture and it would inconvenience dear Tristan as he will be embarking on his Finals in the near future."

One squashed Toad retreated, severely reprimanded.

"But, let me show you this," Charles drew out a small chamois bag from the deep inside pocket of the frock coat he was wearing. He carefully opened it and placed the most exquisitely bejewelled and engraved golden ring on a small mat on the dining table.

There were renewed 'Wows' and 'What is it?'

He held up a hand, first finger pointing upwards. "I am of the opinion that it is a bishop's or an abbot's ring. I await the return of the curator of jewellery at the Fitzwilliam Museum to firm up that opinion. I would hazard a guess of somewhere in the 1400's for it's manufacture. We found an illustration similar to it in a book in the Library and that was a ring of German origin of 1460."

Dad was looking closely at it. "I wouldn't have thought that was lost off someone's finger. Think of the hue and cry if something like that had just been lost.

It may have been placed there deliberately."

"Mr Foster, my sentiments exactly," said Charles with a hint of triumph in his voice. "I want to persuade the Brigadier to allow some excavations around the place it was found but he is wintering in Benidorm or some such place at the moment and does not return until Wednesday. Perhaps the secrets of the dorter will be revealed. However, I might take preemptive action."

Charles was on a high. 'Hic sepultus' was on his mind. It sounded feasible except that Tris nudged me and when I turned to look at him he had a grin on his face.

That was that. Dad had to return to London. We'd had some lunch at the Commander's so I offered everyone else as well a snack from the cold box Mum had packed. Liam and Toad devoured most of the cheese sandwiches between them while I held on to the ham sandwiches for the rest of us. Tea was brewed and all looked happy, even more so when Charles went off and returned with a large fruit cake, courtesy of Mother. Dad and Frankie went off after that and Tris and I started to unpack. Clean clothes aplenty. Towels, two changes of bed linen. A bag of tins and packets for the pantry. A fruit cake of our own and a tin of assorted buns. Mum and Auntie Di had been busy. Then there were our books and papers. We'd left the particular two from Ulvescott behind. We knew they would have caused too much extra sexual activity on the staircase and we'd decided there was enough of that any way! Toad could exercise his unruly member twice nightly at least, reading the adventures of the lads in the Chateau, or the lads in the 'Odyssey'. But, perhaps, a visitor at half-term might bring them. I had the copy of 'All Change' which I would read in my leisure moments - if I found any. So, all that was left was the mysterious extra bag.

"Leave that until tomorrow," Tris said, "Lots to do then anyway. I'm not seeing Jacob until Tuesday afternoon. He's going back to hospital on Thursday for the biggie so I must check off things with him. But we can go for our run and after breakfast you go and practice for an hour or so as I must go to the Library and then I'll show you things later in the morning..."

OK, Boss, OK. Yep. I had plenty to do as well. Coming back a week early was going to be useful as I could really concentrate on going through all the Maths and practice hard if ever I had a chance of getting the Fellowship. Of course, the other reason, and perhaps the major one for two horny lads was that our sex-lives over Christmas and the New Year had been, to put it mildly, sporadic. We'd had snatched times together but we hadn't slept together and had our usual sexual encounters we'd got used to during term time. Of course, we'd had those awesome nights at Ulvescott. Nights etched on my brain and remembered each time I looked at that photograph now on our mantelshelf. I smiled each time I looked at that wonderful pair, so together, so doomed, so blessed, and a vital presence in so many lives. I swore they smiled back. I knew they were a presence in our lives now.

We loved each other fully that night. There was nothing ancient about our endeavours. An ancient rite perhaps, as ancient as time itself. Time, time, time... the rite repeated three times in various conjugations. Tris nuzzling me just by my Adam's Apple on each occasion knowing this would urge me on. I needed no urging. I wanted Tris. Tris wanted me. I kissed the lobe of his ear. His signal point. Tris wanted me so badly he came so copiously as I entered him that first time and flooded us both with his seed. I filled him moments later with my pent-up juices. So it continued as our bodies vied to include every element of ourselves, fully, deeply, satisfying both of us with such love, such passion, such tenderness. We slept, knowing we were safe, with an unfathomable presence watching benignly. We were together as they were together.

I woke Tris by kissing his closed eyelids. He smiled as he sprung awake. "We've loved each other for well over five years now," he said, "But I think our loving will have changed since that visit."

"I know what you mean," I said, "I felt it, too." I had to say it. "I want to make an even fuller commitment. Do you?"

He kissed me tenderly. "We must go back to Ulvescott soon. It's there we'll make our pledge. We won't even have to say anything."

I nodded. I knew. But I would say sincere words of confirmation.

Kitted out, with warm pullovers on top to shield us from the Cambridge winter, we did our run. Not too far, the Christmas indulgences had had some effect on waistlines, but a few days would see us back to fitness. We ran the other way this morning as it was wet under foot and passed the boathouses on the other side of the Cam.

"Got to sort out what really happened to Harry Potter and the other two. We know they're connected," Tris said. I would share some other thoughts with him later.

First thing I did after he left for the Library was to go to the Porter's Lodge. The other Assistant Porter was there and I had to explain I had to phone the musical instrument firm to arrange for the harpsichord to be assembled and tuned. I got the distinct impression he thought I was intending to keep some sort of forbidden beast in the rooms and was eyeing the list of College Rules prominently displayed on the wall while I dialled.

If I hadn't been so engrossed in my task I might have told him the only beast I had in the rooms was Tristan Price-Williams whose jaws could stretch to accommodate any small or even large intruder. But... Yes. They would arrange to be on site on Wednesday and had been forewarned. They were well aware of Mr Carstairs' work as they had dealt with two other instruments installed in other Colleges. No problem.

Then to the Chapel. I was getting so used now to the organ it was like a friend. I lost myself practising. I played phrases again and again making sure the fingering was neat, right hand, left hand, hands together, then adding the feet on the pedals. I felt I was getting somewhere. If only I'd played the Passacaglia and Fugue like I had this morning! Time passed so quickly it was gone half past eleven when I emerged into the cold air of the Quad.

What the Hell! There were two diggers and two watchers. The corner patch of soil exposed where the dorter walls were visible was now a hole at least two feet deep. The Head Gardener and one of his underlings were digging away watched intently by the muffled-up figures of Charles and Liam. I was hailed as I hurried along the path ready for the warmth of my rooms and a steaming hot cup of coffee. Not so hasty.

"My dear, we are finding artefacts of sorts," Charles called out, "Great things are upon us." He brandished an object. I went over and looked. It was a rather bent piece of metal, the corner of which had been cleaned and was shining. "Plate it said," Charles was ecstatic, "I believe this is a paten for the holy wafers. We have one which matches in the safe in the Chapel." He looked at the expanding hole. "Dig on, Mr Guthrie!"

"Shouldn't this be done by proper archaeologists?" I asked, rather astounded. "You might be destroying all sorts of things."

"Stop, Mr Guthrie," he commanded, holding up the paten as if it were a lollipop lady's sign for halting oncoming traffic, "I am afraid I have been carried away with an excess of zeal!" He looked over at me. "You are so correct, my precious. I need someone ever to curb my enthusiasms." He turned to Mr Guthrie who was looking evilly at him. "We must make the excavation secure. A tarpaulin, perhaps? Liam, sweet, you will know where such items are stored. I must apologise, Mr Guthrie, for interrupting your proper duties. No doubt Mrs Chalfont-Meade will be able to recompense both you and the industrious Wayne for the extra burdens I have imposed upon you. Come, Mark, let us go to my set and see the other items and I can telephone the Archaeology Museum."

He was very subdued as he pointed out an array of about ten small dirt encrusted objects. I'd seen similar in the museum in the cloister of King's College Chapel. "These are pilgrims' tokens aren't they?"

He nodded. He was rather contrite. "I fear I will have to make abject apologies for what has happened this morning." Then he smiled. "But, as I said great things are upon us. As you appeared so Wayne had just struck on something which I think is a box. We must wait." He was vainly trying to dial on the ancient telephone it was his privilege to possess as supernumerary assistant to the Bursar. "They never answer my request for an outside line," he said plaintively, "Let us go to the Porter's Lodge and telephone from there."

Up flights of stairs and down flights of stairs and I still wanted my coffee.

As we went out there were Wayne and Liam dragging a large tarpaulin sheet over the excavation. Charles looked Wayne up and down. "Yes, he seems a very well-built young man," he said quietly, "At least that is the considered opinion of Christopher Lascelles- Wright and I have a suspicion he would be expert on such matters. I have often wondered why potting-sheds have whitened windows."

Oh, so Charles was imparting knowledge about the Secretary of the Rugger Club, the scrum-half of the team Tris played in. Yes, Christopher Lascelles-Wright was compact and tough-looking with a mop of dark curly hair. Yes, I'd noted on the list of students of the College he had been at the same school as Charles. Yes, and he'd been a chosen member of the line-up for the Medea scrum, too. I remembered admiring his bubble-butt, an apt description I'd read in that story Tris had downloaded, atop those muscly, bronzed legs. So Charles had certain knowledge of some liaison! I must ask Tris his opinion, too.

I left Charles having a lengthy, rather tortuous, phone call to someone at the Museum of Archaeology and sauntered back to the set. I was nursing my coffee thinking about an awkward passage in the Howells 'Rhapsody' Mr Prentice had given me at Christmas - a held chord full of flats with a tenth in the bass, then a chromatic run in the pedals, followed by widely spaced chords. Good job I had big hands - went with the ears.... Where was Tris? He came in rather breathless just at mid-day.

"Sorry, love, I just had to finish reading a judgement and it was so complicated and I think the Judge got it wrong. Can't find an appeal though, and the bloke got seven years. I want to ask Mr Fullerton about it. Come and have lunch and I'll tell you about what we'll do as soon as we get back."

I knew what I wanted to do. Thinking about Christopher and his bodily attributes and there he was in my mind, panting breathlessly, waiting for the ball to be heeled out by the scrum, with my Tris shoving and pushing in those tight dark red shorts of his by his side... Oh, all this was quite sufficient to set certain desires on the move. Especially as Tris was here now, himself well-built, well-hung and in prime condition. And if Christopher Lascelles-Wright, as described, was well-built, well-hung and in prime condition and of a certain disposition, then I and Tris could help him score more than one try and.....

"Come on, are you listening," said Tris waving a hand in front of my eyes, "You've got that bloody goofy look on your face and I know exactly what you're thinking about. Bloody insatiable...." He bent down and kissed my forehead, "...But I love you for it. I'm starving though and I could do with a good intake of toad in the hole! Saw that's on the menu. We can keep that other toad in the hole you're thinking of for later."

"Bloody mind-reader," I said, hauling myself up from the depths of the comfy chair.

"No need to mind-read," he laughed, "I think about the same ninety per cent of the time and when I'm with you it's ninety-nine point nine per cent."

"A bit left over?"

"That's for Pugsy and the rest in case you have a headache!"

I put my arms around him and we literally waltzed to the door. "Decorum, decorum," he giggled as we emerged into the quad.

There was the usual gathering, or carbuncle as Tris said, of the grey sweat-suited tribe already feasting on platefuls of the customary stew or roast meats to build even more muscle. Sean was serving. "Recommend the toad, Mr Foster, Liam caught them specially this morning!" He laughed. "He caught something else when Mr Tomkins found out about that hole. Mr Charles is pleading for his life and he won't get anywhere." He grinned as four good-sized sausages surrounded by succulent looking Yorkshire pudding were placed on my plate. "Same for you, sir?" he asked Tris. "And Mrs Davies would like to see you as Mr Penry-Jones has disappeared again and he was supposed to give her his list for the Chapel before Christmas."

Tris grinned. "You're a treasure, Sean, thanks."

"That's what Mr Charles says I am, too. Nice to be appreciated.... No! Two sausages are the usual portion unless you have special dispensation from the Chaplain. You can have a nice slice of the beef as well if you like!" This addressed to a large grey sweat- suited individual who had lumbered up behind us and was chuntering on about the meagreness of his lunch.

The veggies were being distributed by two youngsters, no doubt from the local catering college on work experience like Barry had been. I recognised one. He was one of the two shy lads who looked on at our group at the Club with a certain longing. His companion, not known, was busy along the row of hot containers. "See you Friday," I said quietly, "Come over and bring that friend of yours with you and have a drink with us." He blushed but his smile told me his day had been made.

I was still no nearer finding out what was in the bag as Tris said he must go and see Mrs Davies. Drew was Senior Organ Scholar now and nominally in charge of Chapel music. As he was rarely around and had been miffed about the Christmas Concert I think his disappearance was intentional. It would mean more work for Ben and me but with Oliver helping with repertoire and training the choir as well, we would manage.

I settled in my study and looked at more of the notes James Tanner had left for me. Yes, I could see what the problems were leading to. I did a couple then followed a trail of my own, putting it down as neatly as possible in my other notebook. Interestingly, it led to a conclusion I'd met before but in a different area. I leafed through the recommended volume. No, it didn't mention that, so perhaps I was wrong. I checked my reasoning and was satisfied I'd gone about it the right way. I thought that result would be useful as it bridged two aspects which I'd noted came up as separate topics in past papers. I was busy sketching out the steps of the next proof when Tris returned.

"You look quite relaxed," he said. "That little worried look you usually have when your brain is on the boil isn't there. I hope you've been working and not idling and playing with yourself under the desk like you used to do at school. Twitcher Larson told me you were always having a wank...."

I turned round and clasped him round the waist. "Twitcher bloody Larson, as I've told you many times before, was a bloody liar. He stuck together more pages of that bloody maths book we used than anyone else in the form. Just because you used to stick your hand up his shorts to feel his hairy nuts in the scrum...."

"....Confession, confession," he crowed, "Who knew he had hairy nuts, eh? I only saw them once when we were both in the Junior XV. You, bloody liar, had him up in your bedroom plenty of times, I saw..."

"...Oh, snooping now,....." I gave him a great squeeze. This was a perennial running joke. Yes, Twitcher and I had indulged in quite a few joint sessions when we were in Year 9. I was good at Maths, he wasn't. I helped him out and we helped each other out. Tris had cornered him once after a game, just when Tris and I were about to seal our own fates. Twitcher and he had come to an arrangement, too. Tris would help him with History.... So, only seen Twitcher's hairy nuts once??!! Not on your Nelly! Tris had handled them perhaps fewer times than I had, but... The arrangement fizzled out as Twitcher got more scholastic confidence and girls loomed on the horizon. We remained friends and Twitcher had recognised the relationship between Tris and myself long before we thought anyone else had. He'd said he was sorry he couldn't help if I was lonely when Tris left to first go to St Mark's. He'd got a steady girlfriend so he knew how I must feel, but we were all good mates, eh? Good old Twitcher, now at King's College London reading English.

"What's in the bag?" I asked, having exhausted our usual Twitcher repartee which often ended with our feeling of hairy nuts and joint release of unscholastic tensions.

"Right. I'll show you. Shirt-sleeve order needed."

He disappeared off to the bedroom and came out lugging the holdall. He unzipped it and took out a tape measure and a pad of paper.

"You go and stand by the far wall while I stretch this out. We'll have to do it more than once as it was the longest in Dad's toolbox and it'll only measure twelve feet."

Dutifully I stood as he pulled out the metal rule. He put a beer mat on the floor to mark the twelve foot limit. I then had to put my end of the measure by the beer mat and went on, and then there was a little bit more.

"Twenty-five feet so far," he said making a rapid sketch on the pad. "We need to check the length of your study and then the bedroom and into those cupboards on the far wall. And remember it's the Chapel after that."

"You've been thinking the same as me," I said. "Frankie wondered why the broom cupboard wasn't deeper. We know it wasn't because of the store room behind.

So...."

"Yes," he said, "It's been so dark down below we haven't really explored the size." He went over to the holdall. "I brought all this as well."

"All this" was three lots of extension leads, two with lamp holders on the end, and a couple of double socket leads as well.

"Should reach down if we plug into that socket by the fireplace. It'll give us plenty of light to see. Pity we didn't do this when that team were here."

We went on measuring, and the length of the rooms from end wall to end wall we totalled up as just over forty six feet, give an inch or two. The width was sixteen feet plus depth of wall covering. Quite sizeable for a bachelor pad - or even a two bachelor pad.

Next, I opened the panelling door and wedged the inner door open. Using the extension leads we could see that the inner chamber, as it were, was the same length as the set. We then trailed the flexes down the steps to the lower cellar and the place was illuminated again. It was so obvious now. The cellar was not the same length as the upper rooms. Given there was a wall corresponding with my entrance hall wall and an inner dividing wall with an open arch to the side no one had questioned the size.

We measured the distances. "Total of thirty-five feet, give an inch or two," sang out Tris from the part where Aubrey was found. I was inspecting the wall in the other part, the part nearer the Chapel. The sixteen or so feet of wall across was subdivided by three columns of protruding stone. I shone my lamp down, looked at the bases of the second and third columns, then knelt and called for Tris.

"It's here," I called. Tris came running through, he knelt and looked where I was pointing. "At the bases here there are little carvings of heads on both these plinths."

"'Multum capitum', many heads," he whispered, "And we're twelve feet short."

We stood up and shone the lights up and across the four walls between the columns. The third one along looked a shade lighter than the others.

"I bet there was a door here and a wall's been put up to block it." He went off and came back with a small steak hammer. He tapped each of the intervening walls. The third one had a definitely different sound than the others, a higher thud, as if less solid.

"I'll stay here," he said, "I promise I won't do anything. You go and get the Chaplain and Charles."

I was off like a shot. Luckily the Chaplain was in his study. He looked quite bemused as I blurted out the story and the discovery. He grabbed a torch and followed me as I took off again and ran, most illegally across the turf. I rushed up the stairs and banged on Charles' door before the Chaplain even reached the stairway.

"Charles!" I almost shouted as he opened the door, "Come on down. I think we've found something."

He followed me immediately, no questions, just listening as I gabbled on about measuring up and the heads on the plinths. We almost collided with the Chaplain who followed as I outlined the findings once more.

Tris was still in place. He was examining the plinths very carefully.

"I'm sure this is right. These are beautifully carved." He stood and held the lamp so the Chaplain could see. "Sub dorter hic sepultus est," he intoned.

Of course, we then had to show the Chaplain the copies of the code and my solution. "You lot seem to be putting St Mark's on the map in more ways than one. You think that wall hides something?" he said, poring over the solution page.

"We do," I said, "I have the feeling that Charles has the answer."

Charles had been surprisingly silent so far. Was his dig to be overshadowed? "My dears," he said, "I am sure that the C and S in that Servant's record referred to the Abbeys of Crowland and Sempringham. Both had connections with St Mark's. Johannes Knottus became a Gilbertine canon and must have been at Sempringham, he may even have become the prior as a Johannes is noted in that position and had the reputation of being a very holy man. There seems to be no record of the value of anything taken from there.

Crowland we know was sequestered but the spoils there for iniquitous Henry were meagre."

He turned to the Chaplain. "Perhaps you could ask the Master for permission to open this. I have a curator from the Archaeology Museum coming on Thursday to see the ring and the other pieces, perhaps he could advise earlier."

Tuesday was hectic. The Master came across in the morning to inspect with Dr Matthews, the Dean, and three of the old dons. All shook their heads sagely. The man from the Archaeology Museum followed them and brought some instrument which he attached to the intervening walls and said the third one was definitely not the same as the others. He went off with Charles and had a long discussion about the hole revealed under the rolled back tarpaulin. The ring, paten and tokens were collected and placed in a strong box by a messenger from the Fitzwilliam Museum. Charles insisted on going back with him as he was sure it was a scam and the man and the box would disappear. He disappeared for at least a couple of hours and came back beaming. The ring was genuine. It was likely to have been the equivalent of an episcopal ring and was dated provisionally at 1475 and was of Italian origin. They would perform further tests and appraisals and someone would attend with the archaeologists in case other things emerged. The other things were as thought. They would be cleaned and judgements given. When Mr Tomkins was told he even smiled, query benevolently, and Jason was acquitted of the heinous crime of aiding the destruction of the hallowed turf.

When I was next in the Porter's Lodge I was also acquitted. "Mr Foster, the Notices are quite clear, but in the circumstances the Dean says you were under stress and the incident is forgotten." My footprints would, no doubt, grow as toadstools in his mind, and who the hell saw me?

I had hoped for a quiet week to do some serious work on my Maths. I needed quiet. Charles came to the rescue. "My dear, I will be otherwise engaged in bringing the Brigadier up to date with all that is happening and keeping a weather eye on any developments so my humble room is at your disposal. I will guarantee no interruptions other than the wee mite Liam who will provide you with abundant refreshments at your fancy. Press what is colloquially known as Hash on the telephone and he will answer." As the 'wee mite' was standing behind him, with his own clipboard and an inscrutable look on his face, I thanked them both as graciously as I could. As Charles turned to go the 'wee mite' gave me a wink and trotted off after him. Someone had his measure I thought.

I actually got loads of work done as well as practising assiduously. A senior archaeologist came early on Thursday morning and, with an assistant wrapped all the furniture, including the grand piano and assembled harpsichord, in plastic as it was planned to open the sealed space on Saturday and there was likely to be plenty of dust. What with that and the electricians and their mess - thankfully all cleared up, there was plenty of interest.

The other bit of interest was an urgent 'phone call from Ivo. His old tutor, Dr Porter, had something very pressing to impart, could he come to stay Friday night as he was seeing him at nine o'clock Saturday morning. We said, of course he could. I explained about the excavations as we called them and he got very excited. Also that we would be going to the Club on Friday. "Count me in. I'll take you out to dinner first, though. Tell Tris I still love him to bits!"

Of course, we had much to impart. I'd sent him a letter detailing all that had happened at Ulvescott with the invitation we all had for the Burns Night weekend. Adam had been informed by e-mail and the reply said he'd be there as well.

I was glad I was out of the way on Friday as several workmen and sundry others came to assess the strength of the structures and so forth. Someone had tipped off a newspaper so Mr Tomkins spent time warding off 'evil spirits' as Charles called them - journalists I assumed.

Tris and I were in fits of giggles every time we were in the set by ourselves. "What happens if there's nothing there," I said on Thursday evening, looking at the neat heap of tools lined up in front of the wall as we snooped down in the cellar to see what was going on.

"Probably just a pile of sixteenth century Penthouses or Playboys, like the dirty books they found in that cupboard in the Chapel," he said laughing.

"Playgirls, more like it from what Charles says went on with the students then."

"Bit like now. But I don't need anything to spur me on when you're around!"

"Flattery will get you nowhere... ...except into bed!"

Ivo was full of news when he arrived. Uncle George and Aunt Sophie had also been invited to Ulvescott Manor as well. He laughed and said she was determined to wear a very short skirt to show off her birthmark and why the hell hadn't he and Adam got them. I said Dad hadn't but I and Frankie had them and they seemed to hop around between generations. His Mum had it, they hadn't, but it was likely any kids they had might inherit. Ivo went rather serious then.

"Better tell you. 'Tory and I are getting engaged at Easter. We haven't planned the wedding yet, next year maybe, but Adam says he'll be best man," he laughed then, "Frankie can be a bridesmaid and you two can be Matrons of Honour...."

Dealing with Frankie and his increased bulk gave us the advantage of knowing how to deal with Ivo. He was seriously tickled and his screeches matched the Toad's. 'Pax!' let us release him and I thought of the times Ivo and Adam had made me screech, too.

He dusted himself down. He shook his head. "Things don't change, I'm glad to say. And I'm definitely going to wear the family tartan that weekend and no staring up my kilt!"

Oh, ho! More to plan! We were ready and waiting for Ivo to reappear from the bathroom at half past seven. Both Tris and I were togged up in matching Matteoli outfits and we got some appraising looks as we entered the rather nice restaurant Ivo took us to. He told us a bit about the two training courses he'd been on and he was now posted to a 'desk' in the Foreign Office dealing with French affairs until a suitable first posting abroad was found for him. He said one reason for announcing his intention of getting married meant he might get a Paris posting.

We were quite liquefied when we reached the club. The three of us had got through two bottles of wine plus drinkies for starters and a brandy with our coffee so we were very happy, to put it mildly, as Grant the bouncer gave us the thumb's up at the Club's entrance.

Carlo and Davy were already there with Jonty and Danny. Things were being planned. It was Brad's birthday next week and they had persuaded Shawn to arrange a special 'Leather Night' and everyone had to appear with something leather. I said I would bring a whip as that was the only way I could tame Tris. He got up in a pretend huff and took Danny onto the dance floor. I saw the two shy lads hovering and they were invited over. After two lagers they thawed and we heard several scurrilous tales about our College kitchen staff from the one working there. They knew Danny well and said he was going to be a prize chef and Barry was an idol for them too. He was older than most on the course and they realised he had a past. They didn't know he was Mr B's - as they called him - nephew, so I said they'd better tell him about the party next week.

They were a couple of nice kids, just eighteen, and I had a dance with both of them and the one in the College kitchen, Curt, said he was a bit shy because he wasn't a student and some of them treated them like shit. He said there was one in particular, and it didn't take much to identify him as the Honourable Jeremy the Tosser, who always complained, so Cheffie had put a laxative in a pot of chocolate sauce with instructions it had to be poured over Tosser's favourite chocolate pudding. Curt laughed as he said he didn't complain that day and came back for seconds. "Treat us like it and we can make them do it."

Ivo disappeared after a while and was last seen chatting to a couple of young men I'd seen around the Club before. Someone had said they'd been at one of the other Colleges. He probably knew them as he'd been involved in so many clubs and societies when a student. Anyway, he wouldn't be bored - as if Ivo would ever be bored!

Brad and Whippet came in quite late. I was sitting watching the various pairs dancing, including Tris and some buffed-up lad, and nursing a large orange juice. "Nasty case," said Whippet as he sat down next to me and Brad went off to the lav. "Some fucker's hacked a kid over drugs. Brad's upset. Could have happened to Barry when he was younger." He grinned. "He knows about his son, though. That pair.." - pointing at Danny and Jonty - "...said they'd told you. Thanks for not letting them spread it about." I said it was Tris who had taken the printouts away and flushed them down the bog and told them to keep shtum about it. He laughed. "Brad said his son confessed he'd been lying about all the girls. He told his Dad because we think he was scared Danny would blurt it all out here. Brad's not bothered. He'd had suspicions for ages about him and Terry, so he told Tony that if Terry Springer laid a finger on his brother he'll be round and throw the book, and that he and Terry could shack up in his room if they wanted. Bugger me, Brad said tonight that Tony's told him Terry'll move in next week as his Mum wants to live at Chatteris near his sister. I suppose we'll see them in here and the Rugger Club'll be abandoned."

"I doubt it. They'll have to keep up their macho image and I expect seeing the sweaty bodies and hairy legs gives them fuel for their bedroom activities."

He laughed. "Too true. I had many a bedroom activity after Games at school - alone of course..." We laughed. Too true, I thought. "...Watch it, the Boss is about..."

"What are you two laughing about? Hi, Mark, I hear you've been at it again."

"The excavations? How did you know?"

"Eyes and ears of the world! No, first of all we had a call about a ring that was found. Some stupid bastard thought it might be on a lost property list. It must have been a student who overheard something. Wouldn't give his name."

"A student? Not many around at the moment. Shall I listen around, too?"

Brad laughed. "Why not! You seem to be good at solving puzzles what with the body in the cellar."

The others had gathered round by now and were all ears. Straight from the horse's mouth as it were and not just the bits in the newspapers. So, we had to tell the tale again of how we found the body. Every gruesome detail was embroidered by Tris, including that the corpse must have died while reading a copy of 'Fanny Hill' with his trousers down round his ankles.

"You said he died in the dark," said a disbelieving Danny.

"It was a braille copy," said a quick-off-the-mark Tris.

"Pull the other one!" said Danny and we all dissolved into hoots of laughter and I ordered another round.

We let on that there was going to be a couple of excavations over the next few days. A ring had been found in the quad and it was genuine and very old. The cellar might hold more secrets. Or, it might just be empty.

Brad said he knew about that, too, and he and Whippet would be there, just in case. The Bursar had phoned and asked for a police presence. Probably to restrain Charles and his zeal!

We didn't stay too late and gathered up Ivo and wandered back to College. He was rather pensive. "Those lads told me there's a rumour going round that St Mark's is awash with drugs. I have the feeling the finger points at Tosser but there's someone else involved as well. You heard anything?"

Neither of us had and I think we were too interested in what might happen in the morning to really worry. We were glad to get to bed anyway. We'd set up the small bed for Ivo and he made rude comments about wanting a good night's sleep and didn't want to be disturbed by sounds of debauchery. We forbore from attacking him fore and aft on the small bed as it probably would have collapsed under the triple weight. In fact, other than Tris making a vile sucking noise to razz Ivo up as we snuggled down together I slept quietly and deeply, unmolested and unmolesting, until our alarm went in the morning.

Ivo protested he was out of condition for a run, then confessed he'd been visiting a gym three times a week to keep himself fit. We dragged the poor old soul out and did the run in front of the boathouses again. Arriving back he insisted on having his shower first and we complimented him that at the age of twenty-two he was still worth making a serious pass at. He said he was 'Tory's now and we could keep our hands to ourselves. Tris said it wasn't his hand he was thinking of as there were other bits of him readily available. We got flicked with a damp towel and told to keep our distance and if we were good he would cook us a nice breakfast.

We'd just finished that when the first of the archaeologists and their team of workmen turned up. The senior one introduced himself as Dr Palfrey and we were shown sonar maps of the doorway which he explained showed a double skin of walls, whereas the other walls were all solid and eight inches thick. He also said there was an echo from something metallic across the top of the intervening gap. He thought it might be a trap for the unwary.

"A primitive guillotine?" Tris asked.

"Right! At least a couple of centuries before Dr Guillotine invented his. We think it's held up by jutting out pieces of stone and would crash down when they are disturbed. We'll start at the top and hope to hold it with a metal post."

"Then it'll be the Tutankhamun moment," Ivo laughed.

"Too true. But we'll put a camera through on a flexible rod first. No sticking heads through! Of course, like many of the Egyptian tombs it might be empty but it'll give us plenty to explore. If you don't mind we'll go down and set things up. There'll be others coming along soon and we'll try not to cause too much disturbance. As soon as we're ready we'll give you a shout and you can come down. You'd better wear these masks in case there's any dust. But don't worry, we'll clear up afterwards."

As it was nearly nine o'clock Ivo said he'd better go and find out what old Dr Porter had to tell him. Just as he went my mobile rang. It was Frankie. We said nothing had happened so far, they hadn't started, we would let him know. I went into my study and settled down as I had no intention of going up to Charles' room and disturbing him. Tris said he would go to the College Library as he wanted to write up what he thought was wrong with the summing-up. Typical students' day. Except for the possible excitement.

Just before ten there was a discreet tap on the door. It was Jason. Would I like Liam to prepare coffee and tea for the people down below? I had heard some subterranean thumps so I knew they were getting on with the wall. I went to the top of the stairs and called. A lady archaeologist came up, took off her mask and said they would all love a drink. It was getting hot down there with the heat of the extra lights and in a few minutes they would be taking out a piece of the inner wall.

I phoned the Library and Tris soon came trotting over followed by the Master, the Dean and the Chaplain. There was an air of suppressed excitement. But as usual, tea and coffee came first. At last the three archaeologists and their two helpers led the way down. We donned our masks and followed. A television monitor had been set up on the table which had been left down there. We saw the heavy piece of metal held up by a metal post. Whoever might have been unwary would have suffered more than the circumcision Tristram Shandy suffered from the falling sash window!

Dr Palfrey gave the signal and the blue-overalled assistant tapped out the topmost stone and caught it before it fell. He drew it out and Dr Palfrey stepped forward with the television camera and poked it and its attendant light through the hole. I think we all held our breath as he adjusted the focus looking back at the screen. As the camera panned round the room there were gasps. There were boxes of different sizes piled up and what looked like two chests with rounded tops.

"Permission to continue, Master?" Dr Palfrey asked.

"Of course," the Master said, "But as this is the province of the Pennefather Scholar we must ask his permission, too. Mr Fullerton was most adamant on that. He will be here soon as well. He and I with the Chaplain are the Trustees of the Pennefather Bequest, but that states that the set is the property of the Scholar except for the containing walls." He laughed. "I see we may have some difficulties over ownership of anything found. I've already had a phone call from the Master of Magdalene demanding information in case there is anything from Crowland Abbey. I have no idea how news travels so fast."

Dr Palfrey looked at me. I think he wasn't too concerned about such niceties at the moment. "Permission?"

I said "Yes" and crossed my fingers, "We'll come back when you are ready."

We left the team ready to take down the rest of the wall. Dr Palfrey said they would touch nothing but take photographs of everything in situ.

The Master had two cups of tea while we waited and wanted to hear how I got the harpsichord, still swathed in its protective plastic. He smiled. "Our Dr Al-Hamed is a great asset to the College and we are looking forward to his son joining us at Easter. He's at the Sorbonne at the moment doing some research. He is sharing teaching rooms with your cousin, I hear. At least Mr Finch-Hampton left a legacy of good teaching. One of his other pupils has just been appointed to King's in London."

He listened with an enigmatic smile on his face as I told him about the birthmarks and the relationships. "My boy," he said and laughed as I finished, "You seem to have both the happy knack and the unhappy knack of being in the right place at the right time. I suppose I'd better say, keep it up!" I laughed and nodded. as we heard someone coming up the steps.

Dr Palfrey and the lady, Dr Masterson, came into the room. "We're ready," he said with a great smile, "We've counted twenty wooden boxes of different sizes and there are two of the iron-bound chests which were commonly used for storage at the time. They are all in good condition. Dry and no sign of rot. May we have permission to open a couple and assess what may be inside? There are pieces of parchment nailed to each." He chuckled.

"Mr Fane- Stuart was right. Crowland and Sempringham are mentioned. But first, I would like to examine the topmost box on the pile nearest the entrance we've made. It's the nearest to that opening and the smallest. It has no label nailed but this was lying on top." He held up a small strip of parchment. "I took the liberty of bringing it up as it seems to be a continuation of the code." He laid the strip on the dining table and weighted the ends with two tumblers I had put out ready for cold drinks.

We looked attentively. There were five rows of seven spaced letters. I went to my study and got the pad of paper with my working out of the previous code. I copied down the letters carefully:

P Z L N L B O

G H X Q B D L

F O Z B O P H

U B G T B F E

Z B O F E L G

"Short and sweet, five sevens," the Master said. "What will you do?"

"I'll try the first code. It may be the same or we may have to find another starting sequence."

To be continued: