The Emerald Casket by Richard Newsome Read Free Book Online

thoughts. ‘I didn’t know you could do martial arts, Mr Fry.’
    There was a sudden crash by the sideboard. They all swung around to find Mr Fry looking down at the shattered remains of a pile of breakfast dishes that he had dropped onto the floor.
    â€˜Oh yes,’ Sam said. ‘We’re in safe hands.’
    That night, after another belly-stretcher of a meal from Mrs Rutherford’s kitchen, Gerald lay in cushioned comfort in his bed and stared at the ceiling. The act of digestion was occupying all his energy. His mind drifted to India and what adventures lay there. They were due to leave the next day and a feeling of blissful anticipation tickled at his senses. But soon, he found himself thinking about the Rattigan Club and the contents of the Green Room.
    Sir Mason was clearly insane—he’d fallen over the edge of reason, pursuing Gerald’s family back through the ages. Well, Gerald thought, Sir Mason was welcome to it. Gerald had survived thirteen years knowing nothing about his family history and he was happy to keep it that way. A holiday with Alisha and her father would take him well clear of whatever Sir Mason Green was up to and erase visions of skulls and daggers and branded foreheads. Gerald reached across and switched off the lamp by his bed.
    He let the night wash over him. It was still the height of summer and the sun was not long below the horizon. A last hint of twilight peeked through the windows. Gerald closed his eyes.
    The evening was mild and a slight breeze billowed the drapes, jangling the brass rings against the curtain rod. Gerald rolled over and tried to ignore the sound. The rattling continued. He sighed, then swung out of bed and padded across to the window to tie back the curtains. He tried to keep his eyes half closed so he could tumble easily back to sleep. But as he turned to go back to his bed, he froze. His heart lurched in his chest. Standing next to the bed, a long slender blade in his hand, was the unmistakable figure of Sir Mason Green.
    Words choked in Gerald’s throat. He tried to call out but no sound would come. He stood paralysed.
    Sir Mason put a finger to his lips. He traversed the distance between them without making a sound and raised the tip of his sword to Gerald’s throat. Gerald felt the steel against his skin.
    Green motioned for Gerald to sit on the bed. Gerald was in a daze. He half-stumbled to the mattress, the cool sheets registering against the back of his legs. The man crossed to the door, opened it an inch and peered through the gap, then bolted it shut.
    The neatly clipped silver hair and the military bearing were the same as Gerald remembered. But as Green turned and crossed the room, his eyes seemed to bore right into Gerald’s brain, right between his eyebrows.
    â€˜You know about the other caskets,’ Green declared.
    Gerald struggled to reply. ‘You can have them.’
    â€˜Oh, I intend to, Gerald,’ he said, his voice light and at ease. ‘But you should be looking for them as well.’
    â€˜Why? Why should I care about them?’
    Green laughed. ‘I would have thought your experience with the first casket might have piqued your curiosity.’
    Gerald thought back to the diamond casket and the vision he’d endured when Green placed the golden rod across his forehead. That ancient relic obviously had some tremendous power behind it.
    â€˜Don’t you want to know?’ Green’s voice taunted him. ‘Don’t you want to know everything?’
    Gerald’s eyes shifted to the sword in Sir Mason’s hand. It was identical to the one that had so nearly taken Sam’s life at Beaconsfield. Gerald’s heart was pounding. Breathing was becoming difficult.
    â€˜I am here, Mr Wilkins,’ Green said, ‘to warn you.’
    â€˜Warn me about what?’
    â€˜About the other caskets of course. If you thought the contents of the diamond casket were bad for