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We followed wordlessly as he strode up the stairs towards the open door. The whispers and crying from inside continued. We stepped into the house, Mr Ambrose in the lead, and through the first open door into a room where a sort of impromptu pre-funeral seemed to be going on. There were lots of people in black, and a sniffling woman wearing a veil. Mr Ambrose marched right up to her and placed himself before her, giving her a look as if she were a soldier whose bravery was in doubt, not a woman who had just lost her husband.
‘Stop crying. Now!’
Everyone turned to stare. A hush fell over the room, and - voilà - the woman stopped sniffling. She blinked up at Mr Ambrose. ‘W-what…who…’
Mr Ambrose didn’t let her finish. ‘Where are your guestrooms?’
‘P-pardon?’
‘I said, where are your guestrooms?’
‘Why would you want to know? Who in heaven’s name are you?’
‘I’m the man who’s going to avenge your husband and see to it that the people responsible dangle from the gallows by the end of the week. Now, for the last time, madam - where are your guestrooms?’
Slowly, the woman reached up and pulled her veil aside. Tears were still glittering on her cheeks. But there was a look in her eyes that I bet hadn’t been there a moment before.
‘Y-you can do that? You can get justice for my Jack?’
‘Not justice. Vengeance. And yes, I can.’
‘Who are you?’
He leaned forward just an inch or two. The woman seemed incredibly small and breakable in his shadow. ‘Rikkard Ambrose.’
If it had been quiet in the room before, that was nothing compared to the absolute nothingness of silence that suddenly fell over the gloomy space. You could have heard a pin thinking of maybe dropping in a couple of hundred years. A ferocious gleam entered the woman’s eyes, making one thing a hundred per cent clear: she knew the name. And she wasn’t the only one.
‘The Rikkard Ambrose?’
‘Yes.’
The woman’s face hardened, and she said something that made my respect rise for her a hundred miles. ‘How do I know that it wasn’t you who was responsible for my husband’s death? It was chaos down there! Nobody knows who or what killed him. Maybe it wasn’t one of the miners but the explosion. Your mine, your explosion. Maybe it is you I should want to see dangling from the gallows.’
Well now, that was a brave woman. A woman to admire. Sure, she had just basically accused the man I loved of murder and threatened to see him hang, but between kindred spirits such small faults can be easily overlooked, right?
Mr Ambrose didn’t retreat an inch. He gave the woman his iciest stare. ‘All my miners are equipped with Stephenson safety lamps, the latest models of CGDIs, and-’
‘CGDIs?’
Mr Ambrose half-turned, throwing me an icy look for my interruption. ‘Canary Gas Detection Implements. If the canary dies, there’s gas in the mine and you had better get out.’[7]
‘Oh. I see. Pray continue.’
‘As I was saying, there are extensive security measures in place. The miners are checked for flammable material before entering the mine, and if any is caught with a dangerous object, he is dismissed immediately. So how could this explosion have been a simple accident? There is more to this than meets the eye, and I can find out what. The only question is - will you work with me, or against me?’
Silence. Mrs. Gibbons stood there, looking up at Mr Rikkard Ambrose. Really looking at him, deep into his hard, dark, unfathomable eyes. I knew what she saw there. It was the same thing I had seen there the first day I had crossed paths with this man. The message that was written in stone there for all the world to see.
You want to take me on? Try it, if you enjoy suicide.
‘Vengeance?’ she asked.
He nodded. ‘Vengeance.’
There was another moment of silence - then, taking a deep breath, Mrs. Gibbons lowered her head and curtsied. ‘We have an agreement. How may I be of assistance, Mr Ambrose?’
‘First of all, I need you to stop feeling sorry for yourself. Stop this nonsense.’ With a dismissive gesture, he waved at the people in black. Eyes widened all around. Gentlemen murmured. Ladies gasped. ‘Get these people out of here. First comes revenge - then you can waste as much of your time crying as you want.’
‘Well, you heard him. Out!’
