As the key began to turn, Powe offered, “Aggie, before we enter, promise me that you will merely observe what is contained within this chamber. Please touch nothing. If you have any questions, I will try to answer them for you, but, in truth, much of what has been unearthed is far beyond my comprehension.”
“Oh, my,” Aggie mouthed, “Mr. Powe, thank you so very much for trusting me to experience your secret collection.”
“Now, now, young lady,” the carpenter voiced, “it doesn’t belong to me, although it lies on my property. It belongs to all of us!”
Slowly, the door swung open and they moved into one of the largest rooms in the cave. While Aggie watched him, Powe moved around the perimeter of the huge expanse, lighting all of the torches that had been placed around the exterior recesses of the immense space.
As each torch was lit, more and more details began to emerge from the darkness. Aggie Miller was speechless, speechless for one of the few times in her young life. It mattered not where she chose to look, for everywhere she gazed there were wonders to behold. It was now Powe’s chance to shine as he showed Aggie to a workbench.
“Sit down here, young Miss Miller, while I relate the little I know about the work you see spread before you,” offered the proud caretaker of Kents Cavern.
“What you see is the continuation of Professor Pengelly’s excavations, Aggie,” Powe spoke with a peculiar reverence, pointing to a large roped-off area.
Walking to one side of the dig he continued, “Right where I’m standing, was where his crew unearthed pieces of Samian ware, produced in Gaul. They also discovered, bronze rings, a fibula and other bone articles along with chisels and combs. There were even some Roman coins buried in this dig!”
Pointing to another area of the large room he said, “Aggie, the archeologists dug down through at least two additional layers, going further back in the history of man. There they discovered bones of the cave bear, the wooly rhinoceros, bones of the mammoth and even two human skulls!”
Aggie Miller just sat there in rapt attention. She could have stayed in that cave for hours, listening to Powe continue to describe all of the archeological findings, but she remembered that she had been given a job to do.
“Mr. Powe,” she suggested, “this was, indeed, a wonderful surprise and I wish to thank you most sincerely. I can’t wait to go home and tell my mother where I’ve been and what you’ve been so kind to divulge. I think, though, that I’m ready for some fresh air.”
Powe smiled at her remarks, voicing, “Aggie, my dear young girl, I agree wholeheartedly. Let’s go back to my workshop. I think I have some cookies that I might share with you before you start back on your way home.”
Twenty minutes later found Aggie Miller waving to Mr. Francis Powe as he stood at the cave entrance.
“I can’t ever thank you enough, Mr. Powe,” she shouted as she skipped up the street and around the corner on her way back to Ashfield.
It was a most tiring walk back to her home, but Aggie was so excited, that she easily handled the weather and the distance. Upon reaching her back door, she found her mother busily preparing for the night’s meal.
“So, Miss Aggie,” Clara Miller hugged her daughter, “I’m glad to see you home safely. Pray tell me where you’ve been all afternoon and what you’ve found for Mr. Holmes and Doctor Watson.”
“Mother,” the young daughter spoke with unbridled excitement, “you’ll never believe what an extraordinary afternoon I’ve had. I can’t wait to tell you and Mr. Holmes and Doctor Watson all about it. But, if it’s acceptable to you, I would really like to write down my findings and present them to all of you after dinner.”
“That’s my girl,” spoke Clara, smiling broadly. “Go ahead, my dear, I know that you’re most anxious to impress all of us. I can wait for your grand disclosure.”
“Oh, thank you, mother,” Aggie sighed, “I knew you would understand.”
And, after a warm hug, the young girl disappeared into her room to complete her report.
What Holmes Discovered...
Meanwhile Holmes is at Torre Abbey
Torre Abbey
As soon as Holmes had entered the passageway behind Cary’s bookcase, he took out a match and lit the candle he had brought along, having sensed the presence of this passage during his initial visit to the Cary library. Slowly and carefully, he made his way down a dark, narrow stairway leading to a small storage area.
At first glance, all that the consulting detective was able to see was a lantern sitting atop an old wooden table that had been pushed flush against one of the surrounding earthen walls.
“Hmmm,” he pondered, “surely, there’s got to be more here than a table and a lantern.”
He began to walk along the periphery of the small enclosure, studying the walls and the ground over which he shuffled. Nothing... There was nothing! When he turned his attention back to the wooden table, he reached for the lantern only to find it securely fastened to a rear corner of that piece of furniture.
“Well, now, here is something of interest,” Holmes whispered softly, as he turned the top handle of the lantern.
Immediately, the wall behind the table began to open, disclosing another passageway and yet another stairwell.
The detective quietly slipped through the narrow opening, and after sending the wall back to its original position, began to descend another narrow stairway that had been carved out of the limestone. Down he went, several stories, in fact. When he had reached the lowest level, Holmes noticed that there were two tunnels, both going in opposite directions. He quickly decided to take the pathway to the left, marking that side of the wall in an obscure location with a piece of white chalk he had taken from the hotel menu board.
When he rounded the first corner, he noticed that this tunnel was remarkably straight. He quickly made his way through the darkness to where it abruptly ended. At first, it appeared to be a dead end, but when he glanced about, he spied a wooden latch, tucked along the left side of the tunnel wall. Wasting no time, he slid the latch down and, at once, a large section of that wall began to slowly slide open. At that, Holmes, quickly dimmed his candle, and cautiously peeked around the opening. A sliver of light shone through the half-opened space and he carefully ducked under an exposed beam to enter the large open space.
“Just what I expected,” he voiced softly.
Holmes was once more in the Spanish Barn. Though there was sparse light, he could still see well-enough to explore the interior without needing the candle. He checked all of the doors and found them locked from the outside. It was good to know that he was alone. The last time he and Watson had examined the tithe barn, they hadn’t had enough time. For when the doors were slammed shut, imprisoning both men, their main concern was to escape that situation. This was different. He had discovered a secret passage from the Cary home to the Spanish barn. Questions flooded his eager mind. Who had done this? When had the tunnel been constructed? And why? At this point, he could only wonder.
Holmes began taking measurements of the interior walls. He examined the loft and tried to discover if there were any other additional means of egress from the edifice. After jotting down a few notes, he headed back to the hidden passageway, securing the sliding wall behind him. He had found a lantern inside the barn and he decided that it would provide much more light than his candle. In no time at all, Holmes was back to the main stairwell.
Once more he decided to use the piece of chalk to mark his trail along the second underground tunnel. Every two-hundred meters he would hide a mark to show the way back to the Cary home. Later, he would be grateful for having used the chalk for this path went on for several kilometers!
Holmes continued to follow the winding tunnel, trying to map his way as he went. With each step he took, he believed he was getting closer to solving a part of the puzzle that Cary had posed. T
his was only one component of the mystery, but he believed it an essential one. He would find out soon enough!
Along this subterranean pathway, there were many other side paths, leading to dead ends. Of course, Holmes had to check them out, for he knew not where each might lead. These areas likewise needed to be mapped so that any future spelunking would be more expedient.
One path led to a large expanse, where a small pond had formed from ground water dripping from the cave walls. Holmes noted that this pond appeared to empty out under one side of the cave wall, possibly leading to the beginning of an underground stream. Another dead-end pathway took Holmes to some type of storage area, filled with large empty wooden kegs. From the smell, Holmes determined that they had, at one time, been filled with gunpowder.
Continuing along, Holmes suddenly realized that he had lost track of time. It was almost 3:30 PM when he came to the end of what he believed was the main passageway. Holding up his lantern, he saw that he was now in a vast cavern. The ceiling was at least 8 meters above the cave floor. It seemed very strange to him that such a long, serpentine underground passage had been constructed only to end in this enormous space that seemed to be completely empty.
While he was still sketching his map of the huge space, he thought he heard voices. They seemed to be coming from the far side of the cave wall, and as he moved ever closer, the voices became louder. Yes, he could hear people conversing, but he was unable to hear what was being said. Holmes was certain that there had to be some way to get to the other side. He searched and searched, sometimes stopping to try to hear the voices on the other side. He was too late. The voices had stopped. There was nothing but silence... silence in a vast, empty space.
After charting this last room, Holmes knew it was time to return to the Cary library and get back to the hotel, so he began to retrace his steps. He hadn’t realized just how deeply into the cave he had traveled and he was surprised that it took him close to forty-seven minutes to get back to the secret library stairways.
He was almost ready to ascend the narrow steps when he heard the bookcase swing open. Quickly, he hid behind a large boulder, barely avoiding discovery by Lucretia Bedlam. The housemaid slowly made her way along the tunnel that led to the Spanish Barn. Holmes waited until she was out of sight then quickly made his move. In a flash he was up the stairs and carefully peeking through the library bookcase opening to see if anyone was in the room. Fortunately, there was no one in the room and he quickly moved toward the center of the office-library.
As he neared the large desk, Holmes noticed that Watson had left Cary’s journal opened to the last entry. Checking his time piece, he slowly opened the library door, and seeing no one about, promptly stepped into the hall, closing the door behind him. He was able to make his way to the front door unseen, and after stepping outside, turned and looked around. He saw no one. Taking advantage of the situation, he knocked at the very same entry door through which he had most recently passed. In very short order, Mr. Randolph arrived and welcomed him back to the Abbey.
“Ah, Mr. Holmes,” Randolph spoke, “we wondered if you would be back again today. Dr. Watson notified Mrs. Bedlam that you had forgotten something at your hotel and went back to get it. Might I ask if you were successful in finding that which you sought?”
“Randolph, my good fellow,” Holmes replied, “I am happy to report that I have indeed been successful in my search. Thank you very much for your concern.”
Before the curious butler could react to the comment, Holmes continued, “Randolph, is my companion still here? Before I left the library, I told him that I would be returning for him to continue our work here. Unfortunately, I became involved with other matters and am late in my return.”
“No, Mr. Holmes,” the butler commented, “I’m sorry to inform you that Doctor Watson has only recently left our company. Tom, our stable-boy was good enough to take him back to the Imperial Hotel.”
“Well, that is all that I need to know,” spoke Holmes.
“Ah, Randolph,” continued the detective, “by any chance have you heard from Mr. Cary?”
“He has not been in contact, Mr. Holmes,” the butler offered, “but I haven’t forgotten your message and when I hear from him I’ll be sure to pass along your concerns.”
“Oh, well,” Holmes smiled, as he and the butler made their way to the front door, “I guess I should be getting back to the hotel. I’m afraid I’ll have a great deal of explaining to do. You see, my friend, Watson, will surely chide me on my tardiness.”
When the outside door had closed, Holmes started down the path to the sea cliffs and Torbay Road. He decided to walk back to the Imperial Hotel. After all, it was only a mere 2.2 kilometers to reach his destination. He imagined the trip would require a thirty- minute walk, and the weather appeared to be easing somewhat.
As he walked, he tried to focus on the relevance of such a tunnel system. He could readily understand a passage to the Spanish Barn, for it would have required less than one hundred meters of digging. Additionally, it could have served as an escape route for the Torre Abbey residents or the reverend fathers who built the structure, should the home be attacked. The other one, the longer tunnel ending in a dead end, however, puzzled him greatly. That would require some additional thought. It would have taken a great deal of time to fashion such an elaborate tunnel system. And, for what purpose? He couldn’t imagine!
His thoughts on those matters would have to wait, for Holmes had nearly reached the grounds of the Imperial Hotel. He wondered if Watson had arrived safely back to their suite. He had much to tell him and hoped that Watson would likewise have information for him.
Watson’s Day - (The story continues from Watson’s point of view)
After returning to our hotel, my first order of business was to find a comfortable chair. I had planned to peruse the daily paper, but had trouble keeping my eyes open. There was something about the coastal sea air that made me sleepier than I had ever been in my life. Apparently, the long day and the tension had also had their effect upon me, for I was soon fast asleep. So soundly was I dozing, that I never heard Holmes enter our suite.
“Hello, Watson, Watson, old chap,” Holmes whispered, gently shaking me awake. “My dear fellow, I hate to interrupt your sleep, but we have a very important dinner engagement. Have you forgotten?”
“Ah, Holmes, it’s you, is it?” I sleepily acknowledged my companion’s return. As I stretched, an embarrassing snort signaled my return to consciousness.
“Come, Watson,” Holmes restated his earlier remark, “you surely haven’t forgotten our planned visit to Ashfield, have you? Good fellow, I have never seen you so sleepy. What is going on?”
“Holmes, I have noticed the same thing. I don’t know, perhaps it’s a part of growing older,” I replied with some mild agitation. “And no, I haven’t forgotten our dinner engagement. I’m really looking forward to it, actually. Aren’t you?”
“Well, it has been rather a long day, and a home-cooked meal and pleasant conversation are always welcome diversions,” Holmes suggested. “Tell me about your day, Watson, while we are refreshing ourselves. Did you notice anything of interest in my absence?”
“As a matter-of-fact, Holmes, I believe that I did,” I stated proudly, continuing, “I am now more certain than ever, that Mrs. Bedlam has some kind of control over the butler, Randolph.”
“Go on, Watson,” Holmes coaxed. “Please tell me your reasons for such a profound conjecture.”
“Certainly,” I replied, beginning my explanation.
“‘Holmes, the moment you had vanished from the Cary library, the escaped horses produced the desired effect. The distraction, as you had hoped, provided ample time for you to find the passageway behind the bookcase and disappear. It worked like a charm!
I, for my part, responded to the commotion and entered the hallway only to find the stab
le boy being comforted by Randolph. He turned to me and explained what had happened and I immediately returned to the library. In no time at all, without any notice, that Bedlam woman stormed through the door. She quickly looked around, and finding you gone, immediately inquired as to your whereabouts. Just as you had directed, I informed her that you had need to return to our lodgings, having forgotten some important papers. I further offered that you would be returning to Torre Abbey in no time at all.
She seemed to accept my story, then quickly marched right up to my face, stating that she would be completely at our disposal, should we need her. I was certainly surprised by this turn of events and thanked her for the kind offer.’”
Holmes stood stock-still at my words, shifting his eyes to the ceiling, a sure sign of cranial activity.
Sensing I had captured his undivided attention, I couldn’t resist withholding more of my report, so I paused to clear my throat and straighten my tie. Deciding to continue my delaying tactics, I then rose and made my way over to one of the shelves and opened a bottle of spirits.
“Oh, Holmes,” I questioned, “would you care for a glass of sherry? Suddenly, I feel an urgent thirst!”
“No, thank you very much,” an agitated Sherlock Holmes responded curtly.
“Surely, there’s more,” Holmes suggested, slipping silver cufflinks onto his dress shirt sleeves.
“Of course, there’s more,” I continued, and went back to my findings.
“‘Bedlam quickly left the room, closing the door behind her. I sensed she was in a foul mood, so I tiptoed to the door and placed my ear against it, trying to hear what seemed to have been a rather nasty exchange between the butler and the housemaid. The gist of the argument had to do with her disapproval of strangers having the run of the place. She scolded Randolph for being so kind and so accommodating to us. He, for his part, defended his actions, alluding to Mr. Cary’s dictates that we should be treated properly and given every consideration in our investigation.’”
Treachery in Torquay Page 17