Turning quickly, Wiggins found his partner standing directly behind him.
“What? Where? How in the world?” Wiggins began his inquisition.
“Wiggins, Wiggins, Wiggins,” Roberts spoke, shaking his head. “Think, man... how do you think I got here?”
Wiggins slapped himself aside the head, smiling, “So, Bobo, there’s another way into the cave.”
“Such brilliance. Is it any wonder that I chose you as a business partner?” he joked. “Come, Wiggy. It’s right along this huge outcropping. Here’s the passageway behind this dense patch of gorse.”
They quickly removed the rope, rolling it up and returning it to the carriage they had acquired. Wasting no time, the duo entered the hidden passage, swinging a lantern to and fro. They continued downward, passing the opening through which Bobo had entered the cave. As they moved further along, they were startled by a bright light. Ducking down quickly, they soon realized that it was only light from their own lantern reflecting brightly off a huge stalactite. They once more began to move forward, deeper into the cave. The path continued, spiraling downward along the sides of the sprawling cavern, until they arrived at what appeared to be the cave bottom.
Moving further along, they could hear the waves pounding outside the cave walls, but as they wound deeper and deeper into the cave, those sounds diminished. Still, both men continued to hear the sound of running water. Their imaginings were quickly answered around the next bend, where they encountered an underground spring.
At first, the two detectives appeared somewhat stymied by the small body of water, for there seemed no way to cross without wading through the dark liquid. Upon raising their lanterns, as they glanced across the small pond, they could see where the pathway continued on the other side.
They tested the depth of the wee pond before them, and soon determined that it was much too deep and much too cold for them to wade across to the opposite side.
“Well, Bobo, it looks like we’re going to have to get wet if we intend to get to the other side,” offered Wiggins.
“What do you mean, we?” Roberts replied. “It’s too bloody cold to go for a swim now, isn’t it...”
Before Wiggins could respond, Bobo turned and was off to a far corner of the cave, both he and his lantern disappearing behind a cut in the cave wall.
“Where do you think you’re going?” questioned Wiggins. “Come back here. We’ve work to do!”
No sooner had he uttered those words, when Bobo reappeared with his lantern, dragging what looked like a long, wooden beam.
“Here’s how you get across,” called Roberts, smiling broadly. “You just have to learn to use your noggin, Wiggins.”
The two partners carefully stretched the beam across the water and quickly made their way to the other side. Following the winding underground path was treacherous in spots, so they had to be alert. Occasionally, they would stop, look around and listen for any noises. Still, they only heard the sounds of water dropping from the stark cave walls and observed glistening stalactites that seemed to be everywhere.
They continued to follow the pathway along the winding tunnel, sometimes finding openings into larger chambers. Those areas were quickly examined by the detectives before they continued their spelunking.
On and on they walked, wondering where this damp, dark footpath might lead. According to the note Holmes had passed to them earlier, they were to search the Daddyhole cave for any signs of Druid activity. The winter solstice would soon be upon them and that, of necessity, would require a full-blown Druid ceremony. From their recent visit with Terra, the cult leader, they had learned of the event, and had actually agreed to attend the ancient rite. Terra had informed them that Daddyhole Plain was the chosen venue for welcoming the arrival of the winter season.
While they continued their examination of one of the smaller chambers, Wiggins suddenly stopped, doused his lantern, and signaled for Bobo to do the same. Both men quickly jumped behind a large stalagmite, for loud voices could be heard coming through the tunnel. Soon, dancing lights began to bounce along the moist walls as a small group of men made their way past the two investigators who remained perfectly still, safely hidden.
As the troop made their way along the passage, Bobo and Wiggins recognized two of the individuals as members of Terra’s cult. In his excitement, Bobo accidentally bumped his lantern which had been sitting nearby. As it tipped, it made a very strange noise; not too loud, but noticeable.
“Did you hear something, Weasel?” one of the clan members voiced.
“What are ye’ talking about?” the shorter of the two spoke. “The only thing I’ve heard for the last several miles, has been the dripping of water and your poor excuse for jokes.”
Now, two others joined in, as the shadows from their lanterns danced about on the cave walls.
“Noise, Roachman! You think you heard noise?” they continued. “Why, judging by the terrible odor comin’ from your direction, I’d say it was some Roachman bottom gas, if you know what I’m implyin’...”
That last remark was too good to ignore, and the small company began to carry on, their echoing laughter bouncing off the walls of the cavern.
“P-e-e-e- yuuuuu,” they started, one after another. “Roachman, how were those beans you had earlier... har...har...har...”
Waving his fist at his tormentors, the man identified as Roachman replied with some feigned agitation, “Argh, you’re all daft. That was none o’ me gas, ya bunch of children. C’mon, then, let’s get to the main cavern and make all of the necessary preparations for Terra.”
Once more, the procession continued along the winding tunnel, still laughing at the comments that had been made.
Wiggins and Bobo decided to remain where they were until they felt it was safe to renew their exploration. Things were now different, much different.
“So, perhaps the rituals will be conducted in this cave, not on the plain above,” Wiggins suggested, continuing, “or the cave might serve as an area for storing the booty they may have uncovered. We’ll just have to see what happens.”
Bobo shook his head in agreement, adding, “It’ll be interesting to hear what Mr. Holmes has to say about these findings.”
Starting out again, they found no need of their lantern. For it seemed the passing brigade had lit torches that were placed throughout the tunnel. Bobo and Wiggins wasted no time in heading in the other direction, for now they knew that there had to be another way out of the huge cave, and they were most anxious to find it.
A short time later, they saw a large unlocked door. Evidently, they had entered into what appeared to be some kind of historical archeological dig.
“Well, now,” spoke Bobo, “we must have entered Kents Cavern. Just look around, Wiggins. Can you imagine what we’re seeing?”
Wiggins just shook his head to the affirmative, then urged his companion to be more quiet, for his comments were still reflecting off the hard walls of the cave.
“Bobo, you’re much too loud,” Wiggins suggested. “We certainly don’t want to be discovered down here!”
“Sorry, Wiggy,” Roberts responded, “I’ll have no more to say.”
The two men proceeded along the dank pathway. According to Bobo’s compass, the two were now heading southwest, in the direction of Torre Abbey. For the next twelve minutes the detectives were able to move quickly along the lighted way, accompanied by the damp, musty cave air and the constant noise of dripping stalactites. They soon found themselves behind a large storage shelf, wondering where they were and pondering what their next move might be.
All of a sudden, they heard a creaking noise coming from the top of a stairway that was tucked around an outcropping to their left. Quietly, they backed up against one side of the cave, hoping to avoid notice.
“How soon until the master arrives?” came a sh
rill, piercing voice from above.
“It won’t be long now,” a much deeper voice replied, adding, “He’s always on time when these services are concerned.”
Bobo and Wiggins were able to find a nook behind the storage shelving and dove for cover as the two voices descended the stairs.
“When do ye think the boys will be back, Mrs. Bedlam?” the deeper voice inquired.
“They’ll be back when they’re finished, Michaels,” the Cary housekeeper answered with obvious agitation. “It’s not for the likes of you to need to know. Now go on, get on with your work. It’s getting late.”
After her remarks, Bedlam watched the man disappear around the corner, leading back into the interior of the cave. She shook her head and then headed back up and into the residence, slamming the door behind her.
Wiggins and Bobo could see the man clearly in the light of the gas lights and held their breath hoping to remain undiscovered. After he had passed them, they simultaneously issued sighs of relief, lucky to have escaped detection.
“I say, Wiggins,” Bobo whispered, “I believe that that bloke was one of the watchmen at the Druid encampment.”
“I thought the same,” Wiggins softly responded, raising his finger to his lips.”
“Bobo,” Wiggins continued, pointing to another passageway that suddenly appeared across the way. “Look, I’ll wager that path leads to the Spanish Barn.”
Bobo smiled and replied, “Well, what are we waiting for?”
Wiggins shook his head in agreement as both men started for the new tunnel. After a short walk, they soon found themselves at a dead end. According to their estimates, they had to be very close to the Spanish Barn. There had to be some way into the building, but all they could see was an old lamp sconce.
“Wiggins,” Bobo inquired with a smile, “Do you think that it’s possible that this old candle-holder might be used for another purpose?”
“Let’s find out,” returned Wiggins, twisting the sconce.
Almost immediately, an opening appeared to their left, and soon they found themselves at the bottom of a roughly-carved set of stairs that led them up and into a huge open area. They had entered the Spanish Barn.
Quickly, they extinguished their lanterns and moved along the dank walls in darkness until they came to one of the exterior doors.
Luckily, they were able to exit, since that door had not been locked. As soon as they were outside, they carefully moved toward the bushes along the side of the old building and ducked behind a small stone wall as a carriage entered the main yard of Torre Abbey.
“I hope they didn’t see us,” offered Bobo. “I, for one, need to rest a bit after the last several minutes.”
“You’re so right, Bobo,” spoke Wiggins. “I, too, am quite exhausted, but we’ve much to tell Mr. Holmes. Let’s get on our way back to our rooms and record what we’ve discovered.”
Suddenly, Bobo stopped and suggested, “Wiggins, my good man, one of us has got to return the carriage... That would be you, Wiggy!”
“What do you mean me?” asked Wiggins. “After all, we both rode to Daddyhole.”
“Wiggy, I was the one who was suspended over the crashing waves, my life in peril. I think it only fair that you do your part,” Bobo offered as he scampered down Belgrave Road.
Return to the Cavern
December 22nd
Entry to Kents Cavern
The next day dawned clear and bright, and I was most eager to learn what new adventures lay in store for Holmes and me. Sadly, my thoughts were unceremoniously awakened by my esteemed colleague’s original rendition of one of his favorite arias echoing from the front room of our lavish hotel suite.
I had to admit to being somewhat confused, for it was not like Holmes to show any frivolity in the midst of an investigation. It could mean only one thing, a new clue had been found. My curiosity, I must say, got the better of me and I simply had to confront him, “Good morning, Holmes. Pray tell, what startling new piece of information have you uncovered?”
At first he ignored me, continuing to revel in his melodic refrain. Not that that could ever surprise me, having known the man all these many years. In the middle of a key change, he suddenly turned and tossed the morning’s paper in my direction.
“Watson,” he laughingly remarked, “take a look at the morning headlines in The Observer. Can you imagine?”
Retrieving the paper from the floor, I focused on the banner atop the first page. It read, “Ghost of Spanish Lady Returns”.
“Go ahead,” my partner issued, “read it aloud, slowly. For, as you know, quite often the spoken word can stir additional cranial activity in my noggin.”
Looking carefully at the first page banner, I reached for my glasses and began to read the article.
Ghost of Spanish Lady Returns
Residents living near Torre Abbey have once again claimed to have seen the infamous ghost known as “The Spanish Lady”. Local seamstress, Lucinda Spenser, described the sighting as “most alarming.” The woman was passing near the grounds of the former tithing barn at approximately 9:30 last evening, when she was witness to a bright yellow beam of light flashing through some trees and hemlock bushes.
At first she thought nothing of it, ascribing it to one of the members of the Cary household on the way to the stable area. ‘The light was a swingin’ back and forth,’ she said. ‘It wasn’t the proper way to be carryin’ a lantern, so I moved a little closer, out of curiosity, don’t you know.’
What greeted her eyes sent the woman screaming away from the parkland setting, finally finding refuge at a local pub, “Davey Jones Inn”, on Torbay Road. ‘The tavern owner tried to calm me down, but it took a few good swigs afore I could describe what I saw,’ the frightened woman stated.
According to Trevor Norgood, proprietor of the pub, ‘She was near out of her head with fear! After Mrs. Spenser regained her composure, she gave me a chilling description of what she had witnessed. And I’d have to say that she seemed to be tellin’ the truth. She said it was the ghost of the Spanish Lady!’
He elaborated on the woman’s account, saying, ‘The ghost appeared to be clothed in a long, blackish gown. Wearing a fiendish smile, is how she described the apparition. That gives me the shivers just thinkin’ about it. And the moanin’... The lady ghost was screechin’ and moanin’ somethin’ awful, Mrs. Spenser confided.’
Other witnesses were also contacted by our senior investigative writer. All of those who had claimed to have seen the spirit were in agreement. Their descriptions of the night’s spectral appearance varied not an iota!
While this paper’s editorial staff remains unconvinced that we have some kind of unholy visitor from the grave haunting our community, we do recommend continued vigilance, just in case.
When I had finished reading the account, I removed my glasses, holding them to the side of my face and turned to see my companion smiling.
“My word, Holmes,” I sputtered, “surely, you don’t subscribe to such nonsense... do you?”
“Well,” he posed, gazing out at the Channel, “what if it were truly some form of ectoplasm reawakening? How exciting it would be for us to happen upon a real ghost!”
“What? What are you saying, Holmes?” I cried aloud. “You, you who have rebuked all forms of spiritualistic reports as utter nonsense... What, have you recanted your previous position?”
“A moment, Watson, old boy,” he softened. “I was merely teasing. You know how I feel about such claims. Of course, it’s some form of chicanery. That being said, we do need to find out what these witnesses think they may have seen. According to other reports, these sightings are not that uncommon.”
“Along with the Demon of Daddyhole... “I chuckled, as I finished lacing my brogans.
“Yes, the town demon also requires our consideration
,” my friend assented, cradling his chin in his left hand. “We might as well check on that legend, as well. But first thing today, we’ll be visiting Kents Cavern and a Mr. Francis Powe.”
After another delightful breakfast in the old hotel’s main dining room, Holmes and I headed to Kents Cavern to meet with Francis Powe. Powe had been renting the well-known caves from Lord Haldon’s estate, using them as a workshop for his business. We had learned that he spent most of his time there constructing small boats, beach huts, and the like for area residents.
At last evening’s dinner, Clara Miller had informed us that Mr. Powe had purchased the property only recently, in April of 1903.
When Holmes indicated that he was planning to follow up on Aggie’s visit, Clara offered to contact him on our behalf. She was sure that he would be most willing to give Holmes and me a detailed tour of the underground site. As a result of her intercession, this very morning we had received word by courier that the proprietor would be waiting to hear from us.
Upon arriving at the entrance to the caves, we found Powe struggling mightily with a sailboat mast. When he spied our landau coming up the road, he paused, waved, and then gave the long wooden beam one last push, jamming it securely into the housing.
As we stepped down from our carriage, Powe straightened his hat, grabbed a wet towel, and wiped the dirt from his calloused hands.
“Gentlemen, I’ve been expecting you,” he voiced, smiling broadly. “You come highly recommended by Miss Aggie Miller, so you must be fine, trustworthy gents.”
“That’s high praise, indeed,” Holmes replied, tipping his hat to the property owner. “Thank you, Mr. Powe, for agreeing to lead us on a tour through Kents Cavern, especially on such short notice.”
“It will be my pleasure, Mr. Holmes,” spoke Powe, adding, “and, you sir, must be Dr. John Watson. Welcome, gentlemen. I’m completely at your disposal.”
Treachery in Torquay Page 20