Treachery in Torquay

by Lawler, W. P. ;

We soon found ourselves inside the subterranean passages, following the same path that early cave-dwellers must have traveled thousands of years ago. My mind wandered as we turned this way and that, using our lanterns to aid our tour. I began to ponder early man’s existence, dealing with the day to day challenges of living life in such surroundings. Tribes seeking refuge from the elements or safety from intruders might have used these caves as havens, places of warmth where they might find protection. One could only imagine the type of lives these ancient peoples must have led!

  My brief reverie was suddenly interrupted by Holmes. “Watson, old man,” he inquired, “are you able to keep up with us, or should we rest a bit?”

  “What? What are you talking about, Holmes?” I responded.

  “Well,” he continued, “Mr. Powe and I have been standing here for the past several minutes, waiting for you to come out of whatever trance you seem to have encountered.”

  Embarrassed by their laughter, I explained my fascination with the historical significance of the location. Holmes shook his head disparagingly, and urged me to catch up with the two of them.

  “Around this corner, gents,” Powe said, “you’ll find the actual archeological digs of Professor William Pengelly.”

  Upon making the turn we found a locked door, marked with the initials W.P. Excavation site 1865-1884.

  “Well, now,” Holmes spoke, moving the lantern nearer the carved markings. “It seems as though we have reached a dead end.”

  “Not at all. Not at all, Mr. Holmes!” our delighted host assured us. “I have the key to the lock. It remains sealed to keep the excavation site secure from any animals or other visitors that might wish to tamper with this treasured piece of our nation’s history. Naturally, I am keen to guard the site, especially since I’m the current caretaker.”

  With that, Powe placed a key into the sturdy lock, and immediately the door to the large chamber opened before us.

  As light from our lanterns illuminated the workspace, what first struck our eyes were the precise demarcations of the digs. It looked to have been left much the same as when Pengelly had filed his last report. Anxious to examine the well-defined sectors, we placed our lanterns on three tables, strategically placed in order to provide the necessary light to work in the huge domed area.

  “Gentlemen, may I present the most valuable piece of historical property in the United Kingdom,” Powe stated with solemn pride.

  He continued, “This bit of property had been cordoned off by the official scientists of our government. Only recently have they accorded me the honor and responsibility of guarding this part of the cavern.”

  Holmes began to examine the perimeter of the large space, careful not to disturb any of the artifacts. He stooped down, moving ever closer to the bones and ancient pieces of pottery that lay scattered all about the well-defined regions. Moving quickly, from one corner of the room to the other, magnifying glass in hand, Holmes was, once again, demonstrating his unique investigative skills. No one could match the man in such endeavors. He next pulled out his notepad and began to quickly scribble a few sentences and some sketches of what appeared to be stalagmite formations.

  Powe watched his every move, clearly intrigued by the energy of the world’s greatest consulting detective. I, too, always marveled at the way Holmes threw himself into his work.

  At this point I had to voice, “Holmes, may I ask what you expect to find that others have not?”

  “Ah, Watson,” he replied, “that is the point. Is it not? Friend, you know from our many investigations how nothing must be left to chance. Think about what we learned from Aggie last evening.”

  Powe suddenly interrupted, “Mr. Holmes, may I ask what Miss Aggie had to say about her visit with me? I can assure you that I may be able to shed some additional light on whatever it was she told you and Doctor Watson.”

  “Please pardon my rudeness, Mr. Powe,” the detective continued, “I certainly meant no discourtesy toward you, and if you are willing, I will be happy to impart Miss Miller’s report for your consideration.”

  Powe listened to every word of Aggie’s story, as told by my partner. When Holmes had finished, Powe looked pleased.

  “She’s quite the sleuth, ain’t she, Mr. Holmes?” Powe voiced, smiling contentedly.

  “And she really said those nice things about me?” the cavern caretaker inquired.

  “Yes, she spoke very highly of you, Mr. Powe,” I offered as Holmes turned back to his work.

  He had now moved to the far end of the room and began tapping gently along the cave wall. Here and there, he placed his ear up against the surface, listening for sounds that might be emanating from deeper inside the cavern. After several minutes, he returned to one of the tables where he had placed his lantern, picked it up and headed back to the entry way.

  “Mr. Powe,” he spoke deliberately, “Watson and I wish to thank you most sincerely for allowing us to visit this wondrous piece of human history. Sometime in the not-too-distant future I would very much like to return here to make a more detailed examination of these most fascinating historical finds. Of course, it would require your approval.”

  “Mr. Holmes, Doctor Watson,” Powe replied cordially, “it has been my very great pleasure to have met you both, and you are certainly welcome to come and visit the cavern at any time.”

  After we had reached the cave’s main entrance, we bid our friendly host a fond adieu, and, once again, profusely thanked him for his help.

  It was a short carriage ride to Babbacombe cliff, alleged scene of most of the Demon of Daddyhole sightings. It was another fine, crisp winter’s day, affording the two of us a wonderful view of the waters of the Channel, now teeming with activity. Ships and small skiffs were busily riding the waves, all going on about their own particular missions. A brisk wind, though, chilled one’s bones as Holmes and I tied our team to a hitching post near an observation point, a short distance away from the edge of the cliff.

  “Well, Holmes,” I commented, as we walked along, “that was a most interesting visit with Mr. Powe in his cavern. Tell me, were you able to glean any additional information while you were studying the digs?”

  “Watson, dear fellow,” Holmes cajoled, “now is not the time to comment on any of today’s findings.”

  “We still have much to do before the entirety of these mysterious doings can be understood,” he continued as he turned a corner behind a large outcropping.

  I paused to admire the beauty of the overlook wondering why he chose not to disclose any of his recent discoveries. Clearly, he had found something inside Kents Cavern, but, as was his habit, he was still not ready to share his theories with me. That would only occur when they became factually verifiable.

  “Watson,” he suddenly called. “Come and tell me what you make of this.”

  I carefully made my way along the well-worn pathway, moving slowly, for one slip would have me on the rugged, rocky shoreline below. As I turned the last corner, Holmes was nowhere to be found!

  I quickly knelt down on all fours, hoping that my friend hadn’t fallen over the edge of the precipice, and crawled out to the very end of the overlook. Peering down, I scanned the shoreline as the waves crashed menacingly over the rocks below.

  “Holmes,” I cried aloud, “Holmes, where are you?”

  There was no response. All that I heard were the squeaking sounds of the terns and gulls accompanying the tidal surges along the coastline below.

  “Watson,” a familiar voice comforted my fears, “get up off the ground and get over here.”

  Quickly, I regained my footing, but still there was no sign of my partner.

  “Where are you?” I called. “Confound it, man, I hear you but I cannot see you!”

  Before I could issue another comment, a large patch of gorse began to shake, exposing a very disheveled
Sherlock Holmes.

  “Look at you, Holmes,” I laughed, “it looks as though you’ve been roughed up by a bear... What has happened to you?”

  “Never mind my appearance, Watson,” he continued, pointing to a fissure in the rock face. “Look what I’ve uncovered! It’s the opening to the Daddyhole cave that Wiggins found, and it’s exactly where he said it would be in the note I received earlier. It’s hard to believe how well it is concealed by the vegetation!”

  I promptly followed him into the opening of what appeared to be another cave. The only light available to us was the daylight which filtered through the sharp thorns of the gorse covering the entrance to this hollowed out area.

  “Watson, if you would be so kind, please go back to the carriage for a lantern,” Holmes requested.

  I quickly returned to the opening and we proceeded down a very precarious pathway, deeper and deeper into the interior of the Babbacombe cliff wall. Light from our lantern flickered brightly, casting bizarre shadows along the sides of the cavern walls on our perilous descent. Down and down we went, finally reaching a huge hollowed out dome, framed by tons of rock above the cave floor.

  “Ah, this looks familiar,” he whispered.

  We stood there quietly observing the magnificent stalactites that seemed to be hanging everywhere in that immense open space. Holmes was about to speak when we heard footsteps which seemed to be coming our way. The sounds were accompanied by reflected light. Spying a rocky outcrop, we extinguished our lamp and hopped behind a large boulder with seconds to spare!

  “Here’s the other way out,” came the voice of a tall man pointing to the worn pathway that led upwards and out of the cave.

  “When we’ve finalized our work, we shall exit here,” he continued, a broad smile showing his pleasure at the thought.

  “But, Terra,” one of his followers implored, “What will we do with the evidence, if you know what I mean?”

  “Evidence,” Terra thundered angrily, “if you don’t have the stomach for it, I’ll have to find another to take your place. Do you understand, Brother Roachman?”

  At that remark, the fellow known as Roachman, knelt before his leader and recanted, “Please, Terra, forgive my insolence. Of course, I’ll do the job. Haven’t I always done your bidding? You know that you can always count on me.”

  In response, Terra issued a bone-chilling, “That’s what had better happen... or else... “

  There was absolute silence after that icy altercation, and soon thereafter, the band disappeared, turning back on the same pathway from which they came.

  Holmes and I waited for the light from their lanterns to disappear. Clearly, Terra was involved in something very, very evil, for we could easily see how fearful his followers were of him.

  Before I could voice my own feelings on what we had just witnessed, Holmes whispered, “Well, Watson, we’ve now identified a major player in this convoluted mystery. Perhaps we should follow them and see if this tunnel connects to Kents Cavern or any other subterranean byway.”

  “Holmes,” I voiced, “I forgot to tell you about the terrible dream I had only recently.”

  “A dream, a dream you say?” his voice sounded most dismissive. “I hardly think I need to hear another one of your inane nightmares, Watson. My good fellow, we’ve no time for such nonsense!”

  Angrily, I grabbed him by the shoulder, scolding, “Listen, you, you consulting detective. This dream concerns our investigation and you must let me get it off my chest.”

  “Easy, there, Watson,” he softened. “If you feel it that important, please tell me now so that I may reflect upon all that you may have experienced.”

  For the next several minutes, I related the horrible tale, sparing no detail, as was his request. For his part, he seemed to be listening, but I only heard an occasional “Ah... Is that so?”

  I concluded my recollection, issuing, “Holmes, this huge cavern in which we find ourselves is very much like the one in my dream. I truly believe that my dream has some connection to this case! Of course, I don’t know how it could, but I feel it. I feel it deep inside of me.”

  There was no immediate response from my companion, and we went back to trailing Terra and his men along the underground pathway. One could easily hear them plodding along ahead of us, and we took special care approaching every twist and turn, every nook and cranny. It would not do, if we were discovered following this cult leader and his flock, particularly in this dank, secluded locale.

  Holmes began to slow his pace and suddenly stopped in his tracks! Holding his finger to his lips, he signaled me to follow his lead. We quickly dropped down out of sight behind a huge stalagmite to our left and remained motionless.

  “Did you hear that?” he questioned.

  I had to reply, barely whispering, “No, Holmes. I can only just make out the sounds of the group that we have been recently tracking.”

  “There,” he continued, raising his finger to his lips, suggesting that I keep quiet. “There, now, there it is again!”

  After a short pause, Holmes slowly made his way to the other side of the wall, issuing, “Miss Miller, would you be so kind as to come out from behind that wall and join us, please?”

  Before I could voice my surprise, a very timid, embarrassed, young Aggie Miller sheepishly rose from her hiding place and tip-toed her way to our side of the path.

  Our young friend was about to say something, but Holmes raised his hand, whispering, “Tut, tut, Miss Miller, I won’t ask you to explain your presence at this time, due to our dangerous position. Just follow along quietly and we may yet escape the awkward predicament in which we now find ourselves.”

  Aggie merely shook her head, looking down at her feet. I knew that she realized her mistake, but now was not the time to chastise her. Our primary concern had now become her safety as well as our own, and that necessitated retracing our steps back up the winding path to the cave entrance atop Daddyhole Plain.

  Before we could stop her, she whispered, “Gentlemen, where are you taking me?”

  “You, young miss, are leaving this cave, and the sooner the better. We are all imperiled by your lack of judgment,” scolded the world famous sleuth.

  Aggie slumped her shoulders, obviously validating Holmes’s livid retort. She obediently followed us as we stepped gingerly along, when suddenly, she regained her composure and voiced, “I know that I was wrong, but let us at least take the short way out of here...”

  “What? What are you saying, young lady?” Holmes angrily responded. “Do you know of another means of egress?”

  Aggie now began to strut away from us, disappearing around a corner that we had somehow missed in our earlier explorations.

  “Here it is, gentlemen,” the young detective-assistant announced, pointing to a tiny gap hidden in the shadowy darkness.

  “Once through this fissure, the path widens and it will take us directly into Kents Cavern,” she politely offered.

  I looked at Holmes but he could only shrug his shoulders and whisper, “Come Watson, Miss Miller has, perhaps, given us a better option.”

  We followed the young girl through the tiny aperture and with the help of our lantern, found our way through another hidden passageway that took us into a remote corner in one of the many chambers in Kents Cavern. Once there, Holmes raised his light to better illuminate that space. He scratched his head, voicing quietly, “I don’t know how I could have missed this opening.”

  Aggie paused, reaching up and loosening a large, dark greyish-black drape which was fastened to a hidden beam positioned above her head, “Perhaps this might be the reason, Mr. Holmes.”

  She quickly placed one end of the curtain-like material on one stalagmite and stretched it across the opening to another stalagmite, virtually making the cave opening invisible to all but the sharpest eyes.

 
; “Wonderful work, Aggie,” I chimed. “What say you, Holmes?”

  Ignoring my remark, my friend quickly signaled us to follow, whispering, “Not now, Watson, we must quickly leave this cave before we are discovered.”

  Several minutes later, we found ourselves emerging through the main entrance of the underground cavern into the fading sunlight. Luck was with us, for the property owner, Powe, must have left for home. We could only hope that we had not been seen.

  After returning to Daddyhole Plain to get our carriage, we headed back to Ashfield. The silence was deafening, for Holmes knew he had to chastise our young detective, but he didn’t want to hurt her feelings. After all, he was the one who had decided to bring her into our confidence.

  While the horses clip-clopped their way along Babbacombe Road, he delicately began to preach, “Miss Aggie, I first want you to know that I understand how naturally curious you are. That is part and parcel of your personality, and that is all well and good. I also must compliment you on your clever ways. It was very good work to have found that hidden passage. However, be that as it may... “

  After a brief pause, before he could continue, the young girl whimpered, “Please don’t scold me, sirs. I’m so very sorry, Mr. Holmes and Doctor Watson. I’m ashamed of my behavior. I know Mum will be extremely cross with me when she learns of my actions. I sincerely hope that you can forgive me, for I know that I could have jeopardized elements of your investigation by my carelessness.”

  “Miss Miller,” Holmes responded firmly, “while it is true that you had only the best of intentions, you were clearly in the wrong. Heaven only knows the kind of danger in which you could have placed yourself! Think of what might have happened. How could you not think of your Mother? How could we ever forgive ourselves if something had happened to you?”

  Aggie bowed her head. She had once more crossed the line. She had disobeyed her superiors, again. There was nothing more to be said, so she just sat there until we had pulled our carriage up to her house.

  As the young girl started for her front door, Holmes called to her, “Aggie, your mother need not learn about your day’s adventures unless you wish to tell her. But, Miss Miller, I do not want to find you interfering any further. Is that clear?”