I entered the hall to the sound of sobbing. Julia the maid met me in the main hallway.
‘Good evening, Doctor Watson. Lord and Lady Allistair are waiting for you in the library. We are so glad you have returned, sir –’
‘Julia, may I enquire who is crying?’
‘It’s Betsy, sir, afraid for her man.’
‘He has not turned up yet?’ I asked.
‘No, sir.’
I entered the library to find Lord and Lady Allistair in a semi-darkened room, pacing nervously to and fro. They greeted me with visible relief. The relief turned into delight when I told them that Holmes would arrive the following day.
‘Shall we meet him at the train?’
‘Brundage can do that – he requested a carriage. He seldom – hullo, who’s this?’
I was surprised to see a shadowy figure emerge from the doorway and approach us. As he neared the fireplace, which was the primary light source, I could see that he was the tall, blond man I saw on horseback the first night at Strathcombe.
‘Ah, I remember now, you have not met. Farthway, this is Doctor Watson, second cousin to my wife.’
‘How do you do, sir,’ said Farthway coolly. He had the air of dash and daring about him. At first glance, he seemed frank and open enough, yet there was a coolness, a hesitation, that set my guard up slightly.
‘What is it, Farthway?’ paused Lord Allistair.
‘Your Lordship, I understand from several of the staff that you and the Doctor rode deep into the forest this morning.’
‘That is correct, but I cannot see how this concerns you, Farthway.’
‘I beg your pardon, Your Lordship, but I feel it concerns me in a personal way, since the woods are dangerous now.’
‘How do you mean?’ I demanded.
‘There are a good number of vagabonds about, sir,’ he replied, still looking at Lord Allistair. ‘And there is the big boar in residence along the river bottom.’
‘And no doubt you have also some knowledge of the letter delivered to us this afternoon?’
Farthway nodded. Lord Allistair hesitated a moment, as if undecided whether to reprimand or praise his gamekeeper.
‘Very well, Farthway. Thank you for your concern. But I must remind you that it is my decision entirely to enter the woods or avoid them. As a matter of fact, we shall no doubt be going there again tomorrow, and would like you to act as guide.’
‘Very good, sir. Will you shoot?’
‘No,’ answered Lord Allistair, after an inquisitive glance in my direction. ‘You may go.’
But as he turned to depart, I called him back.
‘Mr Farthway, from what I have seen and heard of you, you handle a horse very well, and a gun, too, I understand.’
‘Thank you. I endeavour to give satisfaction to my employer and his guests.’
‘Are you engaged tonight?’ I asked.
‘Tonight, sir?’
‘Yes. Could you find your way about in this countryside in the dark?’
Farthway hesitated, his keen features working in the firelight as he attempted to look beyond my simple, and no doubt perplexing, request.
‘I’d venture to say,’ he answered at last, ‘that I could find my way about blindfolded – anywhere you’d care to go but –’
‘But what?’
‘I don’t think it would be advisable to venture out tonight, sir,’ he said nervously.
‘Why not?’
He shifted, and his eyes refused to meet mine directly. ‘I just don’t think it advisable,’ he said.
‘Could it be, Farthway,’ I taunted, ‘that you fear for your safety?’ and saw his eyes flash with anger.
‘I might remind you, Doctor Watson, that I have spent a good many of my years defending the Empire all over the globe, often in the face of hostile fire. You have, in all probability, spent your time quite differently. It is for your safety I fear, not my own. But if you are determined, I shall have the horses ready in twenty minutes.’
With this, he turned like a Prussian on his heel and departed.
Meantime, Lord and Lady Allistair had been standing by, apparently thunderstruck at my request.
‘You are not serious, I hope. I take it your request was a form of humiliation for him – and well deserved, too, I might add,’ said Lady Allistair to me.
‘Quite an outburst for a gamekeeper. I may have to sack the man, good as he is.’
‘No doubt he is regretting his shortness with me already,’ said I, ‘yet I was, and am, entirely serious about venturing out tonight. From all accounts, the one man to accompany me is Ian Farthway.’
I then briefly explained the episode of the lost dog to them. Although they showed some concern for Betsy, it was obvious that, in the light of recent revelations, their concern and affection for her was not infinite. Moreover, their concern for me was paramount. At some length, however, I managed to persuade them both that Betsy’s difficulties were in some way connected with their own.
‘So we really must go and look about the place,’ I said, ‘and though I challenged Farthway, I achieved my end, for it is imperative to have his services this evening, even if it was necessary to taunt him into it.’
‘Then if go you must, for God’s sake be careful. I’ll have flasks of coffee and brandy brought up for you both. Remember your pistol, sir, and do as Farthway says.’
‘Thank you, Lord Allistair.’
It was a sullen Farthway who met me, horses in hand, at the foot of the terrace steps. I presented him with his flask and he grunted a reply. As we mounted, I noticed he had the familiar fowling piece slung over his shoulders, yet somehow it looked heavier.
‘Holland and Holland double rifle,’ he replied shortly when I asked him about it. ‘Not a fowling piece. This can stop an elephant. Now Doctor, would you mind telling me why you’ve proposed this nocturnal jaunt?’
‘Here comes the answer, I think,’ I replied.
At that exact moment, Clancy, the terrier, came round the drive whining and wheeling in tight circles. I simply told Farthway that the dog’s master was missing, and perhaps the animal could lead us to him. It seemed as if some of the daring and excitement of his earlier career was returning to the ex-soldier. With a keenness that bordered on enthusiasm, he started down the drive at a brisk trot. The small dog led the way, alternately yelping and dashing ahead into the darkness, then, less sure of himself, returning in our direction in the same whining, turning fashion as before.
‘It seems to me I’ve seen this dog before,’ said Farthway after a quarter hour’s ride. ‘Is his master a loutish fellow, leather apron, walrus moustache?’
‘That sounds like him, a tanner’s apprentice named Charles Compson. Was he often about?’
‘I’ve seen him on the main road here a dozen times during the past few weeks. A simple fellow – always the little terrier was at his heels. The man has not been seen?’
I retold Betsy’s story, but only mentioning their love affair and eventual plans to emigrate to Australia. I mentioned nothing of Compson’s supposed involvement with the abductors. We hurried on down the road in the darkness. In my haste, I’d forgotten a lantern, and quietly cursed myself. However, I realized too that a lantern enables one only to see immediate objects; it is useless for seeing distances at night. Perhaps it was just as well I’d not brought one. We were headed not towards Rutlidge but rather in the opposite direction – towards the Welsh border. The dog was alternately running and trotting now, and his howling increased in intensity. That sound, with the hollow clatter of our horses’ hooves along the cold road, sent chills through my body. The night, having grown even more overcast, was dark as pitch. Nothing was visible save occasional glimpses of the small dog as it flitted gingerly between the horses.
‘I must say,’ he offered at length, ‘that I was a bit short with you, Doctor. I apologize.’
‘You needn’t worry yourself over me, Farthway. But your remarks to Lord Allistair could have more serio
us consequences.’
‘Ah, but what does he know of the dangers that lurk about here? He and the Lady come here twice a year at the very most. It would not surprise me in the slightest if he were to get lost in his own woods some day –’
‘You speak in a tone of contempt for him,’ I returned. ‘For a man of his stature, that is surprising. And for a gamekeeper and employee your tone is offensive.’
‘I did not wish to give that impression. Quite the opposite is true. I came into Lord Allistair’s service more out of admiration than for any challenge and excitement this job would offer me which, as you can see, isn’t much.’
‘Until recently.’
‘Aye. And therein, Doctor, lies my concern. The woods are always full of thieves and brigands, but now they are more dangerous than usual. I reacted tonight out of concern, not insolence.’
‘Tell me, don’t you ever fear for your own safety in the woods if they are as dangerous as you say?’
‘No, sir. There’s no one that knows this country as I do. I can lose anyone in these woods, sir, quick as a wink. I know every dell and copse in the Clun Forest, from Henry’s Hollow and the Keep clear over to the Clee Hills and the Wrekin.’
‘You were born here?’
‘I was born in Glasgow, but moved to Ludlow as a boy – so it was here I spent my youth. I dare say that there’s none know this country better than Ian Farthway.’
‘I understand that until recently you were with the Black Watch.’
‘Indeed I was.’
We continued for some minutes in silence.
‘Why don’t you ask me why I left the regiment, Doctor?’ he asked.
‘Well I...’
‘Come now, you’re probably dying to know. The truth is, I was forced to retire from the service for the same reason I moved to Ludlow as a young man: lack of funds.’
I said nothing.
‘You see, my family, for all its veneer of respectability and wealth, has had more than its share of drunkards – the worst of which was my late father. In his short lifetime, he managed to squander our family’s remaining fortune and ruin our name in Scotland. So I headed south and took a working man’s job, saving all the money I could. My stint with the Black Watch was enjoyable, and I was a good soldier, but the money ran out, so here I am. I tell you this because I harbour in my soul some resentment for those who’ve never done an honest day’s work.’
‘Are you referring to me?’ I bristled.
‘No. Neither you nor His Lordship. But I suppose my temper gets up when I see Strathcombe, and think of the life I might have had if my forebears had been more prudent. Well, I’ve said enough.’
And so we rode on, following the lively gait of the little terrier. But I could not help wondering about this young man. Even considering his financial situation, why was he content at being a common gamekeeper when his record and personal bearing suggested he was capable of greater things? Why was he distant and aloof, even with his employer? And finally, where did this young man go to on his fine stallion? Where did he spend his time between sunrise and sunset? More particularly, where was he bound the evening I arrived, when I saw him clear the stone fence in a magnificent leap? These questions specifically, and his mysterious manner in general, concerned me. But clearly, there was urgent need of his talents that night, so I decided to put aside my suspicions for the time being.
After perhaps twenty minutes, the dog grew noticeably more nervous. Suddenly he stopped altogether and, nose to the ground, made his way to the edge of the road. There, he slowly lifted his head and peered into the tall forest that began less than twenty yards away. A low growl began in his throat. It rose higher, louder, then ended in a terrified shriek as the dog bounded back in our direction and cringed between us.
We tried to urge the horses forward in the direction in which the dog had gazed but they too, as if taking a cue from the smaller animal, refused to proceed further. Even Farthway, with his tremendous skill as a horseman, couldn’t budge his mount. They snorted and whinnied, then reared, but no amount of spurring or oaths would move them.
‘We’d best dismount, Doctor,’ said he, ‘and approach on foot.’
But no sooner had we left our saddles than the horses turned tail and broke for Strathcombe at full gallop.
Farthway, sensing that this turn of events cast some doubt on his abilities as gamekeeper and horseman, let out a string of oaths that was remarkable indeed.
‘Well, there’s no retrieving them now. We may as well go and have a look – we’ll be walking back anyway,’ I said.
Farthway unslung the rifle and I drew out my Webley and cocked the hammer.
The terrier had stayed with us, as one would expect of a dog, particularly of the terrier breed. It was frightened, however, and seemed even to regret that it had led us to the dreary place. We left the road and walked slowly through knee-high bracken until we were at the forest’s edge. The dog, barely leading us, would never venture more than a yard or so ahead without looking round to see for certain that we were close behind. It was quiet now, as if afraid of disturbing some sleeping monster. The only sound it made was a barely audible deep growl that always changed to a shaken whine. I placed my hand on its neck, and could feel, through its wiry fur, the little pulse pounding wildly.
‘Have you a light?’ I asked, after gazing at the ominous wall of trees. ‘No? I have only a pocketful of matches for my pipe. We should feel our way forward in the darkness then, and save our light for the end of our mission – if there is one.’
As we strode cautiously into that looming black mass of the forest, I was overcome by one of those peculiarities of life known as déjà vu. Where and when had this occurred before in my life? In a few moments I remembered, and grew all the more wondrous at how strange a thing the mind is, for the instance in my youth that had brought on the déjà vu occurred when I was only seven, and though I could not have thought of it more than a dozen times in my thirty or so intervening years, yet there was the incident called up from the murky deep, and recalled clear as a bell. Soon after my seventh birthday, my mother took me on a journey to France, and we boarded the night ferry at Dover. I remembered clambering up the gangplank, hands clutching at my mother’s dress, towards an enormous black shape that was the ship. Since the gangplank seemed to terminate in the very centre of the ominous mass, it was terrifying indeed. I had the dread feeling that we were about to be swallowed up by the huge dark thing, and never were to see the light of day again.
But as I was terrified as a boy, I must admit that approaching the looming mass of the forest that night in the wilds of Shropshire (even considering my age, my companion, and the fact that we were armed and capable men), the same feeling of dread crept upon me. For just as a small boy has his fears, he also has his mother, in whom he may invest boundless quantities of wisdom and courage. And so when he becomes a man, while he is the more capable and strong, yet he no longer has the all-protecting figure to watch over him and he realizes that he is entirely on his own. So it seemed to me to be a bob for a shilling: we never can shake off the anxiety that dogs our heels from the cradle to the grave, and is always ready at a moment’s notice to clutch its icy fingers round our hearts.
We had slowed to a snail’s pace, owing to the blackness and the tangle of trees and branches. We could feel the terrier slinking between our legs and hear its frenzied panting, for so terrified was the animal now that no other sound emerged from it.
‘You see,’ said Farthway in a low voice. He raised his arm and pointed ahead into the darkness. ‘There’s a clearing yonder – can you see the gleam of pale stone?’
I confessed I could see a patch of faint grey, but nothing else. As we drew nearer, however, I could see it was a clearing made by outcropping stone, on which no trees could grow. Drawing still nearer, I could see that the outcropping, as is common with formations of the sort, projected from the earth at an angle, and had almost the appearance of a miniature Gibraltar. After several
minutes we came into the clearing but, even though it was an area devoid of trees, the darkness was complete. We walked twice around the rock, which was about sixty feet long, without noticing anything amiss. At its highest, the projecting rock rose in a wall almost perpendicular – a miniature cliff ten or twelve feet high.
‘Clancy!’ I called softly, for it was he, and only he, who could show us the way.
But the dog had vanished.
‘When did you last see him?’ asked Farthway.
‘I remember him at my side just as we saw the clearing,’ I replied, ‘and can’t remember seeing him since.’
Then there came to our ears a low crying sound. We were almost positive it came from the dog – but from which direction?
‘It seems to come from nowhere,’ said Farthway.
‘And yet from everywhere...’
‘It seems nearby...’
‘But far away as well.’
Again we cocked our ears. Again, the sound came. It was not more than ten feet away.
‘Doctor – above you!’ said Farthway in a hoarse whisper.
We had been standing under the cliff end of the rock. I looked upward and in the darkness could see the faint moving silhouette of the small dog’s head as he peered down at us, whining.
‘There, Clancy – how did you get up there?’
‘He must have walked up from the other end of the rock – but why would he venture up there?’
I took a match from my pocket and struck it. Its first flash momentarily blinded me, but once the flame had steadied, I held it up as far as I could reach. Clancy’s alert face came into view.
‘Good God!’ cried Farthway in horror.
Just as he shrieked, I uttered a cry of terror as well. We both saw it.
At the dog’s feet, projecting over the edge of the rock and placed as though delicately shading the flame which I held aloft, was a human hand.
We stood for some seconds transfixed by the mute horror of it. The terrier, as if bidding us to ascend the rock, began barking. We stared in disbelief at the hand, whose delicate appearance, palm downward, fingers curved slightly, lent a mocking irony to the scene.
The Giant Rat of Sumatra Page 14