by Marvin Kaye
“I did, and I know where that sound came from!” The Colonel rushed to the wall and grabbed a long spear with a wickedly sharp point.
Nada backed away and stood against the fireplace mantel, her eyes filled with fear.
“Put down that spear at once, Colonel Warburton!”
“John, stop him!” Mary shrieked.
“They don’t have the right to kill me! I’ll kill them first.” Colonel Warburton was in a pitiable state, beyond hope of self control.
I heard footsteps outside the study, and so did Colonel Warburton. He drew back his arm holding the spear.
“No. No, sir,” I cried. “Don’t throw it. Someone is coming, you will—”
I heard Mary scream and the spear whistle through the air as someone opened the door.
The spearhead slammed into one side of the door-frame and quivered.
“Uncle! It’s Ellen.” White-faced, Miss Warburton stared at the spear, only inches from her head.
I drew my kerchief and mopped my brow.
“Uncle, what is going on? What is it?” Miss Warburton rushed toward him.
“The sound, like a knife in my head. It came again, Ellen. I will find where it comes from, before it finds me!” The Colonel ran wildly from the room, and Nada, followed by her servants, rushed after him.
Mary had risen from her chair, and stood quite close to me. “What a household,” she whispered.
“Poor Uncle.” Miss Warburton stared at us, her fingers tightly laced together. “Of course you heard no sound?”
“Nothing, Ellen,” Mary said, with regret.
“What can we do to help him, Doctor Watson?” Miss Warburton asked me.
“It’s hard to say, Miss Warburton. I’m not sure that medical help is what he needs. He seems perfectly sane and lucid except for these strange outbursts.”
“But what is plaguing him? Sometimes I wonder about these Africans having free run of the house. Nada, and her two servants. I have heard things, I have seen…”
“What have you seen?” Mary asked uneasily.
“No, it is nothing.”
“Miss Warburton,” I said. “If you know anything that might help your uncle, you must tell me.”
Turning from me, she appeared to stare at the leopard skin on the wall across the room. When she spoke, her voice trembled. “I do not want to speak ill of my uncle. But I must ask you, Doctor Watson. If my uncle fails to improve, what should be done?”
I did not want to be responsible for committing the Colonel to an asylum, nor was I sure that such a drastic measure was needed.
“Has the colonel been under the care of a family physician?” I asked.
“Yes,” Miss Warburton replied. “But Doctor Stiles only thinks it some recurring malady from his days in Africa. Uncle has never had such symptoms before, and I have been close to him since he returned to England. I fear Doctor Stiles may lack the knowledge and experience that you, as a London physician, must have, Doctor Watson.”
A pretty compliment indeed. But I did not want to rush to judgment. I felt quite certain now that Sherlock Holmes would take an interest in this case.
“Let me see what can be done to assist you and the Colonel, Miss Warburton,” I said.
A grateful flush coloured Miss Warburton’s face and her eyes were bright as she spoke. “Thank you. Thank you, Doctor Watson.”
* * * *
As soon as we returned to the Red Lion Inn, I posted a letter to Holmes, outlining the events that had occurred thus far. Late the next morning, the desk clerk handed me the reply from Holmes. Quickly, I led Mary into the inn’s sitting room and tore the letter open.
The message was short, asking we ascertain only one important factor—did the Warburton household have a dog?
“That’s a cryptic answer to my letter,” I said to Mary.
“Yes, it is,” she agreed. “Wise of you not to tell Ellen you were writing to Holmes. She is joining us for lunch, and might be disappointed by so little news.”
“Yes,” I agreed. “But I wonder, what could dogs have to do with the case?”
“I cannot imagine. Oh, here’s Ellen now.”
Looking up, I saw Miss Warburton enter the sitting room and walk toward us. Her chestnut hair shone in the light filtering through the white lace curtains of the room’s windows, but her face appeared drawn and haggard.
Once we were seated in tapestry-covered armchairs facing a stone fireplace, Miss Warburton sighed.
“It is so kind of you to take an interest in my uncle’s condition, Doctor Watson. Have you had any thoughts as to what can be done for him?”
“As a matter of fact, I wrote to Sherlock Holmes, asking for his advice in this matter.”
My words appeared to startle Miss Warburton. “Surely we don’t need to disturb Mr Holmes with the issue of my uncle’s health,” she said.
“But he’s already shown interest by responding,” I said. “This letter just came from him. You may read it, if you like, though I cannot see that it makes much sense, myself.”
Miss Warburton’s eyes widened as she read the telegram. “But that’s extraordinary. I did have a little dog. He was killed a week ago. It did not occur to me to tell you about it yesterday.”
“How amazing,” Mary said. “How could Mr Holmes have known about it?”
“There’s very little that Holmes does not know, my dear. How was your dog killed, Miss Warburton?”
“I found him on the grounds, with his head smashed in by a stone.” She shuddered.
“Oh, how dreadful!” Mary said.
“Who do you think did it?” I asked.
“It might have been a poacher, and then again it might have been…”
“Your uncle?” I asked gently.
“It is possible. When he is in one of his rages, I do not think he knows what he is doing. I do not like to say it, but perhaps he should be some place where he can hurt neither himself nor anyone else.” She paused a moment. “Is it necessary to trouble Mr Holmes?”
“I might not have thought so before, “ I said, taking the letter back from Miss Warburton. “But this incident with your dog may be important, and Holmes’s interest in the case intrigues me. Yes, I shall send Holmes a telegram at once.” I rose quickly from the armchair. “Don’t wait lunch for me, Mary.”
* * * *
The next day, I anxiously awaited a reply from Holmes. Mary insisted a walk would calm my nerves, and we ended up strolling toward the train station. In the distance, white smoke plumed and a long passenger train approached. We moved closer to watch its arrival.
When the train hissed and squealed to a stop, I approached the porter, who descended the steps of a nearby passenger car.
“I say, my dear fellow, what train is this?”
“The London train, sir. And right on time it is.”
Mary and I watched the passengers step down to the platform.
“Not many people getting off,” I said. “There, look! Is that Holmes with a dog on a lead?”
Indeed, it was Holmes, with a great brute of a dog. Mary and I hurried over to him and after we exchanged greetings, I drew Holmes to one side.
“I say, I’m delighted to see you, my dear fellow.”
Holmes studied me with that heavy-lidded expression that so nicely veiled his keen nature.
“It occurred to me,” he said, “I could be down here in the same time it would take a telegram to reach you, and a day or two in the country would be an interesting change. And, of course, Colonel Warburton’s problem interests me enormously.”
“But why on Earth would you bring a dog? And why not our old friend Toby?”
“Toby is getting on in years. He’s not as keen as he once was. But I believe this dog ma
y be of invaluable assistance.”
When I reached a tentative hand toward the brindled beast, a deep growl rumbled from its throat, and the hackles on his neck rose.
“Do be careful, John,” Mary said.
“Yes,” Holmes said, “look out, old chap. I think it would be better not to pet him. I picked him up for a couple of florins on Mylan Road, and I think he would have done better to stay in London. He has a singularly unattractive nature, and he seems to have been put out by the train ride.”
“Unpleasant brute,” I said, pulling my hand back.
“Yes, isn’t he?” Holmes replied.
“By the way, Holmes, what do you make of the case from my letters?”
“I should prefer to reserve my judgment until I have met the Colonel. However, I will offer one opinion.”
“Oh, what is that?” I asked.
“To paraphrase a proverb, do not disbelieve all you do not hear.”
* * * *
It was late afternoon when Mary, Holmes, and I approached Chevy Grange. As we climbed the stone steps to the Colonel’s doorway, the dog trailed behind Holmes on his lead.
Once again, I lifted the heavy brass knocker and rapped. When no one responded, I knocked again. “They cannot all be out,” I said.
“No servants?” asked Holmes.
At his side, the dog panted heavily. “I should tie this fellow up,” he said, leading the creature to a hitching post near the base of the stairs. When he fastened the dog’s lead, the brindled beast snarled and bared his teeth.
“Quiet!” Holmes said sharply, and the dog subsided. Holmes moved quickly up the steps and joined us. “You might try the door,” he said to me.
As I grasped the handle, the door swung open, and I stared into the dark face of Miss Nada’s manservant. His unexpected presence startled me, and I could not help but remember Miss Warburton’s concern about natives having the run of her uncle’s house.
“Let’s go in, old fellow, let’s go in,” Holmes said, stepping past the servant into the gloomy corridor.
Miss Nada’s man seemed pleasant enough, but when we asked for the Colonel, we discovered the servant could not speak English. We called for the Colonel, Miss Warburton, and even the manservant, Hacker, but were answered by silence.
Outside the house, the dog yelped, then howled briefly, as if in pain.
“The dog!” cried Holmes. “Oh, fool that I am, I should not have left him there. Come on!”
But we were too late. The dog lay dead on the ground, one of the Colonel’s spears protruding from his chest.
Mary’s face paled and she turned away from the dog.
“Poor brute,” I said. “This proves it, Holmes. The Colonel is mad.”
“I think not, Watson. It proves that Colonel Warburton is a great deal more sane than some of the members of his household.” Holmes tilted his head as if listening to some sound.
“Come with me.” Quickly, Holmes guided Mary and me across the grounds toward the carriage house.
“Do you hear that, Watson?” he asked.
Mary clutched my sleeve. “What is it?”
“Shh, listen.” Holmes stopped and stood still a moment.
As I strained to hear, a series of long repetitive notes reached me. “I say, Holmes, it’s the same sound we heard yesterday.”
“Yes,” he said. “And what’s more, it’s coming from the carriage house. Come on, but quietly.”
The sound of voices chanting and the beating of drums grew louder. I might not admit it, but I was rather proud of Mary. Instead of exhibiting fear, her face glowed with eagerness and excitement.
“Here,” Holmes said quietly. “We can see through this window.”
I peered through the dusty glass. “Nada, and her servant woman,” I whispered.
As I watched, the servant beat two small drums, her head thrown back in some emotion I couldn’t fathom. Feather bracelets adorned her arms and quivered in the glow of an oil lantern. Both she and Nada chanted, but Nada’s behaviour was far more restrained.
“Who’s that man with her?” Holmes asked.
“Colonel Warburton.” I squinted to get a better look. “No, it isn’t. It’s that servant fellow, Hacker. What the devil is he doing in there?” Hacker sat on a short wooden barrel, his hands folded as if in prayer, his eyes downcast.
“It appears he and Miss Nada are practicing some form of mysticism,” Holmes replied quietly.
“Extraordinary,” Mary whispered, her eyes shining.
“The Colonel was right,” I said. “It’s black magic. Let’s go in and catch them at it.”
“No,” replied Holmes. “Stay quiet. We’ll talk to them soon enough. At the moment, I feel it is much more urgent we find Colonel Warburton. Come on.”
When we skirted the stand of trees closer to the house, we found the Colonel pacing up and down in front of the stone steps with Miss Warburton. As I watched, he threw a desperate look at the dead dog.
I whispered to Holmes, “The Colonel and his niece, Miss Warburton. We shouldn’t have left him alone with her. He’s dangerous.”
“Apart from the fact that we were unaware of their whereabouts, I do not believe Miss Warburton is in danger, Watson,” Holmes said.
The Colonel caught sight of us, and with Miss Warburton close behind, he hurried toward us.
“Sherlock Holmes, eh?” he said. “I suppose you think I killed your wretched dog?” His hands trembled violently as he spoke. “Well, I might have done it. When I hear that dreadful sound, something seems to snap in my brain. I might have killed the dog. Why doesn’t your doctor friend certify me as insane? Send me where I belong, before I do any worse damage!”
With a wail, the Colonel ran from us and disappeared into the house.
“How wonderful that you have come, Mr Holmes,” Miss Warburton said. “My poor uncle. Is there anything you can do for him?”
“I will certainly try, Miss Warburton.” Turning to me, he said, “Watson, old fellow, we should follow the Colonel and find him a brandy. I’m afraid he has quite an ordeal before him.”
“He could use something to steady his nerves,” I replied. “But what do you mean by ordeal?”
“In good time, Watson,” he said.
As we entered the hall, Miss Warburton said she would bring brandy from the library. When she started to turn away, Holmes spoke to her.
“One moment, Miss Warburton. Could you tell me where you were when my dog was killed?”
“Down in the greenhouse,” she replied without hesitation. “As soon as I heard the animal, I ran to the house. Such a terrible thing. And poor Uncle, I should pour him that drink.” She hurried off on her errand.
“Mr Holmes,” Mary said, “you are going to be able to help the Colonel, aren’t you?”
“I’m convinced of it, Mrs Watson. But now that the dog is dead…I must obtain another one before I can proceed further with the case.” Holmes turned to me speaking briskly. “Watson, see that the Colonel receives a generous dose of brandy, will you?”
“Yes, of course,” I replied.
The words were hardly out of my mouth when Holmes turned and dashed away down the hall.
“But where are you going?” I called after him.
“I must find a witness.” And with that, he was gone.
* * * *
Outside the Colonel’s bedroom, Miss Warburton handed me a large snifter of brandy. With Hacker’s assistance, I soon had Colonel Warburton propped against several pillows at the head of his bed. His hands trembled as he lifted the liquor to his lips, but by the time he found the bottom of his glass, he had regained his self control.
“I do not know what comes over me,” he said. “I do hope Mr Holmes can make sense of this miserable affair.
”
Hacker leaned over and straightened a stray pillow next to the Colonel. “There now, Colonel. No doubt it will be sorted out soon enough. Can I get you another brandy, sir?”
I did not trust this Hacker. He was just as likely to provide more black incantations like those I’d witnessed in the carriage house.
My thoughts were interrupted by Holmes calling me from the hall below. When I reached the staircase, I was astonished to see Holmes at the foot of the steps with a handsome black-and-tan foxhound. I hurried down to them.
“Watson,” he said. “I need you to gather the household in the study.”
“I’ll get them,” I said. “But where did you find that dog?”
“The huntsman for the Taplow Hunt resides just down the road. He lent me this dog for a half-crown. A beauty, isn’t he? His name is Digby.”
“You are not going to expose him to any danger are you?” Surely, two dead dogs were enough.
“None, Watson, otherwise I shouldn’t have borrowed him. I’m convinced Digby can provide us with a clue about Colonel Warburton’s affliction.”
* * * *
Holmes stood by the trestle table that displayed the ivory tusks and carved figures. His eyes held a glint I immediately recognized. Mary sat close to me on a settee as I watched the anxious faces of the residents of Chevy Grange.
Miss Nada, on a horsehair sofa, remained stiff and formal as if her regal upbringing alone would maintain her composure. Her manservant and the woman who had beaten the drums stood by the sofa, watching over their mistress.
Hacker appeared scornful of the entire event. He stood behind the Colonel’s armchair with his lip slightly curled. Colonel Warburton grasped his brandy glass, a slight tremble visible in his hands. Was he afraid of what Holmes might uncover?
“Let me begin,” Holmes said, studying the room’s occupants. “Now, you are all here, the Colonel, Miss Warburton, Miss Nada, her two servants, Hacker, and the dog Digby. I propose to conduct an experiment. Before I proceed, I should like to point out the chronology of the events in this case. First, Miss Nada arrived here in England and took up residence at Chevy Grange.”