Carnacki: The Edinburgh Townhouse and Other Stories

by William Meikle

  "'Well, now you've seen it for yourself, Mr. Carnacki,' he said. 'And now you know it's not some kind of a trick. Can you help me? Please say you can help me?'

  "'I am confident I can,' I said, and at the time I said it, I jolly well meant it, for I had my skills, my knowledge, and my defenses. All I needed was some time alone in the vicinity of the phenomenon.

  "I sent Stenson away. He lived in a small terraced house several streets to the north, and I instructed him, in no uncertain terms, to stay at home until the morning. I warned him of dire consequences should he interrupt me in my work. Of course, I did not believe any such thing, but I did need some peace and quiet for what I needed to be about that night. After watching him walk away, I returned to the upstairs studio, and begin to make my preparations."

  *

  Carnacki paused at this juncture to refill his pipe. As if as an afterthought, he reached into his jacket pocket and brought out a photograph that he passed firstly to me, as I was the man in the chair immediately to his left. It was the same photograph that he had described being taken.

  He was right, the man Stenson did have an eye for a good composition, and Carnacki did indeed look resplendent and confident in the image. But that was only the second thing I noticed.

  The squat gray toad caught my gaze and would not let me look away. Carnacki had also been quite right in his description. It sat smirking, on his shoulder like some devilish idol. And despite its smile, I took a sudden chill on seeing it, one that ran all the way up my spine.

  I passed the damned thing on to Jessop and headed for a fresh drink, making it a double for I was suddenly in quite a funk. I gulped a full half of it down before turning back toward my chair, and I only arrived back in my seat in time to see Carnacki put the photograph away in his pocket, light his pipe, and continue.

  *

  "So now you chaps know exactly the manner of thing that I was up against. If it was indeed some kind of manifestation from the Great Beyond, it was a dashed queer one and outside my realm of experience. But if it was really there, I was pretty sure I would be able to make it show itself via the use of the pentacle and my color theory.

  "I wasted no time on arriving back in the studio in setting up the circles and the pentacle, and as it was turning full dark I was ready to begin.

  "I was, to tell the truth, more excited than anything else, for I saw this as an opportunity to test the box of switches and knobs that I had been working on. This little new piece of kit will, when properly finished, finally allow me to modulate and control the brightness of the colors of the valves, and also set them to a pulsing frequency that I can also modulate depending on the required circumstances. In future it will, I am sure, stand me in good stead in dark places.

  "But that night in the studio, I did not get much of a chance to use its full capabilities. I sat inside the pentacle on top of the empty box that carried my defenses, smoking my pipe and waiting for the toad to make its appearance. But there was nothing in the room except shifting shadows.

  "The valves stayed steady, with no hint of any presence for them to defend against, and the room was so quiet I heard my own heart thud in my chest. After a few hours of this, I got rather fed up with waiting. I took to playing with the aforesaid box of tricks, experimenting to see if different options of color and frequency of pulses might bring the toad into the visible spectrum.

  I put the pentacle through a wide variety of combinations of color washes and pulsation, but to no avail. All I succeeded in doing was making the shadowy areas of the room a bit more colorful, which was dashed pretty, but of little use in solving Stenson's predicament.

  "In the end I gave up, and smoked another pipe, but there was still no sign of any apparition, and my boredom wasn't far from the surface. I could not find any calmness that would allow me to settle. Taking things into my own hands, I left the pentacle running and stepped out of the circle, being careful not to disturb the protections.

  "I stood still outside the defenses, chewing on the stem on my pipe and ready to step back into safety at a moment's notice.

  "But still nothing happened."

  *

  "I gave up the vigil in the pentacle as a bad lot, but I was not yet finished experimenting for the night. I turned up the valves to their fullest extent and took to Stenson's cameras for the next stage.

  "I took a series of photographs of the pentacle, of myself inside it, and of the shadows in the corners, hoping that the toad thing would be seen in at least one of them, and give me a starting point from which to search for it.

  "By the time I had developed the photographs, it was well into the depths of the night. At least I got a nice set of pictures out of it that I will be keeping with the notes of the case. But apart from that they only showed what I had seen for myself. There was merely an empty room and the pentacle on the floor with dark shadows in the corners.

  "I was at a loss, for the time being, as to what else I could do.

  "I stepped back into the pentacle and sat there, with the valves dimmed to their lowest ebb to conserve the battery, and waited to see what might occur, but in my heart I already knew the night was a lost cause.

  "For all my vaunted expertise and knowledge, I was no closer to helping Stenson than I had been when he turned up on my doorstep."

  *

  "At some point I fell asleep, sitting upright on the box, and I must have been that way for some hours, for I had a bally stiff back and neck when I finally woke. Thin morning sunlight was coming in through the bay windows, and there was still neither hide nor hair of my quarry.

  "I knew that Stenson would be along shortly, expecting a report, perhaps even hoping for a conclusion. I made a tour of the whole studio, inspecting everything, even the inside of the cameras themselves, looking behind every drape, into every bottle and jar in the development room. I rapped on walls and floorboards looking for hidden closets or chambers, and I even jumped up and down on the floorboards, looking for any that might be concealing a secret swivel. I am afraid I must have cut a jolly frustrated figure by the time Stenson arrived just after eight a.m.

  "He must have seen it in my face, for he did not immediately broach the subject, but instead invited me to the hostelry along the road for breakfast. I left the pentacle laid out on the floor, in case I might return to it later.

  "The hostelry was quiet, it being so early of a Sunday morning and we took a table with a view looking out over the river. This time Stenson insisted on paying, although I noted he only partook of a small pot of tea. I however fortified myself with bacon, eggs and a mound of toast, and was feeling slightly better about the situation by the time I sat back and lit a smoke. It was only then that we spoke of the frustrations of my long dark vigil.

  "'And there is nothing untoward in any of the photographs that you took?' the stocky man said.

  "I shook my head.

  "'Then perhaps your magic circle did the trick after all? Perhaps it has merely moved off somewhere else?'

  "I shook my head again,

  "'It is my experience that such things do not merely move on unbidden. They are generally here for a reason. And I am not done yet. There is one more experiment that is yet required, and it is one that I could not undertake with without your presence.'

  "'And what is that, Mr. Carnacki?'

  "'We need to go back to the studio. You must sit for a photograph yourself. We must see what that shows us.'"

  *

  "Once again he spluttered, prevaricated and rubbed hard at the flesh of his belly as if trying to keep something inside him from moving around.

  "'I am not sure I like that idea, Mr. Carnacki,' he said.

  "'And I am not sure we have any choice in the matter,' I replied. 'You asked me here for my advice? Well there it is. You may take it or leave it as you choose.'

  "I saw him fight with the fear behind his eyes and decided to give him a nudge in the right direction.

  "'When
did you say your rent was due?' I said.

  "That finally got him moving. But I could sense the apprehension in the poor chap as we made our way back to the studio. He walked slowly, as if every step was onerous, and when we got to the door, he turned to me, his face ashen.

  "'Do you really think this is absolutely necessary?'

  "I had to bodily push him inside and stand to block his way back out so that his only option was to go up the stairs. I reminded him of what I'd said back in the hotel only minutes previously.

  "'You asked for my help, old man,' I replied. 'I am giving it to you, the only way I know how. But if you'd rather, I can pick up my box of tricks and be on my way…'

  "At that, he relented, and we made our way up to the studio.

  "Even then, I had a dashed hard job to get him to sit in the armchair in front of the drapes. I thought for a time he was in too much of a funk for any attempt at a photograph to be made. But when I reminded him again of his stricken finances, and the looming deadline of his rent payment, he finally saw sense and sat still long enough for me to continue with the preparations.

  "He did, however, keep up a constant chatter of advice as I set up his camera and flash, and I could see that he was nervous about letting anyone else use the equipment. I had to insist.

  "'Sit still, please, Mr. Stenson,' I said softly. 'This is the only way we are going to get to the bottom of this matter.'

  "Finally, we were both ready, and I was able to take the photograph. I watched closely. From my point of view, there was no sign of any intruding presence on his shoulder.

  "After the photograph was taken, Stenson headed for the development room, and all I could do was smoke my pipe, stare out at the Sunday strollers braving the elements on the riverside walk, and wait."

  *

  "When he finally emerged, he was more ashen than ever and looked positively ill. Once again I took a newly developed photograph from a trembling hand.

  "The toad like thing was there again, but it wasn't on his shoulder. It sat in his lap, snuggled tight against his ample belly. The squat head was turned toward the camera and the smile, which was now wide-mouthed and full of tiny teeth, did not look humorous at all. It looked positively malignant.

  "'What does this mean, Mr. Carnacki?' Stenson said.

  "'It means that it is not your studio or your equipment that is the focus of this manifestation, Mr. Stenson,' I replied, suddenly sure I was speaking the truth. I stepped over to my circles and switched on the pentacle. 'It is bound to you, attached to your very person. That is the reason it did not show up when you were not present in the room. Quickly now, into the pentacle. We must see if the properties of my defenses will facilitate a cleansing.'

  "Again I had to bodily manhandle him to go where he needed to go. I went over, took him by the right arm, and marched him to the circles.

  "'Step in,' I said. 'But do not touch the lines.'

  "He was reluctant, and just then a spasm hit him, hard, almost doubling him over. I saw pain etched on his face.

  "'Quickly,' I said. I stepped into the pentacle and tried to get him to join me inside the defenses, but he would not step forward.

  "'It hurts. It hurts too much,' he wailed, and another spasm of pain hit him. He bent double, stumbled, and almost fell. His left foot dragged across both the inner and outer circles and in doing so, knocked over the green valve. It smashed into fine shards on the floor, and with a crack and a spark my pentacle went dim and quiet."

  *

  "After that Stenson would have nothing to do with me. Indeed it appeared he fully intended to blame me, my pentacle and the defensive circles for his spasms of pain. I cleaned up and packed away my kit into the box in the face of a moody, almost sullen silence that emanated off him in waves.

  "I tried, several times, to impress upon him the seriousness of the thing that had obviously attached itself to him, but he brushed me away.

  "'I have an apprentice, and he can take the pictures for the business,' he said. 'I do not even have to be present here at all. So, you see, Mr. Carnacki, you have indeed solved my problem for me.'

  "He ushered me out the door as if he was glad to see the back of me, so I did not get a chance to explain to him what I knew of death omens, and harbingers, and what I suspected his companion to be.

  "I do not believe it would have done him much good in any case, for I think he now considered me a crackpot at best and a charlatan at worst, and I would not be given a chance to redeem myself of either charge."

  *

  Carnacki stopped, and it was with some surprise that we realized his tale was done.

  Arkwright was almost apoplectic.

  "Damn it, man, you can't leave it like that. What the blazes happened next?"

  Carnacki sighed, and I saw deep sadness in his eyes.

  "I failed the man," Carnacki replied softly. "I should have insisted that he stand inside the pentacle; perhaps even at the threat of violence. I might then be up on an assault case in the court, but at least he might still be alive to press charges."

  "You mean the photographer died?" Arkwright said in a whisper.

  Carnacki nodded and took a long gulp to finish off his drink.

  "Two days ago. His apprentice found him in the studio. I inquired discretely with his doctor as to the cause; he was the man who recommended me to Stenson in the first place. It appears that Stenson's internal organs all gave way. The doctor said it was as if something had eaten him hollow from the inside, although he had no earthly idea as to what might have done it so rapidly."

  We were all infused with some of Carnacki's sadness, and we left in silence, lost in our own thoughts as he showed us to the door.

  "Now, out you go," he said.

  Fins in the Fog

  I made my way to Chelsea full of anticipation of a new, lively adventure to make up for what had, quite frankly, been a terribly depressing week at the workplace. But my concerns for my own state of mind were quickly dispelled when my friend opened the door to my knock.

  Carnacki looked pale and wan, one might almost say sickly. He waved away my protestations, and led me through to the library where the chaps were gathered having a smoke and a glass of sherry. Carnacki was unusually quiet at first, although it would have been difficult for him to speak in any case, as Arkwright was expounding at some length on the disgraceful conditions prevalent during his daily commute in the Tube system.

  Once we went to table, a fine meal of a delicious vegetable soup, and a main course of venison and potatoes washed down with some strong London Porter did much to put some color in Carnacki's cheeks. By the time we retired to his parlor, charged our glasses and got fresh smokes lit, he seemed more than keen to proceed with the latest of his adventures.

  We quickly settled into the story, his soft tones talking us swiftly away to another night, a fog-filled evening, and a rap at the same door we had all come in through an hour or so earlier.

  *

  "You have all heard me speak of Captain Gault before," Carnacki began. "The old ruffian and I have shared, and crossed swords, on several cases together now. I hesitate to call him a pirate, but it is a designation that fits him as well as any other, although for the most part our meetings have been amicable.

  "The time we have spent in each other's company has been more than enough for us to get the measure of each other's mettle. I know him to be a bluff cove, and not above a bit of criminality should there be a sniff of a profit in it. But I did not expect to have him at my door near midnight of a November night.

  "Indeed, at first I didn't recognize the disheveled figure that crouched like a whipped cur on the doorstep when I answered the knock. It was only when he spoke that I knew my man, although his voice held a hint of something I had never heard in it before; it sounded like fear or, more accurately, terror.

  "'You must help me, Carnacki. Only you can help me.'"

  *

  "Even before I could w
elcome him in, he had pushed passed me into the hallway.

  "'Let me in, man,' he implored me. 'Quickly now, before it catches the scent again.'

  "Of course, I could not then close the door without checking to see what he thought might be after him. But on looking out, both ways along the street, I saw only a thin late autumnal fog rolling up from the Embankment. That was nothing unusual for the season, but as soon as he saw the fog, Gault grew even more agitated than he already had been.

  "'Get in, man. Now, if you value your life!'

  "There was such an urgency in his tone that I decided it might be prudent to trust him on the matter, at least until I had got to the bottom of the reason for his sudden arrival. I acquiesced and shut us inside against the night air.

  "That small act did much to calm my visitor, and he allowed me to lead him through to the library where I had been sitting reading by the fire. He still did not fully relax, despite several stiff measures of my best Scotch and a pipe of my strong Egyptian blend of tobacco. He also flatly refused to take off the voluminous overcoat in which he was wrapped, even while sitting in front of the full warmth of my fire.

  "'I really do mean to tell you my tale, Carnacki,' he said after a time. He had some color in his cheeks now, but there was still an evident strain around his eyes and lips as he continued. 'But it is a long and an outlandish story, even by our standards, and I think a demonstration might quicker serve my purposes in the matter. But I cannot risk taking you out into the street. Have you any access to your roof from here inside?'

  "It was a strange request, but I could see that the man was still a bundle of nerves, and it was a terrible thing to see in a chap I might even consider thinking of as a friend. I resolved there and then to do anything I could to ease his state of mind.