The Man From Hell

by Barrie Roberts

  ‘Well, Watson,’ he said, ‘you seem to have made a pretty botch of this affair!’

  Lord Backwater sprang to my defence.

  ‘You must not blame the Doctor, Mr Holmes. He was urgent in his entreaties that I stand by your advice, but I could only think of my poor sister in the hands of the Ring.’

  ‘That is precisely why I warned you,’ said Holmes. ‘I was fully aware that your emotional involvement would make you a prey to dangerous impulses and that a cool head was needed to assess the situation.’

  ‘Really, Holmes,’ I protested, ‘I do not see what more I might have done. Once Lord Backwater had made his decision every precaution was taken and I do not see how we could have detected a trap.’

  ‘No, Watson, you do not see because you have not trained your mind to understand what you see. Did it not strike you as strange that the exchange was fixed for sunset? There is no time of day when the light is more misleading. The method of exchange could have been employed at any time, but they chose sunset because they wished to hide something. Even then the situation might have been saved. Did the gags not warn you?’

  ‘I do not understand how they should have warned us,’ I replied.

  ‘They should have shown you that the villains did not wish you to hear the prisoners’ voices or something that they might say, that they wanted you to rely on dimly seen shapes in gathering darkness.’

  ‘I do not know what else might have been done,’ I grumbled.

  ‘As soon as the message was received there might have been armed men posted in the woods around the bridge, so that anyone approaching it could be surrounded. The bag could have been booby-trapped so that it would distract them when they examined it.’

  ‘Then, if you would have had so many ideas, it is the more pity that you took yourself off,’ I remarked, a trifle huffily, I admit.

  ‘I took myself off, as you put it, Watson, because there were matters which I had to attend to in London. Those things are done and will, I trust, bear interesting fruit in the near future,’ replied Holmes.

  In the virtual certainty of further criticism I drew Holmes’ attention to the death of the old fiddler. He listened to my account of how Scott and I had found the old man, then examined the sketch I had made of the blood-marked violin.

  ‘Scott and I wondered if he had written the “J”, then attempted four other letters and failed,’ I said.

  ‘I doubt it,’ said Holmes. ‘The “J”, although a degree misshapen, is strongly scrawled. The blobs are each clear and distinct. They show no sign of trailing away. Each has been made with a single firm touch of the finger. It seems the old fiddler summoned his last resource to leave this sign.’

  He examined the paper a while longer, then folded it into his own pocket-book.

  ‘We shall see Inspector Scott’s photograph in due course,’ he said, ‘and, in the meantime, we cannot spare too much time to speculate on what Williams might have told us had chance allowed. We must turn our attention to rescuing Lady Patricia.’

  ‘What do you think they will do next?’ asked Lord Backwater.

  ‘They will offer another exchange, for a further sum of money, in due course. When they do so, Lady Patricia will be in great danger.’

  ‘Why more so than now?’ I queried.

  ‘Because they cannot perform last night’s trick twice. A second exchange will be offered solely in an attempt to acquire a further sum of money. Whether they achieve that purpose or not they will have to consider disposing of the lady. If they were to succeed in a second ruse they would know that they could not achieve a third success and she would become unnecessary to them. Even more so if a second attempt fails.’

  He looked at our glum faces.

  ‘Come, gentlemen,’ he said, ‘last night has not been an entire loss. You may have bought them at a pretty price, Lord Backwater, but we now have two witnesses. Perhaps when I have had another cup of coffee we might see what Tommy and Catherine can tell us.’

  Seventeen

  HUNTING THE LADY

  Both Tom and Catherine seemed to have suffered no lasting ill effects from their capture when Arnold brought them to the library, though they were understandably nervous when introduced to their employer’s consulting detective.

  Holmes smiled at them as they sat, each erect on a hard-backed chair.

  ‘I hope,’ he said, ‘that a night’s rest has helped you to recover from your adventures.’

  ‘Oh yes, sir,’ they both answered simultaneously.

  ‘Now, Tom,’ Holmes continued, ‘you were driving Lady Patricia and Catherine. Perhaps you should start the story. Tell us what happened.’

  ‘Well, sir, us had been to Lord Backwater’s funeral, sir, and Mr Patrick – that is Lord Patrick, sir – he said we could take the afternoon off after church. So I went back to the stables with the horses and while I was there Catherine came along and said Lady Patricia fancied a bit of fresh air and she knew it was an afternoon off but there was a shilling in it if I’d take ‘em round the park. So I took the pony trap round to the front with Catherine and Lady Patricia come and got in. I asked her if she fancied anywhere particular, but Lady Patricia just said to drive about wherever I thought. So I went out to the North Pool and round beyond it, intending to come down the far side of South Pool and back through the ‘zalea plantation.’

  ‘Just wait one minute, Tom,’ said Holmes. ‘Lord Backwater, have you a map of the park to hand?’

  Lord Patrick rose and went to a shelf, returning with a marbled slipcase from which he drew a folded map. ‘I think’, he said, ‘that this is of sufficient scale to help you follow Tom’s descriptions,’ and he spread out the map where Holmes and I could both see it.

  ‘Thank you,’ said Holmes. ‘Please go on, young man.’

  ‘Well, we was in that piece they call the Lawyer’s Walk, between the South Woods and the ‘zaleas, where the carriageway bends a bit sharp and you can’t see beyond the bend ‘cause of the leaves. I always go a bit slow along there and I’d just taken the bend slowly when a chap steps out of the bushes, calm as you like, and takes Blossom’s head. Now I thought something was wrong right away for I never saw the chap before and I didn’t like the way he just took hold of my horse. If he wanted me to stop I wasn’t going fast, he could’ve asked.’

  ‘What did you do?’ asked Holmes.

  ‘Oh, Tommy was ever so brave, Mr Holmes,’ broke in Catherine. ‘He stood up and he took up his whip and he said, “What are you doing with my horse? Who are you? I’ll have you know this is Lord Backwater’s sister I’m driving.”’

  ‘He laughed,’ said Tommy. ‘He laughed at me and said, “Put down that whip and jump down!” and he pulled a great pistol from his pocket and pointed it at me. I was still going to go at him with the whip, but Lady Patricia says, “Do as he says, Tommy. I don’t wish to see you hurt.” So I put the whip up and jumped down.’

  ‘What manner of man was he?’ asked Holmes. ‘How was he dressed? How did he speak?’

  ‘He was a big, broad-shouldered fellow with a scruff of beard and moustache. He had corduroys and a felt hat.’

  ‘He spoke funny,’ interjected Catherine. ‘He wasn’t from round here. He sounded like a North Countryman.’

  ‘That sounds like the man who controlled last night’s ceremony,’ I observed. ‘I thought the voice had a tinge of Lancashire about it.’

  ‘There cannot be all that many Brothers of the Ring in England,’ said Holmes. ‘Its capital was Norfolk Island and few have ever returned from there. They must, I imagine, call in their Brothers from all over England when necessary. What happened next?’ he asked of Tommy.

  ‘When he’d got me down from the trap and had his gun on me another chap appeared out of the bushes. He was much the same as the first in appearance, only a bit smaller. He had a pistol already in his hand. He put a blindfold on me and bound my hands behind me. Then I heard them doing the same to Cathy and Her Ladyship.’

  He paused, I coul
d see the anger that still worked in the boy at the capture of his charges.

  ‘When we was all blinded,’ he continued, ‘they put us all in the trap and one of them drove. Now you’re going to want to know where we went, sir, but that’s difficult.’

  ‘Because of the blindfolds?’ I said.

  ‘Not entirely, sir,’ he said. ‘I growed up in Backwater Woods and I’d say I knows them as well as any, even with my eyes shut. But they bewildered me at the outset. They turned the trap back along the way we’d come at first, but there’s a six-ways cross between the Lawyer’s Walk and South Woods and when we got there they drove round and round it before they turned off, so I couldn’t think which way we’d turned.’

  Holmes had his long forefinger on the map, resting at the junction to which the boy had referred.

  ‘I think we went along the ride that goes down the side of South Woods and came round the back,’ said Catherine.

  Tommy so far forgot himself in the presence of his employer as to demand, ‘How do you know, then?’

  ‘I been thinking,’ she said, ‘and it was the smell. There’s no pines in the South Woods, but there are along the outside of that ride and I could smell them all the time.’

  Holmes followed her suggestion with his finger on the plan. ‘And where do you think you went next?’ he enquired.

  Tommy shook his head and the maid looked crestfallen. ‘I don’t rightly know, sir. We lost the smell of the pines, so I suppose we come to the end of that ride by Anne’s Cross, but then we turned on to grass.’

  ‘Which way did you turn?’ Holmes interrupted.

  ‘Left,’ said Tommy promptly.

  ‘So,’ said my friend, thoughtfully, ‘you left the woods and turned back towards the heart of the estate. Tell me,’ he continued, after a pause to study the map, ‘did you cross either of the canal bridges?’

  ‘No, sir,’ said Tommy. ‘We was driving over grass till we got there.’

  ‘And where was “there”?’ asked Holmes.

  ‘Where they was taking us,’ said the boy. ‘We was on the grass for a long time before we stopped. Then they had us down and led us down some steps.’

  ‘Steps!’ exclaimed Holmes. ‘Wooden ones? Brick ones?’

  ‘Brick ones, I think,’ said Tommy. ‘They took us down them steps and into a big, hollow place where their voices echoed. It was cold in there and it smelled old and musty-like.’

  Holmes was poring over the map. He looked up at Lord Backwater. ‘If Catherine is correct, they were somewhere in the open grassland to the north-west of the woods,’ he said, ‘and if they were in a cellar, then there must surely be a building, or the remains of a building. I see only Park Farm in that vicinity. Could that be it?’

  Lord Patrick shook his head. ‘Park Farm is tenanted,’ he said, ‘and there are no other buildings in that area.’

  ‘What about the cellars of the Old Hall?’ I suggested.

  ‘The Old Hall was, indeed, in that area, but my father had the cellars filled in and the last traces above ground removed. There is a small stand of elms now where Backwater Old Hall stood.’

  ‘Were you kept underground all the time?’ asked Holmes of the two youngsters.

  ‘Yes, sir,’ said Tommy. ‘There seemed to be two big rooms in there and Lady Patricia and Cathy was put in the far one and I was kept near the bottom of the steps, but we never saw the place for we was kept blindfolded all the time.’

  ‘How did they feed you?’ I asked.

  ‘Only bread and cheese and water,’ said Catherine, ‘and they wouldn’t even take the blindfolds off for us to eat.’

  Holmes looked up from the map. ‘Is there anything else you recall? How were you taken to the bridge last night?’

  ‘I think it was the same way as we went, sir,’ said Tommy. ‘If Cathy’s right, sir, it was across the grass and round the back drive, then through the South Wood to the pool.’

  ‘And you don’t believe you ever left the park?’ asked Holmes.

  ‘If they did not cross the canal bridges they cannot have done,’ said Lord Backwater. ‘The only other way out would be past the North Lodge and the gate there is manned.’

  ‘Thank you both,’ said Holmes to the youngsters. ‘Tommy, you have nothing to reproach yourself with. I’m sure Lord Backwater agrees that you did your very best to protect your charges. Catherine, your information has been a great help to us,’ and, as the boy and girl stood up to leave, he slipped a coin into the hand of each.

  The door had barely closed behind them when there was a timid tap upon it and Catherine returned.

  ‘I beg your pardon, My Lord, Mr Holmes, but there is one thing more.’

  ‘Yes?’ said Holmes. ‘Tell us anything you think.’

  ‘Tommy wouldn’t have known it because he was in the first room by the steps, but our room was different.’

  ‘In what way?’ asked Holmes.

  ‘There was a draught, a cold draught, sometimes from one end, and sometimes I thought we were near water.’

  ‘By one of the pools?’ I said.

  ‘I’m sure I don’t know. I just thought of water when that draught blew. That’s all I can recall.’

  Holmes smiled. ‘You are a very bright young lady,’ he said, ‘and with your help we shall rescue your mistress,’ and he showed her from the room again.

  ‘You sound very sure of yourself,’ said Lord Backwater when the door had closed again.

  ‘If your sister has not left the park,’ said Holmes, ‘then it should not be impossible to find her before the Ring moves again.’

  ‘Do you make anything of their evidence?’ I asked.

  ‘The boy is a practical country lad and told us what he is sure of, the girl added her feminine impressions. I have said before, Watson, that I would give all of my trained ratiocinative processes for the intuition of even a simple country lass like Catherine. Women have senses that they do not even know.’

  He looked at the map again. ‘You are sure,’ he said to Lord Backwater, ‘that there are no derelict buildings, no follies, no ruins, no burial chambers or such anywhere in the park?’

  Lord Backwater shook his head emphatically. ‘Nothing that remotely accords with their description. Are they right, do you think?’

  ‘Their testimony is confusing in the light of the plan and your information, but I suspect they will reveal the answer. Now, I shall be grateful if you and Watson will leave me to ponder on this plan.’

  He lit his pipe as we left, and settled back to the map. Lord Backwater and I took ourselves to the billiard room until the luncheon gong. Holmes did not join us in the dining-room and during the afternoon, I looked into the library to see him shrouded in tobacco smoke and surrounded by scribbled sketches.

  ‘Will he remain like that long?’ enquired Lord Backwater.

  ‘I have known Sherlock Holmes sit motionless and smoke pipe after pipe for a day and two nights when wrestling with a particularly thorny problem,’ I said, ‘but he will unravel it in the end.’

  When the dinner gong sounded I managed to bully Holmes into dressing and appearing at table, though his appetite was non-existent. I did not question him for his attitude made it clear that he had not yet solved the problem.

  The dessert was a delicious confection of summer fruits and ice. Holmes refused it, but I took one mouthful and remarked on it to our host.

  ‘The fruits are from the Hall’s gardens and, of course, my father had refrigeration equipment installed, so we do not have to rely on Cook’s willingness to wind one of those tedious ice-makers,’ he replied.

  Holmes, who had played only a minimal part in our conversation at table, suddenly looked up. ‘Refrigeration!’ he exclaimed and snapped his fingers. ‘Refrigeration, of course!’

  Lord Patrick and I stared at him in amazement, but he ignored us and turned to Arnold who stood by the buffet. ‘Arnold,’ he said, ‘I have done less than justice to Cook’s work. Perhaps I should have a large portion of her dessert, af
ter all.’

  When it was served he set to with a will, while Lord Backwater and I exchanged bewildered glances. I knew only that the sudden return of his appetite signalled a successful end to his ponderings.

  At last he put aside his plate. ‘Now,’ he said, ‘I believe I can tell you where Lady Patricia is being held. The answer was in that delicious dessert which I so unthinkingly spurned. Arnold, would you be so good as to fetch my papers and the plan from the library?’

  Eighteen

  INTO BATTLE

  When my friend had scattered his papers over much of the dining-table he said, ‘I had forgotten that Inspector Scott told us that your father installed the latest refrigeration mechanisms, Lord Backwater, so that you do not require an ice-house.’

  ‘That is true,’ said Lord Patrick, ‘but I confess I cannot see how that will help us.’

  ‘But Backwater Old Hall had no such modern arrangements,’ continued Holmes.

  Suddenly I saw where his thoughts were bending. ‘An ice-house!’ I exclaimed.

  ‘Well done, Watson! That is undoubtedly the answer. Somewhere in the park lies the former ice-house of the Old Hall,’ said Holmes.

  ‘I’m sure you are right,’ said Lord Patrick, frowning, ‘but I have no idea where it might be. My father’s mechanisms were installed when this house was built and we never had any occasion to be aware of any ice-house.’

  ‘Then we must find someone who recalls the park as it was in Squire Varley’s days,’ said Holmes.

  Arnold, who had been attempting to serve the coffee amidst the litter that Holmes had made of the dining-table, coughed discreetly.

  ‘Perhaps I may be of assistance, Mr Holmes. My first position was as a pantry-boy with Squire Varley.’

  Holmes turned to him, his eyes bright. ‘There was an ice-house?’ he demanded.

  ‘Oh yes, sir. A large one. Before Mr Rupert’s loss the Squire was a great entertainer. We had a big ice-house.’