by David Pirie
THE HOWLING MAN
It turned out that Langton had arranged for us to make an earlyevening visit to Balneil, the forester who claimed to have seen the spectre of the howling man in the woods. He lived close by and within a short time we were sitting comfortably in the man’s parlour.
I suppose I had expected some boastful drunkard or else a rambling nervous type who would jump at the slightest shadow. Balneil was nothing of the kind. He was a burly robust man with a down-to-earth manner and a quiet smile. ‘I know how foolish it sounds, sirs, I am aware of that but I saw what I saw and I know what I saw.’
‘Then will you tell us as simply as you can?’
‘Of course, sir. I had been doing some coppicing on the last day of November quite near to the pool. I used to tend a spot for Lord Coates called Broomgreen Covert which is near Halesworth before I moved here, so I am not one of those who takes much notice of the superstitions, but I love it for all that, and Sir Henry has been kind enough to make use of my skills. That night we talk of there was a moon and I took advantage of it to work on a little. Then I gathered up my things to walk the track back here.’
Bell nodded with great interest. ‘I understand, please proceed.’
‘I know it well,’ continued the man, ‘and there was nothing different about it that night, which was fine. Of course it is a ghostly kind of place if you are that way of thinking, but I don’t see ghosts, I see trees. And I was studying the trees and thinking how it might be good to extend the path a little. And that was when I heard it.’
‘Heard what exactly?’
‘Well, sir, as I’ve said, I never took no notice of such things. But I don’t ever want to hear the noise again. It went through your head, a great wailing, almost like an animal. And it came from off the track.’
‘What did you do?’ said Bell.
‘Well, I stopped at once, and it came again. And I’ll admit I was a little afraid but I reasoned it might be someone who was in trouble, so I turned off the path in that direction. I went a little way and suddenly, about thirty yards away through the trees, I see something pale. I got a bit closer and I lost it and then suddenly that’s when I saw it properly, there in a space between two oaks. Only a pale shape at first but then you could see it was human. Pale skin, and it was crawling. It was horrible, sir, the way it crawled. And then I saw the head, a big head, and, while I watched, it howled. Like a madman it howled. But then it was back in the shadows.’
‘And what did you do?’ Bell asked gently.
‘I stopped where I was. But then I thought I must try and go after it. So I walked a little but saw nothing. And then the sound came again, that awful sound, but far away now. I could hear nothing near me. So I turned and came back as fast as I could.’
Balneil’s face was alive with the memory and it was impossible for me to believe he could be dissembling. How many men, I wondered, who boast of their disbelief in phantoms, would have acted as courageously as he did? Certainly the Doctor was impressed. ‘Thank you,’ he said. ‘That is very clear to me. Tell me, you say the noise was far away when you heard it after you had seen it. How far?’
‘Half a mile, at least. And no living man could have covered the distance in the time, I would swear it.’
‘No,’ said Bell. ‘Well, whatever it was you saw, Mr Balneil, you are very brave. I congratulate you.’
Outside, the wind was getting up and the weather was changing for the worse. As we walked back through the darkness to the inn, I longed to ask the Doctor what he made of this strange story. Could Balneil be guilty, not perhaps of dishonesty but of self-delusion or embellishment? Moonlight can play tricks on the mind and I once knew a woman in Edinburgh whose chain-rattling ghost proved only to be a wind-blown curtain in a room with a noisy water cistern. But Bell was still in no mood for conversation. His replies to my questions were monosyllabic at best so I knew not to persist and not so long after a silent dinner of various cold meats, which compared rather meagrely with our feast of the previous evening, he retired to his room, bidding me an early goodnight.
It was not yet very late and I returned to the sitting room and my book. Once again, I became immersed in the heroic struggle of those men of Dunwich against the sea. I learned of the apocalyptic final storms of 1740, when the water broke all boundaries and began to run rampant through the streets of the town. Outside, as a suitable accompaniment, the weather was becoming fierce. The wind howled in the chimney and rain battered the glass as I read of hundreds drowned on one single night in the great battle to secure the last sea wall. Then suddenly the door opened and the innkeeper, Brooks, stood there, a look of concern on his face.
‘I am sorry to bother you, Dr Doyle, but I am a little worried.’
I got to my feet at once. ‘Is the Doctor all right?’
‘Oh, Dr Bell, why of course. I imagine he is asleep. No, it is Miss Jefford, sir. I knew you took tea with her earlier. And she went off some hours ago to look at her brother’s house. But she had no key so she cannot shelter there. She said she merely wished to walk up to it and back.’
‘Good heavens,’ I said. ‘And she is still out?’
‘Yes, she has not returned. I would go after her myself, but I do not like to leave when there is no other help here. I am trying to arrange the village cab to go up there but they think it is away in Saxmundham.’
I interrupted him at once. ‘No of course, I will try to find her. I know the path.’ And I ran upstairs to get my coat.
Within a few minutes I was in the elements, making my way hastily along the road to where the path forked off through the trees to the pool and Jefford’s house. It was now the foulest of nights and I bent forward against the rain and wind, wishing the landlord had informed me of this development earlier. I had decided not to disturb Bell but, even so, I would have been grateful for some company. Fortunately, there was little real navigation to be done and the landlord had provided me with a lantern but, of course, the journey seemed much longer in such conditions than it had in the daylight. I did not see a soul and, despite my heavy coat, I felt as if I were soaked by the time I reached the turning off the road.
I was deliberately not thinking about all the stories I had heard of this place and the enemies who might lurk here. This was just about feasible on the high road but it was far harder when I turned into those trees. In the road the lamp had given out a solid beam, here its light merely flickered and dispersed amongst a myriad trees, creating ghastly shadows. I had hoped the forest track would afford some protection from the elements, but the wind howled around me with a vengeance and the rain was still intense.
Eventually, after what seemed like hours, I could make out the shape of the Jefford house ahead of me. It was then I heard the sound. At first I thought it was an animal, perhaps a rabbit caught in a trap a little way off. But the cry rose ferociously in volume, a great howl that made my ears ring. There was something utterly uncanny about that noise — a quality neither human nor animal, yet ferocious. Until, quite as suddenly as it had begun, it stopped.
Despite the loudness, I had a distinct impression whatever had made the cry was a little way off. But it seemed I was wrong, for now I could hear it thrashing through the trees to my right. Whatever it was, it moved in a circle and seemed to be breaking branches as it went.
I forced myself to enter the wood in the direction of this sound. A branch snapped and I moved cautiously towards it, hoping I could be as brave as Balneil. But foolishly I failed to see a dead tree stump, my foot caught it and I stumbled, only just keeping hold of my lamp.
There was no time to straighten up. Suddenly the noise changed direction and came straight at me. And then the thing was upon me, its breath rasping out, its body hitting me so hard I was almost winded. But even as I caught hold of it, I knew at once my mistake. For below me was a face, the terrified face of Charlotte Jefford.
THE FIGURE AT THE CROSSROADS
‘Thank God you are here,’ she burst out. ‘Oh, thank God y
ou had the light. For I have seen the howling thing. It was crawling. It crawls through the wood.’
I managed to calm her a little, though I have no idea what words I used. She was exhausted and somewhat cut by branches, but after a time she was able to walk with me to the road. Considering her condition and the weather, I did not think it fair to ask more of her than that and would have sought shelter at the nearest cottage while I arranged for transport. But by great good fortune the village cab had returned and Brooks had sent the driver along the road to look for us. I have never been so glad to see a country cab in my life and together the driver and I managed to get Miss Jefford into it.
The landlord stood in the doorway of the inn, relieved to see us, and within a short time Dr Bulweather had come to offer what help he could. He confirmed my own diagnosis that Miss Jefford was suffering only from shock and exhaustion, besides some minor cuts, and counselled that some restorative and a night’s rest would probably be all that was needed. Naturally, he was curious about the circumstances, but I merely explained to both him and the landlord that she had got lost in the woods and become frightened. I had already told Miss Jefford as we travelled back in the cab that, both for her own sake and in order not to cause undue alarm, it would probably be better for her not to say any more about what she had seen until the morning, a plan she accepted at once. Yet it was during this conversation that, for the first time, some doubt entered into my mind about her story.
Perhaps this was dishonourable, since I had heard the noise too, but, beyond that single howl, I had seen nothing and heard nothing except her. Naturally therefore, following the usual precepts of the Doctor, I was beginning to wonder if it were possible, even remotely, that she could have made that noise. But when we were back at the inn, some of these doubts disappeared. She was certainly far too pale and troubled to be acting.
Soon she was asleep and I went to bed myself after drinking a brandy, courtesy of the grateful Brooks, who could see perfectly well I was exhausted myself. Even so, I awoke early and sent a maid to ascertain that Miss Jefford was all right. She returned to inform me the lady was sleeping peacefully and I went to meet the Doctor for breakfast.
Bell already had a version of the previous night’s events from the landlord and, when I had established that we were not overheard, I told him the true facts. He questioned me in detail of course, most specifically about the exact location where I had encountered her. ‘A pity you did not see more, I wish you had gone out earlier,’ he observed when I was finished.
I felt a little stung and was on the point of saying this was an easy enough remark to make, sitting at a well-stocked breakfast table in a warm inn room. ‘But I am very glad you asked her to keep it to herself,’ he added, perhaps feeling he had been a little harsh. ‘That much was vital if we are to come to any understanding.’ And it was the nearest he came to praise.
Miss Jefford was indeed much better when she awoke but agreed to spend the day quietly in her room, where Bell interviewed her in, I will admit, a highly sensitive and sympathetic manner. It appeared that she had gone up to the house well before the storm started while it was still light. Langton would have gone with her but he had been called away to some dispute between two farm labourers so she walked out on her own.
However, after a delay, she had misjudged the distance, and reached the place far later than intended. Bell asked her with great politeness, which I knew perfectly well concealed a certain impatience, what she had intended to do there, given that she could not even go in.
‘I just wanted to go to his house, Dr Bell. It is foolish, I suppose, but I must hope to find some trace of him.’ She went on to describe how, upon reaching the house, she had sensed that someone was inside. She was sure she could hear sounds but had peered in and seen nothing. Then, with the light fading, she thought she heard movement in the woods at the back of the house. Bravely, she walked a little way in, comforting herself with the thought that, once she had seen what it was, she could make a direct line back to the track and then the road.
The noise, however, receded a little and she followed it. Eventually it stopped and then came another noise, the noise I had heard, only repeated. This frightened her so much she started to run away, but it was dark now and she had no idea where she was going. What was worse, at some point the noise seemed even nearer and then she caught sight of the figure, which sounded very like Balneil’s description. It was crawling and naked, though Miss Jefford described its head as huge and ferocious.
After this, she panicked and ran around in the wood and the darkness with no idea at all of where she was. Soon she was completely lost and despaired of finding safety until finally she stumbled into me.
The Doctor extracted all this carefully and considerately before leaving her with the hope that once she had rested she would be fully recovered from her ordeal. ‘I would ask only one thing of you, Miss Jefford. Please do not venture upon such an expedition on your own again whatever the circumstances, is that understood?’ She agreed but she had one last question.
‘What I saw,’ she said, ‘it is what the forester saw before they found my brother’s blood. And is it not said in the legend of this place that always it signifies a death?’
‘There are many legends here,’ said Bell. ‘Some no doubt true, some invented, some also the product of coincidence and overworked imagination. I would ask you now to think of the present, for that is what must concern us.’ And the interview was closed.
Later that morning we visited Mrs Marner and the door of her elegant home was answered by Ellie, the maid, a small dark woman with pixie-like pointed features who seemed somewhat nervous of us, looking away when Bell tried to engage her in conversation.
Mrs Marner stood in her comfortable drawing room beside a large globe, something Bell commented on as she welcomed us.
‘Oh yes,’ she said, ‘I have some affection for geography. When I was a performer we would play in other countries, most notably on the continent, and I like to look at this and remember the cities and the people.’
We sat down in front of a fire where Ellie brought us tea, but the maid would not look at us, and she was chided gently by Mrs Marner for her rudeness.
‘Ellie, you must not look away. These are friends of mine.’ She bobbed at this and gave a little smile but, even so, she could hardly get out of the room quickly enough.
‘She has been acting strangely lately,’ said Mrs Marner in her soft tentative voice. ‘I do not know why, but I believe the Jefford business has put her out of sorts. Ah, this is Lady, the other member of our family. In fact, she belongs to Ellie.’
A large well-groomed black cat with some small ginger stripes had slunk into the room and came quickly to Mrs Marner, who fondly stroked her arched back. But when her hand went a little higher, Lady flinched and moved away. ‘Like her mistress, she is not quite herself,’ Mrs Marner added.
‘Tell me, Mrs Marner,’ said Bell now that the subject had been introduced, ‘did you ever encounter Oliver Jefford?’
‘I walk a good deal in the afternoon after my practice,’ she said, sipping her tea. ‘On occasions I walk up to the heath and I met him in the road. That is all.’
‘Alone?’ asked Bell quickly.
‘Alone both times, I believe. We merely bid each other good day, I doubt he even knew my name.’
This was disappointing. ‘And you were here at home on the first night of December?’ asked Bell.
‘I was,’ she said, ‘but …’
‘Yes?’ Bell waited.
‘But Ellie was not, she went out.’
‘Do you know where?’ Bell asked.
‘She did not tell me the next day but I would not be surprised if … it were to see Colin Harding.’
‘The groundsman who found the blood?’ Bell’s eyes were on hers.
‘Yes, Sir Walter’s groundsman. I believe they have seen each other from time to time.’
‘You mean they are courting?’
‘
There is not much scope for courting here, Dr Bell, and I do not like to pry into Ellie’s affairs. They are her own and she has served me well. I know she has taken tea with Harding in the servants’ kitchen of Monk’s house. I also know she has been upset by this business. She is very superstitious.’
‘A believer in witchcraft?’ Bell asked.
‘Oh, she has many queer fancies. I had hopes Colin Harding would put them out of her head. He is a practical man and I talk to him occasionally, only now he seems preoccupied. Oh, but Ellie did tell me one thing.’
‘Yes?’ said Bell.
‘I know she passed Dr Bulweather that night. She said he had his scarf on and his hat pulled down as if he did not wish to be recognised. And no dog. But it so happened she saw him first and stood out of his view and watched him and she is sure it was him.’
‘Did she say where this was?’ Bell was not bothering to hide his interest.
‘At the crossroads above the town, but she did not see which way he went, for she did not follow him but hurried home.’
Bell’s next question seemed to me a non sequitur. ‘Tell me, Mrs Marner,’ he said, ‘have you ever had occasion to play or perform locally?’
‘Locally, good heavens no, Dr Bell. I retired completely when I married and there is no theatre of repute for miles.’
‘So where is the nearest theatre?’ said the Doctor, watching her carefully.
‘There is a low music hall at Lowestoft, I believe. But I was not a music-hall artist, Dr Bell.’
‘Of course, I merely wished to be sure.’
After this the conversation returned to other things, and soon Bell pointedly insisted that Mrs Marner would wish to be proceeding to her music room so we were shown out.