The Dark Water

by David Pirie

  ‘If someone murdered him for the money,’ Norman spoke slowly to Bell, ‘surely that person or persons will be somewhere near now. They may be here or outside.’

  ‘Yes, it is possible,’ said Bell quietly. ‘We will all be vigilant.’

  ‘How was it, then,’ said Hare, ‘that his murderers did not seize the money?’

  ‘I am interested you use the plural, Dr Hare?’ said Bell.

  Hare looked irritated. ‘The murderer of Harding would have to be strong if he dragged his body from the spring to the clearing.’

  ‘Yes,’ said Bell, ‘I have reason to believe he is strong.’

  ‘So you say he acted alone?’ said Hare.

  ‘I did not say that,’ said Bell. ‘I merely said he was strong and did not necessarily need assistance.’

  ‘Even so, Jefford must have escaped down there,’ said Bulweather. ‘How did he do it?’

  ‘I wonder,’ said Bell, ‘if you have any ideas on that, Sir Walter? I suspect there is something in this room you found of great interest, for I saw you looking at it when we arrived.’

  Monk, who had been relatively quiet since his outburst about the carriage, looked at Bell. ‘Very well. A landowner knows most of his own geography. The letter on that wall after the words, it is not a letter at all.’

  ‘Yes,’ said Bell. ‘I agree.’ And he took his lantern over to the bloody words, which were still plainly visible on the wall beside the recess, pointing at them with his silver-topped cane. ‘Some of it is, I think, missing, partly so we would not know the full message. And partly to raise fears and feed superstition.’

  ‘So what is the O it if it is not a letter?’ said Hare.

  ‘It is a representation of a landmark,’ said Bell, ‘though I will admit I only recognised it as such the second time I saw it.’

  ‘What landmark?’ asked Bulweather. And then he stopped and stared at it again. ‘Oh,’ he said, ‘I begin to see.’

  ‘I wish someone would enlighten me,’ said Cornelius, who had been quieter than any of them.

  ‘The pool,’ said Monk. ‘I know the shape. See the gully at the top.’

  ‘You are right,’ said Bell. ‘It is the witch’s pool. And the irregularity at the top is where that mysterious digging took place on the south-western corner. This, as you know, was witnessed by Mr Norman’s son, who saw one or possibly even two men there. This writing, gentlemen, was not, as has been asserted, Jefford’s announcement that the witch had returned. It was his successful attempt to stop their torture by pretending to give away the location where the money was concealed. The full text was “witch’s pool here”. And an arrow would have pointed to the marked spot. No doubt his persecutor or persecutors told him they would return and kill him if he misled them. They could be confident he was not strong enough to leave this place. But they had no idea he could crawl beyond their reach.’

  ‘My God,’ said Bulweather.

  And in the silence that followed, as the rain beat upon the window, I am sure all of us imagined the man crawling across the floor of the room, knowing that his place of escape would itself mean death.

  ‘Yes,’ said Bell, at last looking around at the others. ‘The torture must have been vile, if down there could seem a haven from it. I accept Jefford brought much of this upon himself. He had found dangerous company. But his last act was as brave as anything he ever did in his life. It was a miserable death, but at least Jefford had the satisfaction of knowing he had beaten them. They would not steal his money and he would suffer no more torture or indignity. He had protected his estate for his heirs, though I fear poor Charlotte Jefford will not be one of them.’

  There was a sudden noise from the other room. We all froze as a figure towered in the doorway. It was Wallace. Behind him was the second constable. Bell was pleased to see them and Langton thanked them too, whispering a few words as they took up their position beside him.

  ‘Now,’ Bell said, ‘Doyle, myself, Langton and these gentlemen will secure what must be removed from below here. I would ask you, Dr Bulweather, to oblige me by seeing everybody else back to their homes. It has been a long night and Jefford’s remains can be dealt with tomorrow. I am sure this vault will never be a secret again and perhaps it is as well.’

  Bulweather agreed readily enough with this plan, but Sir Walter Monk did not move. For a man who had been complaining so much about being invited to attend, he was showing a remarkable reluctance to leave. ‘I take your point, Dr Bell,’ he protested, ‘but there are surely several remaining questions. I will not trouble you to explain all your discoveries like the code but it would seem a very vicious murderer was responsible for this, aided or unaided. Who and where is he?’

  Bell paused. All looked at him. His face was starting to look tired but it had lost none of its fierce intensity. The constables had taken up a position by the wall with the trap behind them. The other men stood largely by the opposite wall. And now, still holding the light in his hand, Bell walked slowly towards them. ‘I could give you a name but it would mean nothing,’ he said, close by them now, studying their faces, the shadows from the lamp making him look rather like some Satanic general inspecting his troops. ‘And, Sir Walter, if that name or his description did mean something to any of you, then I am convinced you certainly would not tell me. You are perfectly right in your suspicion that there is more work to do.’

  Monk shugged. ‘Very well, but it seems a poor sort of conclusion.’ And he turned for the door.

  At this, the group started to make their way out. But then Bell appeared to recall something. ‘On reflection,’ he called after Bulweather, ‘give everyone some brandy before you go and perhaps I should take one extra man to help. Dr Cornelius, would you be so kind?’

  I could only suppose that, since he needed someone as reliable as Bulweather to escort the men back, Dr Bell had chosen Cornelius as the next best alternative. But it was still an odd choice. The asylum keeper was a bookish, frail sort of man and had looked very anxious more than once in the course of the night. Now he seemed a little startled and not entirely pleased as Bulweather led the others away.

  Bell suggested I show them out so I followed after a little and stood watching in the next room as Bulweather doled out the brandies, which were gratefully received by the men. ‘Tell Dr Bell,’ said Bulweather quietly to me as he downed his own tot, ‘after the refreshment I will make sure each man goes home and nowhere else.’

  I thanked him and watched as he led the group out. Norman went first, flushed with the brandy. ‘It seems poor dear Tommy was a great aid to Dr Bell,’ he said to me. ‘He is a marvellous boy but I hope this is the last of the matter.’ After him came Angus Hare who merely gave me a small sneering smile. And then Sir Walter, who looked a good deal more robust than he had before, as if to prove my conjecture that the discovery of death had given him energy for life. ‘Men are beasts, are they not?’ he said to me. ‘It is something I have long known. I hope some sanity may descend upon our community when you and Bell have left.’ And with that the door closed and they were gone.

  I returned to the room with the trap where the Doctor was informing the police and Cornelius of his plans. His intention on this occasion was that I would descend into that grisly place and retrieve anything of value that could be found. He had already investigated closely enough to be sure there was little more than the box. But even so he asked me to have one more glance at the place’s floor before coming back with the money.

  ‘I do not believe,’ said Bell, ‘this house holds any more secrets, but nobody is yet in custody and I intend to take every precaution. I want absolutely no risk of disruption or interruption while Doyle is down in that room.’

  Therefore Langton and Bell were to wait by the open trap door, the two constables would guard the front door, Cornelius would be stationed in the passage to the adjoining room.

  The others took up their positions and once again Bell released the springs. This time he pushed the trap firmly open and h
eld the light as I climbed in. The stench was so foul I had to take a handkerchief and tie it around my nose and face, though I could see nothing but darkness below as I wriggled through the gap and my feet found the stone.

  Then I grasped the lantern and turned. From above I had not realised the full extent of the place or of its cobwebs. The ugly emaciated body was slumped in the centre of a great sea of them.

  Descending the steps slowly, I tried not to dwell on the gruesome sight or on the dried blood at my feet, but I could hardly help noticing how skeletal Jefford’s body had already become. And I could see, just as Bell said, that part of an ear was missing where someone had cut him. As I looked down, it seemed horrible to reflect that this place had once been designed by a good man as a sanctuary for prayer.

  Finally I reached the bottom, but I was finding it hard to breathe and I was aware of things touching my leg, cobwebs and insects. Even so I had to inspect the floor before I could grasp the box and go. The smell had now become so disgusting I was near to retching but I bit on my handkerchief to keep control and forced myself to examine all that was before me. The bench and table held, so far as I could see, only the slumped figure and the strong box. The stones below me were filthy and infested but there was nothing I could observe of value.

  I straightened up and moved forward to the box, trying to ignore the figure. Yet as I reached out, I found my elbow was touching the corpse’s outstretched hand, now almost bone, and one of its fingers was missing.

  This nearly caused me to drop the light. As it was, I could not bring myself to put it on the table where it would have starkly illuminated Jefford’s head but placed it on the first step of the stairs where its rays were more muted.

  Then I turned my attention to the box. It was, as I have said, already open and contained a great mass of gold sovereigns and notes. There was certainly a small fortune here, quite enough to allow Cream to luxuriate in cruelty and greed for years to come. Jefford had been brave enough to deny him and I rejoiced to think of my enemy’s fury as he found he had been cheated. But Bell was right that our task would not be complete until we had removed the treasure to a bank.

  I closed the box and turned the key in the lock. It was quite heavy to pick up but I thought I could manage to carry it with one hand and keep hold of the light in my other.

  Hoisting the box up, I found I was able to bear its weight. And so I turned back to the steps and the lantern. Facing the stone staircase and looking up, I saw to my surprise the Doctor’s face was no longer peering down at me. There was only the space where the plaster had opened beneath the dado rail.

  In that moment there came a great shout from above. I heard the sudden sound of smashing glass. Almost at once it was followed by Bell crying out.

  I took an urgent step forward, calling his name. But I had forgotten about the lamp. My foot connected with it and it went over so that it was instantly extinguished. The only meagre light left to me now came from the room above but not for long. In that same moment, the trap above me closed and I was alone in utter darkness.

  PART FIVE:

  THE REUNION IN THE TEMPEST

  THE VIGIL

  For a terrifying few seconds as I stood there in the dark with only that horrible smell in my nostrils, I suddenly felt that I was back again in the cottage with Cream.

  Perhaps the thought helped because it made me remember that somehow I had managed when I was drugged and weak. Now I had my faculties at least.

  There was no point in trying to reclaim the lantern. Not only was it extinguished, it was somewhere on that infested floor behind me. At least I was on the first step of the stone staircase and, if I moved slowly up, surely I must come to the trap. Turning back would be the worst option.

  Slowly I felt the next step with my foot and then the next, keeping hold of the box in both hands now. How many steps were there? I thought I had counted nine. I took the third and then the fourth. Gradually I became more acclimatised to the darkness and, though I could see nothing, I started to sense the height of each step.

  Soon I was nearly at the top. Did I dare to put the box down on a step? What if I then moved involuntarily and dislodged it as I had dislodged the lantern, allowing it to fall down the step? The notion of my going back down into the darkness to scrabble on that floor for money and coins was too horrible to contemplate.

  I was well aware I had no idea how Bell had opened the entrance from the inside. But I reasoned it must be quite simple and straightforward. There could be no point in concealment from within the hiding place. I took the last step and felt my head brush against the closed trap.

  Keeping one arm firmly round the box, I groped with the other. The surface was smooth on this side and I could find no handle or aperture of any kind. At the top, I felt something long and spindly and gave it a tug, but nothing happened and I realised this must be one of the rods built on spiral screws and springs that allowed the mechanism to work but it could not be operated from here.

  My arm carrying the box was beginning to hurt badly. I did not know how much longer I could hold the thing but I still hesitated to put it down.

  I tried feeling the bottom of the trap, where it opened under the guise of the skirting, but again it was smooth, as was the step. My hand went back up and suddenly I did find something pliable and small, it was a loop of rope, nailed there presumably for exactly the purpose I needed. This had evidently been preferred to a handle.

  But I needed to be careful, for I did not want the trap to unbalance me as it opened. Consequently I went back two steps. Then I pulled.

  At first nothing. Then, almost magically, the mechanism engaged and it came open an inch. I pulled some more and it tilted up completely, only just missing me, so that I could see into the room.

  It was dark of course for I had taken the better lantern. And there was only one thing in my corridor of vision. It was a prone body.

  I was so startled by the sight I almost dropped the box.

  Fortunately I kept a firm grip. Suddenly legs came into view, a figure crouched down. To my huge relief, it was Bell, though he looked concerned.

  ‘Doyle? You have the box? Then come out at once. It is a risk we must take.’

  I needed no further encouragement and soon had the box down on the floor by the skirting board and was clambering out beside it as Langton came through from the corridor.

  ‘I can see nobody outside,’ he told Bell. ‘But the branch has made a fine mess of the window. You think it was an accident, Bell?’ The prone figure, I now realised, was Cornelius, who was conscious but pale.

  ‘I am a little sceptical,’ said Bell as he turned to help me. ‘A branch came down, Doyle, and shattered the window of the room beyond the corridor. Cornelius also claims he saw a figure. He fainted and, though he is otherwise unharmed, I told him to lie down for a few minutes. Meanwhile I closed the trap as a precaution.’

  ‘So you think it was him?’ Is he out there?’ I said, looking around.

  ‘Perhaps,’ said Bell. ‘Of course it may be nothing more than the storm, and the trees casting shadows.’

  The idea of Cream lurking in the trees, no doubt observing us, was not a pleasant one. Bell now went back to assist Cornelius and within a few minutes was able to help him to his feet. Cornelius was soon talking again, apologising for his fright. But he was sure he had seen a figure, a face peering out of the darkness.

  Bell discussed this with Langton now and a plan of action was formed. Two police cabs had been procured. Wallace, Bell and I would travel with the money in the first. Langton, Cornelius and the other constable would take the other.

  The rain was still torrential and the prospect of a walk through the woodland path, possibly shadowed by our enemy, was daunting, but I was heartened to turn my back on The Glebe. And as we closed the door, despite our discovery of Jefford’s final act of bravery, I heartily hoped I would never set my eyes on the place again.

  We must have looked a bizarre party as we struggled th
rough the wind and rain to the road. Bell and I took the lead, then Langton, Cornelius and the two constables. The wind was howling all around us in erratic gusts, forcing us to lean into it as it came against us and other times to resist its great push from behind. The rain whipped in our faces, also dripping in streams from the trees above.

  Of course, I kept imagining what would happen if Cream and perhaps others came at us murderously from out of the wood. But we were five and all his instincts must surely be against that kind of martial conflict. He always made his way on his own terms and would be more likely to create some kind of extraordinary diversion, though there was never a way of knowing what it would be. Certainly, I reflected, if we were to come across a body in that wood or an injured labourer or hear cries for help I would have urged the others not to alter pace or direction by even a hair’s breadth. And I suspect Bell would have done the same. As it was, the Doctor strode before me, holding on to that box with a grim determination, intent only on cheating Cream of his prize. Twice, great flashes of lightning illuminated his hawk-like profile and I feared branches would come down on us, with or without human aid, but he never flinched.

  At last we were by the cabs and climbed into them. Wallace, the taciturn constable, sat upright opposite us, and for the first time it occurred to me to wonder if we had trusted him too much. But then, as our cab emerged from the trees at last and turned into the road leading to the village and then to Southwold, I reflected this was the true curse Cream had brought on this place, the curse of suspicion and distrust. It had led me to suppose that almost anyone could be Cream’s accomplice and now I was suspecting the village constable. Such evil fantasy could only be vanquished when Cream himself was away from here, preferably in the condemned cell that we hoped awaited him.