by Basil Copper
He probed carefully at the surface of the marsh. Viscous mud parted, revealing the oily sheen of water in the last of the light. He cast the reed down and joined me on the bank. He pulled at the lobe of his left ear and looked thoughtfully across to where the final shafts of the dying day stained the depths of the marsh.
"A bad place, Parker," he said softly. "No wonder old Grimstone was frightened."_
"It is unpleasant indeed, Pons," I asserted. "Did you discover anything?"
"Nothing of any great significance. Though the terrain here has strengthened the tentative theories I have formed."
And he led the way across a heavy-timbered bridge that spanned a section of ice-bound water. Once on the dyke the dark seemed to encroach and the light was fast disappearing from the sky, the afterglow remaining. Even the birds were silent now and the only sounds were the faint trembling of the wind, our footsteps on the hard-packed mud of the causeway, and the pumping of my own heart.
We followed the heavy wooden handrail that bounded the causeway on either side, while now and again Pons flashed his torch to make sure of our bearings.
"What about this man Tobias Jessel, Pons?" I said as we neared the massive gates of Grimstone Manor. A thin curl of smoke rose from a single chimney in the multitude that jutted from the jumbled roofs of the ancient building.
"Ah, you have realized the significance of that factor, Parker?" said Pons with a thin smile. "I am glad to see that my training has not been wasted. Silence, if you please."
He switched off his torch and grasped me by the arm. We halted in the shadow of some bushes and a few moments later I caught what his keen ears had already picked out; the thin, furtive shuffle of some moving figure ahead.
Pons worked his way forward quietly and I followed, placing my feet with some difficulty as there was so much heavy shrubbery about the manor that it was almost -totally dark now. There was a muffled exclamation and Pons' light flashed on the terrified face of old Silas Grimstone. He wore a heavy padded dressing gown over his indoor clothes and a sort of velvet skullcap.
"Who's there?" he shouted in a quavering voice, screwing up his eyes against the light.
"Solar Pons and Dr. Parker," said my companion, stepping forward.
"Mr. Pons!" the old man stammered, relief in his voice. "I heard a noise and came to investigate."
"Very unwise, Mr. Grimstone," said Pons. "My advice is to stay indoors. If this apparition means you harm, you are playing into its hands by wandering around alone at night like this."
"You are right, Mr. Pons," said Grimstone, putting a shriveled claw on Solar Pons' arm and leading us forward through a large cobbled courtyard surrounded by substantial stone outbuildings. The manor itself looked to be of Tudor construction with plenty of exposed beams, but even in the dim light coming from the windows I could see that it was in deplorable condition.
There was a huge porch of oak beams, sagging and moss-hung, and our client led the way into the house without further ceremony. We found ourselves in a large, musty-smelling hall lit by only one oil lantern hanging from a beam. The floor was composed of rose-colored tiles. I had been prepared for a squalid and uncared-for interior but was surprised to see that things were fairly clean and tolerably tidy.
Silas Grimstone looked at me with a furtive smile, as though he read my thoughts.
"We keep most of the house locked up," he said, slamming the great door behind us and ramming home the bolt as if to emphasize his words. "My niece, whom you will meet in a moment, spends far too much time and money in maintaining the five rooms remaining open."
He turned his back and led the way forward into a large, paneled chamber. Pons smiled faintly at me as we followed.
The drawing room, or whatever Grimstone called it, had a great stone fireplace in which a tolerable fire burned. A few dim oils, portraits mostly, stared somberly at us from the wainscot and the heavy oak furniture made the apartment look more like the taproom of an inn.
Grimstone waved us into two uncomfortable wooden chairs by the fireside and went to sit in a padded armchair opposite.
"This is the room in which you had such an unpleasant experience, Mr. Grimstone?"
"Yes, Mr. Pons."
Pons went forward and drew aside the faded red curtains from the window at Grimstone's back. He looked out into the darkness, his eyes brooding as though he could see across the bleak miles of marsh to the heart of the secret it contained. He examined the window and its frame carefully and then closed the curtains once more.
As he turned away there came the sound of footsteps from the hall outside and Grimstone's niece, Miss Sylvia Grimstone, entered. She was a tall woman of about fifty years of age but, contrary to what I expected, not at all grim and forbidding. In fact she was quite smartly dressed and she bore a tray on which were silver tea-things and plates of buttered scones.
I managed to conceal my consternation when the old man remarked, "You'll take tea with us, of course, Mr. Pons. Allow me to present my niece. Mr. Solar Pons, Dr. Lyndon Parker."
"I am delighted to meet you, gentlemen."
Miss Sylvia Grimstone had a square, strong face and her features were quite pleasant when she smiled, which she did briefly at the introductions.
Silas Grimstone smirked maliciously as I watched the preparations
for tea and rubbed his blue-veined hands together.
"I do not stint myself in the matter of bodily comforts, doctor. That would be foolish at my age, living here on the marsh as we do."
"Very wise," observed Solar Pons, taking a steaming cup Miss Grimstone handed him. "And most welcome in this weather."
His piercing eyes fixed Miss Grimstone thoughtfully as she set down teacups and a plate of buttered scones before her uncle.
"Tell me, Miss Grimstone. What do you make of this apparition which so startled you and Mr. Grimstone here?"
The woman turned a worried face toward us and then she looked rather defiantly, it seemed to me, toward the old man.
"It was more than startling, Mr. Pons. It was terrifying. I have never been so frightened in my life."
"That is understandable," said Pons gently. "But I asked for your impressions."
There was a faint hesitation as the niece put down the silver teapot and seated herself in a carved wooden chair at the apex of a triangle formed by ourselves, Grimstone and herself.
"It was a human figure, in slightly old-fashioned clothing, Mr. Pons. It burned with a blue fire and appeared and disappeared with incredible rapidity."
"Was it a human figure or did it appear to you a supernatural phenomenon?"
Miss Grimstone shook her head.
"I do not know what to think."
"That is honest at any rate."
Pons turned back to Grimstone.
"I shall be in touch with you daily, Mr. Grimstone. In the meantime do not stir outside at night. Bolt and bar your doors. You may reach me at the inn by telephone if you wish to communicate with me urgently."
"Very well, Mr. Pons. What will you be doing?"
"I shall not be idle, Mr. Grimstone. I propose to take a walk round the marshes in the morning and may drop by here. Incidentally, I met your family physician, Dr. Strangeways earlier today. In fact he gave us a lift to Stavely."
Silas Grimstone smiled sourly.
"He is my physician no longer, Mr. Pons. I found his services far from satisfactory."
Once again a somewhat disapproving look passed from niece to uncle.
"Nevertheless, Mr. Grimstone, it seems likely that he will be an invaluable witness to what goes on in the marshes. He tells me for instance that one of his patients has seen this fiery figure of yours."
Our client's features drained to a haggard yellow and then to white.
"Ah, then it is true," he muttered to himself.
"Is what true?" asked Pons sharply.
"This crawling horror, Mr. Pons," the old man croaked. "Perhaps even your powers may prove unequal to it."
So
lar Pons smiled grimly.
"I do not know about that, Mr. Grimstone. But in any event Dr. Parker's pistol and a cartridge or two will test the veracity of your theory. And now, if you will excuse us, we have much to do. Come, Parker."
And with thanks for our refreshment, we departed, leaving the odd couple gazing into the fire as if they both saw spectral images dancing in the smoldering embers.
6
It was a bitterly cold night and we were glad to regain The Harrow where cheerful fires blazed. Pons excused himself and I went to my room soon after, and I did not again see him until I descended to dinner at about 7:30 P.M. This was served in a comfortable dining room with oak paneling and brass chandeliers with imitation candles adapted for electric light.
Normally I do not like this sort of thing but the effect that night, with a cheerful fire blazing in the great stone fireplace, and the surprisingly excellent dinner of roast beef served, almost put our mission .on the marshes quite out of mind. Pons was at his best, drily analyzing the vagaries and physical aspects of the elderly waiters until I felt I could see their entire life histories conjured, as it were, from the air before us.
There were only a few people dining this evening and our waiter pointed out two fellow residents: an elderly gentleman in clerical garb dining alone in a comfortable nook near the fireplace and a fresh-faced, broad-shouldered young man sitting by himself two tables away. He caught our eye and nodded in a most friendly manner.
Our waiter, in response to a query from Pons observed, "That is Mr. Norman Knight. A colonial gentleman, I believe. He has been here some time and goes daily to business in Gravesend."
"Indeed," said Pons.
He looked with twinkling eyes after the old fellow, who was wheeling a dessert cart away down the room as though he would collapse and fall to the floor once its support were removed.
"Such old-fashioned employees are invaluable, Parker, for providing one with background information about people and places. Unfortunately they are a dying breed."
He looked round the dining room with sharp-eyed interest.
"I will wager that before the evening is over we will know a good deal more about Stavely and its surroundings than we did on arrival."
"No doubt, Pons," I remarked. "What are your plans?"
"The four-ale bar, Parker. A great leveling place where tongues loosened by wine—or in this instance beer—are inclined to wag a little too freely. Often great matters hinge on such small things. I remember that an indiscreet remark passed in the back parlor of a small public house near Tite Street enabled me to unravel the Great Cosmopolitan Scandal."
"I do not think I have heard of that case, Pons."
Solar Pons shook his head with a low laugh.
"There is no time this evening, Parker. It will have to await a slack period in my affairs before taking its place in your ubiquitous notebooks. Tonight we are on the track of the crawling horror of Grimstone Marsh."
Despite Pons' light tone and jesting face his last words sent a faint tingle of apprehension down my spine. I followed his glance over to that glassed-in partitions separating the bars from the dining room and saw that they appeared to be full.
"There seem to be a remarkable number of people, Pons."
"Does -there not, Parker. It is often so in remote places. Folk come from far and wide to congregate together in the dark months of winter. I fancy our man may be among them."
"You mean Tobias Jessel?"
Solar Pons looked at me with approving eyes.
"Admirable, Parker! You are improving considerably. Dr. Strangeways' patient is the only other person, apart from Grimstone and his niece, who has seen this apparition.
"It may be that he can throw fresh light, in a quite literal sense, on the matter."
Solar Pons scribbled his signature on the pad the old waiter held out for him and after I had left something on the table for this loyal servitor, Pons and I took our coffee and liqueurs in the adjoining smoking room which was adjacent to the bar and commanded a good view of the humanity milling about in the dense atmosphere within.
After a few minutes Pons excused himself and when I rejoined him a short while afterward, he was deep in conversation in the saloon bar with a bright-eyed old man whose red nose and broken-veined eyes bespoke long indulgence in liquor.
"Ah, there you are, Parker," said Solar Pons, turning as I came up through the bar, the confines of which were almost hidden through the haze of tobacco smoke.
"I have taken the liberty of ordering for you."
He pushed the schooner of sherry toward me and raised his own glass in salutation.
"This is Mr. Tobias Jessel, who has an interesting story to tell. Pray fill up your glass again, Jessel."
"Thank you, sir," said the old man eagerly.
He had a fringe of white beard and his peaked cap and thick blue clothing gave him the look of a seaman, though I understood from Pons that the man had never been farther than the marshes in his life. No doubt that was the impression he wished to give to visitors. When his drink had been brought in a pewter tankard bearing his own initials, he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and smacked his lips appreciatively.
"Well, sir, people hereabouts are inclined to laugh at my stories, but they won't be inclined to do so much longer."
Solar Pons looked at him sharply.
"What makes you say that?"
The old man shook his head.
"There are strange things on the marshes, sir. Especially on these bleak winter nights. Spirits of those dead and gone." Solar Pons studied our informant silently for a moment over the rim of his glass. The noise in the bar was deafening—everyone appeared to be conversing at the top of their voices. It looked as though the whole population of the marshes had gathered here this evening.
"I am more interested in recent doings than in the ghosts of the past, Jessel. Unless they have a bearing on the present."
The old man rested his tankard on the polished mahogany top of the counter and looked reflectively at the harried barkeep. Jessel put a withered hand up to the side of his nose.
"Who's to tell, sir, whether the past does not have a bearing on the present? There are some—and they include me—who believe that they do; that our deeds on this earth, from cradle to grave, cast their shadow before."
Solar Pons' eyes twinkled and he cast a penetrating glance from Tobias Jessel to me.
"You are quite a philosopher, Jessel. Dr. Strangeways tells me you saw a weird apparition on the marsh recently."
"That I did, sir."
The old man lowered his voice to a hushed and confidential tone, though no one could have overheard us in our snug corner of the bar with all the hubbub going on.
"It was late at night. I had just left here and was walking back along the marsh road. My cottage is about two miles distant. It was a fine, moon light night, but with a frost and a slight ground-mist coming up over the marshes. I had got almost opposite the causeway of Grimstone Manor when I heard a slight sound."
"What sort of sound?"
"Like a rustling in the reeds, sir."
"I see. Go on."
"Well, sir, I naturally turned. I'd had a bit to drink but I was soon sober, I can tell you. There was a ghastly blue figure, all wreathed in fire coming up at the edge of the marsh."
The old man's eyes were filled with fear and he again lowered his voice until I had difficulty hearing.
"Like one of those pictures of fiends burning in hell, it was."
"Extremely apt, Jesse," said Pons drily. "What was it doing?"
"It was my opinion it was making toward Grimstone Manor, sir. I naturally cried out, I was so startled with the sight. At almost the same moment the figure vanished."
"Vanished?"
"Vanished, sir. Just as though someone had pulled down a blind."
"Interesting, Parker."
"Indeed, Pons. An almost exactly parallel experience to that of Mr. Grimstone."
"I am gl
ad you have seen the connection. Did you go toward the spot where you had seen the figure?"
A look of contempt passed across our informant's face.
"What do you take me for, sir? A fool?" he exclaimed indignantly. "I wouldn't have gone across that causeway for a thousand pounds, I can tell you. I took to my heels and didn't feel myself safe and secure until I was inside my cottage and had the door barred."
Solar Pons nodded and tamped fresh tobacco into his pipe. When it was drawing to his satisfaction he leaned forward and ordered a refill of Jessel's tankard. His penetrating eyes seemed to bore right into the old man.
"Now just pay attention, Jessel, as this is extremely important. When first you saw the figure was it down below the level of the road or up the embankment?"
A startled expression passed across the old man's features. "Down below the steep bank, sir. I am sure of it."
Solar Pons nodded, his eyes glinting.
"And was there a wind that evening? Think carefully."
The old man scratched his head and picked up his tankard with his unoccupied hand.
"Why, a bit of a wind had sprung up, sir. It was gusting and I noticed it was blowing the mist about at the edge of the marsh."
"Thank you, Jessel. You have been extremely helpful. Here is a guinea for your trouble."
Waving away the old man's thanks Solar Pons turned to me. His expression changed.
"Not a word of what we have just been discussing, Parker. Ah, Dr. Strangeways. It is good to see you. Will you not join us? The sherry is excellent."
"Thank you, Mr. Pons. I would prefer a whiskey if it is all the same to you."
"By all means. Allow me to refill your own glass, Parker."
The doctor's bearded face looked chapped and red with cold. He clapped his hands together as he gazed round the crowded bar.
"How is my patient, Dr. Parker?"
I smiled.