At last he took the rope, looped it from between his legs around and up over the opposite shoulder, then back around his neck, such that it formed two loops. His hands were protected by thin leather gloves, and his sturdy black lace-up boots had thick rubber soles. He tugged at the rope, then slowly began to back into the opening, letting it out, so to speak, by putting one hand a few inches below the other.
I felt a certain constriction of dread in my chest. “Sherlock—are you absolutely certain you want to do this?”
“Yes. And you might help by lying there and listening for my voice. I will keep you up to date on my progress, and you can tell Selton when it is time to lower the lantern.” He glanced a last time at the rope. “Notice that I have it supported on dirt at the edge, not rock. It would be hard to wear through a rope of such thickness and quality, but it is safest not to take chances. I am not totally insane, Henry, despite what you may think.” He started again to lower himself.
I got down, then cautiously inched forward on my knees and elbows until my head was thrust over the edge of the pit. I lay flat. “What a stink!” I exclaimed.
Already Holmes had descended to the ledge. “I shall just get rid of these remains for you, Henry. It looks like a dead rabbit.” He kicked with one foot at what was left, knocking it into the pit. The smell immediately abated. Below him I could see the rocky walls and the glow of light from the lantern.
“Lower the lantern,” he said.
Selton let it out until Holmes said, “Stop,” and I repeated his command. Holmes then eased himself down, using his free leg and foot to keep himself off the wall. Thus he proceeded, as we followed a regular routine.
He commented on what he was seeing in between requests to raise or lower the lantern, and the narrow passage seemed to act as a natural amplifier. “Clearly most of this shaft is a tidal area. Sea mosses and vegetation are on the walls… Ah, here is a starfish… Now I have found an outcrop of mussels. A pity there’s no way to bring some back for supper… The sound of the sea is getting louder… The lantern is caught on a rock. Best take it a little to the left. Ah, very good! I can hardly see the opening above me now. I must be getting near the end of the rope. Let the lantern down a little more—stop, stop! I can actually see the water now. It is only a few feet away.”
“Shouldn’t you come up?” I shouted.
“Give me a few minutes more, Henry. Ah yes, incredible—incredible! Pull the lantern up a way. I want it far above me now. I shall tell you when to stop.” Next to me, I could see the cord move as Selton did so. “That’s good. There is light down here, Henry! The cavern must open to the sea, and the light has made it back this far. The water is lapping at bare rock only two or three feet below me. I wonder how deep it actually is. If only I could explore further!”
“Don’t you dare try! Haven’t you found out enough?”
“Yes, I suppose so. It is curiously beautiful down here, all dim, with water splashing about. The cavern opens up to one side, but upon one wall are fixed various sea animals and plants.”
“Let us pull you up. You have been down there a long time.”
“Give me another minute or two. I am not uncomfortable.”
Well, I am, I thought.
“All right, I suppose all good things must come to an end. Lower the lantern again, very slowly so it does not hit me on the way down. I want it below me so I don’t have to worry about striking it on the way up. Good—very good. I am tying it about my waist. Now you and Selton can pull me out. Don’t worry about the lantern. I will be in darkness part of the time, but I shall use my feet to keep myself from striking the side. Hoist away whenever you are ready.”
I crept carefully back from the edge, then rose to my feet. Above, the sky was a clear blue, and yellow light had spilled onto the gray-white limestone outcrops and onto the thick green grass. Beyond the huge stones now was the blue-green expanse of the sea and the azure of the sky.
“Let’s get him up,” I said.
We both had on gloves, and we began to heave away at the rope, soon settling into a regular rhythm. It was easy enough work for two, especially given Selton’s huge muscular arms.
After a few moments, we heard Holmes cry, “That’s enough—I am almost there. I shall pull myself out the last few feet.” We held the rope fast, and he soon appeared at the edge, then used his hands and arms to hoist himself up. One leg came up, then he staggered forward and sprawled onto the ground.
We dropped the rope, and I went to him. He raised one hand and smiled. “I am perfectly well, Henry, only a little dizzy—and rather stiff. I would, however, like to stand again on terra firma.” I extended my hand, and he grasped it, then slowly stood. I felt a brief tremor as he caught his balance. He drew in his breath. “That is better. I enjoyed it, but it is a relief to be above ground. It is also good to see the sun.” He rubbed at the back of his right leg with his hand. “I may have a rope burn here from my abseiling. Nothing serious, however.”
I shook my head. “I am always amazed at the differences between people, how what is torture to one is amusement to another. Was that descent truly necessary?”
“It was, Henry. I have learned a great deal. To begin with, we have ruled out once and for all the possibility that it could be the ‘lair’ of some great prehistoric serpent. It is not a nearly bottomless hole plunging to subterranean depths where some huge beast lurks between those interludes when it rises to terrorize the neighborhood. The waters of the sea cave are down about ninety feet during low tide. I pulled up the rope when I was nearest the bottom, and only about ten feet remained. The cavern opens out on one side to the sea. I could not tell how far back in the other direction it goes. It must twist and turn, as does the shaft itself, varying pressure in such a way that the water rises dramatically during a high tide, within ten feet or so of the top. I’m sure, too, if one took a boat and went around these cliffs at low tide, the cave entrance would be visible.”
I shrugged. “That’s interesting, but hardly earth-shaking.”
“Perhaps not, but I think it may explain a great deal.”
“It does?”
He smiled. “Yes.” He turned to Selton. “Thank you for your assistance, Mr. Selton. You have been a great help. It is too early to reveal much, but I can say that I am making progress in my inquiries—good progress.”
“I am glad to hear it, Mr. Holmes.”
“And tell me—I suspect there is still no news of Evans? He has not reappeared?”
“He has not.”
Holmes shook his head. “Hardly a surprise, unfortunately. I doubt we shall see him again. If we do, one may find the uncertainty preferable.”
“What are you talking about?” I asked.
Holmes smiled grimly. “‘Sufficient unto the day is the evil thereof,’ Henry.” He turned to Selton again. “I don’t know about you two gentlemen, but my exercise has made me ravenous. The good Mrs. Troughton had the cook prepare us a picnic lunch. Here we have an excellent sunny spot with a view. Let us eat!”
We were soon sitting on a flat rock well back from the cliff edge. The sea was relatively calm, no white caps showing on its deep-blue surface, and a faint salty breeze came from that direction. A crow had perched atop the old oak, and it cawed loudly, triggering an answering cry from somewhere in the woods. The setting was so completely different from London with its crowds, noise and squalor, that it might have been another world—or perhaps a prehistoric one, still untouched by man. Of course, realistically, someone had shaped those stones, brought them here and stood them upright, but the rock had long since melded into the natural setting. Certainly one might well imagine primitive creatures lurking in those dense woods.
Holmes quickly devoured two bites of a sandwich, then drew in his breath. “This is delicious—lobster salad, I believe, the crustacean no doubt hauled from the local waters. Is yours the same thing, Henry?”
“It is, and you are right. It is very good, much better than anything I’ve had in Lo
ndon.”
“And you, Mr. Selton?”
“I have ham. Lobster salad would be wasted on me. I must admit—” he smiled, his expression self-mocking “—I’ve always found lobsters frightening-looking. Too much like big insects for my taste.”
Holmes had switched the deerstalker for his favored brown hat, and its brim shaded his eyes from the bright sun. “I suspect you would not care for Lady Verr’s zoo.”
Selton shook his head. “She has asked several times if she could show her collection to me, and I have always declined.”
“And she accepted that?” I asked.
“She did taunt me once. Said something about ‘a big strong man.’” He shrugged. “I’ve had to put up with worse.”
Holmes looked thoughtfully at him. It was hard to imagine that this embodiment of physical perfection, someone so strong and handsome, could have ever been an object of mockery.
Selton stared out at the ocean, then back at Holmes. “At school. I was always miserable, it seemed. That was one reason I looked forward to summers so much. And to seeing Diana.” His entire face seemed to soften, to lose its wary edge, even as his eyes stared into the distance.
“She has had some very hard times,” I said. “I suspect your friendship has meant a great deal.”
“I tried to help her, Dr. Vernier—I tried so hard, but what could I do? What can you say to someone who suddenly loses both her father and mother? I could not mouth empty platitudes I do not believe.” He shook his head angrily. “Oh, I just don’t know—I wish there was some answer to all these mysteries. I came home from school when they died. I didn’t tell my mother and father because they would have never understood, but of course they found out. She was glad to see me, even if I did start her crying again.” He stared out at the ocean. “I know it helped. And last year, when her grandfather died, I came again, and I stayed for two weeks. Again, my father didn’t like that, but he never likes anything I do, anyway.”
I stared at him thoughtfully. At last he frowned. “Why are you looking at me that way?”
“You do love her, don’t you?”
He slowly drew in his breath. “Yes. Of course I do.”
“And she loves you.”
He shook his head sadly. “It doesn’t matter.”
I stared incredulously at him. “Of course it matters. What is wrong?”
He shook his head fiercely this time. “I don’t want to talk about it.” He tore off a huge bite of sandwich and chewed savagely, even as his eyes filled with tears.
Holmes and I exchanged a glance. For once, he appeared as puzzled as me.
Seven
On Sunday morning Holmes, Diana and I went to the service at the Micklethorpe church. Arabella had admitted the night before that she was not much of a churchgoer; moreover, the mere idea of being up and abroad well before noon was abhorrent to her. Holmes drove the battered old dog-cart, a two-wheeled model, while Diana and I sat side by side, our backs to his. The aged cob plodded along the rough, winding path. A fine drizzle and fog like the morning before obscured the landscape.
Mr. Sloap gave a fairly decent sermon, although his speaking style was rather grandiloquent for my taste. Perhaps time in Yorkshire away from Oxford would gradually ameliorate his formality. We sat at the back on stiff, hard pews, and we could see Adam Selton and his family up near the front. Afterward, the vicar greeted us warmly outside the church. He seemed genuinely pleased to see Diana.
She smiled at him, then stepped to the side and turned toward the tombstones. Her eyes grew sad, even though her smile lingered. She wore white leather gloves, and her right hand lay loosely over her left. Her woolen hat was related to a man’s bowler, but was bright blue and had a few feathers, practical enough for Yorkshire. The mists overhead were again dissolving as noon approached, a yellow cast showing on the trees, grass and lichen-splattered stone.
When Selton stepped out of the church, his eyes immediately found her. His huge hands tightened about the brim of his hat held before him, and he started forward. Diana’s whole face took on a radiant glow, her smile much more unrestrained and exuberant than his. She certainly was not one of those women who, either by nature or by intent, could conceal their true feelings. Her face was an open book.
She stepped away from us, and he went over to speak with her. His parents had just come out of the church, and his father briefly rolled his eyes upward when he saw them together. He glanced at Holmes, and his face stiffened. Mrs. Selton looked stern and worn down, but expressionless. No face could be more different from Miss Marsh’s than hers.
Mr. Selton père approached us. “Good day, Mr. Holmes, Dr. Vernier.” He glanced about, making sure his son was not in earshot. “Sir, perhaps I was rather hasty the other day. Surely you can understand why I was dismayed.” He also looked around to make certain his wife was not in hearing range. “It appeared that you had been investigating my most intimate affairs.”
Holmes nodded. “Given the circumstances, your reaction was understandable, sir.”
Selton gave a long sigh. “I don’t suppose there is any possibility of your changing your mind about working for me?”
“No, I fear not.”
“Well, perhaps that is to your credit. We shall be leaving this afternoon. Should you… should you wish to resume your stay at Lesser Hill, you may do so.”
“That is generous of you, Mr. Selton, but I prefer to remain where I am. I think it may help me to resolve the case more quickly.”
“Perhaps. But you should not necessarily believe everything you hear at Diana’s Grove. You said you think someone wants to separate my son and Miss Marsh, but I still think the opposite is more likely. This seems a ploy to bring them together.”
Holmes shook his head. “I don’t think so. Someone wants to frighten off your son.”
“Frighten him? How could these fairy tales about monstrous worms and family curses frighten anyone?”
Holmes shrugged. “He was already wary of the female sex.”
Selton rolled his eyes again and shook his head. “I don’t understand him. I do not. Although I have told him… My estate is entailed, and as eldest son, he cannot be disinherited. However, I have warned him that he would be completely cut off financially should he marry Diana Marsh. He would be penniless until my death.”
I looked at him and shook my head. “Are you blind? Look at them together. And Miss Marsh—he could have no more devoted wife than her. She loves him desperately. And you would cut him off?”
Selton’s face reddened. He looked for an instant like a dog who was about to bite, but his eyes were anguished. “Damn it! I don’t exactly know what I would do. You can hardly expect me to encourage such a match.”
“You must admit he could do far worse.”
He shrugged. “I suppose so. There is no point in discussing this further. It will only create ill will. I must be going.”
“Before you do,” Holmes said, “might I ask about something which does not involve Miss Marsh? Your son obviously has a somewhat melancholy disposition. I suspect that has been the case for many years.”
Selton smiled ironically. “Very good, Mr. Holmes. You are certainly right about that.”
“He seems to have had an especially hard time at school.”
Selton shook his head twice. “Yes, yes, which is inexplicable to me. It is a very good school—I went there myself—and it cost a small fortune. I could understand some difficulties the first year in adapting to being away from home and living with other boys, but it was always the same with him. He was miserable. And how someone his size could allow himself to be bullied or intimidated… Yes, inexplicable, inexplicable.”
The corners of Holmes’s mouth rose. “Human behavior is frequently inexplicable, Mr. Selton. If we always acted in our best interests, life would be much easier. Thank you and good day.”
Selton nodded, then turned. His wife took his arm.
“I don’t understand Adam Selton,” I said. “I wonder w
hat else might be going on, or I wonder if something is wrong with him, physically or mentally.”
“We have two mysteries to solve, Henry, and in the end, the business with the worm is likely to be easier of the two. Mysteries involving the heart, the emotions, can be irresolvable. The truth is difficult to determine for others and even for ourselves. Things are rarely what they seem, and confirmation is often impossible.”
I smiled. “Yes, it can be difficult with affairs of the heart, especially at the beginning, but you exaggerate. People resolve such mysteries all the time, and they are happily married in the end. My own story is proof of that.”
He shrugged. “I think you may be the exception, not the rule. Novels often end triumphantly in marriages, but we never see what follows. In real life, marriage is as likely to lead to a life of misery as to happiness.”
I laughed. “No, I think that is overstating it. Your profession prejudices you.”
“I suppose that is true, but each of us is influenced by his own situation. Unhappy people are the ones who most often come to Baker Street.”
Adam and Diana were still talking. He had clearly relaxed. He was smiling in a way which I could not recall, and she looked as if she were teasing him about something.
Holmes laughed softly. “We must give them a few moments, Henry.”
“Yes,” I said. “It is good to see them happy, without the dark clouds hovering about them.”
Holmes shook his head. “The clouds are still there, even if we cannot see them.”
Luckily the fair weather lasted until we reached Diana’s Grove, but then the heavens opened. The dog-cart had started along the path into the trees when a wind swept through, shaking the leaves and branches, and then the rain poured down. We were close enough that it made little sense to stop to get out umbrellas, but by the time we reached the barn, we were drenched. I did take out an umbrella and sheltered Diana as we strode back to the house.
The White Worm Page 14