The Giant Rat of Sumatra

by Richard L. Boyer

  Strathcombe’s history as a shooting lodge is never so vividly pressed into the mind of a visitor as when he ambles about, glass in hand, under the innumerable mounted heads that stare balefully down from the high dark walls of the great hall.

  ‘The vicinity is most famous for boar,’ observed Lord Allistair as he refilled my glass. ‘But there are fine stags hereabouts as well. We used to keep a pack of hounds to hunt them, but not in recent years.’

  My attention was directed to a massive head over the great hall fireplace. It was as large as the head of a colt, and was set off by curving ivory tusks as long as a man’s fingers.

  ‘That boar was brought down three years ago by Count Le Moyne during an official visit to this country. As a goodwill gesture, he left the head for our hall.’

  ‘It’s immense. Surely there are not creatures like this roaming the woods?’ I asked.

  ‘To be sure, Doctor Watson. They may weigh as much as four hundredweight. It’s fortunate that Le Moyne is a crack shot, for it took two rounds at close range with a Holland and Holland double rifle to stop that brute. He wouldn’t be alive today, I can assure you, if he’d missed with either barrel.’

  I gazed in awe at the head, frozen in a horrid snarl. Truly this was a wild stretch of country that lay roundabout us, and the realization made me feel further for the safety of Alice Allistair.

  ‘If I may interrupt, sir,’ said Brundage, ‘Ian Farthway, the gamekeeper, tells me that there is another boar newly arrived in the river bottom. From the prints it leaves, it promises to be even larger than our present specimen.’

  ‘You don’t say so!’ replied Lord Allistair. ‘Then it must be huge. God forbid it has a temper to match its size. Perhaps our friend, Doctor Watson, would like to go after it.’

  ‘No, thank you,’ I protested. ‘Having once been shot myself, I am loath to take up firearms, except in defence.’

  ‘Well then, since I share the doctor’s distaste for blood sports, we shall leave our wild pig to roam and root about the bottomland as he pleases.’

  ‘He shall never be hard to locate, your Lordship,’ continued Brundage, ‘as Farthway claims he leaves a curious print...’

  ‘Eh, curious print? What do you mean, Brundage? Explain yourself.’

  ‘Apparently, sir, this boar leaves a three-toed print instead of a cloven one. It’s some sort of deformity, no doubt.’

  ‘On one foot, or all four?’ I enquired.

  ‘I don’t know, sir.’

  ‘Well, it’s a curious thing. And now, doctor, I believe Meg has announced the evening meal.’

  ‘Tell me about this man Farthway,’ I asked as we made our way upstairs, claret in hand.

  ‘Our gamekeeper – knows the countryside like the palm of his hand.’

  ‘Is he a blond fellow – good horseman?’

  ‘The very same – but have you met him?’

  I then explained my brief glimpse of Farthway, and we entered the dining room.

  Our dinner was pleasant, and only slightly subdued considering the enormous tension that the noble couple was striving to conceal. The partridges were excellent, served with a delectable orange sauce and accompanied by a choice bottle of burgundy. When the meal was over, Lady Allistair excused herself and repaired to her room. From the look on her face when she went upstairs, I foresaw a bout of crying. Saddened as I was by this, as a medical man I was aware of the purgative effect of tears, and felt it would help her sleep. After her departure, His Lordship and I seated ourselves before the dying fire. With his wife out of earshot, Lord Allistair’s conversation assumed a harder tone, a tone that was, I felt, grounded in sober realism. Hearing him speak thus, I was aware of another side of this benovolent human being: one that showed his iron will and keen determination against long odds.

  ‘God knows where they’ve hidden her,’ he said in a low tone, ‘but I think it best not to foray out after them –’

  ‘No, by all means we must wait, if even for a short time...’

  ‘Quite. We should attempt a peaceful, if expensive solution to this. The money is nothing; were it my life savings I of course wouldn’t care. But if my daughter has been in any way harmed –’

  He gripped the arms of his chair until his knuckles grew white.

  ‘Steady, Lord Allistair, I have every confidence that she will be returned unharmed.’

  ‘Ah, were it so! I, however, have no illusions as to her grave danger. The one thing, in fact, that saves me from breaking down utterly is the numbness brought on by a too-lengthy wait.’

  I nodded in sympathy.

  ‘But Doctor, there’s another element working here. I can’t help but feel that in addition to wanting money, the kidnappers seek a personal revenge against me – or my wife.’

  ‘How so?’

  ‘Why was there no word about Alice for over two months? Why, when a short telegram – that could have been sent with discretion and safety – would have done so much to alleviate our suffering?’

  ‘Ah. I see your point. And yet they chose not to send any message whatever until now – and so have kept you in misery these ten weeks.’

  ‘Who could have such a hatred of me? I have enemies as anyone in public life is bound to. Yet I consider them political opponents – not personal ones.’

  ‘And you can think of no one in your past who would deliberately seek to hurt you?’

  He knitted his brows in thought.

  ‘No,’ he said at last.

  And I wasn’t in the least surprised. If I could think of any great man who had risen to power without making enemies, it would be Lord Peter Allistair. As I looked at the man who sat within a few feet of me, I was aware of how old he suddenly appeared. The renewed hope then, the warm optimism of our outward journey was a sham, perhaps a temporary show for my benefit. Clearly, these two people, noble in every sense of the word, were close to being permanently shattered by this experience. As I said goodnight to Lord Allistair, I renewed my resolve to do anything in my power to secure the safe return of Alice Allistair.

  I was enervated by the journey and the nervous strain. But though I longed for bed, I sat down at his Lordship’s study desk and penned the following wire to Holmes:

  HOLMES: REPORTING DAILY AS INSTRUCTED, ARRIVED STRATHCOMBE SAFE. STAFF APPEARS LOYAL BUT SURROUNDINGS FORBIDDING. NO INCIDENT EXCEPT FOLLOWED BY GYPSY. LETTER FOLLOWS – HOPE YOU COME SOONEST. WATSON.

  I sealed this message with instructions to Brundage that it be sent in the early morning to Baker Street. And then, with a weary body and heavy heart, I ascended the carved oak staircase to bed.

  Seven

  SOUNDINGS

  Perhaps it was the sunshine that flooded my bedchamber, or was it the warblers and finches outside the window that so improved my frame of mind next morning?

  Another reason, particularly apparent to me as a physician, is that the human soul is adaptable and resilient; we can go only so long in an anxious, depressed state before a voice from deep within us cries ‘enough!’ and we summon up from the depths of our spirit a strength and optimism we had not realized were there.

  I dressed and joined my hosts for a hearty breakfast of scrambled eggs and fried trout, with plenty of toast and honey.

  Afterwards, at my suggestion, Lord Allistair took me on a tour of the grounds. The morning was lovely, filled with the brisk air of autumn. I donned a shooting jacket and, following Holmes’ strict instructions, carried one of Lord Allistair’s seldom-used shotguns, a magnificent Purdey twelve-bore, at my side. I had made the suggestion of the tour deliberately, of course, because Holmes considered it imperative that I familiarize myself with the grounds and terrain, paying particular attention to any sites of possible concealment, or hidden approaches to the house.

  ‘I’ll show you the kennels first,’ said Lord Allistair, ‘since they’re in the best repair, having been used until quite recently.’

  We strolled over the lawn to a low stone building with a slate roof almost entirely
intact. Looking inside, I could see two low hallways and about a dozen runs. The building was slightly over a hundred yards from the house.

  ‘The stables are still in use, of course,’ Lord Allistair continued. ‘I’ll show you those when we meet Wiscomb.’

  ‘He is your stable-boy?’

  ‘Stable-boy and gardener both. He’s been with us quite some time, even longer than the Brundages – a bit infirm nowadays –’

  ‘Do you consider him reliable?’ I cut in.

  ‘Oh, entirely.’

  ‘I don’t wish to pry,’ I continued, ‘but it would be most helpful if you could briefly relate the histories of your household staff.’

  ‘Ah, I feel the presence of our mutual friend, do I not?’

  I admitted frankly that Holmes had given me certain instructions.

  ‘Then of course I’ll do exactly what you wish. On our way round the place, I’ll tell you everything I can.’

  So as we strolled across the grounds, our shadows playing across great stretches of lawn in the early sunlight, I was given a brief thumbnail sketch of each of the servants.

  The Brundages had been with the family for more than twenty years, and distinguished themselves by superior service and loyalty. Clearly, we could exclude them as far as any sort of foul play was concerned. There were two maids: Julia and Betsy, Julia being Lady Allistair’s private maid and Betsy serving guests and visiting relatives. Neither had served the household for long, but both seemed of good character. Betsy, however, was apparently in the midst of a lover’s quarrel, and appeared upset.

  ‘Is he a local fellow?’ I asked

  ‘Who?’

  ‘Betsy’s beau. Is he from hereabouts?’

  ‘Nobody knows, for we’ve never seen him. She goes off to town to meet him, and she never speaks at all of him, according to Julia. Now here are the mews, Doctor. As you can see, they are fairly tumbledown.’

  The building, almost roofless, contained two rooms (I supposed for different sized birds), but the walls were largely missing. For a place of concealment, the building was useless except at night.

  The lime kiln, located out towards the front stone parapet, was singular. Being twenty feet across, the hollow cylinder rose almost the same distance, and was approached by walking up the earthen wagon ramp that sloped up one side. An iron door was placed at the base, through which the rendered lime was removed. It had not been used for generations. We looked briefly at the trout pond and garden, and returned towards the stables.

  ‘That leaves only Farthway, the gamekeeper,’ continued Lord Allistair. ‘We know less about him than the others since he’s quite new, having been brought into our service less than a year ago. He’s a superb gamekeeper. I sometimes think he’s not entirely happy here though. He’s a fast-paced young man, having served in the Black Watch. I can’t help wondering if he doesn’t get bored in his present job.’

  ‘You say he was in the Black Watch?’

  ‘Yes indeed, and an officer to boot.’

  ‘You don’t say! But doesn’t that still require money?’

  ‘Certainly. I think that’s why he left. Of course it’s pure conjecture on my part. It would never do to ask –’

  ‘No, of course. So his family suffered a decline?’

  ‘So it would seem. I believe the Farthways were once one of the most respected Scottish families. Well – for whatever reason, Farthway quit the service and joined us as gamekeeper.’

  ‘That seems odd, and surely a fall in station, wouldn’t you think?’

  ‘Certainly. But of all the applicants, he was the most insistent, and qualified, as you’ll see. But as for his reasons – well, as I’ve said, we know very little about the man.’

  ‘I should like to make the acquaintance of this Mr Farthway,’ I said.

  ‘No doubt you shall in the near future. And now, here we are. Hello, Wiscomb, I see you’ve saddled our horses.’

  We were met in the stable yard by the elderly and somewhat uncouth Wiscomb. Upon taking note of his trembling extremities, and the colour of his nose, I assumed him to be a part-time drunkard, and thus Lord Allistair’s statement that he was ‘a bit infirm’ made sense. He seemed dutiful and obliging enough as he guided us into our saddles, yet what inner torment racked him so that he sought solace in the bottle?

  ‘Tell her Ladyship we shall return for luncheon,’ was all Lord Allistair said as he adroitly wheeled his horse about and plunged across the sparkling lawn.

  I followed him as best I could, and after a brisk trot, we’d cleared the near fences and started off across the meadow. This portion of the grounds was well-kept grass, but in less than two hundred yards the meadow gave way to a deep and towering forest of ancient oaks and gigantic beeches, the latter towering over a hundred feet. We pursued our way directly into this natural labyrinth, following ancient narrow paths that criss-crossed infinitely into the deep recesses of the wilderness. The old trees formed a canopy above us, and, the ground being free of undergrowth, one could see between the massive trunks for quite a distance in any direction. Lord Allistair informed me that during Strathcombe’s time as a hunting lodge it was the custom for mounted hunting parties to pursue game through the woods at full chase.

  ‘And we’ve never been the only ones to take game from this country, Doctor Watson,’ added Lord Allistair as he cantered by my side in the gloom. ‘I must admit to being somewhat lax about the poaching. You see, these woods have long been the temporary home for woodcutters, poachers, gypsies and, I’m afraid, occasional felons of every description who’ve grown used to taking game from the vicinity. They take it both by gun and snare, and without regard to season.’

  He reined in, and pointed down.

  ‘Evidence of their comings and goings can be seen here, and even more clearly in the dried mud of the river bank...’

  The loam of the forest floor was heavily marked with recent prints, both of horse and man. Lord Allistair, in a discursive mood, continued:

  ‘Strathcombe, as the name implies, is a broad river valley cut through deep forests and steep hills. Although there are remnants of stone walls bordering the park and gardens, there are no formal boundary arrangements; people and animals are free to come and go as they please.’

  Needless to say, this last confession worried me a great deal. As confidant and guardian to this couple, how could I possibly oversee their safety with countless transients and ruffians trespassing their borders?

  ‘As you can see, Doctor, the terrain is decidedly to their advantage. The maps Mr Holmes and I pored over last week are unfortunately correct: there are numerous dips and rises, copses and stone walls within close reach of the house. Even a child, if he wished, could approach the house in secrecy – especially after twilight. Now the reason for this jaunt is for me to show you two places of considerable interest: the Keep and Henry’s Hollow.’

  ‘They are nearby?’

  ‘Oh yes – the Keep is three-quarters of a mile to the east.’ After twenty or so yards, we came to a slight break in the forest. Lord Allistair turned in his saddle and raised his arm. ‘There it is.’ He pointed to a towering crag of rock that rose skyward with steep sides. It did in fact resemble an ancient castle keep, at least in profile.

  ‘From its summit one can get a bird’s eye view of the entire estate and the country around. Years ago it was our custom to post a gamekeeper there to watch the hunt and spot stags. He would then, by means of waving flags mounted on long poles, signal the hunt as to where the game was to be had.’

  ‘How is it approached?’ I asked.

  ‘There is a precarious footpath that winds round it to the top. The summit is bare save for a few clumps of bracken and several wizened pines that sprout from crevices in the rock. Just below the summit is a flat outcropping of rock under which is a small cave, large enough for several men to sleep in, sheltered from the elements. There, can you see it?’

  Up near the craggy peak I could barely see a ledge of rock and a dark d
epression underneath. It must have been hundreds of feet above the woods. Considering the present circumstances, I definitely did not like the look of it.

  ‘And the other place?’

  ‘We are headed for it now.’ Lord Allistair pointed with his riding crop straight ahead. ‘Henry’s Hollow lies less than two miles down this path.’

  ‘What sort of place is it?’ I asked.

  ‘A very interesting one, I can assure you. If the legend is true, it is an historical site. But whether the tale that surrounds the place is truth or fiction, Henry’s Hollow is an eerie place, as I’m sure you’ll agree. It is the one thing about coming to Strathcombe that the new visitor remembers most.’

  We trotted on along the faint path that was marked with tracks of other horses, and deer as well. Twice Lord Allistair paused and pointed to other cloven tracks that were massive, and sunk deep into the hardpacked loam.

  ‘Wild boar,’ said he. ‘But not the monster one that Brundage mentioned.’

  The horses, catching the scent of the wild pig, shied slightly and needed no urging from us to continue our jaunt at a rapid pace. So we rode on through the forest. The horses’ feet rustled the fallen leaves, woodpeckers hammered against the huge trunks, and jays flew shrieking overhead.

  ‘Ah, jays and crows are the watchman of the forest. None can enter without the announcements you hear.’

  I was amazed at the distance the crying of the birds carried, reverberating through the moss-covered trees for hundreds of yards. The gloomy forest seemed to stretch away infinitely.

  ‘Do you see it?’ His Lordship asked a few minutes later.

  ‘I don’t see anything out of the ordinary,’ I confessed, peering into the dimness ahead. Shafts of sunlight pierced the gloom at random intervals, but even with this illumination I could see nothing remarkable.

  ‘Let us draw a few feet closer,’ he said.

  Never shall I forget the eerie spell which came upon me when I finally realized that I had been staring at Henry’s Hollow for the previous ten minutes. Even as I write these words, I can once again feel the tremor of excitement that comes when witnessing something unique and grand.