"It was a feeling I knew only too well, but there was something else here too; I had the distinct impression that I too had been recognized, and been given a welcome.
"'The developer chap has had a lot of trouble with the workmen," the sergeant said. I saw that he was hanging back in the doorway, not wishing to take too many steps away from a quick escape should it be warranted. 'There's been three different crews over a six month period that I know of, and all of them have cried off the job for one reason or another.'
"I stood still for several moments, taking my time in gauging the feel of the place. I already knew there was a presence here that merited further investigation, but I would need more time, and information, before I could mount a proper inquiry. I tried to get what morsels I could from the constable.
"'These disturbances you mentioned, are they centered anywhere in particular?'
"'Things tend to happen in the stairwell, sir, or so I've heard; there and in the cellar, basement, whatever you call it. Down there's the room we used to peer into from the window round the side. That is where they say the bogle lives.'
"I wondered, not for the first time, whether the semi-mythical 'they' had any names, or whether it was all merely hearsay. I didn't get a chance to ask as the poor chap had suddenly gone quite pale and looked like he might even pass out on me.
"He only revived when I got him back out into the street, where we had a smoke while contemplating the old castle walls high above us. He still wasn't quite recovered, so we went along the road twenty yards or so to a bar where a pint of strong ale and a meat pie did much to bring him to his former self.
"'I am very sorry, sir,' he said. 'I don't know what came over me. It's that house. It has always made me feel proper queer.'
"I assured him that it was a normal reaction for me to see in my line of work, and we chatted as we finished our beer. I did not learn anything more about the house though, and I was loath to broach the subject unless it brought on another funny turn in the poor officer. I could only ponder as to what manner of thing would have such an effect on what appeared to be a well-balanced and strong minded, individual.
"When we left the bar, the sergeant started walking away, heading for Cowgate to take him back to the town, center. He stopped when he noticed I did not follow.
"'I'm heading back across the road,' I said. 'To see what's what.'
"'Surely you do not intend to spend the night in there alone, Mr. Carnacki? Alone in the dark?'
"I could see that the thought of it discomfited him rather unduly.
"'I do indeed,' I replied. 'Or at least the early part of it, until I discover the cause of your 'bogle'. I have left my box of defenses there for that purpose.'
"I saw the look that passed across his face, fear and duty fighting for supremacy. I had been right in my assessment of the chap, for despite an obvious funk, his duty proved to be the stronger.
"'Then I shall stand with you,' he said, although he did not look to be the slightest bit happy at the prospect.
"I patted him on the shoulder.
"'There's really no need to bother yourself, old man, and besides, I work best when I'm left on my own to potter about. Come and see me in the North British in the morning and I shall tell you the story of what has happened over breakfast.'
"He looked like a man who was not sure that I would be still alive by breakfast, but I could also see his relief that his duty did not call for him to join me. We parted in the road, and I made my way over to the townhouse, arriving on the doorstep as the last rays of the day's sun were being cast over the old castle high above."
*
"I had to work quickly to set up a defensive circle as the light was fading fast and there did not appear to be even so much as a gas fitting in the building, despite it's obvious recent renovations.
"I decided to set up for the duration in the hallway as that way I had a view both of the stairs and of the door that led down to the cellar. I also decided not to deploy the electric pentacle until I had a better idea of what might be going on in the house. If I was being watched, as I suspected to be the case, I did not want to play my best cards too early in the hand.
"Using a plumb and chalk, I quickly set out the inner and outer circles and made my usual lines on the floor inside them, going over the chalk with garlic and salt. I lit the small oil lantern I had in the box and sat on the box itself in the middle of the circles as the light finally left the sky and darkness fell in the hallway.
"I sat, puffing on my pipe and watching the play of smoke and light from where the light from the tall lamppost outside came in through the half-moon window above the door. After a while the street outside grew quieter, the day's trade done, and there was only the occasional clatter of wheels on cobbles to remind me that I was not all alone in existence.
"I cannot really describe the feeling in the old house as both it and I settled down to wait for what the night might bring. The air felt heavy and oppressive, and there was a palpable air of tension, as if something was holding its breath, waiting for me to make a move."
*
"As I have said, I was sitting on my wooden box, facing the door, but as I had earlier, I began to feel a sense that I was being watched. This time it felt as if there was something at my back, at the top of the stairs on the first landing, something that was even now gazing at me down the stairwell.
"The feeling became so intense, so certain that I almost took a bally blue funk and got out of there right then. But as you know, I have stood in the dark in the face of many perils, and those experiences stood me in good stead at that moment. Besides, I would never be able to face the sergeant at breakfast if my tale was only that I had fled with my tail between my legs at the first sign of his 'bogle'. It would only serve to confirm his suspicion and cement the legend that was growing around the house. No. I had been asked to give of my expertise, and I owed the man my best shot at it.
"I steeled myself for what I might see, and turned around and sat facing the stairway. And immediately the sense of being watched grew stronger still. I don't know how I knew, but I was sure there was something there at the top of the flight of stairs, sitting in the dark, hunched on the landing, watching me.
"The darkness up there gathered and swirled, and a smell assaulted my nasal passages. It was thick, cloying, animalistic and strangely, disconcertingly familiar. Something sniffed and snuffled, the darkness moved again, and I caught a glimpse of the watcher, one that made me stand so suddenly I almost knocked the box across the pentacle.
"What I saw was something from one of my own nightmares, a face part man, part porcine. Pink eyes stared at me, unblinking. A stubby snout raised in the air and snuffled loudly. I saw vapor breathe from at the flaring nostrils before, like smoke in wind, the swine thing turned away and vanished into the dark shadows above me."
*
Carnacki's tale was interrupted by an interjection from Arkwright.
"Not those bally swine things again, Carnacki. Please, not them. I had blasted nightmares for weeks after your last encounter."
Carnacki smiled sadly.
"I am afraid so, old friend. And the tales are, unfortunately, intricately linked, so I cannot tell this one without some mention of the other, and the beasts, as you will see, are relevant, as much in this case as they were in the other. But fear not, this is not their tale, at least not entirely so, although they do play their part. They are merely a manifestation and a small part of a bigger picture.
"But let us not get ahead of ourselves. Let me return you to that night, and the defensive circles in the dark townhouse hallway. This tale needs to be told in the proper order for it to be told properly."
*
"As it turned out, I had seen all I was going to be allowed to see for that first night," Carnacki began again. "The feeling of oppressive weight in the hallway lifted, the air suddenly smelled fresher and clearer, and I no longer had the feeling of being watched.
"I had been given a message though, my presence had been noted, and the nature of my adversary had been revealed. It was now up to me to decide what to do with this information.
"I sat there in the dark for a good twenty minutes, waiting to see whether there would be any further manifestations. I saw only dark and shadow, and heard nothing more than the normal settling and creaks one encounters in old properties once the sun has stopped heating them for the day.
"I left my defensive circles and stepped out onto the boards of the hallway. Although I took care to remain within stepping distance of the chalk lines, nothing attempted to attack me. If I had so wished, I believe I could have had the run of the whole bally building right then, but I was in no mood then to undertake an exploration of the rest of the house. That was certainly not anything I wanted to attempt in the dark, even with a lantern at hand.
"I retrieved the lamp from the circles, snuffed it out before putting it back, and headed for the door. I was already looking forward to a spot of late supper and a soft bed in the North British. But the house wasn't quite as done with me as I had imagined."
"As I reached the main doorway and put a hand on the lock, I heard a snuffling again, not from the stairwell, but from behind the door to the cellar, as if it was taunting me to investigate.
"I remembered well my previous encounters with the beasts, and how powerful these swine things could be. To attempt any action without having the electric pentacle deployed would be an act of folly on my part. Besides, I had by this time decided on my course of action for the night.
"I went out into the Grassmarket, closed the door firmly behind me, and hailed a carriage to take me back to my hotel where I did indeed have a most pleasant late supper before retiring to bed."
*
"I slept soundly, rising at seven for my ablutions and a brisk walk in the gardens below Princes Street. On my return to the hotel, I met the sergeant in the downstairs dining room for breakfast and told him what had occurred over an excellent plateful of black pudding, bacon, eggs and toast.
"'You saw the bogle?' he said in hushed tones, as if astonished that I was still alive, and as amazed that I was able to both eat and talk rationally and had not been completely paralyzed with fear.
"'I not only saw it, I recognized it,' I replied, and this time it was the sergeant who was unable to form a coherent sentence.
"And then there was nothing for it but to put him out of his misery and relate for him my previous encounter with the porcine beasts. Over several mugs of strong coffee and a few pipes of tobacco, I told my tale of the Dark Island, and the house that sat on the borderlands of time and space.
"I kept his Lordship's name out of it of course, and did not specifically mention the location, but I gave him the basics. I told the sergeant, as I have told you chaps before, my theory of how the swine things were protectors of the veil between this world and the majesty of the wider wonders beyond. I related how I believed them to be a buttress against the insanity that waited if we were to look at it all at once, and how they are often to be encountered in such places as where the veil is thin between here and the Outer Darkness.
"I could see that the poor chap was struggling to comprehend the enormity of what I was telling him. I stopped before I got to the part about the great black pyramid and the vastness of the dark places in the far future beyond; I have enough trouble comprehending that particular enormity for myself without inflicting it on someone encountering the idea for the first time.
"'It is not a bogle then?' he asked once I was done.
"'Well, there are bogles, and there are bogles. But as I say, I have met its kind before, and lived to tell the tale, so if it is a bogle, it is not one we need too greatly fear.'
"'And can it be got rid off? Can you clean the house of it?'
"That was a question I had hoped he would not ask, for it was one for which I did not, as yet, have an adequate answer.
"I fended the question by telling him my plan of action, and giving him something to do. Remembering how efficacious one had proved to be in the previous case, I sent the sergeant off in search of an iron bar or poker, and after another smoke and a pot of strong tea it was time to return to the townhouse.
"I left the hotel, decided it was too fine a day to waste on a carriage journey, and took a most pleasant walk up through the valley of closes adjoining the High Street, across the castle esplanade, and down the West Bow to the Grassmarket."
*
"I was intending to spend some time in setting up my electric pentacle, and then in investigating the other rooms of the house before nightfall. However, I was delayed in my task even before I could get started, when I met a young, pale looking, chap standing on the doorstep of the house.
"He looked somewhat lost, and slightly embarrassed as I went up the short flight of steps to meet him in the doorway. When he spoke, it was with a French accent, although his English was as good as yours or mine, and better than Arkwright's will ever be. He was clean-shaven and bright eyed, with a mop of that particular kind of dark, lustrous hair that only those born near the Mediterranean seem to be blessed with. His woolen, worsted suit was of the best quality and his boots looked to be of the finest leather, so I immediately took him as coming from money.
"'Excuse me, sir,' he asked. 'I must ask you. Are you the current owner of this property? I understand it is for sale, and I should very much like to purchase it.'
"Of course, I had to explain to him that I was not in a position to help him at that moment. That involved me explaining, in part, the reason for my being there at the door, and I was not quite able to disguise the rather unusual, to the public eye, nature of my business.
"My explanation did not seem to worry him in the slightest. Indeed, I think he had expected something of that nature.
"'But you do know how to contact the owner?' he asked, and went on when I nodded. 'In that case, I have a story, and a proposition, that I would like you to pass on in my behalf, if you will allow me to tell it?'
"And so it was that a mere ten minutes later, and rather earlier in the day than I am used to, I found myself back in the bar I had visited with the sergeant. I sipped at more of the fine strong Edinburgh ale, while hearing another story, this time from my new young French friend."
*
"I shall not tell you his whole story, for it is a long, and unfortunately rather sad one, and one that is most personal to him. Suffice to say he was but recently bereaved from his young wife of a mere two years and the poor chap had been quite lost in grief for the greater part of the time since her passing some four months previous to our meeting on the doorstep.
"That grief had, in turn, led him down dark pathways, and it finally taken him to a house in Paris where he had been promised that he might meet his lady again. As he spoke, I was able to take a guess at where his story was leading.
"I don't have to tell you chaps my opinion of those that prey on the recently bereaved, as you have heard it all before. The parlor spiritualist con artist is one of the biggest barriers to progress in my line of research, for they do much to muddy the waters in the minds of the general public, and serve only to discredit the work of far better, and less corrupt, minds than theirs.
"But our young man; by now I had discovered his name to be Bernard Thibaut, told me, with great sincerity, that his quest had met with some success in Paris, and that his presence here in Edinburgh was the next stage of his journey. He had been told that there was a special place waiting for him, and I shall relate to you, as he told it to me, what he says was told to him in Paris.
"'I believe that the old house is one of a few special houses that are spread all over the world. Most people only know of them from whispered stories over campfires; tall tales told to scare the unwary. But some, especially those of us who suffer, know better. The bereaved and the lost are drawn to these places to ease their pain. There, if you have the will, if you have the fortitude, you
can peer into another life, where loved ones are not gone, where loved ones wait for us, and where we both might live together forever.'
"Poppycock, or so I thought, but the poor chap was completely obsessed with the idea, and now that he was sitting a matter of yards from his goal, he was not to be dissuaded. I made my own thoughts on the matter quite clear to him.
"I scoffed at the very idea of a bally haunted house that was some kind of coaching inn for trysts with the dearly departed. As you know, I do not believe such things are possible, but he was most sincere, and would not be swayed.
"'I saw it for myself in Paris. I can only ask that you believe my sincerity in the matter. Being a rational man, you will want to know how it works, Mr. Carnacki. I cannot tell you that. I was told that no one has ever known, only that the houses are the important part, and that a sigil and a totem are needed as the price of entry.'
"'Sigil?' I asked, and young Bernard rolled up his right sleeve. He had a green stemmed, white flowered, lily tattooed on his inner forearm, a precisely detailed, most delicate thing that trembled as he pulled his sleeve back down to hide it.
"'A marking of the flesh with something that was important to both you and your beloved, that is the nature of the sigil. And my totem comes from my lady herself.' He drew out a small gold locket from where it was on a chain under his shirt and showed me the curled lock of dark hair inside it. 'With the sigil and the totem in my possession, and with me in the special place where the veil is thin, my lady can come, and we can be together again.'
"I believe I might have started at his mention of the veil, so much so that I almost spilled some of my ale. I had been dismissing his story entirely. But his mention of the curtain between worlds, along with my sight of the swine thing the night before, and my knowledge of how the veil could appear to bend time itself, combined to have me thinking that perhaps his tale might not be so outlandish after all.
Carnacki: The Edinburgh Townhouse and Other Stories Page 14
