The Hollows: A Midnight Gunn Novel

by C. L. Monaghan

  “Which ward Miss Carstairs? What branch of medicine did he practice?”

  “At first it was general surgery Sir, but then Doctor Giling became interested in maladies of the mind.”

  “Psychiatry?”

  “Yes Sir.”

  “Interesting. Has he ever work at the city asylums?”

  “I’m sorry, I don’t know.”

  “Are you still in touch with Doctor Giling?”

  “I was. Not any more though. I used to volunteer down at the mission house in Southwark. Doctor Giling volunteered there too. Well he’s not really a doctor now but he offered his services free to the mission you see. It wasn’t like they could afford to pay a proper doctor.”

  “And you told him about your appointment here, at this house?”

  Miss Carstairs blanched, the notion had struck her that something was amiss and it may involve her and Doctor Giling.

  “Ye... yes Sir,” she stammered, now unsure of what the implications of her answers might be, “I told him I wasn’t able to help out at the mission anymore, and I thought he’d be angry on account of the other girl leaving so suddenly.”

  “There was another?”

  She nodded, reluctant now to offload what she knew. The atmosphere in the room had begun to change, the air felt stifling, the light a little dimmer. She fiddled nervously with her purse strings

  “Miss Carstairs, I insist you tell me.”

  “She was a well-to-do lady, Doctor Giling brought her along to help her, give her a sense of purpose he said but she didn’t stay long. She stopped coming after a while, never saw her again.”

  “Emeline Rowbotham!” Midnight and Giles said at the same time.

  “You know her? What happened to her, where did she go?”

  “I’m sorry to say she died Madame.” Midnight spared her the truth; it served no purpose to frighten the woman. Then again, he did not want her going back to the mission and meeting Hemlock. “Miss Carstairs, I told you that two of the patients here had passed away, however, I have a housekeeper who suffered a very great fright and a nasty bump on the head yesterday. I’d feel so much better if you were able to stay here for a few days at least and keep an eye on her? There is a missing child too, Polly, that I hope to recover very soon. She may also need a nurse upon her return. Would this arrangement be agreeable to you?”

  “I confess it would Sir. I had given notice at my quarters at the school, they had agreed to let me finish my training in house here but they might allow me my old room back.”

  “I am sorry. Please do stay here as long as we need you? If the time comes where...” where what? You don’t get Polly back? He shook his head. No, he could not allow himself such thoughts. “Please stay?” He said simply. To his relief, she agreed. “Giles will show you to your room and introduce you to our housekeeper, Mrs. Philips.”

  Giles raised an eyebrow. Midnight could tell by his expression that he wasn’t sure what kind of reception Nurse Carstairs would get from Clementine Philips, especially if she ordered her back to bed.

  “Much obliged Sir”

  “This way Madame.” Giles took nurse Carstairs bags and led her out of the room while Midnight jotted down a note for Constable Rowe. Giles would task a runner with delivering the note and he hoped it wouldn’t take too long for Rowe to arrive. He needed more information about this Doctor Giling before he could start looking for Polly and Gredge.

  As late afternoon turned to early evening, Midnight grew more and more agitated. When the great hall clock struck six Rowe finally arrived, flustered and apologetic.

  “I am sorry for not returning sooner Mr. Gunn. It’s been a nightmare down at the station. The Commissioner’s in uproar about the murder of your two house guests and the discovery of Mary’s body. We’ve all had a right old dressing down about our inability to capture this bastard. The paperwork has been unbelievable.”

  “Did you discover anything?” Midnight’s tone was clipped, he struggled to reign in his impatience even though he felt a pang of guilt for Rowe. He was connected with all three of those deaths in one way or another and he felt guilty for any recriminations that may fall upon Rowe. Locating Polly and Gredge were paramount and he had no time to waste on small talk.

  “I have your list right here.” Rowe presented him with a single sheet of paper, containing only three names and a brief explanation of the terms of their termination of employment. Midnight saw Gilling’s name at the top.

  “Doctor Ethan Giling, this is him.”

  “How do you know?” asked Rowe.

  “Long story. I discovered his surname but now we have his Christian name, residential address and field of work. Excellent!”

  “Mmm, the street address didn’t pan out I’m afraid. It’s an old boarding house, closed six months ago and he left no forwarding address. What about the poem?”

  “Damn! That is a shame. I’ll get to the poem in a minute... See here,” Midnight jotted down the letters of Ethan Giling’s name and began to rearrange them, he turned the paper around so Rowe could see, “Nightingale! It’s an anagram.”

  “Like that poem you have?”

  “Like the poem, and many other things. Let me show you what I discovered.”

  Midnight showed Rowe how he had interpreted Keats’ poem and how everything pointed to the notorious Spring-Heeled Jack as a seeker of immortality and harvester of souls. And how nurse Carstairs had helped connect him to St Thomas’ hospital and a mission in Southwark.

  “Spring-Heeled Jack, Hemlock Nightingale and Ethan Giling? Blimey how many names does one man need? So, you reckon he met Miss Rowbotham at the Rainbow club, talked her into volunteering at the mission and then killed her?”

  “It makes sense to me. I think up until then he had been content merely harvesting souls and leaving them hollow but alive. I believe Miss Rowbotham’s death was accidental, perhaps he squeezed a little too hard for too long. But now he’s killed Mary, Sally and Billy I think he has a taste for it. Was he attempting to cover his tracks with their murders? Or perhaps Sally and Billy were meant as provocation? Who knows. One thing I can’t work out is if Ethan Giling is human, how has he been sucking the souls out of people and what is he doing with the souls once he’s harvested them?”

  “I might have an idea,” said Rowe. “The commissioner had us go back to the Old Vic and search it since the given street address for Doctor Giling isn’t viable. We found some very strange contraptions locked in those dressing rooms; things I can’t explain. Perhaps you’d like to come and have a look?”

  “I’s a starting point, it may give us some idea of where he is now and what he intends to do? I have a feeling Giling lost his profession because he was dabbling in something unorthodox, those contraptions you speak of may give us some clue. I have heard of mesmerists using strange machines and gadgetry in their shows to prove the existence of an afterlife. I suspect Giling was involved in something like that and has perhaps found a way to prove it!”

  “Blimey! That would be a turn up. Are you bringing the butler again?” Rowe asked. His dry tone lost on Midnight who was used to the company and assistance of Giles when required.

  “No, I’ll need him to remain and watch over my housekeeper and the nurse, I’ll not leave poor Mrs. Philips alone again.”

  “Very well, we’ll leave now then. Where to first? Theatre or the mission? Only I’ve no lads with me, so it’ll just be us.”

  Midnight caught the deliberate inflection in Rowe’s voice this time.

  “Is that a problem?”

  “No, it’s just... you know,” Rowe shrugged. “I’ve got eyes. I’ve seen things around you, I know you ain’t, you know... like me.”

  “How observant Constable Rowe,” came a steely reply. “I ask again, is that a problem?”

  “Bugger, No! That’s what I’m saying. Finding the Inspector and the girl is more important than anything. So, if it’s just us, you can do whatever you must this evening and I’m none the wiser, if you catch my d
rift.”

  The sound of lapping water roused her. It wasn’t a gentle noise but harsh and urgent and every now and then the lapping was interrupted by a laborious sucking sound. The second thing she noticed was how cold she felt. The icy October wind battered her body and caused her hair to flail madly. It was dark aside from a few twinkling lights in the distance. She tried to move but ropes bit into her flesh. She threw her head back to scream and her skull connected with hard stone. Panic filled her.

  Where am I?

  “Mista’ Midnight! Help me!” Polly struggled against her bonds, her hair assaulted her frozen face, she couldn’t see, she couldn’t feel her feet... where were her feet? “Please? Someone?”

  “Who’s there?”

  A man’s voice came from out of the dark, carried on the howling wind, she barely heard it.

  “Mista’ Midnight? It’s me, Polly!”

  An eerie disembodied groan followed causing her heart to quicken. She tried to peer into the darkness to ascertain where the voice was coming from but a heavy fog had settled around her.

  “Polly? The girl staying with Mr. Gunn?”

  “Ye... yes,” she stammered, “Who’s that? Can you help me?”

  “Polly, my name is Inspector Gredge. I’m a friend of Mr. Gunn. Are you alright? Where are you? I can’t see you.”

  “Can you get me out please ‘Spector? I’m really cold.”

  “I’m afraid I can’t, I’m tied to something but I’m here with you. Don’t be afraid. Help will be along soon.”

  “I’ve lost me feet! I can’t feel ‘em. I think I’m dying ‘Spector.”

  “It’s the cold child, you’ll be alright do you hear? Just keep talking to me.”

  “I want to go ‘ome.” Polly sobbed. The chill in her bones had soaked through to her core and she began to feel drowsy. Despite the battering wind she felt her eyes grow heavy and her head lolled forward onto her chest. After a few moments, she came to.

  “Polly! Polly! Do you hear me? Come on child, listen to my voice and stay awake!” There was no sound other than the unrelenting gurgle of the water and Gredge’s chattering teeth. “Polly!”

  “Yes ‘Spector?”

  “Mr. Gunn was he at home, is he alright?” Gredge had not seen Midnight since that night at the Rainbow. He had no idea if his friend was even alive.

  “Well, he was but then he left with Mista’ Morgan.”

  Thank God.

  “He’ll be here soon,” he lied. “Why don’t you tell me how you like Meriton House? How is your Mr. Midnight?” Wracking sobs came back to him, “What is it Polly, do you not like it at there?”

  “I like it true ‘nuff ‘Spector, it’s just that he found me. And Mista’ Midnight promised he wouldn’t and then he... he killed them others and I thought he was gonna kill me too! And now we’re both stuck ‘ere! Are we gonna die ‘Spector?”

  “No, Polly, I won’t let that happen and neither with Mr.Gunn. Just keep talking to me and try not to fall asleep alright?”

  “Alright, I’ll try,” came her small voice in reply

  “Polly, what did you mean about someone killing the others? What others? Has something happened at the house?”

  “The devil man came, the one who got me before. He knobbled old Missus Phillips and then I heard him get Miss Sally and Mista Billy. I tried to hide in the cupboard but he found me. He made me look at him and everythin’ went dark and then I woke up ‘ere.”

  Gredge realised he had missed a lot. God only knew what had been going on in his absence. He tried to reconcile the fact that if Midnight had escaped the clutches of Chinese Mary and the Rainbow and had made it home, he would stop at nothing until he found Polly. The fact that someone had gotten into his house and committed murder would drive his friend to the brink of combustion. What he couldn’t work out was how he and Polly had both ended up here in the water. There must be some connection between the killer and Mary.

  “Polly? Do you know what this devil-man looks like?”

  “Sort of... he’s got a swirly moustache and a pointy beard. His face was covered mostly, but his eyes were bright red... ‘cept at the ‘sylum. Then he was just covered in grease paint so I couldn’t properly tell.”

  “The performer?”

  “Yes.” A blast of freezing wind hit them and Polly shivered so violently she thought her teeth would fall out. “I’m so cold ‘Spector,” she chattered.

  “I know child, so am I. Don’t worry, try to focus on my voice. Can you see me?”

  “Not quite, it’s too foggy. Where are we?”

  “I think we’re in the river.”

  “The river? I can’t swim ‘Spector!” She struggled against her bonds again, the rope grazing her flesh, although this time she couldn’t feel it.

  Unless we get free of this rope it won’t matter if either of us can swim, Gredge thought. A wave of water hit his shin, it had been below his ankles not so long ago.

  “Polly, can you feel the water on you?”

  “It’s up to me knees!”

  Shit! The Tide’s coming in. For God’s sake Midnight, wherever you are, bloody hurry up!

  Gredge tried shouting for help but the wind and fog swallowed it.

  Keep the child talking, if she goes silent the cold might take her, unless the tide takes her first.

  “Help is coming, don’t worry. Tell me about the man at the asylum?”

  “He was doing tricks and that, making ‘em all laugh but I knew he was there for me. He came to find me.”

  “Did Mr. Gunn say anything to you about him? Or did you see any other policemen at the house?”

  “Can’t ‘member seeing anyone else but Mista’ Midnight did mention a Const’ble. He was off to meet him or something, down The Old Vic... Least that what he said to Missus Philips. I don’t reckon I was meant to hear that but I was listening see, on account of I’d seen that devil’s mush on the poster Mista’ Midnight had. I wanted to make sure he was going to make him go away like he promised...only he didn’t.” She sounded so forlorn. “I’m tired ‘Spector.”

  Now listen up! I have known your Mr. Midnight for a while now young lady and you must understand, if he made you a promise he will keep it. If what you say is true, then he will be looking for that bad man already and that means he won’t be long in finding you. Don’t you lose faith now, you must trust me. He will come.”

  God, please let him come!

  There was no reply from the girl, only the lonely lapping of the water that creeped higher as the minutes passed. Gredge’s mind raced, it must be Rowe that Polly had overheard Midnight mention. That meant they were onto a lead. Rowe was a good lad, smart too. If Midnight and Rowe were investigating something and Polly had identified the killer, surely their rescue was imminent? Something niggled him, he couldn’t answer the question as to why this villain had tied them up and left them to the river. Even if Gunn and Rowe apprehended the sick bastard, what would he gain from leaving them both here? Why hadn’t he killed them already?

  No Arthur, you need to ask yourself why the fuck are we still alive.

  In the bowels of The Old Vic, a fusty dressing room at the end of a dark corridor held a treasure so horrifying that the two men who discovered it could not believe their eyes. Gunn and Rowe had arrived at The Old Vic to find it still in its empty state and under police cordon; the discovery of Mary’s body and the things in Hemlock’s dressing room had forced them to close it off while the investigation was ongoing. The dressing rooms had been locked when Midnight had investigated the theatre with Giles and he hadn’t had chance to look inside once they had found Mary because Rowe had arrived bearing the terrible news of kidnap and murder. The room in which they now stood looked like any other theatre dressing room, aside from the two large armchairs on the right side of the room and a few bookshelves containing such titles as ‘Mesmerism As A Cure’ and ‘Cleansing The Maladies Of The Mind’. One in particular, Midnight found very interesting,

  “The Testament of Sol
omon?” Rowe asked.

  “Hmm, do you know the story of King Solomon Constable?”

  “Can’t say that I do. What is it about?”

  “A demon. The king discovered a demon was taking pay, food and the life force of a young boy so he prayed to God and God gave him a ring with a magical seal on it. It allowed Solomon to capture the demon and have him do his bidding.”

  “That’s in the Bible?” Rowe sounded incredulous.

  “No, it is not. There are possible allusions to it in Matthew but Solomon’s testament remains as you see it here; it stands alone. Often connected with the occult because of its demonic associations.”

  “And you think this is significant because?”

  “Because I’ve been wondering how Nightingale has been harvesting souls and this may be a clue.”

  “You think he has some sort of demonic power?”

  “Not he himself, he is human of that I’m sure, but perhaps he has found a way to use a dark power to extract souls. It’s not beyond the realms of possibility. You can trust me on that fact.”

  Rowe looked very uncomfortable. Midnight supposed Rowe could just about accept his eccentricities because he was on their side. He had to admit; the prospect of Hemlock holding such power did not sit well.

  There were leaflets for the Southwark mission house where Hemlock volunteered; a place where the poor and destitute could find shelter, treatment, food and God. It was highly likely that is where Hemlock found some of his victims. Maps, and diagrams of fantastical contraptions and gadgetry lay strewn around the room, including a camera. He found a group of photographs that were pinned to the wall. They were of people undergoing surgical procedures. Nightingale was in the pictures, alone. Upon closer inspection, he could see a faint mist surrounding each of the patients. The last photograph made his skin prickle- the mist had a face! Midnight picked up one of the diagrams, it showed a piece of machinery, cylindrical in shape with glass canisters held in place around its exterior, various pipes were attached to the top to what appeared to be a small crystal-powered generator. He’d never seen anything like it before.