by Pirie, David
‘I have counselled you against them.’
‘And I am glad we have met. There is so much I want to tell you. I feel safe when we are talking.’ She paused, her eyes turning to the house. ‘But if …’
‘But …’ I spoke almost simultaneously.
We both stopped, knowing exactly where we were leading, and it seemed my place to say it. ‘I was merely going to say that if we became close friends then it would be best for me to stop as your doctor.’
‘Yes, I was the same,’ she said and her face fairly shone to know we were one of mind. ‘Sometimes I walk out on afternoons like this, if one day …’
But I was never destined to hear her proposal. For quite suddenly and literally in the fading sun a shadow was cast over us. A figure had stepped out from the side of the house.
We turned to face Greenwell. He stood there, neither scowling nor even, for once, smiling. When he spoke, it was in a more abrupt tone than I had ever heard from him on our first meeting. ‘Miss Grace, I was waiting here for you. We must have a word as I am sure you will understand.’
Her change of expression was terrible to behold. ‘Mr Greenwell.’
He turned to me. ‘Dr Doyle, take my carriage if you wish. It is round the other side.’
‘I do not want it,’ I said firmly. ‘I was invited to take tea with Miss Grace and I think when we last met you said you wished her to make up her own mind.’
His manner softened a little. ‘But of course she must decide,’ he said. And he turned back to her with the same smile I remembered so well. ‘Miss Grace? Your uncle is aware I am here.’
Her eyes filled with tears and she turned to me, evidently powerless to do anything. ‘I am sorry, Dr Doyle,’ she said. And nobody who cared about her would have wanted to press her further in such circumstances.
I bade my farewells and they went inside. I certainly had no intention of taking Greenwell’s carriage, nor could I bring myself to leave immediately. So I wandered into the trees on the edge of the lawn to calm my own furious passions. I stood there a few minutes, reflecting on what had happened. At least, I told myself, while Heather Grace might be bullied in the matter of afternoon tea she had as good as told me she would not be bullied into a more permanent state of misery. Therefore I determined I must keep my dignity and take the now familiar and arduous walk back into the town.
I emerged from the trees and was just turning back towards the drive in the gathering darkness when my attention was caught by a window at the side of the house. It was not brightly illuminated; indeed, the room was partly in darkness, but I could see two figures in the flicker of candlelight. Drawing closer, I made out Miss Grace and Greenwell. It was impossible to hear what was being said but she stood there with a terrible stillness as he remonstrated with her. He looked angry but then, and somehow this was even worse to behold, the whole tone of the encounter seemed to change, and his manner became softer and he smiled that awful smile. His anger appeared to vanish and I wish I could say Miss Grace’s mood changed too, but it did not. Some of her tears left her, but she seemed paler and more unhappy than ever as he continued to speak. Just then a servant entered and the exchange came to an end as the blinds were drawn.
The memory of that change, especially, haunted me as I walked along the dark road. I wished then that I had not seen the second part of the encounter. It disturbed me even more than the first. I was feeling very weary when I came back to the house that night, but I will acknowledge too that my conscience was starting to prick me. I tried not to think about what the Doctor was likely to say if he knew that I had been close to some kind of passionate declaration to a woman who was not merely at the centre of his current case but who was also my own patient.
As I climbed the stairs I could see through the half-open door that a candle burned in the upstairs room Dr Bell had taken over as his study and he was working at his desk. He knew I had elected to escort Miss Grace home and I was reluctant to face any questions. So I went quietly past his door to my bedroom. Knowing the sensitivity of his hearing, I am sure he heard me. But he did not call out.
And so, for the first time in these temporary quarters, we went to our rest without exchanging a word. Judging from past events, I should have known this would prove an ill omen.
THE STAND-UP GRAVE
I woke early, knowing I would sleep no further, and got up even though it was hardly light. Looking out of the window, I saw it was one of those days where day struggles to come at all and, moreover, there was a whipping wind, gusting the rain against the glass. I walked down the stairs, intending to write up some notes, for I was sure the best way forward on such a day as this lay in work. But I jumped, for there was a figure in my consulting room, staring out of the window. It was Bell. ‘Why, Doctor,’ I said in a friendly tone, for I felt guilty about avoiding him the night before, ‘it is still early.’
He turned and his face was ghastly, his voice quiet. ‘No, it is not early, it is not early at all. It is late. I was about to knock on your door. Are you ready?’
‘Ready?’ I asked and now I saw the message in his hand.
‘We must go at once. As soon as I heard, I sent word to Warner. Baynes did not return to his lodgings last night.’
Within an hour Bell and I were at the same spot on that dreary road, well ahead of anyone else. We knew the place Baynes favoured for his lookout – it was not far from where I had waited twice myself — but there was no sign of him at all.
We at once began to explore the wood itself. It was a miserable day, but at least there was enough of a dawn for us to make out the ground as we tramped among the trees. I could see absolutely no signs of any trail in the vegetation and, though the Doctor stopped a few times to examine the ground, I was sure he too found nothing.
After much fruitless walking around in circles, I began to hope for a better outcome. Perhaps Baynes had merely abandoned his post and gone into Southampton for a game of cards. Possibly he was even now back at his lodgings or would appear on the road.
But as I looked back through the trees, I saw Bell had slowed his pace and was staring over to his left. There was something on the ground in that direction I could not make out. I watched Bell walking smartly towards it. Then his pace slowed and he stopped dead. ‘Doyle!’ I doubt I will ever forget the way he shouted my name.
Something soft and pale was sticking out of the foliage. I raced back through the trees towards him as he bent down and started to pull at the earth around it. I got there, panting for breath, and began to help him. The thing was soft and fleshy under the mud, though at first we could see no more of it than that. Then, as we scrabbled to get more earth away, I found my hand touching something protruding from the muddy mass and recoiled with an exclamation. For now I saw what this was and the Doctor’s grim face told me he already knew. I had touched a human ear. What we were excavating was Baynes’s head.
We clawed our way on to try to discover more and slowly the features became visible, limp and lifeless, the eyes staring. At any moment I dreaded to find it had been severed. But in fact what we uncovered was far worse. For soon, below, his shoulders too were visible.
I could see how upset the Doctor was. ‘I should have given him more warning,’ he said.
‘But what has been done to him?’
The Doctor was running his hands over what we had so far disinterred. ‘He has been dead for hours. His hands must have been tied.’
‘But he is standing.’
‘Only because the earth supports him, his feet will be restrained. The police should be by the road now. Will you go and get them?’
It took two and a half hours to drag poor Baynes’s body out of the terrible narrow grave in which he stood. I will never forget the sight as they lifted him. Two men had to clamber down into the hole, others pulling from the top and gripping him under his arms, as they hoisted him out. By then he was almost rigid but I still recall (and wish I did not) the head lolling back as he was raised up.
&n
bsp; They laid him face upwards under the trees. Of course, there was mud on the corpse, but not enough to obscure the full horror of the sight, especially the fact that, because it was filled with earth, the mouth was gaping wide open. Just as Bell had predicted, the feet were weighted down with stones and the hands bound tightly with knotted twine.
As soon as it was excavated the Doctor, who had been waiting and watching with ill-concealed impatience, bent down to examine every detail of the corpse. He paid particular attention to the knots, studying them with great concentration for what seemed like hours. Finally I saw him take one and preserve it carefully. In the pockets he found only the gaming dice Baynes always carried. There were no marks on the body, other than where it was bound, so it was soon clear enough that the cause of death was what we dreaded: Baynes had died of suffocation.
The Doctor and I stood watching as the police raised up the corpse on a stretcher to carry it away through these trees. Because of the undergrowth they were forced to hoist it very high and the last thing I saw of Baynes was one of those dexterous hands hanging limply down. A policeman reached up to move it out of view before he was borne solemnly away.
Throughout the rest of that long, grey morning the Doctor studied the ground quietly and methodically within a broad radius of the grave. He said almost nothing but I saw on this occasion little of the excitement that usually surrounded him at a murder scene. It was obvious to me that he was furiously angry with himself for allowing Baynes to take such a risk.
At last he was done and Warner was waiting for us at the road.
‘So his feet were weighed, his hands tied,’ he said as he led us to a police cab. ‘What sort of killer is it who buries his victim alive and standing, Dr Bell?’
The Doctor stared at him almost as if he did not hear. ‘One who at least is not afraid to leave flamboyant traces,’ he replied bleakly.
‘And we already know, Mr Baynes here was a gambler who regularly lost money at cards in Southampton,’ said the Inspector. ‘Perhaps the solution lies there.’
‘Perhaps,’ agreed the Doctor. ‘But what strikes me most about the crime is its drama. And the man Baynes himself suspected has a great weakness for such things.’
It was agreed that Warner would investigate Baynes’s gaming associates while we made enquiries nearer at hand. After we had left him, Bell sat in grim silence as the cab took us to Cullingworth’s practice. Although Inspector Warner was anxious that news of the murder should not yet spread too far, Cullingworth had been informed, for technically he was still the man’s employer. Like Bell, I was very curious to see how he had received the news.
There were no patients at the practice when we reached it and his maid informed us he was in his study, working on his magnetic ship protector, and could not be disturbed. Bell simply ignored her and moved forward down the passage to Cullingworth’s study. He reached the door and opened it.
The room was in semi-darkness and there, across at the far wall, Cullingworth stood bolt upright, pointing his pistol right at Bell’s heart. He was smiling.
‘I am at your heart, Dr Bell.’
‘So I see.’
‘But have no fear. For my magnet by the door will draw the bullet well off to the left.’
I was just behind and to one side of Bell. ‘If it does not,’ replied the Doctor, ‘you will be arrested for my murder. And possibly Baynes’s as well.’
‘Yes, I had word of the tragedy. Well, the man had gambling debts as you know. He was not careful of the company he kept at the card table. No doubt you will find his murderer in the slews of Southampton.’
‘It was you’, said the Doctor, ‘who tried to cheat him out of his money. He also caught you spying on Miss Grace. Have you been following her?’
As he spoke, Bell was quietly moving to one side, closer and closer to the magnet.
I could see Cullingworth’s frustration at this but there was little he could do. ‘That is no good,’ he exclaimed, ‘you are almost on the magnet. The bullet will hit you.’
‘Exactly,’ said Bell heartily, ‘and then you will be killing me for no purpose.’ He was at the magnet itself now and Cullingworth threw the gun to one side and sprawled on the sofa in disgust.
‘Let it wait then, Doctor.’ He waved a hand to indicate we should join him.
Neither the Doctor nor myself was in any mood to do so. We remained standing. ‘You take a great interest in Miss Grace, do you not?’ asked Bell.
‘Perhaps I do,’ Cullingworth agreed carelessly. ‘The truth is I never knew a woman could be quite so … forward. Of course, I am aware they find me attractive.’
I was annoyed enough already, and now he had the gall to turn and address his remarks to me with a superior smile. ‘It has been a curse, laddie. Though at times a pleasant enough one.’ And he gave a little snigger that made me want to punch him in the face.
Bell probably sensed my anger for he went on quickly, ‘Did you make advances to her?’
‘Is that what she says?’ he asked in a coarse and jeering tone, which reminded me of the policemen who had interrogated me. ‘Well, like any woman, she wanted my attention and I had to resist her charms. Besides, she was engaged to a fellow who went off to Natal. It was really rather shocking of her to flaunt herself at me.’
I had had more than I could bear. ‘You have not the slightest notion of decency,’ I shouted. ‘And now you blame her to cover your own lechery! You know quite well how angry you were when she asked to be my patient.’
Cullingworth got up carelessly, as if to end our visit. ‘Oh, well, you are welcome to her, laddie. We know what she is. Though it is Greenwell who has set his heart on her money and will surely get it. But perhaps I should think of arranging another of my little dramas around Miss Grace. The last was a small enough affair, I grant you, but it was still a minor triumph, did you not think, Bell? Only be warned, this time I might not make it so easy for you.’
Cullingworth was so puffed up by his own boasting that he had not observed the Doctor, cane in hand, edging closer to him as he was talking. And quite suddenly, at this last remark, Bell flung himself right at him.
The attack came so fast and Cullingworth was so ill prepared that he could do nothing but step back and the Doctor seized the advantage at once, using his cane horizontally and viciously to trap Cullingworth’s neck against the wall.
‘Now you listen to me, laddie,’ said the Doctor with such fierceness and intensity that I felt the hairs on the back of my neck standing. ‘These are serious matters and they involve people, not toys. Your stupid Garcia game may well have been a deliberate attempt to scare Doyle off Miss Grace. Perhaps it was you who murdered Baynes and seek to cover your guilt. But even if it was not, I tell you now that any further “dramas” and I will personally see you are disbarred from practising medicine anywhere in these islands. Given that I know of your medical ethics, I am sure that could be swiftly achieved.’
The Doctor’s eyes were flashing with a rage I had rarely, if ever, seen before. All the feeling that had been building up since he saw Baynes was pouring out of him and he was quivering with so much energy that I was half frightened his cane would break Cullingworth’s neck.
The man was gasping for breath. ‘I cannot breathe, sir.’
‘Do we have an understanding … laddie?’ shouted Bell, increasing his pressure.
I could see Cullingworth was now truly frightened. ‘Very well.’ He managed to get the words out at last. Bell moved back and Cullingworth panted for breath, rubbing his bruised neck.
‘I think you had better go,’ he said at last, evidently trying to recover some shred of dignity. We made our way to the door. Cullingworth had regained a little colour and some of the old guile was back in his eyes as he rubbed his neck. ‘But’, he whispered, still short of breath, ‘you are in deep waters, gentlemen. I wonder if you have grasped how deep.’
We had already decided our next call would be on Miss Grace at the rectory and, as if to mock us, t
he weather, for so long inclement, was becoming clearer. Bell was silent and pensive as the cab took the road out of town again. I do not think either of us was quite sure what to make of our encounter with Cullingworth. His last remark had hinted at something beyond our investigation that I did not entirely understand.
We reached the rectory and were greeted warmly enough by Miss Grace and her aunt, who had not been out and appeared to know nothing at all of what had happened. Evidently Miss Grace had woken up fairly early the previous night with a bad dream and spent most of it in her aunt’s spare bed.
The Doctor made no mention at all of the events in the wood; indeed, he took some trouble to be as normal as possible, but he did indicate matters were a little more urgent and the police were taking the affair of the figure seriously.
‘Mrs Blythe,’ he said courteously, ‘as you know I have been a little concerned by the fact that someone appears to be following your niece. I am quite confident we can resolve the business but even so I think it is prudent to take every precaution. In such circumstances I have certain foolish rituals and regarding them I would ask for your patience and indulgence. One would be to see Miss Grace’s bedroom, just to satisfy myself it is secure.’
They both looked a little surprised, but the Doctor was calm and reassuring. ‘Of course,’ said Mrs Blythe, ‘I am hopeful you will not find anything amiss. If you will follow me?’
We climbed the stairs, passed through a carpeted passage and then Miss Grace and her aunt led us to a large, light and airy room with two big windows and a wonderful view of the surrounding countryside.
‘This is my room, Dr Bell,’ said Miss Grace cheerfully as we entered and looked around. ‘I feel foolish enough. I had been better but last night again the same nightmare. He pursues me. A cloaked, sightless thing. I called out and fortunately my aunt was here so quickly that I got over it.’
