The Dark Water

by David Pirie

  ‘Also in the last line, that “ru” surely must be “rune” following on from “spell”. Again, there would seem to be a definite article ahead of it and the only alternatives are “rule” or “ruin”, neither likely.

  ‘Now let us look at it again with these words in place.’

  ‘At once,’ said Bell, ‘most of it becomes clear. “You must not be frightened.” That is absolutely obvious for the second line now we have come so far. But why should she be frightened? Well, that must be what follows. She is being summoned somewhere, the “come” tells us as much, but of course we know very well where she was summoned. To the beach. And there it is at once in the spaces and the “ch” of “beach”.

  ‘The second part of the line might be considered more difficult but we can assume now it is instructing her exactly where to come, for the beach is miles long. The “wh” therefore give us “where” instantly. For the word following there are only five possibilities for two letters ending in “e”, namely “be”, “he”, “me”, “we” or “ye”. Well, given the letter’s familiarity surely “we” seems the more likely candidate and should be tried first. So now we have: “Come to the beach — — — — — sp— — where we us— — — — me——”

  ‘Clearly a child would fill in the gaps,’ said Bell. ‘“Come to the beach to the spot where we used to meet.”

  ‘And now the last line. Again an instruction. “You m— — — — — — —g the rune — — — — you.”

  ‘See?’ said Bell. ‘Once again, having filled in a little more, the rest is a small child’s puzzle. What do you read?’

  ‘“You must bring the rune with you,”’ I said, ‘So she had the thing then, whatever it is.’

  Bell nodded gloomily. ‘I very much fear so. Therefore, now we return to the first line, a line of information. I would add one simple word to what we already know. The only possibility after “spell”; is “has”, or “had”, the former being more immediate and likely.

  ‘“I am — —t— — — — — the spell has w— — — — —.” It is a fraction harder than the others, but need not detain us long. The writer is clearly stating that the spell has done something. What could a spell do? I suggest “worked”.

  ‘The third word must therefore reflect that. How has this spell worked? On its own there are a few difficulties, I admit. Not so many words are that long with a “t” as third letter. Even so, I accept you might prefer to consult the dictionary to be sure, but then we have no need for that, for there is other evidence to help us.

  ‘You stated your confusion that the letter begins and ends with the same name, but there you fail to consider the possibility of pure coincidence. There are other names besides Ellie that have an “L” as a third letter. You have only to consider who we know for a fact she met before at the beach, and whose instructions she would be likely to obey.’

  ‘Colin?’ I said. ‘But he is dead.’

  ‘Yes,’ cried Bell, ‘but do you not recall her voicing her belief that the power would bring him back? She believed in magic, Doyle, and necromancy is a branch of magic. Now go back to the line again. It must be a verb and one describing something that has happened to him.’

  ‘My God, it tells her he has returned.’

  ‘Precisely.’ He put it down.

  I spoke quietly, all the excitement of discovery quelled by the thought of it. ‘But that is horrible. The idea of the girl lured along the beach by the idea a lover had returned from death. And someone waiting there. Surely she would have some doubts.’

  ‘I suspect it is more than likely,’ said Bell sombrely. ‘She was not a fool, but someone had worked the thing in her mind over a period. And we must check this writing against Harding’s.’

  There was a long pause. ‘Someone? You think it is him?’

  ‘It has his flavour,’ said the Doctor.

  THE ROOTS OF FEAR

  Next morning it was obvious to me Bell had not slept much better than I. But he still ate breakfast, though I had little stomach for it.

  ‘He has what he sought, whatever it may be,’ I said. ‘If that is the case, will he not now be far away?’

  ‘Yes,’ said Bell. ‘I have considered the same possibility and if you are right it is a gross failure on my part. I am coming to understand several aspects of this case, some of which are mere dressing. But I never dreamt Harding had given Ellie Barnes the rune. It must have been in the house with her and it explains her fear. Yet until we know more we must not give up hope. Indeed,’ he thought for a moment, ‘the nature of the business makes me inclined to think there are still grounds for hope.’ This did not give me great reassurance but I said nothing.

  Langton, too, was not in the best of moods when he joined us after breakfast. There was some delay in getting any help to him from Scotland Yard and meanwhile word of Ellie Barnes’s death was spreading rapidly throughout Dunwich and its surroundings.

  ‘Of course we have not divulged details but the rumours are racing,’ he said grimly, as we sat in the small sitting room. ‘That she died a witch’s death at the hands of her familiar, or was punished by the victim of her spells. There is real fear here now.’

  ‘Which is precisely what is intended,’ said Bell. ‘It was done for effect.’

  ‘So you do not suppose this was done out of some fear of witchcraft?’ asked Langton.

  ‘Certainly not,’ said Bell. ‘This was not caused by fear, it was done to create it. And if we are not very careful it may succeed. Now I urgently need a sample of Harding’s handwriting. I am sure Sir Walter Monk will have some, for Harding was his employee.’

  Langton agreed, allowing Bell to keep the letter in the meantime. ‘For until they send someone, I will be glad of your help.’

  ‘Thank you, Inspector,’ said Bell. He leant back in his chair, looking at Langton. ‘Now I do not wish to show ingratitude but I suppose I must ask you about Stoneleigh Street.’

  I have never seen a man’s jaw drop quite so far and so fast. Langton went pale too and stared back at Bell with quiet anger. ‘Well, did you know before or have you been enquiring?’

  ‘I thought I recalled your name,’ said Bell brightly. ‘And a day ago I refreshed my memory with the help of some newspaper cuttings and other material which Inspector Miller kindly sent. I thought it was time to bring it out into the open.’

  ‘Why?’ Langton asked fiercely. ‘For if you enquired you will be aware no charges were ever brought against me.’

  ‘Indeed,’ said Bell, ‘but it was thought prudent for you to leave the Yard and London.’

  ‘And so I did, but it has no bearing on anything now,’ Langton asserted.

  ‘You were accused of breaking up a gambling den after receiving bribes from some of the men who were its customers and had large debts. Once the place was closed, they were clear of these debts, is that correct?’ Bell said.

  Langton sighed. ‘Yes, and there was not a word of truth in any of it. The place was cheating everyone who crossed the threshold and that rumour was their way of paying me back for exposing it,’ Langton said.

  ‘I understand that was the conclusion, but I raise it for one reason: one of those who benefited was Oliver Jefford.’

  Langton looked at him, somewhat sheepishly. ‘You are a resourceful man, Doctor.’

  ‘Which means you knew him before he ever arrived here and you did not even tell us as much?’

  ‘I admit I had met him, yes. I admit also I did not want to have it all gone over again. But he was hardly a friend, we knew of each other, that’s all.’ Langton lowered his eyes under Bell’s fierce glare.

  ‘And did you see him when he was here?’ Bell asked.

  ‘I passed him here once or twice when I was about my business. We conversed a little but I never went into his house, I never sat down with him.’

  ‘And you did not meet his companions here?’ The Doctor was still staring fiercely.

  ‘Of course not, that would have been something to rep
ort. I did not.’ Langton clenched his fist. It was obvious he disliked these questions.

  ‘But you knew his friends and associates in London?’ the Doctor pressed.

  ‘Not at all. Apart from that business we were hardly in the same circle. And if you are curious about his Stoneleigh associates, it is a matter of record.’

  ‘Yes,’ Bell sighed. ‘I have consulted that record. It is, I will admit, inconsistent. But I understand, too, you have had a guest from London in your home.’

  ‘You are the devil himself,’ said Langton, his head bobbing. ‘I am free to do so if I wish. It was only a cousin of mine who is a clerk and wanted some rest. He is gone now.’

  ‘Yes, I am aware. And we can move on but we may return to the business in London one day and I wished to bring it into the open merely because you had not spoken of it before, which made me somewhat suspicious.’

  ‘It was perhaps foolish of me to think I could evade it with you, Doctor. I hope we can now return to being allies, for there is no question we have a murder to solve.’

  ‘That is my hope too,’ said the Doctor, getting to his feet. The conversation was closed.

  For the rest of the morning, rather to my surprise, Bell was not out on the scene but busying himself with telegrams and, of all things, an interview with Norman’s son Tommy, so I went in search of Charlotte Jefford. I was not surprised to learn she was with Mrs Marner so, not wishing to intrude, decided to have another look at the ground.

  Outside it was still bitterly cold but the snow had not lain and the sky was clear. I was turning down to the beach when I encountered Angus Hare, Bulweather’s partner, who hailed me and came over to talk.

  ‘Dr Doyle,’ he said, ‘this is a dreadful business about Miss Marner’s maid. I am spending my time today consoling people. You know Edward Norman is in quite a state about the whole thing. He says Bell has been intimidating his son. Who could possibly be behind all this?’

  I was not so surprised to hear of Edward Norman’s state, especially when I recalled how he had constantly denied the seriousness of these events and talked of ‘little’ mysteries. He was exactly the type of man who refuses to acknowledge unpleasant truths and then panics when they become inescapable.

  ‘Dr Bell has experience of such matters, as your partner will tell you,’ I said as calmly as I could. ‘I have hopes he will come to an answer.’

  ‘Well, I for my part have hopes it is soon,’ he said. ‘For it seems to me this place has not benefited from any of its new visitors in recent weeks. I will bid you good morning.’ And in this rather hostile manner he went on his way.

  It was not a very auspicious start to my investigations and indeed the day went on as it had begun. I paced the beach but found no one and saw nothing. I trudged back up to Harding’s little hut, now occupied by another labourer, but again there was nothing at all to see. I began to feel like a fool and would have gone in to visit Bulweather, except it seemed much more likely than not he would be out. And so I returned to be told Bell was asking for me in his room.

  I found him there, staring down at something on his table. ‘Where have you been?’ he said. ‘This was sent over and I find it most interesting.’

  Before him on his table was the original note and a letter Harding had written in connection with some purchase on behalf of the estate. Bell had his magnifying glass out and was studying them eagerly.

  ‘You see,’ he said, allowing me to look. ‘It is not exactly the same writing, how could it be? But it is a good copy. Someone went to the trouble of making a fair facsimile of Harding’s hand. He is good on the “e” and the “m” yet see how the “g” gives him away.’

  Even without the aid of the enlargement, I could see exactly what he meant. There were good copies of many of the letters but the “g” was entirely different, smaller and without a loop. And, as Bell showed me, the “h” too was deficient. I knew that Cream had the ability to do this, for experience had shown us he was adept at disguising and varying his handwriting if he wished it.

  So I supposed it was progress, but already two and probably three people were dead and I was beginning to feel we were being laughed at. Was he watching us, stumbling around in search of him? My mood was not improved when the Doctor announced he had once again to travel to Lowestoft today and that he wished me to accompany him.

  ‘But where is he?’ I cried. ‘Even if he is still here, he seems to be able to act with impunity, while we move around the periphery of things.’

  Bell put the letter away, showing no offence whatsoever at my outburst. ‘Yes, we are having to clear the way to him. He has put a number of obstacles in our path, some clever, some foolish, but we must not be distracted, we must be methodical. My belief is he remains here, for I am sure the rune is connected to something here. So we continue our work.’

  ‘If only,’ I objected, ‘it was more rewading. You send telegrams and talk to a child who strangles birds. While I walk empty beaches. And what if it is nothing to do with him at all? After all, we still have no direct proof other than a possible sighting and some coincidences.’

  ‘More than one, Doyle. It would seem our positions are still reversed. Do you not feel him here?’

  I did not reply. The truth was these deeds did bear his stamp, but I found it hard to endure the fact he still seemed to be ahead of us in all of it. And to know also that others in this place could be harbouring him.

  ‘And as for the child who strangles birds,’ said Bell. ‘You may be interested to learn it was the most eventful meeting I have had. I learnt more that was truly important about the case from him than anyone else I have met.’

  THE RUNE

  Although the weather was no longer freezing, the journey to Lowestoft was long and arduous and I felt a certain impatience to be leaving the scene of these crimes for another place entirely, no matter how much it helped the Doctor’s enquiries.

  Nor was he very forthcoming about these enquiries or why he wished me to accompany him. In the event, he called at several fairly humble addresses in the town while I waited with the cab and seemed to come out frustrated from each one until the last, where he stayed longest and appeared satisfied with whatever business he had conducted.

  Then we visited a library and also (more satisfactorily for the Doctor, it seemed) a large second-hand book shop, where he bought several books and pamphlets, including I noticed some medical texts for which I could conceive no purpose. And then, somewhat to my amazement, we took the cab back. It had been, for me, a completely pointless journey and Bell obviously guessed what I was thinking and apologised. ‘I had expected the last interview to be more difficult than it was,’ he added, though he did not enlighten me further.

  Upon my return after this wild goose chase I was doubly anxious to find Miss Jefford and also call upon Mrs Marner, whom I had not seen since the tragedy. But events were ahead of me. As I came down from my room, Bulweather was at the bottom of the stairs.

  ‘Ah, Doyle,’ he said, ‘I am very glad to see you. Mrs Marner is outside and wishes to say goodbye. As you would expect, she leaves to stay with her sister. I have comforted her as much as I can and am called out on a visit to Edward Norman who, between ourselves, ranks among the fussiest patients in Suffolk.’

  I went out, noticing that the temperature was again dropping, though there was no sign of the previous night’s snow. In the road, waiting to join a private coach, was Mrs Marner.

  She looked tired and sad-eyed yet she was composed and after the introductions she shook my hand charmingly. ‘I will spend Christmas away, Dr Doyle, and I hope to heaven you find the answer to this business, whatever it is. It has all been horrible and I simply cannot bear to think of poor Ellie.’ She clutched my arm. ‘It would have been quick, would you please at least tell me that?’

  I was able to do so because I felt fairly confident it was true, though I did not specify the nature of the speed. Most people had merely been told it was a head-wound and I had no intention of going
further.

  ‘If only,’ she went on, ‘she had not gone out, if only I had stayed to see she did not. But I cannot dwell on that now. And as if all that was not enough, here to be all but driven from our home. I would have gladly had more time but if people are to be like this, what can I do? It is an astonishment to me, especially after all that has happened.’

  ‘Do you feel there is still bitterness here even after last night’s tragedy?’ I asked. But I was recalling now that Bulweather had said Mrs Marner was leaving ‘as you would expect.’ Yet I had not necessarily expected it. Certainly there was no mention of this move last night.

  ‘Why, of course I do. Have you not heard, Dr Doyle? My house was attacked, “witch” daubed on the wall, and many of my things lie in ruins. And to do it only hours after Ellie’s death. Thank heaven her poor cat was out or they would no doubt have hurt it, because of all this nonsense about it being a familiar. But it has been more out than in and Sir Walter has taken the poor thing, thanks to Dr Bulweather. Let them try to attack Sir Walter Monk’s house, that is what I say, I am glad to be gone and I do not know when I will return.’

  Here she was on the verge of tears, in her excitement a very changed woman from the discreet widow I had first encountered. But before I bid her farewell, I learnt more of the story from herself and her sister, who had now appeared. Evidently they had left the house earlier that afternoon to walk and visit the small church at the end of the street in order to discuss where Ellie would be buried, for Mrs Marner felt Ellie’s parents would approve of such a place.

  In the event they had been out for more than an hour and, when they returned, the whole house had been vandalised. It had proved a horrible postscript to a horrible event and there was no question for either one of them of staying there any further.