* * *
“Doig looked up as I finished reading.
“‘I wrote the last sentence more than a month ago now. I have thought often of John in that time, but I fear I lacked the courage to check on him. Fate took a hand this morning, when a telegram arrived, not from John, but from Mrs. Jameson. It was terse and to the point.’
“‘Come quickly. The maister has taken leave of his senses.’
“‘I must go to him,’ Doig said. ‘But I cannot go alone. Will you come?’
* * *
Carnacki stopped, put the sheaf of papers away in his inside pocket, and stood. We all knew that was a signal for our first chance of the evening to top up our glasses and get fresh smokes arranged.
As usual, Arkwright was keen to preempt the tale at hand.
“I say old chap,” he said to Carnacki as they waited beside the drink cabinet. “This isn’t one of your weird tales at all, is it? I’ve guessed this one. It is a scam of sorts, is it not? Some dashed dodgy chaps are after his Lordship’s inheritance I’ll warrant? Tell me I’m right or damn me for a Dutchman.”
Arkwright had voiced something I had thought myself, and I paused in pouring my drink to better hear Carnacki’s reply. But as ever, he refused to give anything away so early in his telling.
“You’re a dashed Dutchman then,” Carnacki said, smiling. “For there is much more to this tale than just a simple attempt at fraud and deception. I have been given a far deeper insight into the ways of the Outer Realms than on any previous adventure. There will be much to mull over before this story is done, and I do not think any of you will be able to guess the direction it will take from here.”
Arkwright looked like he wanted to press the matter, but Carnacki thrust a stiff glass of Scotch on our mutual friend and motioned him towards the chairs.
“Do not fret old friend,” Carnacki said. “All things will be revealed – in time.”
Arkwright continued to mutter about fraudsters and hocus-pocus under his breath as the others took their turn filling their glasses. Several minutes later we were all settled once again in our respective chairs, our smokes lit and our drinks at hand. Carnacki kept us waiting a moment longer as he got his pipe going, then he continued, picking up his tale from where he had left off.
* * *
“Of course, as you have already learned, I decided to accompany Doig to Scotland. But first I had to ensure that he did not die on me in the meantime. After showing him to the guest rooms and getting him some dry clothing I fed him up, despite his protestations, with what bread and cheese I could muster and heated him up with a pint of strong tea.
We sat by the fire smoking for an hour after that, but I quickly found that he had little to add to the story related in his notes, beyond a memory, real or imagined, of a peculiar snuffling noise he had heard whilst on the island.
Before sending him to bed I chatted about inconsequential matters for quite some time, hoping to calm his mind somewhat, but even then I heard him moan and call out in his sleep during the night. He was clearly a very troubled man, and I vowed there and then that I would do all in my power to help him.
We left the very next morning after breakfast, during which I was pleased to see that Doig was at least regaining his appetite. He ate plenty of toast, took a liking to my marmalade and seemed none the worse for what must have been a restless night for the poor chap.
While he ate I arranged for some of my equipment to follow on after me to Scotland. I was told there might be several hours delay in getting a space for it on a train going north, and I was prepared to wait and travel with it, but Doig was most insistent that we should make all haste to his Lordship’s estate. Now that he had an ally against the darkness, the man seemed to have found a sense of purpose, and was eager to get going.
“We made it to Euston just in time to send a telegram ahead to inform Sir John we were on the way. Then Doig had to rush to fetch his luggage from storage and we were just able to catch the morning Glasgow train as it was preparing to pull out. We were fortunate enough to have a compartment to ourselves for much of the journey, it being so early in the day. A decent second breakfast and a pot of tea seemed to revive Doig further and he had now started to look almost healthy.
“He proved to be a fine travelling companion and we discovered a mutual fascination with certain antiquarian books. He was able to discuss the Sigsand manuscript at some length, and even provided several insights that I had not thought of myself. But despite hearing of my many and varied adventures Doig refused to countenance that the Sigsand MSS was written to be used in practice rather than an as a mere academic curiosity. We did however agree that the manuscript he had found in the Lord’s library was probably wrong in ascribing the activities on the Dark Island to Sir Michael Scott. As men of letters, we were both well aware of that fine gentleman’s contributions to occult literature and learning. We also both understood the power of local superstition in the making of stories, and I believe it was ignorance and confusion more than a matter of historical record that had led to Scott’s name being sullied in such a fashion.
“Doig agreed with my assessment, and had several theories of his own on the origin and development of folktales in the more remote parts of the country. Over a hearty lunch of roast beef and a bottle of particularly fine claret we rapidly became firm friends. But even as we talked I could see the tension build in him, the need for speed now that his decision had been made.
“Unfortunately the railway system put paid to any thought we might have of a speedy journey. An accident involving a freight train on the line ahead of us in the Lake District meant that we were nearly three hours late in reaching Glasgow, and our connection on to Mallaig was likewise delayed. Thus it was that it was almost full dark before we arrived at Eillen Eighe, our final destination.
“The train left us alone on an empty platform on the edge of the village of Arisaig on the West Highland rail line, and the station itself had already been locked up for the night. There was nothing for it but to pick up our luggage and make for the keep. Doig, by dint of having made the journey before, led the way. We passed no one, and although curtains twitched at a few of the lit windows in the village, there was no one but us abroad in the evening. Soon we left what few houses there were behind and walked along a loch side in growing darkness.
“It was in that near-darkness that I caught my first glimpse of the island. Doig pointed it out to me.
“‘There’s the blasted place. It looks peaceful, doesn’t it? But all the whisky in Scotland wouldn’t persuade me to set foot on it again.’
“It did indeed look harmless enough, being no more than a darker smudge on the water, and I gave it no more thought at that time, intent as I was on trying to avoid the muddy puddles that punctuated the path to the keep.
“It was only as we got within a few hundred yards of the dwelling that I got my first good look at our destination. I do not know what I expected -- something grand and baronial had been in my mind, having visited the homes of other Scottish Lords on past cases. But this was no Glamis Castle, being a much smaller, much less grand residence. The keep looked to be little more than a stone cube, some forty feet on each side and two floors high; a basic structure, built for security rather than style. It sat at the end of the lane, a stark black outlined against misty hills beyond.
“For the first time I felt the old thrill of anticipation, my curiosity rising apace as we got closer to our goal. I wondered what fresh experiences awaited me inside that black box ahead.
“Our first glimmer of hope that someone was there waiting for us came when the main door opened on our approach. But hope was soon dashed, as we were almost bowled over by a stout lady intent on making a hasty departure.
“‘Youse will have to do for yoursels’ sirs,’ she said, barely stopping. ‘There’s bread and cheese a-plenty in the scullery, and a bed made up for each of youse up stairs. But I’ll no’ be staying here ony longer. If you want the maister he’
s in the library. But I doubt he’ll ken youse.’
“‘What do you mean?’ Doig said, making to push past her.
“She stopped him with a hand on his chest, and spoke softly.
“‘He’s sair afflicted Mr. Doig. The bogles hae hold of him.’
“I tried to question her as to the nature the aforesaid bogles, but she was in no mood to stay around to give an answer.
“‘I’m sorry sir, I cannae stay in this hoose. Not anither night.’
“And with that parting remark we were left on the doorstep to fend for ourselves.
“Even as we looked at each other, wondering as to our next move, a wail started up from somewhere inside. At first I thought it might be a child, such was the impression of utter terror the sound imparted.
“Doig did not hesitate. He left his luggage on the step and almost ran into the hallway, shouting at the top of his voice.
“‘John? John?’
“Doig’s footsteps echoed loudly in the hallway, and the noise immediately brought a strangled scream from the far end of the hall, followed by an answering shout.
“‘Stay back. I’m armed and I’ll shoot.’
“Doig ignored that statement and kept going in a headlong rush across the room that I was unable to prevent.
“‘John!’ he called out again. He had just put his hand on the handle of a heavy wooden door when the roar of a shotgun echoed around us. Shot pattered against the other side of the door. If it had been anything other than heavy oak Doig may well have lost most of his upper torso.
“By Jingo it gave me a fright. But it did not seem to faze Doig, whose admirable concern for his friend overrode any feelings of self-preservation. Despite the possibility of another shot he moved in close to the door and shouted.
“‘John. It’s me. James -- James Doig.’
“All went quiet for the space of two heartbeats, then there came more piteous wailing from beyond the door.
“’Why do you torment me so? Please, just go away.’
“Before I could stop him, Doig turned the handle and opened the door. I winced, expecting another shot, but it did not come. Instead Doig stepped into the room, and let out a piteous cry of his own.
“‘My God John. What has become of you?’
“I saw the reason for the cry for myself when I reached the doorway. At first all I felt was dismay at the carnage that had been wrought on what had obviously been a fine library. Books and manuscripts lay in tattered ruin across the floor, and old leather-bound tomes were torn and scattered to all corners. The bibliophile in me wept at the sight.
“Doig was already across the room and only had eyes for his friend. The Lord of Arisaig sat slumped in an armchair near a large stone fireplace, a shotgun cradled in his arms. He had not shaved for at least a week, and from the odor in the room had not bathed for longer. His eyes were red and rheumy, as if he had spent a good long period weeping, and his skin had a gray, waxy pallor that I have only ever seen on people who had spent a long period of being bedridden. He looked up, first at me, then at Doig.
“‘James? Is it really you? Or are you just another haunt come to torment me?’
“Doig moved over to the chair.
“‘It’s me John. It’s really me.’
“Sir John looked like he might start weeping. He tried to stand to greet Doig, but his legs betrayed him, his eyes rolled in their sockets, and he fell on the floor in a dead faint.
“Doig let out a cry and bent down, checking his Lordship’s pulse, then putting a hand against the man’s forehead.
“‘He’s burning up. We need to get him off this floor.’
“It took all of the strength of both of us to haul the man back into the chair and he did not wake, merely moaned, like an animal in pain. Doig went in search of some strong liquor to revive the man, while I stood in the ruin of the library pondering the circumstances that had led me there. I felt no touch of the Outer Circle, no hint of anything beyond a traumatized, disturbed individual, and I was starting to think, like Arkwright here, that a human agency was at work playing tricks.
“A search among the tattered remains of the books told me what Doig had suggested -- that Sir John’s library had indeed been a fine one. I resisted the almost overwhelming urge to start shelving what was left of the books and moved towards the heavy drapes that covered the windows, intent on letting a little fresh air inside to dispel the stench of fear that filled the room. I had just drawn a curtain aside to reveal a completely boarded up window beyond when a strong hand gripped my shoulder. I turned to look into Sir John’s eyes. He looked near to dropping back into a faint, and he was clearly terrified. I have seen that look before – in the eyes of men who have come too close to denizens of the Outer Circle. At that very point I began to change my views as to the nature of the attacks on his person.
“‘I do not know you sir,’ the Lord said, his voice shaky. ‘But I implore you, please stay away from the windows. It is not safe. Not after dark.’
“And that was when I felt my first chill, my first inclination that my services might indeed be required.
“‘In what way, if I may ask?’ I replied.
“He stared at the boarded up windows before replying, and when he did, it was in barely a whisper.
“‘They have been coming for a while. I have only a week left,’ he said. ‘And they know it. Every night they come for me. And every night it gets harder to resist. I have little choice now. I will be joining them soon.’
“Before I could inquire further Doig arrived with a bottle of a fine single malt and by Jove I must admit it was most welcome. It also seemed to revive his Lordship, who, after a snifter or two, became most apologetic at his blue funk earlier. He then tried to play host, but it was obvious that without his housekeeper he was somewhat at a loss over even the most basic aspects of catering for visitors. In the end Doig and I got settled in the guest bedrooms. Sir John followed Doig around like a puppy afraid to be far from its master, obviously not wishing to spend any time alone in the library. He also kept up a constant stream of chatter about the rooms and their history but I’m afraid I barely listened to him.
After we were settled Doig managed to rustle up some cheese, bread and ale, and I got a fire going in the big grate in the library. Eventually we were all sat in chairs arranged around the fire.
“Sir John in the large chair, staring into space. I had been using a poker to stoke the flames, and when I looked up it was to see tears running down his cheeks.
“‘You should leave,’ he said softly. ‘It is not safe to be close to me.’
“‘We have come to help you John,’ Doig said. “I will not leave again – I should not have left the last time. We will save you from whatever ails you.”
“The Lord laughed bitterly.
“‘I fear I am long beyond any saving.’ He said. ‘You were there James. You saw what it is that comes for me. How can I stop a thing like that?’
“Doig had no answer for that, and it was not the right moment for me to press my own credentials on his lordship. We sat quietly, staring into the fire, Doig and I trying to ignore Sir John’s obvious distress.
“But whether it was the warmth from the fire, or the effects of the whisky, the man’s spirits slowly rose. When Doig rose to fetch the bread and cheese from where he’d left it on a table, Sir John took to the offered food, if not with gusto, at least with some seeming relish.
“We ate in silence and what with the warmth and the food in my stomach I was starting to feel more sanguine about the situation at hand. After the bread and cheese were done Doig passed around his tobacco pouch and I helped myself to a pipe-full of his somewhat harsh shag.
“As we set up a thick fug in the enclosed space of the library, Sir John brought us up to date on what had led him to the state where he thought it necessary to lock himself in with a shotgun.
“It took some prompting from Doig to get him going, and at first I thought he might refuse to say anyt
hing, but after staring into the flames for a bit he seemed to come to a decision and started to speak.
“‘It started the very day you left,’ he said, looking straight at Doig, and moving on quickly when Doig looked ready to apologize. ‘I retired early to bed, still sore and suffering from my fall out on the island, my head full of thoughts of curses and revenants. It was no great surprise that I had a disturbed night, for I had spent every waking moment reliving the events on the island. Had I truly seen my ancestors up and walking around? In truth, my brain felt addled and befuddled, as if I had taken too much of the uisque. I was also ashamed to have driven you away.’
He stopped and turned to address Doig directly.
“‘I should never have gone to the island. It was foolish of me to dismiss your fears and belittle you so readily. For that I am truly sorry.’
“Doig waved him away, motioning that he should continue with his tale. Sir John acknowledged it with a small smile and continued.
“‘That first night after you left I lay in bed for hours, trying hard not to see lurking shapes in the shadows and fighting off a blue funk. But finally tiredness washed over me and I fell into a fitful sleep. And that was when the trouble really started.’
“He stopped, as if gathering his thoughts, and took some long hard puffs on his pipe before continuing.
“‘It began with a dream.’
“‘I have a vision of a deep purple sky, with dark stems rising, casting shadows from a moon, too large for the sky, a red moon that rises above jagged hills. Things move among the stems, low-slung, and insect-like farmers tending to the growth.’
“‘And it is not just on the ground where things scurry. Something crosses the face of the moon -- a thin body, propelled by gossamer wings, hovering like a vast dragonfly above the plain below.’
“‘I am sucked downward towards a dark edifice on the plain, a pyramidal structure enormous in scale, black as coal and swarming with drones. It has a hole in the top, a tunnel leading down into its bowels and I know I do not want to see what is inside. I swirl down, gaining speed, spinning dizzily, accelerating towards where something waits -- something that wants a closer look at me.’
Carnacki: Heaven and Hell Page 18
