The Book of the Dead Read online

  Braithwaite’s arrival prevented me from questioning him further, but his sombre and doom-laden mood remained with me.

  Holmes deliberately turned to our host at dinner as Painter, assisted by one of the maids, was serving the meal.

  ‘Watson and I will need two horses tomorrow,’ he said. ‘I must make enquiries which I am certain will bring me to the solution.’

  I noticed a look of interest cross Painter’s face. Holmes’s request would quickly become common knowledge in the household.

  ‘That should suffice,’ Holmes remarked as the servants left us. ‘It will be interesting to see what results it may produce.’

  *

  We left early the following day and rode over the Devil’s Bridge into Kirkby Lonsdale at noon. We went to the principal tavern for luncheon, where Holmes engaged the landlord in conversation. Encouraged by my friend’s questions about fishing, the publican became increasingly forthcoming, their conversation interrupted only by his greeting every customer by name.

  ‘You know your clientele well,’ Holmes remarked.

  ‘After sixteen years I should do, sir,’ the man replied. ‘There are few people who walk through that door who are strangers to me. You’re the first I’ve not known for a twelvemonth.’

  ‘Remarkable,’ said Holmes. ‘However, we must be on our way, landlord. Thanks for your hospitality.’

  As we walked away, Holmes shook his head. ‘That was clearly not the meeting place. We must divide our forces. You go to the church while I make enquiries elsewhere. We are seeking the presence, within the past few days, of a man and a woman, unknown to the villagers.’

  ‘A man and a woman. How can you be certain?’

  ‘Braithwaite and his sister each saw the woman and the accomplice is not likely to be other than a man I think. Meet me back here in two hours.’

  My own enquiries were fruitless. I found the verger but he afforded me nothing, then I chanced upon an elderly woman—clearly the village gossip—whose cottage overlooked the old Norman church. It was clear that the vantage point of her home meant no stranger could have been in the vicinity of St Mary’s without her being aware. I was treated to a detailed account of everything that had occurred in the area during the past several weeks before I was able to excuse myself. Returning to the rendezvous point with Holmes, I hoped he had enjoyed more success, but the look on his face when I saw him approaching dashed my hopes.

  ‘My trail is cold, Watson,’ he announced grimly. ‘You do not give the appearance of a man who has enjoyed any more success.’

  ‘All I have learned is that on the fourteenth a travelling circus passed through the town,’ I replied. ‘Otherwise there are no reports of any strangers in the…’

  Holmes slapped the heel of his hand against his forehead. ‘What an imbecile I have been!’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘Just because a line of reasoning is ingenious, Watson, does not mean that it must be right,’ he replied. ‘But its cleverness flatters our conceit and we are in danger of closing our minds to the truth because it is, by comparison, pedestrian. My ingenuity—of which you frequently speak so warmly—has prevented me from observing the simple. We must return to Meldred Hall.’

  ‘But I cannot see…’ I began.

  ‘Neither could I, Watson,’ he interrupted. ‘When you are seeking the needle, you must first ensure you are looking in the right haystack.’

  As we rode back, I was at a loss to understand how Holmes could suddenly be so satisfied, but he remained uncommunicative and I could not untangle the knot for myself.

  Johnson hurried out to meet us as we reached Meldred Hall shortly after seven o’clock.

  ‘Mr Holmes! You must go to the Hall immediately.’

  ‘What has happened?’ Holmes demanded.

  ‘The Firewitch has struck again!’

  Holmes leapt from his horse. ‘Your master and Miss Eleanor. Pray God they have come to no further harm!’

  ‘They are both well, sir,’ Johnson assured him. ‘It was one of the maids she attacked.’

  ‘What new mischief is this?’ Holmes muttered as we ran from the stables to where Braithwaite was waiting on the front steps.

  ‘It’s Alice McGregor,’ he said in answer to Holmes’s questioning look. ‘She was attacked this afternoon.’

  ‘By the bird?’

  ‘No, by Mad Meg, a simpleton of the village. The girl can tell you everything.’

  He took us to the servants’ wing at the rear of the house, where McGregor was being tended by Mrs Broom. The edge of a bruise was visible beneath a bandage applied to the maid’s head. Despite her injury, she was able to tell Holmes what had occurred.

  ‘I’d gone out to feed the poultry,’ she said. ‘As I was returning, Mad Meg appeared in front of me and struck me with her stick. As I fell, I heard her say she was the Firewitch.’

  ‘What were her precise words?’

  The girl thought for a moment. ‘“The Firewitch will have you all”.’

  Holmes glanced at Braithwaite. ‘Has this woman been located?’

  ‘The police have gone to her cottage in Attwater, but she is nowhere to be found. I have told them to bring her here as soon as they can.’

  ‘Very well,’ said Holmes, then he turned back to the girl in the bed. ‘You must rest. You have been very brave.’

  Downstairs Holmes spoke to other members of the staff. None of them had seen Mad Meg near the house that day, but said she was a frequent visitor, begging for food or old clothing. When he had finished, my friend was alone with Painter for some time.

  ‘Almost there, Watson,’ he remarked as he re-joined me in the sitting-room. ‘We will now await the apprehension of Mad Meg.’

  He warmed his hands at the fire. ‘Have you observed how chilly it is in the servants’ quarters?’ After this runic remark he said no more, but there was a gleam of satisfaction in his eyes.

  Some three hours later, a police sergeant and constable brought Mad Meg to the Hall. The pitiful creature was well named, dressed in the foulest rags with lank hair falling about her wrinkled face. Her eyes stared wildly about the kitchen where all the staff were gathered. Her dribbling mouth twitched as she mumbled incoherently, gnarled fingers twisting some wild flowers she had picked. From my medical knowledge, I felt certain we would get no sense out of her.

  ‘So this is the Firewitch,’ Holmes said reflectively. ‘What can you tell me of her, sergeant?’

  ‘A local idiot, Mr Holmes. Mad Meg’s lived in these parts all her life. She’s backward, but up to now has been harmless. She wanders about chattering away to herself, talking to the birds and the like. It seems her mind has taken a turn for the worse.’ He looked at us significantly. ‘There’s talk in Attwater that she claims to have been visited by the spirit of Margaret Seymour and has been given her powers.’

  ‘Most conclusive,’ Holmes nodded approvingly. ‘May I suggest she be confronted by her latest victim?’

  ‘Exactly my thinking, sir,’ the man replied enthusiastically. ‘If the poor lass is up to it.’

  ‘Our presence will reassure her she is in no danger.’

  Alice McGregor, led into the kitchen on the arm of a solicitous Mrs Broom, recoiled in terror when she saw the madwoman.

  ‘Do not be afraid,’ said Holmes. ‘Is this the woman who attacked you?’

  ‘Yes,’ the girl replied timidly.

  Mad Meg glowered malevolently, then suddenly spat.

  ‘God help me!’ Alice screamed, frantically rubbing her bodice where the spittle had landed. ‘The Firewitch has cursed me!’

  ‘That’s enough!’ the sergeant cried. ‘Don’t you worry, young woman, no harm will come to you now.’

  As Mrs Broom comforted the sobbing McGregor, the officers pulled Mad Meg to her feet. Holmes stepped across the room and stood in front of her for a moment then bent down and looked closely at her wizened face.

  ‘Do your duty, sergeant,’ he said. ‘It is a sad business,
but the law must decide if this woman’s mental condition places her outside its restrictions. Meldred Hall need have no further fear.’

  ‘But what about the bird?’ asked Braithwaite.

  ‘The sergeant has already answered that,’ Holmes replied. ‘Mad Meg has a reputation of talking to the birds and who knows what rare and unsuspected powers of control her strange mind may have over them? There are buzzards in this neighbourhood and all hunting birds can be trained. Am I not right, sergeant?’

  ‘Absolutely, sir.’ The man looked pleased. ‘Always had a way with animals has Mad Meg.’

  As the wretched woman was led away, Holmes turned to Braithwaite. ‘You see, nothing supernatural, just a degenerate madwoman who had become dangerous. You must tell your sister of the conclusion of this matter. Watson and I will await you.’

  Holmes and I left the kitchen and went to Braithwaite’s study where my companion closed the door firmly behind us.

  ‘That woman may make no better sense in the morning,’ he remarked. ‘But at least she may be more amenable when the effects of the drink so evident on her breath have subsided. What a fine old farce we have been witness to!’

  ‘Then Mad Meg is not the culprit?’ I exclaimed.

  ‘Watson, do not disappoint me,’ Holmes said impatiently. ‘This tarradiddle may fool the police and the local incredulous, but surely you are not deceived as well?’

  ‘It has some persuasive factors. If they locate this buzzard…’

  ‘There is no buzzard,’ Holmes interrupted dismissively. ‘That was only my contribution to this deception. However, we must maintain the appearance of having been misled by a scheme devised specifically for our benefit. Braithwaite alone we can take into our confidence.’

  A few moments later our host re-joined us. ‘Mr Holmes, I have spoken to my sister, but I am far from satisfied at this stage that…’

  ‘Of course you are not satisfied,’ said Holmes. ‘Our intelligence has been insulted by this ridiculous act of desperation concocted to deflect me from my purpose. Virtually the entire picture is now clear. Just a little more information, and I know where to look for it. Advise Painter that Watson and I will be leaving for London in the morning, our business here having been completed.’

  ‘London?’ Braithwaite cried. ‘How is the answer there?’

  ‘It is not,’ said Holmes. ‘And neither shall we be. We shall leave the train at Manchester, and return as soon as possible. Can you advise us of a small inn within a few miles of here—to the west, by the by—where we might pass ourselves off as innocent visitors? With false names, we should not be recognised.’

  Braithwaite suggested a suitable place and Holmes took directions as to how we could reach it.

  ‘That appears ideal,’ he said. ‘Watson, I must ask you to take on the guise of a naturalist who has come to the Lake District to catalogue the early spring flowers. Braithwaite, expect to hear from me by the post. I cannot say when, but you must carry out any instructions it contains absolutely. To quote a distinguished son of these parts, we have gone from a find to a check and now may proceed to a view and a kill.

  He gazed into the fire, a look of keen anticipation on his face.

  ‘However, perhaps we might pass our time discussing legal matters. As one of Her Majesty’s Crown Prosecutors, you must have been involved in several cases in which I would find points of interest.’

  Looking rather surprised, our host agreed, and for the rest of the evening Holmes asked about Braithwaite’s career, without making any reference to the matters which had brought us to Meldred Hall.

  THE DOOM OF THE GREAT BIRD

  ‘Rumour will now be our ally, Watson,’ Holmes gestured out of the carriage window as our train pulled out of Oxenholme the following morning. ‘Word of Mad Meg’s arrest will spread like a bushfire and her guilt unquestionably concluded. After all, the great Sherlock Holmes is satisfied she was the Firewitch, so what other suspicions can remain?’

  I did not question him further. It was invariably my friend’s habit to be elliptical when on the brink of the solution to a mystery, while still lacking the absolute proof of the concluding details.

  In Manchester we bought suitably rustic clothes in the city’s Oxford Street, then made our way to the nearby University where we obtained some basic scientific equipment and reference books to give credence to our intended roles. Holmes also purchased a pair of powerful binoculars. Camouflaged by our disguise, we returned north from the capital of King Cotton and installed ourselves in the small, but clean and comfortable Lyth Valley Inn in the shadow of the peaks westward of Meldred Hall. Our works of English flora and specimen boxes seemed to satisfy the landlord and his wife that we were indeed researchers of natural history and we set off the following morning filled with advice as to where several rare species of plants might be found.

  ‘Our paths divide here, Watson,’ Holmes announced as we left the tiny hamlet and reached a stream chuckling over rocks. ‘You must continue and collect enough specimens to support our story. I will meet you at the tavern this evening.’

  He forded the shallow stream and struck off in the direction of the hills ahead of us. I watched his tall figure rising up the greensward until it was almost invisible then began my duties as an imitation botanist. By the afternoon, I had collected a fair number of samples and made my way back to the inn in the early evening. Holmes had still not returned and I was sitting in the warmth of the tiny snug bar when he arrived. He asked the landlady if she could provide him with a meal then brought his ale and joined me on the oak settle by the fireside.

  ‘The lady is most impressed with what you have collected,’ he remarked with a grin. ‘You have quite hoaxed her. I have been equally successful, but have nothing tangible I can display. But I found what 1 was seeking in the mountains. I have also discovered a route to Meldred Hall that avoids the road.’

  ‘Have you been there? To the Hall?’

  ‘Only to observe it from a distance,’ he replied. ‘Then I found a village which boasts a small post office from where I was able to write to Braithwaite. The trap closes, Watson, and there will be no escape.’

  We quitted our accommodation next morning, announcing our intention of going further towards the coast, but instead made our way up into the mountains. Holmes showed me the shepherd’s tracks he had discovered the previous day and soon we were high over the wide, flat valley with Meldred Hall faintly visible in the distance. Holmes stopped at one point and directed his binoculars towards the Hall.

  ‘Braithwaite has done his work,’ he commented but did not explain how he knew that to be the case.

  We descended to the level pasture land and another hour’s walk took us past the mere by Lowman’s Farm and into Witch’s Wood. We pitched camp at the edge of a clearing in the undergrowth and ate the food we had purchased from the inn prior to our departure. In the late afternoon we heard someone approaching through the trees.

  ‘Mr Holmes?’ a voice whispered and moments later Braithwaite appeared through the bushes at the edge of the clearing.

  ‘Over here,’ Holmes called softly and Braithwaite joined us in the protective cover of dead bracken. ‘You have done exactly what I asked?’

  ‘Yes, although it has caused my household immense distress. That I should be selling Meldred Hall and dismissing more than half of them at such short notice has appalled them. Mrs Broom was in tears and my heart ached to comfort her by explaining it was all a ruse of your devising.’

  ‘I am relieved that you controlled your tenderer feelings,’ Holmes said drily. ‘They must all believe without question that you are serious. They are all aware of your apparent intentions?’

  ‘I called the entire household and stable staff to my study this morning,’ Braithwaite replied. ‘I had Bates the gamekeeper brought to the hall for the meeting. Only the tenant farmers remain to be informed.’

  ‘And at what time did you say you were leaving the Hall this evening to do that?’ Holmes asked.<
br />
  ‘I told Painter I would set off at seven o’clock to go straight to Lowman’s Farm first then on to the others. Doubtless he will have told the other staff.’

  ‘And what of your sister?’ Holmes enquired.

  ‘I have said she is aware of my plans but they are on no account to mention it to her in her present condition.’

  ‘Excellent,’ Holmes said. ‘Do not concern yourself over what will happen next. We will both be with you, even if you cannot see us.’

  There was a sharp frost that evening and I was glad we had bought substantial woollen clothing while in Manchester; lighting a fire was out of the question. As darkness fell, we made our way to the edge of the woods and crouched in the bushes, peering in the direction towards which Meldred Hall lay. Just after six o’clock, a figure I could not recognise hurried past in the gloom within yards of our hiding place.

  ‘The bait is taken, Watson,’ Holmes breathed.

  An hour later we heard the sound of hooves and a glimmer of light appeared, bouncing up and down in the blackness. As we watched, the shadowy figure of Braithwaite and his horse trotted past, flitteringly lit by the shining lantern fastened to his saddle. We crept out and followed him and I was grateful for my army experience as we proceeded with infinite caution, keeping some hundred yards behind. I carried my old service revolver in my hand. Braithwaite rode through and out of the woods until he was skirting the mere, a mirror of cold silver in the white moonlight. It was eerily silent as we followed, falling further behind as our cover lessened and we waited in each clump of bushes to ensure that the coast was clear before moving swiftly to the next hiding place. Suddenly we saw a burst of orange flame rise from the undergrowth beside the horseman ahead of us.

  ‘Quickly, Watson! We have them!’ Holmes cried and we began to run.

  The light was a blazing torch which its bearer, indistinguishable in the darkness, thrust into the face of Braithwaite’s horse. The animal whinnied and reared, throwing its rider to the ground. Immediately, the figure leapt upon him as Holmes shouted a warning, then I tripped on something and brought Holmes down with me as I fell. As we scrambled to our feet again, the figure hurled the torch to one side and dashed away along the edge of the mere. We raced on towards Braithwaite then my blood and body froze as some huge bird, larger than anything I had ever seen, swooped silently and terribly across the still waters of the lake and landed on his inert form.