Gaslight Grimoire_ Fantastic Tales of Sherlock Holmes - Barbara Hambly [31]
For a moment I feared, from the expression on my friend’s face, that he would not take kindly to this remark; but after a moment his features relaxed into a smile, and he laughed.
“Perhaps that is no bad thing, Mr. Low,” he remarked, “for at the end of the play Horatio is one of the few characters still in the land of the living, while the Prince of Denmark is, we presume, learning at first hand whether or not his views on the spiritual world were correct.”
Flaxman Low laughed in his turn. “Well said, Mr. Holmes.” Then his face turned grave. “You mentioned Lufford Abbey. May I enquire as to your interest in that house and its late owner?”
Holmes shrugged. “As to its late owner I admit of no knowledge, save for the fact of his death last year. The house, however, is our destination, hence my interest in any particulars relating to it.” He gazed at Low thoughtfully. “I am not mistaken, I think, in stating that Lufford Abbey is your destination also, and that you have been summoned thence by Mr. John Fitzgerald, to look into a matter which has been troubling him.”
“You are quite correct, Mr. Holmes,” acknowledged Low. “Mr. Fitzgerald wrote and asked if I would be available to look into a series of events which is proving troubling to his household, and appears to be beyond the capabilities of the local police force.”
“And we have received a similar letter from Mrs. Fitzgerald,” said Holmes. “It appears, Mr. Low, that we shall have a practical means of comparing our methods; it will be interesting to see what results we achieve.”
“Indeed.” Low paused, and looked from one of us to the other. “You say that you know nothing of Julian Karswell, save for the few facts surrounding his death. Perhaps, if you will allow me, I can give further elucidation as to the character of the late owner of Lufford Abbey.”
“By all means,” said Holmes. “At present I am working in the dark, and any information which you can provide would be of the greatest interest.”
“I am not surprised that you know little of Julian Karswell,” said Low, settling back into his seat and clasping his hands behind his head, “for while I, and a few others who knew of him, felt that he had the makings of a distinguished criminal, he never committed any crimes which broke the laws of man as they currently stand.”
Holmes raised his eyebrows. “Are you saying that he committed crimes which broke other laws?”
“Yes, Mr. Holmes. Karswell was interested in the occult, or the black arts — call it what you will — and he had the means to devote himself to his studies, for he was reputed to be a man of great wealth, although how he acquired this wealth was a question for much speculation. He used to joke about the many treasures of his house, although no one that I know of was ever permitted to see them. He wrote a book upon the subject of witchcraft, which was treated with contempt by most of those who bothered to read it; until, that is, it appeared that Mr. Karswell took a somewhat more practical approach to the occult than had been suspected.”
“Practical?” I interjected. “In what way?”
Our companion paused before replying. When he did, his tone was grave. “Certain people who had occasion to cross Mr. Karswell suffered fates which were … curious, to say the least. A man named John Harrington, who wrote a scathing review of Karswell’s book The History of Witchcraft, died under circumstances which were never satisfactorily explained, and another man, Edward Dunning, made what I consider to be a very narrow escape.”
It was my turn to utter an exclamation, and both Holmes and Low turned to look at me. “Edward Dunning, who belongs to the ______ — Association?” I asked.
“Yes,” replied Low in some curiosity, while Holmes gazed at me quizzically. “Why, do you know him?”
“As a matter of fact I do,” I replied. “He came to me on the recommendation of a neighbor — oh, eighteen months or so ago — and we struck