The Mammoth Book of New Sherlock Holmes Adventures - Mike Ashley [178]
“You told your fiancée nothing about these unnerving incidents?”
“Certainly not.”
“You did not investigate these happenings?”
“I did, Mr Holmes. I have a very powerful hand lantern and I lit that and went outside. But I left the front door open, so that the light spilled across the garden, and I never moved more than three yards from the door.”
“You were very wise, Mr Smedhurst. Someone was evidently attempting to lure you from your home.”
Smedhurst turned white and caught his breath with a little gasp.
“I had not thought of that, Mr Holmes. This happened on several occasions, but I could never find anyone though there were occasional traces of boots in the mud when the weather was wet. Thank God, all these activities stopped when spring came.”
“Obviously, Mr Smedhurst. The person who was trying to frighten you could not carry out his activities during light spring and summer evenings.”
“But what is the point of all this, Mr Holmes?”
“Hopefully, we shall see in due course,” said my companion.
“Well, with the cessation of these manifestations, I regained my spirits somewhat and Miss Reynolds and I formally announced our engagement. In the meantime I visited the lawyer and in a roundabout way asked whether the former occupier of the cottage, Jabez Crawley, had ever mentioned anything out of the way there.”
“And what was this gentleman’s reaction?”
“Oh, he simply asked me a few questions about faulty drains, draught and damp and so forth and then queried whether I wished to sell the cottage.”
Holmes clasped his thin fingers before him and sat studying my client’s troubled face in silence for a long moment.
“Last winter the things began again,” said Smedhurst. “Only it was worse this time. Not only weird noises, footsteps and tappings but one evening a fortnight ago a ghastly face like crumpled parchment appeared at the parlour window. I had left the curtains drawn back and you may remember the severe weather in February, so that there was a rime of frost on the panes. I caught a glimpse only for a moment but it turned my soul sick inside. A hideous white idiot face like a dwarf. I sat slumped for what must have been an hour without stirring outside. Nothing else happened or I should not have been able to answer for my sanity.”
“You may well say so. But you have other troubles also, Mr Smedhurst.”
The bearded man looked startled.
“I have heard that you can work miracles, Mr Holmes, and that you can almost see into people’s minds.”
Holmes gave a short laugh.
“Hardly, Mr Smedhurst. But I know a deeply troubled man when I see one. There is something beyond all this business, is there not? Something connected with Miss Reynolds?”
Smedhurst half-started from his chair and gave a strangled cry.
“You are right, Mr Holmes. There has been a growing estrangement because of all this. She wanted to know why I had changed but I did not want to involve her …”
He broke off and buried his head in his hands.
“Now I hear that she has taken up with a young man who has come to live in the village …”
Holmes put his finger to his lips and then laid his hand on our visitor’s shoulder.
“All may yet come right, Mr Smedhurst. Do not despair.”
“I have not told you the worst, Mr Holmes. Last night someone tried to shoot me as I stood outside my cottage door. It was dusk and the shot missed me by inches. I have never been so frightened in my life.”
“Perhaps a poacher with a shotgun …” I began.
Smedhurst stood up abruptly, trying to control the trembling that shook his frame.
“No, Dr Watson. I know a rifle shot when I hear one. That bullet was meant for me!”
“Why did you not call in the police, Mr Smedhurst?”
“We have only a sleepy village constable, Mr Holmes, and I had no evidence.”
Holmes was on his feet now.
“Is there an inn in this Parvise Magna of yours?”
“Yes, Mr Holmes, the ‘George and Dragon’. ”
“Good. If you will telegraph for rooms we will accompany you to Dorset in the morning. I take it you would wish to come, Watson?”