Séance for a Vampire by Fred Saberhagen (ebook reader macos .TXT) 📕

us, standing victorious among the ruins, faced the question of what we ought to do with our sole surviving foe.

In my expert judgment, then and now, a successful interrogation would certainly have been possible. but, now having heard Watson’s story, at least in outline, I feared that nothing our prisoner could say would lead us immediately to our chief enemy.

However, wishing to leave no stone unturned, I tried. Dragging the wretched survivor to his feet again, I demanded of him: “Where is Sherlock Holmes?”

There was no answer at first–then only an obscene, ranting defiance–until I did something that produced a real, if still unhelpful response: “I don’t know! Aaagh! Don’t know!”

Here I thought it wise to assure Watson–he was already starting to look a little green around the gills, and I think on the verge of protesting my methods–that his immediate presence was not required. I, Dracula, were I left alone with this would-be assassin, expected no serious difficulty in inducing in him a most talkative mood. Within a few minutes he might be expected to pass on to us every scrap of information in his possession regarding the identity of his immediate employer.

But, more important, I feared it might all be wasted effort; already I was convinced that all this man could tell us was not going to be enough.

Watson murmured uncomfortably that he was not sure that he understood.

With pressure–relatively painless–upon certain nerves, I rendered my captive unconscious and let him slide once more to the ground. Dusting my hands fastidiously, I took time out to explain: “He will remain so for many hours, unless I rouse him... but you see our problem, Doctor, do you not? Even if this fellow should be stimulated to a high pitch, one might even say a frenzy, of enthusiasm to be helpful to our cause, I am morally certain that he really does not have the information we consider vital. To obtain that, it will be necessary to find and interview one more link in the chain at least. This process might well occupy us for a day, or several days, before we could come to grips with the one who ultimately dispatched these men to kill you. And meanwhile, Cousin Sherlock...”

“Our main concern must be for him. I quite see the difficulty, yes.” Watson was wiping sweat from his forehead. He turned his head this way and that, obviously wishing he could be somewhere else. I remember thinking that he looked somewhat older than he had at the time of our previous encounter in 1897.

At last he came up with what he considered an appropriate response, satisfying the demands of honor as well as the exigencies of the immediate tactical situation. “In the circumstances I have no compunction about simply leaving these fellows here. In their present condition they can do little harm. And fortunately they have provided us with transportation. I think, Prince Dracula, if you will come with me, we have ample time to catch the early train to Amberley.”

Ten

Before going to Victoria Station I thought it best to stop in baker Street to pack some personal things–or, perhaps more accurately, to rearrange them–for my journey. The fact was that I had not yet unpacked from my previous trip to Amberley. Also I wished to leave word with Mrs. Hudson regarding my current plans and situation, and to examine any messages that might have arrived while I was gone.

Dracula, who continued in his role of driver, declined my invitation to enter the house. As we parted in the street outside, he assured me that I would find him there when I came down, and also cautioned me–rather unnecessarily, I thought–that I might well find it unsafe just now to go about in public without a bodyguard.

Entering the house, I ascended straight to my room to pack, without stopping to look into the sitting room; but on my way upstairs I encountered both Mrs. Hudson and billy–each of whom had been anxiously awaiting my return–and heard from them that the exhausted young couple were still asleep in their respective rooms. I hastily scribbled short notes of encouragement, one to be given to Armstrong and one to Miss Altamont as soon as they awakened, including the information that I was on my way back to Amberley.

My preparations for the trip were soon complete, being confined to essentials. In addition to the routine items which a traveler might be expected to carry on any journey, I brought along a well-stocked medical bag, and my old service revolver. In the circumstances I thought it wise to load the weapon with a few of the cartridges, fitted with wooden bullets, which had been especially made at Holmes’s order in 1897. The gunsmith was the blind German Von Herder, the same artisan once so well known for his skill at building deadly air guns. The wood, a waxy greenish-brown, was lignum vitae, very hard and too heavy to float in water. Against vampires these bullets were vastly more effective than any metal projectiles. For six years I had retained this ammunition as a curiosity, never thinking that we might again require it for a serious purpose.

When I came down to the street, Dracula, still in his character of driver, was waiting as he had promised. I noticed that the prince now wore a different hat, of dyed and woven straw, the sort of broadbrimmed head-covering which any person of his race would find useful if not essential against prolonged exposure to even the tempered English sun. In my absence the carriage had been moved to a different position at the curb, and on entering it again I discovered a carpetbag which had not been in the vehicle before. Evidently this was my new associate’s baggage for our journey, and he had obtained it somewhere, along with his new hat, during the few minutes I had been absent. Surely, I thought, he could not have gone far to get these things.