Sherlock Holmes: Before Baker Street by David Marcum (warren buffett book recommendations TXT) 📕

“‘Hilary, sir,’ said Taylor. ‘Hil for short.’

“‘So Mr. Taylor is Hil and so is his wife, if you see what I mean,’ he added, growing ever more uneasy by the second. ‘Thank you, Taylor, that will be all.’

“With the evening at an end, I retreated to my room. The encounter with Tunstall had instructive. Far from being the unworldly country clergyman I had been expecting, here was a man of learning, given way to beliefs that were almost medieval. Why he had consented to be exiled to a place like Norton Deverill was as much a mystery as Lady Bulmer’s stubborn decision to remain. Mrs. Balfour had talked of a scandal, but there would have been other parishes at the bishop’s disposal more to Tunstall’s liking. I considered whether he saw Lady Bulmer as a threat to his dominance of the village, for he had bridled when she had said she would attend the morning service. But that too seemed unlikely, for the lady chose to live a quiet life and had little to do with the community. If mastery was his concern, then Lord Zeal would have been a better target for his attacks.

“I was certain, however, he was the instigator of the strange events in the village. To what end, I could not say. I trusted that the morrow would shed more light on his motives.

“As it was, the next day we found Tunstall more perturbed than ever. He met us at the porch, declaring his very life was in peril should he step over the threshold. The change in the man was considerable. Gone was the fire and brimstone. Sheer terror had taken its place. There was a hunted look in his eyes, and his face was haggard. The twitching of his fingers as he dabbed his handkerchief at his sweat-dampened brow told of his turmoil. To behold him thus gave me pause as to my theories of the previous evening.

“‘I saw the Devil last night, dancing upon my lawn,’ he told me earnestly. ‘He beckoned to me, told me I would be his this very day. I dared not close my eyes in sleep the whole night. My very soul is in peril.’

“‘Come now, Vicar,’ said Zeal merrily, ‘you exaggerate.’

“‘Upon my word, Lord Zeal, had you been there to witness when I was plucked from my bed and carried halfway across this accursed county, you would not doubt my word. And then, this morning, to find scrawled upon my door: “This night thy soul shall be required of thee”.’

“‘The same could be said of all of us, Vicar,’ said Mrs. Balfour, who had followed us up the path. ‘Let us have none of this talk at Christmas.’

“I fear her words fell upon deaf ears, for Tunstall continued to ramble to any who would listen about the danger which he faced. Such was the growing consternation that when Lady Bulmer, her daughter, and their maid arrived, Zeal insisted we should show our support by sitting with them at the back of the church.

“The service began in erratic fashion and continued in the same vein. The vicar was nervous, as though he expected to hear the gnashing of teeth and rending of flesh at any moment. The crisis came when he climbed into the pulpit. In the midst of his reading, he stopped suddenly and the words died on his lips.

“He was staring straight at me. I shall never forget the look of horror in his stricken eyes. With a strangled cry, he lurched forward with such violence I thought he must be thrown from the pulpit. He clutched at his throat, tearing at his collar as he gasped for air. In his death throes, he scrabbled for support, sending the Bible flying down to the tiled floor with a thud loud enough to wake the sleepers in the crypt. A moment later, he had reeled back and then, losing his footing, tumbled down the steps and sprawled in front of the altar.

“Panic took hold of the congregation. Several ladies fainted, whilst another began a high-pitched wailing. Others congregated around the fallen man, keeping their distance lest his death become theirs. The vicar was barely conscious when we got to his side. With his dying breath did he utter a few agonised words before his eyes rolled heavenwards and his body grew limp.

“It was a grave situation. The vicar was dead, struck down in his own church on the very day Lady Bulmer attended. With the mood growing fearful and angry by the minute, I had grave concerns for the lady’s safety.

“‘Get Lady Bulmer away from here,’ I told Zeal. ‘And then send for a doctor and the authorities. This needs resolving without delay.’

“Zeal scurried away, taking Lady Bulmer and her party with him. Around me, those who remained were declaring she had summoned the Devil to claim Tunstall’s soul. If not for Mrs. Balfour’s calming intervention, we should have had a riot upon our hands. Should you ever doubt the extremes to which people may be driven by fear, then you need look no further than the horror that gripped Norton Deverill that day. Whether trusting to prayer or the safety of home, every soul who had witnessed the vicar’s death was convinced we were bound for Gehenna.

“Matters were not helped by the three hours it took for the doctor to arrive. Dr. Meakin was a brusque, officious man of middling years, given to grumbling because of what he saw as the unnecessary interruption to his day.

“‘Couldn’t it have waited?’ were his first words on seeing the body. ‘The man is beyond help.’

“‘Lord Zeal did right in calling us in, Doctor,’ said Shorter, the bovine sergeant of police who had accompanied him. ‘This here death is suspicious, wouldn’t you say?’

“‘No, I wouldn’t. It’s a clear case of apoplexy if ever I’ve seen one.’

“‘A remarkable diagnosis,