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

“‘The very image,’ she confirmed.

“‘You kept her from the church until the vicar was sufficiently delusional for her sudden appearance to have fatal consequences. You had her deliver the two-headed lamb to his door, whilst you dined with Lord Zeal. I will be making enquiries to see if the purchase of that creature was made locally, but I suspect you brought it with you.’

“‘A curiosity, is it not?’ said she with amusement.

“‘Mary too was the vehicle by which you poisoned Tunstall’s food with the mandrake. Mrs. Balfour was in the habit of making cakes for the vicar. She also likes to gossip. Through her, you learned of the vicar’s ill health. Zeal told me that you allowed Mary to help her with her chores and no doubt her baking. In so doing, you made Mrs. Balfour the unknowing instrument of your revenge.’

“Lady Bulmer rose abruptly to her feet. ‘If what you say is true, Mr. Holmes, then you should inform the authorities. That is, assuming you have evidence?’

“My silence was eloquent. In truth, the strangest sensation was coming over, as though I was looking at the lady through a veil of coloured lights.

“‘I thought not,’ said she, assuredly. ‘I saw in you the potential to cause trouble from the first. I also saw your arrogance in your treatment of the vicar the other night. The same arrogance has brought you to my door. You expect me to confess when there is no evidence to convict me. That would be foolish of me, Mr. Holmes, as it was foolish of you to come here. When I said I was expecting you, it was for this very reason. I took precautions. The sugar Mary put in your tea was laced with mandrake, which in low doses produces a disorientating effect. Because of you, we have had to change our plans. You may not secure a conviction, but you could make things difficult for us in the future. I mean you no harm, but I cannot allow you to stand in our way.’

“‘I will not let you leave,’ I said, trying to rise. The room began a merry dance and it was all I could do to stand upright with the assistance of the chair.

“‘But, Mr. Holmes, how will you stop me?’

“I reached for her, but she stepped out of arm’s length. A grotesque being began to unfurl its coils in the corner of the room, and while I was distracted, she took the opportunity to leave. I staggered after her, scarce knowing where I was going. A doorway yawned before me, and before I could react, I had been pushed into a cellar that might as well have been the depths of hell. The door slammed shut and a key turned in the lock.

“Under normal circumstances, I should have freed myself in a matter of minutes. In the dark with my drugged imagination conjuring up creatures seen only in the work of Hieronymus Bosch, it took a good two hours before I was free of my prison. Night had fallen, and with threatening rain clouds robbing what light there was from the sky, I faced a difficult journey back to Deverill Grange to raise the alarm.

“Over an hour later, I came up against a gate set into a wall. I scrabbled with the bolt, eager to be out of the pouring rain. My feet sank into mud, which was nothing compared to the torments of my mind, and when I came up against a door, I thought little of letting myself in.

“The realisation that one is in danger may prove the remedy for any ailment. Only once inside did I begin to appreciate my predicament, that far from finding myself in the relative comforts of the Grange, I had entered the sty of King Charles. The boar stood up, transforming with the aid of the mandrake into a beast of leviathan proportions. He was curious and somewhat affronted by the intrusion. I found myself backed into a corner, while he snorted and grunted at me. When he took an exploratory nip at my ankle, I tried to push him away. This only angered him and I soon found myself being pinned between a Berkshire pig and the wall. By some grace I was able to pull myself free, only to tumble onto the straw. Then I felt the boar’s teeth fastened onto my thigh.

“‘Pigs are not as benign as some would have us believe. Many are the unwary farmers who have been crushed or trampled by their animals. In some cases, the pigs have begun to eat the flesh before the body can be retrieved. I was fortunate in being able to escape the sty that night. I still bear the scars to remind me of the encounter.

“I was discovered late the next morning, bloodied and asleep in the hay barn, with no memory of how I got there. Lady Bulmer, with her daughter and maid, were long gone, not to rural Lincolnshire, but to the Southampton docks, where they had boarded a ship for America.

“I told the authorities of my concerns, but without evidence, they had little interest. When I told them of my experience with the mandrake, it was politely suggested that I restrict the amount of beer they imagined I had imbibed, rather than casting slurs on respectable ladies. I could take the case no further. Zeal was disconsolate for a while, and buried his sorrows in his work to great effect. He was never to see the daughter again, and I understand she married a New York financier. Nor did Lady Bulmer return. As I had correctly deduced, her work was done.

“But ours is not, my dear fellow, for I hear Mrs. Hudson’s key in the door, and the curious affair of the Wagstaff Wonder is still