previous one. In it were dolphins.
“Bottle-nosed dolphins,” said Holmes. “Magnificent animals. There are those that contend that they possess a certain innate intelligence.”
With this, Dr Paxton’s eyes lit up. “You surprise me, Mr Holmes.”
“I have found that many worthy ideas start at the fringes of society that are initially rejected by the mainstream,” said Holmes, “only to be eventually accepted by the very same naysayers and disbelievers, who then attempt to claim credit for them.”
“I suspect that law enforcement’s gain is science’s loss,” said Paxton as he led us back through the glass gallery.
“This is the entirety of your sea menagerie?” asked Holmes.
“Yes, excluding those organisms on the slides under my microscope.”
It was an amazing collection, I thought. I couldn’t imagine that there could be another one like it, in private hands, in all of England. We returned to the great hall and sat down. Then Holmes produced the photographs he’d shown me on the train.
“Before you view these, Dr Paxton, I must warn you of their graphic nature.”
“I’m a man of science, sir,” said Paxton, blinking.
“Very well,” said Holmes, “if you’ve read the local newspaper in the last few days, you’ll have heard of the human arm that was found on the beach, not far from here.”
“I’m afraid I’m much too involved in my work to keep up with the news.”
“I’d like you to look at these photographs and give me your professional opinion. Is there any sea creature you know of that could have done this to a man?”
Holmes gave Paxton the photographs. Paxton studied them carefully, then said, “There are no teeth marks that would indicate a shark, rare as such an attack is on humans. Even so, it would not be so smooth a cut as this.”
“Could a whale have been responsible?”
“I dare say not. Once again, in the few documented cases I know of there would be signs of biting and the skin and bone would be jagged. Even piranhas—which are native to South America and are never found in these cold waters—would leave traces of their tiny, razor-like teeth. I see no evidence of anything of the sort here. I know of no fish or ocean mammal capable of inflicting such damage in precisely this way.”
Paxton returned the photographs to Holmes, who stood up promptly and said, “Thank you, Dr Paxton, you’ve been of invaluable assistance. Come, Watson, our driver awaits.”
We returned to the village and stopped in front of the inn, whereupon Holmes told me to go up to our room and wait for him, as he had “some errands to attend to.
I stepped out of the carriage, and it pulled away quickly. As I walked through the simply furnished lobby and up the stairs, I wondered what my friend was going to do. Once in our room, I passed the time by reading a book I found on a shelf about tin mining in Cornwall. Though I found the style somewhat dry, to say the least, the subject was surprisingly engaging.
* * * *
It was past dusk, when Sherlock Holmes returned, and in a very excited state.
“Come Watson,” he said, “and bring your revolver. We are rapidly approaching the dénouement of our case.”
“But how—?”
“There’s no time to explain, every moment we delay may cost lives.”
We rushed out of the inn, into the same trap that had taken us to the manor in the morning. It was now night, and a full moon hung above us.
“We’re off to the manor,” whispered Holmes, presumably so the driver would not hear him.
“At this hour?” I replied.
What was Holmes getting us into? I thought. By his tone, I suspected we would hardly be attending a formal dinner party. Though the reason for our nocturnal visit eluded me, my confidence in Holmes’s ability to prevail was unwavering.
When we were halfway to the manor, Holmes instructed the driver to take another route to the left, bringing us back inland. I was completely perplexed, as we were now heading away from the manor. The road turned again, and we entered a thick grove of trees. Fortunately, the moon provided us with some light, or we’d have surely been lost.
Suddenly, Holmes commanded the driver to come to an abrupt halt. Then he struck a match, lit a lantern, and instructed me to step out of the carriage. When I had done so, he exited as well, and dismissed the driver. The carriage sped off, leaving Holmes and me alone in a dense forest.
“Follow me,” whispered Holmes, holding the lantern.
I couldn’t help asking myself the obvious questions. Where were we? Why were we here? And what in blazes were we doing? We walked for a few minutes. In the subdued light, I stumbled in some ruts in the hard dirt.
Soon after, we reached a boulder that resembled an apple. Then Holmes reached into his coat, removed a rolled-up paper, and held the lantern up to it. After a cursory glance, he pocketed the paper, walked a few paces, and turned around.
“Here, Watson, follow me, and stay very close behind.”
At this I could take no more. Patience is a virtue only up to a point. “Now, Holmes, I think it’s about time—”
“You’re quite right, Watson. When this manor was built, over four hundred years ago, there was much concern over the then very real possibility of sieges, and the masons who built it were instructed by their lord and master, to provide an escape tunnel into this forest.”
“Ingenious, but how did you know about its existence?”
“There’ll be plenty of opportunity to go into that later, but right now time is of the essence.”
He held up the lantern, which revealed a set of stone steps that were all but covered by thick foliage.
“Keep your revolver handy, Watson,” he said, as we descended the stairs and came to a rusty iron door. It was padlocked. Holmes pulled out a set of keys, selected one, slid it into the lock, and it snapped open. Then the door followed suit with a soft, creaking sound.
Holmes held up the lantern, and I saw a tunnel directly ahead of us. I removed the gun from my pocket and held it tightly, as we stepped into the cavern. It was dark and smelled of mold. The lantern lit the way, as we trod through the seemingly endless tunnel. It’s been said that man’s most primal fear is darkness, and at that moment I had no doubt of it.
Eventually, the passageway became narrower, and then, at last, we came to an opening. Here Holmes turned to me and whispered, “Do not speak, Watson. Now we must wait.”
Holmes doused the lantern and through the entrance in front of us, we saw a vast cave unfold that was illuminated by an eerie, flickering light. There was a narrow ridge immediately outside the opening where we stood. We walked a few paces, stole a quick glance over the edge. There, some twenty-five feet below, was an immense grotto filled with water.
We
