“I have one,” I said, “How did you, in fact, capture this creature?”
“Sarah, for that is her name,” said Paxton, with an expression on his face I’ve seen on men extolling the virtues of their wives or mistresses, “came to me entirely by chance. This grotto has an opening that leads to the ocean.”
“Originally used to escape from invading Norsemen, then later used by smugglers,” said Holmes.
“Is there anything that you don’t know?” asked Paxton.
“Now it is you who flatter me, Doctor,” said Holmes.
“To continue,” said Paxton, “I have modified the cave opening with a door that opens and closes, remarkably quickly, I might add, using a mechanism of springs and pulleys. I open it slightly, once a day, to allow seawater to cleanse the grotto. In any case, I had baited a trap with fish, hoping to ensnare dolphins and seals—which I eventually did. But then I had the idea to set my sights on a whale.
“Instead, one night, to my extreme surprise and elation, I found this marvellous behemoth instead.” Paxton looked at Holmes and myself, and smiled. “Story time is over, gentlemen, and dinner time commences.”
I saw Holmes turn, duck, and pounce upon the assailant behind us. He subdued the man with a roundhouse punch to the jaw, knocking him cold. I grabbed our revolvers. Then Holmes and I faced our opponents once more.
“It seems that we’re at that impasse again,” said Paxton, “rather like a tedious game of badminton.”
Just then I heard footsteps. Paxton and his two men turned as I leapt and pulled the bound man toward us.
Lestrade and Dunbar appeared, with pistols drawn.
“It’s about time, Lestrade,” said Holmes, “how much did you hear?”
“Enough to be satisfied that Edmund Collier is innocent of the murder of Alvar Harris,” replied Lestrade. He turned to Paxton and his men. “Hands up, please. You will be so kind as to accompany us.”
“But what will become of Sarah?” asked Paxton.
“The monster will be turned over to the Regent Aquarium, no doubt,” said Lestrade.
“No, I cannot allow that!” Paxton roared. “That pack of imbeciles will not get my Sarah.” With that he took a step.
“Don’t move,” said Lestrade, brandishing his gun.
Paxton looked away, then abruptly ran past Lestrade. As he did, Lestrade discharged his revolver, hitting Paxton in the leg. Paxton stopped, clutched his wound, then reached out to the cave wall, on which were a series of levers. He pulled one down and we heard loud echoing noises throughout the cavern.
“He’s opened the door!” exclaimed Holmes.
“No one shall have my Sarah,” declared Paxton, looking as if he were in a trance.
“Come along now,” said Lestrade, “the hangman’s noose awaits you.”
“I shall not be punished for my genius,” said Paxton, who then ran to the precipice and leapt off it.
I watched in horror as he plunged into the water, then saw a gargantuan yellow eye—twice the size of an archer’s target—peer out from the muck. A mouth from a nightmare opened and issued a roar like thunder as a tentacle wrapped itself around Paxton, and dragged him under the churning depths. More tentacles appeared and flailed about, splashing and crashing, then slid under the water.
All was quiet. Holmes, Lestrade, Dunbar, and Paxton’s men stood silently transfixed. After a few moments, we turned, went into the tunnel, and quietly made our way through it. When we emerged in the forest, there was a police wagon waiting, accompanied by a few sturdy looking men.
“What will you tell the Yard, Lestrade?” asked Holmes.
“Oh,” said Lestrade, still apparently quite shaken, “I…I’ll tell them about the gang of cattle thieves, of course. But what I don’t understand, Holmes, is how you knew that Paxton—?”
“You supplied the photographs, Lestrade, of the tattooed arm. Between the dark circles, which I immediately surmised were the marks of the creature’s suction cups, and the odd angle of the cut…”
“The cut?”
“How the arm had been severed. There were no signs indicating that a saw or similar instrument had been used, nor were there any teeth marks that would suggest an animal, either a land or an aquatic one. That ruled out all the obvious possibilities, however, it occurred to me that the damage to the arm resembled nothing so much as the effect of the plates in a bird’s beak, its rhamphotheca.
“Birds tear or crush their food. Yet, of course, no bird of that size is known to exist. But a squid processes a beak, which has been duly compared to that of a bird. Then I thought of the find in New Zealand seven years ago. When Paxton looked at the photographs of the severed arm and denied any knowledge of it, I knew we had our man. The impressions of the creature’s suction cups alone should have elicited comment. The arm itself was released unknowingly through the grotto’s door, upon one of Paxton’s admitted daily cleansings.”
“Amazing,” said Lestrade.
Lestrade and Dunbar got into the wagon, as did Holmes and I, and we started off, back to the village.
* * * *
The next morning, we checked out of the inn, and were met at the train station by Katherine Collier. She thanked us profusely for clearing her father of the murder charges. Then Holmes and I climbed aboard the train, and it pulled out of the Harbourton station.
We were well on our way back to London, when I turned to Holmes and said, “So, Paxton’s men had been ordered to find cows to feed the creature?”
“Yes, and poor Mr Harris happened to stumble upon them one night as they were engaged in the act of stealing a couple of his Guernseys and paid the ultimate price. Since he had been their first human casualty, they weren’t sure what to do with him, and decided to bring him back to their master.
“Paxton then, it seems, had the idea that fat men might, shall we say, round out the creature’s diet. My examination of the suspect’s wagon wheels proved that his vehicle hadn’t been employed in the crime. The wheel tracks were not deep enough to account for the additional weight of Harris, Paxton’s men, and the cows.”
“The cows?”
“That’s correct. Paxton had his men inject them with a tranquilliser in order to take them clandestinely. That’s why none of the local farmers or anyone else ever saw or heard any of them being abducted. They were unconscious and lying flat in a wagon.
“For the same reasons, I knew that Edmund Collier couldn’t have done it either. His wagon was too small, and the ground showed no signs of being employed in such a venture. However, on the way to the siege tunnel, Watson, you lost your footing in the deep impressions of Paxton’s wagon tracks. And we’ve previously discussed the absurdity of Collier lifting Harris.”
“What a vile and horrible evil lived within Paxton,”
