THE HOWLING MAN

It turned out that Langton had arranged for us to make an earlyevening visit to Balneil, the forester who claimed to have seen the spectre of the howling man in the woods. He lived close by and within a short time we were sitting comfortably in the man’s parlour.

I suppose I had expected some boastful drunkard or else a rambling nervous type who would jump at the slightest shadow. Balneil was nothing of the kind. He was a burly robust man with a down-to-earth manner and a quiet smile. ‘I know how foolish it sounds, sirs, I am aware of that but I saw what I saw and I know what I saw.’

‘Then will you tell us as simply as you can?’

‘Of course, sir. I had been doing some coppicing on the last day of November quite near to the pool. I used to tend a spot for Lord Coates called Broomgreen Covert which is near Halesworth before I moved here, so I am not one of those who takes much notice of the superstitions, but I love it for all that, and Sir Henry has been kind enough to make use of my skills. That night we talk of there was a moon and I took advantage of it to work on a little. Then I gathered up my things to walk the track back here.’

Bell nodded with great interest. ‘I understand, please proceed.’

‘I know it well,’ continued the man, ‘and there was nothing different about it that night, which was fine. Of course it is a ghostly kind of place if you are that way of thinking, but I don’t see ghosts, I see trees. And I was studying the trees and thinking how it might be good to extend the path a little. And that was when I heard it.’

‘Heard what exactly?’

‘Well, sir, as I’ve said, I never took no notice of such things. But I don’t ever want to hear the noise again. It went through your head, a great wailing, almost like an animal. And it came from off the track.’

‘What did you do?’ said Bell.

‘Well, I stopped at once, and it came again. And I’ll admit I was a little afraid but I reasoned it might be someone who was in trouble, so I turned off the path in that direction. I went a little way and suddenly, about thirty yards away through the trees, I see something pale. I got a bit closer and I lost it and then suddenly that’s when I saw it properly, there in a space between two oaks. Only a pale shape at first but then you could see it was human. Pale skin, and it was crawling. It was horrible, sir, the way it crawled. And then I saw the head, a big head, and, while I watched, it howled. Like a madman it howled. But then it was back in the shadows.’

‘And what did you do?’ Bell asked gently.

‘I stopped where I was. But then I thought I must try and go after it. So I walked a little but saw nothing. And then the sound came again, that awful sound, but far away now. I could hear nothing near me. So I turned and came back as fast as I could.’

Balneil’s face was alive with the memory and it was impossible for me to believe he could be dissembling. How many men, I wondered, who boast of their disbelief in phantoms, would have acted as courageously as he did? Certainly the Doctor was impressed. ‘Thank you,’ he said. ‘That is very clear to me. Tell me, you say the noise was far away when you heard it after you had seen it. How far?’

‘Half a mile, at least. And no living man could have covered the distance in the time, I would swear it.’

‘No,’ said Bell. ‘Well, whatever it was you saw, Mr Balneil, you are very brave. I congratulate you.’

Outside, the wind was getting up and the weather was changing for the worse. As we walked back through the darkness to the inn, I longed to ask the Doctor what he made of this strange story. Could Balneil be guilty, not perhaps of dishonesty but of self-delusion or embellishment? Moonlight can play tricks on the mind and I once knew a woman in Edinburgh whose chain-rattling ghost proved only to be a wind-blown curtain in a room with a noisy water cistern. But Bell was still in no mood for conversation. His replies to my questions were monosyllabic at best so I knew not to persist and not so long after a silent dinner of various cold meats, which compared rather meagrely with our feast of the previous evening, he retired to his room, bidding me an early goodnight.

It was not yet very late and I returned to the sitting room and my book. Once again, I became immersed in the heroic struggle of those men of Dunwich against the sea. I learned of the apocalyptic final storms of 1740, when the water broke all boundaries and began to run rampant through the streets of the town. Outside, as a suitable accompaniment, the weather was becoming fierce. The wind howled in the chimney and rain battered the glass as I read of hundreds drowned on one single night in the great battle to secure the last sea wall. Then suddenly the door opened and the innkeeper, Brooks, stood there, a look of concern on his face.

‘I am sorry to bother you, Dr Doyle, but I am a little worried.’

I got to my feet at once. ‘Is the Doctor all right?’

‘Oh, Dr Bell, why of course. I imagine he is asleep. No, it is Miss Jefford, sir. I knew you took tea with her earlier. And she went off some hours ago to look at her brother’s house. But she had no key so she cannot shelter there. She said she merely wished to walk up to it and back.’

‘Good heavens,’ I said. ‘And she is still out?’

‘Yes, she has not returned. I would go after her myself, but I do not like to leave when there is no other help here. I am trying to arrange the village cab to go up there but they think it is away in Saxmundham.’

I interrupted him at once. ‘No of course, I will try to find her. I know the path.’ And I ran upstairs to get my coat.

Within a few minutes I was in the elements, making my way hastily along the road to where the path forked off through the trees to the pool and Jefford’s house. It was now the foulest of nights and I bent forward against the rain and wind, wishing the landlord had informed me of this development earlier. I had decided not to disturb Bell but, even so, I would have been grateful for some company. Fortunately, there was little real navigation to be done and the landlord had provided me with a lantern but, of course, the journey seemed much longer in such conditions than it had in the daylight. I did not see a soul and, despite my heavy coat, I felt as if I were soaked by the time I reached the turning off the road.

I was deliberately not thinking about all the stories I had heard of this place and the enemies who might lurk here. This was just about feasible on the high road but it was far harder when I turned into those trees. In the road the lamp had given out a solid beam, here its light merely flickered and dispersed amongst a myriad trees, creating ghastly shadows. I had hoped the forest track would afford some protection from the elements, but the wind howled around me with a vengeance and the rain was still intense.

Eventually, after what seemed like hours, I could make out the shape of the Jefford house ahead of me. It was then I heard the sound. At first I thought it was an animal, perhaps a rabbit caught in a trap a little way off. But the cry rose ferociously in volume, a great howl that made my ears ring. There was something utterly uncanny about that noise — a quality neither human nor animal, yet ferocious. Until, quite as suddenly as it had begun, it stopped.

Despite the loudness, I had a distinct impression whatever had made the cry was a little way off. But it seemed I was wrong, for now I could hear it thrashing through the trees to my right. Whatever it was, it moved in a circle and seemed to be breaking branches as it went.

I forced myself to enter the wood in the direction of this sound. A branch snapped and I moved cautiously towards it, hoping I could be as brave as Balneil. But foolishly I failed to see a dead tree stump, my foot caught it and I stumbled, only just keeping hold of my lamp.

There was no time to straighten up. Suddenly the noise changed direction and came straight at me. And then the thing was upon me, its breath rasping out, its body hitting me so hard I was almost winded. But even as I caught hold of it, I knew at once my mistake. For below me was a face, the terrified face of Charlotte Jefford.