THE SOLICITOR’S CHILDREN

Bell tried not to react. Indeed he paused and then asked why she might think this.

‘Once, sir,’ she said, ‘you admit to the power there are so many things. For if such a power could drown him by magic, then might it not …?’ Bell nodded for her to continue. ‘Might it not,’ she repeated, ‘bring him back?’

‘Do you know a spell to do it, Ellie?’ he said.

‘They talk of it in books,’ she said. ‘That is what I know.’

‘I fear he will not be back, Ellie,’ said Bell. ‘At least not in this world.’

This was effectively the end of the interview, for we could get little more. Bell told Ellie she must try not to worry and put these things out of her head for, once the solution was known, nobody would think her guilty of anything. But he did stress one point. ‘I do not think you should leave this house. Not for the moment. Do you understand that?’ She nodded.

Later, Mrs Marner offered us tea, which we declined, but we did share some words with her and again I was surprised to hear Bell ask her about witchcraft. She smiled gravely in her pretty way. ‘Oh we are a very superstitious profession, Dr Bell. I rule nothing of that kind out.’ Fortunately it seemed, she had a sister arriving soon to help with things, a woman who had been many times before and was well liked in the village. This, we thought, would take some of the pressure off this little household. But before we left, the Doctor repeated the same instruction to her as he had to Ellie, namely that on no account should her maid leave the house. Not for any reason.

We returned to the inn before our luncheon engagement with the Normans, and Bell was extremely irritated to find there was no reply to his telegram. ‘I must go to Lowestoft later in any case,’ he told me as we walked to the Norman house.

It was a squat ivy-covered building where a tall maid opened the door. Almost at once we were greeted by Edward Norman, who came out of the dining room wringing his hands. ‘Ah you are welcome,’ he said. ‘Nella, they are here. It is Arthur and Joseph.’ And soon we were shaking hands with a woman with short grey hair, who asked us to come through to dine.

It might have been thought from our host’s free use of Christian names that the meal would be an informal affair. In fact, it was the opposite. The place was not grand but the service and atmosphere were exceptionally formal and very slow. Tommy, whose fondness for dead birds we had already witnessed, had two much younger sisters, Jenny and Dora, and all three sat at the table as correctly as if they had been wax dummies. Even so, their parents chided them quietly yet repeatedly for entirely imaginary transgressions as when Jenny’s elbow almost touched a plate or a mouthful of Tommy’s was chewed too slowly.

The result was one of the most excruciating meals I have ever eaten, indeed it was less tolerable than many I have consumed under circumstances of great discomfort or even danger. While our hosts addressed us in apparently cordial tones, asking us about ourselves and commenting on their own good fortune, the whole place had about it a sense of the ultimate frustration. Norman himself kept parading the virtues of his children in an incessant catalogue, which was clearly agony for the children themselves. We learnt of Tommy’s skill at observation, of Jenny’s sewing. Of Dora’s talent for baking pies. ‘I am a little worried about Tommy’s chest though,’ said Norman. ‘He is so often in wet places and he wheezes, do you not, Tommy? Yet you will not go to Dr Bulweather. Though I suspect you will give in when we threaten the stick. Or we get Inspector Langton to put you in his cell. You do not like him coming, do you? It is a wonder these days children will do anything at all. Dora does what she is told, do you not?’ Dora beamed.

And so the meal continued in this endless way. After a time, I longed to see one of the children pick a plate up and smash it against the wall or cry out in rage. At last, Bell was able to turn the conversation to London, for I was sure we were there to see if Norman had any connections to interest us. ‘Ah yes,’ said our host, ‘I visit the great capital regularly, for my late father had some property there. I would often meet with Jefford, which is why I do not take the matter as seriously as some, for I am used to his pranks and games.’

Of course I could see the Doctor’s interest quicken. And when at last the meal had ended and the children had gone to play (though I could not even begin to imagine what form of’play’ was permitted in this oppressive place), Bell sat down in the overheated drawing room with Norman and returned to the subject.

I am sure the Doctor had calculated there were two issues at stake. The first was the possibility Norman himself had some involvement, for his contacts with London and Jefford meant he must now be added to the list of suspects. I myself found no great difficulty in seeing the father of this horrific household being implicated in some way. But there was another issue entirely. Assuming his innocence, was it not possible he could shed light on Jefford’s London companions? Perhaps he had even met Cream himself.

At first, the questioning seemed to go promisingly. Norman talked with amusement of Jefford’s endless gambling and his capacity to offer wagers of the most outrageous kind. But when pressed for details of these activities or his other acquaintances, the man’s manner became irritatingly coy and superior. ‘Ah no,’ he smirked, ‘you will not lure me there, these are gentlemen’s confidences, Dr Bell. When gentlemen go out to play, they have their own rules and their own little secrets. I cannot possibly betray such things, but you are a man of the world and I am sure you can imagine some of the more interesting activities of gentlemen at their leisure.’

This tone was as unexpected as it was infuriating, all the more so in the light of the oppressive atmosphere of his house which we had been enduring for the past two hours. In the event, Bell did not press the matter but pretended an interest in the local architecture so he could investigate the rest of the house.

‘What a household,’ Bell said to me with open disgust as we made our way back along the road.

‘Could you not have demanded he answer your questions?’ I asked, for I would love to have seen the man’s monstrous complacency pricked. ‘Even Sir Walter did so in the end.’

‘I was tempted to try, Doyle, but Norman is a solicitor who would no doubt make great play of his rights and of the fact we cannot yet prove any crime has been committed. At least I am sure if Cream were ever in that house, he is not there now. We will come back to Mr Norman.’

As we walked towards the inn, where already we could see the cab that would take Bell to Lowestoft, I noticed that inspite of our lunch the Doctor was in better spirits than he had been all day. ‘I believe,’ he said, ‘Mrs Marner’s maid has a solution to this, if she would but tell us, and perhaps we will have another attempt later. The Norman household too holds great points of interest, especially the father’s treatment of his children. I hope to be back not too long after dark, Doyle, and would ask only that you field any messages that arrive. But I am glad to tell you we are making progress.’ And he moved off to confer with the driver.

I had decided to walk out that afternoon, wanting the air and the isolation. For reasons of my own, I am not fond of beaches but I forced myself to explore a little of the Dunwich shingle and it was good to feel the wind on my face and smell the salt in the breeze. Because it was a blustery day, the waves were huge and white clouds scudded across the blue sky. After a time, I turned around from the sea and came back to the little path which led up to the cliffs.

Soon I had climbed through the trees to that extraordinary spot where the ruined church stood on the very edge of the cliff. Here again were the cracked and mossy gravestones, those closest to the edge at a perilous angle as the wind moaned in the trees behind me. But I took some care not to go too near the drop.

After a time, I plunged on, trying as far as possible to keep to the cliff and not walk inland. Often it was hard but there was a path of a kind and I pressed on with the booming surf below on my left. I suppose it was foolish weather to have chosen for such an excursion, for a freak gust might have taken me over the edge, but the view was extraordinary. Stretched out below on my left was the rough sea and pounding waves, around me the blowing grass, above a turbulent blue and grey sky.

Suddenly there was a great cry from in front of me. I had not noticed the figure, for it was far ahead, at a point where the path curved away to take account of a further landslide, but it had seen me and was waving.

Moving quickly on, I recognised the solid outline of Dr Bulweather, his dog not far behind. However, much of his attention was centred on something below. Indeed he was standing in the teeth of the gale, which sent his black coat fluttering behind him like a bat and I was amazed the hat was still on that great head.

He turned as I came closer. ‘I am very glad to see you,’ he shouted into the wind, smiling. ‘I believe I have solved one of the mysteries, though only the smallest.’

He pointed with his stick directly below him. Soon I was beside him, and I will admit it was a fearful place to stand. If any more of the cliff gave way while we were in this spot there would be no hope for either of us. And the wind only had to go up a notch to sweep us over. I kept my balance on the back foot as I struggled to see what he had found.

At first I could make out nothing except the swooping seagulls and roaring waves. But then I steadied myself and leant forward. Following the line of his stick, I observed that ninety or so yards beneath and across from us was a rocky outcrop. A dark shape lay upon it. At first I could not be sure what this was. Then I made out the leg and a large head and ears. At once my mind raced back to Jefford’s room and that great stain of blood. So now it seemed the sceptics’ hopes of an innocent explanation for all that blood were utterly dashed.

For lying below me, perfectly intact though long dead, was a huge pig.