THE SYMBOLS OF MORTALITY

Bell got to his feet and turned to survey where we were. There was, now that we looked ahead rather than at the ground, something familiar about it. I do not think it came as any surprise to find we were on the edge of the clearing where Colin Harding had been discovered.

Soon we were measuring the short distance from where Harding was found to the spring. ‘You remember,’ said Bell, ‘how exercised I was by the way they had stamped all over this place. Harding was easily dragged if the distance was so short, but I knew there had to be a trail. Only it was obliterated long before we got here.’

‘Indeed,’ I said, ‘but it is also true that the murderer might have done that himself. He could make any number of trails to create confusion in the knowledge that the discovery would bring several men here and even the most experienced detective would assume it was their work.’

The Doctor smiled. ‘Yes,’ he said. ‘That is a valid observation, Doyle. He may well not have wanted to leave a unique trail. That would be careless. It is indeed likely he churned it up, and several other paths too, and then the discoverers of the body need only complete the destruction. Thank you.’

I found even now I was pleased he supported my deduction. But I also began to wonder how far this had led us. ‘Well at least we can dispel the talk of witchcraft, for we know how Harding was killed,’ I said. ‘But I fear it is all we have found.’

‘Oh no,’ said Bell, ‘we have found a good deal more than that, I assure you, as you will see later.’ And we turned back in the direction of the village.

There was, I reflected as I stared gloomily out of my window at the inn, having changed out of my wet clothes, a hierarchy of murder as of everything else. Ellie Barnes’s death, the first that could be clearly and immediately attributed to foul play, had created barely a ripple in the world outside the village. Charlotte Jefford’s death, however, was a different matter. The Scotland Yard man originally designated to come here had been recalled and a more senior officer was to replace him. As a result, nobody from that august establishment was likely to arrive for another full day at least, perhaps two. ‘Do they suppose,’ Bell had said when he heard this, ‘that the evidence will wait patiently for their arrival? It is truly a wonder, is it not, any crimes are solved at all.’ He then proceeded to point out here was Langton’s chance to cover himself in glory, though, whatever his real feeling, Langton was just as scornful about the development as Bell.

More press were about to descend, but the isolation of the place meant we would be spared them a little while longer. News of the crime was only now reaching the larger newspapers. Even the fleetest from the capital would not be here before the following day, though the local press would no doubt descend more quickly. Even so, perhaps because of the impending storm, the street below me was utterly deserted. The black clouds were above us now, enough to create an odd light over the marsh, yet still the storm refused to break.

I do not think I lingered long, staring out of that window, but it is true the events of that day caused me at times to lapse into old memories. For the next thing I recall, a maid was knocking on the door to tell me I was required urgently at The Glebe and the Doctor had already set off.

The wind was very strong indeed by the time I stood again in that ugly orchard before the house. It was bending the trees and whistling around the gabled roof before me. But the rain had not yet started, which was a good thing, for I was sure it would be torrential when it did.

The door was open and the first room I entered was empty but I could hear voices from the larger chamber where the blood was. ‘I do not understand,’ a voice I recognised as Sir Walter was saying. ‘I regard it as a liberty, sir, not the first you have taken. A man in my condition should not even be here.’

I entered and was somewhat astonished by what I saw. Six men faced Bell, who stood with his back to the far wall, two candle lanterns at his feet behind him. It was not yet dark outside, but the place was gloomy enough for the lanterns to pick out Bell’s shadow.

Sir Walter Monk was closest to him, his face angry. Bulweather was by the window, watching with interest. Langton was also by the window, looking slightly annoyed.

Edward Norman had retreated to the corner furthest from Bell, wearing an expression I could only describe as peevish terror. Angus Hare was casually stationed in the middle, supercilious and expectant. The biggest surprise was the man closest to me. It was Cornelius from the asylum, who seemed like the good scientist, highly interested if sceptical as he appraised the proceedings.

‘I agree. And you are the man who has intimidated my son,’ said Edward Norman. ‘You terrified the boy.’

‘I am not sure it was my doing, Mr Norman,’ said Bell. Then he turned to Sir Walter. ‘Allow me, if you would be so good, to say why I brought you here and then you can make all the objections you wish. And you, Sir Walter, can rejoin your carriage, which waits I believe on the road.’

‘I will give you the courtesy of a few minutes,’ said Sir Walter. As he spoke, I noticed his eye kept straying to the bloody writing on the wall, where the words ‘witch’ and ‘here’ were so clear. Yet oddly he seemed far more interested by the less indicative part of the message, the odd incomplete O.

‘Please proceed,’ said Hare, ‘I am interested.’

‘Why could you not just tell us in the village?’ said Norman, his voice rising slightly. ‘Why bring us here?’

‘For one thing you might not have believed me. For another I may, I hope, have something to show you and I want to see the reactions of everyone in this room. For some of you may be more familiar with all this than you pretend.’ There was silence at this and he proceeded.

‘This afternoon,’ Bell said, ‘as two of you know, I discovered how Colin Harding was drowned. A spring, for which I believe there is some historical evidence, was only a few yards from his body. Inspector Langton, perhaps you will confirm this.’

‘It is true,’ said Langton. ‘And it must certainly have been how it was done. Dr Bell gave me instructions and I saw it for myself. Some people here have heard tales of the secret spring and of course it is in the legend.’

‘But it has not been seen for generations,’ said Sir Walter. ‘We assumed if it existed it was dry.’

‘Well it is not,’ said Langton. ‘And if he were taken unawares or knocked over the head, close to the spot, for there was a blow to his scalp, one man could have done it. Two, of course, would have an easier job. What I don’t understand, sir, is how you found it?’

‘Something,’ said Dr Bell, ‘you will shortly discover, but first let me say a word about Colin Harding. It has always seemed to me there was a matter of significance to be deduced from Harding’s association with Oliver Jefford. You, Sir Walter, told me you thought Jefford had played upon Harding’s nerves in some way. I believe you may be right, for it appears Harding was a deeply superstitious man. I found broken hazel sticks in his house, and finally the working rod he had concealed carefully from others.

‘That showed me he had kept secret one of his own skills, namely the art of dowsing, no doubt fearing it would be taken for witchcraft. He must have thought it was a kind of magic, and who can mock him for that when science has yet to explain the phenomenon? Now what else did we know of Harding? We knew there was talk that Jefford had given him a rune, a rune evidently connected to this house, and it had frightened him. Harding then entrusted it to his friend Ellie Barnes who hid it for him.’

Bell paced a little as he mused on the question. There was not a sound in the room, other than the great rush of the wind in the trees outside. ‘Why, you may ask,’ Bell continued, ‘did Jefford wish to pass on this so-called rune? Was he frightened it would kill him as in the legend? Or was he afraid someone else would get hold of it and Harding picked up on this fear? It is now clear to me it was the latter. For I believe, I am sorry I will correct that, I know, the rune does have power.’

‘We are surely not going to endure a lecture on occult magic from someone who is reputed to be a reasonable scientist,’ said Dr Hare, his lips curling contemptuously.

‘I will come to its power in a moment,’ said Bell without bothering to look at him. ‘But why did Jefford choose Harding for the rune? It is true he found Harding credulous, but there must have been more to it than that, for he was, as I have said, entrusting him with something of value. Harding had done Jefford some special service, I was told, and I thought of this a great deal. What could it be? It was hard to imagine a bond between two such apparently dissimilar men. Surely it must be connected to Harding’s secret skill, which I deduced some time ago from the literature in his house and the broken hazel rod was dowsing. It seemed, therefore, Harding had identified a water source for Jefford. And then there suddenly occurred Harding’s miraculous death by water. This was the key.’

Bell had the attention of the room. Every eye was focused on his face, grey in the miserable light from that window. ‘And at that point, thanks to some luck and some skill,’ he went on, ‘I succeeded in one objective. I obtained possession of this, the rune.’

He had kept it out of sight and now he held it aloft, waving it so that some of the letters and symbols were visible. Of course there was a small sensation in the room. Several people audibly gasped. Edward Norman clapped a hand to his mouth.

‘Now,’ said Bell, ‘what is this thing? A magic spell, a curse, a charm? Certainly it contains ancient runic symbols. And at first I assumed these would be impenetrable. Until I began to study the symbols more closely.

‘Let us look at the first.’

I could just make out a diamond shape with continuing lines at the bottom. The Doctor pointed to it as he spoke: ‘I had a vague idea what it meant, but as it happened I purchased a book on witchcraft before I came here and it has been enormously useful, for it also contains a chapter on ancient runic symbols. We must first recall that, above all else, and whatever powerful superstitions have been attached to them, runic symbols are a language. And it turns out this first rune is one of the earliest, a Germanic rune standing for ownership. It is considered as the rune of ancestry and of the home and therefore of possessions in general. Considering the connection to this house, it seemed therefore wholly appropriate as the announcing rune of a document that had come into Jefford’s possession with his inheritance and might well be connected to that very inheritance.

‘I therefore moved eagerly to the next rune.’ He pointed to it.

‘And here was a brick wall, for I had never seen anything like it. I was sure it was not a runic symbol from any of the known sources and there was certainly nothing like it in my book. The next, an embellishment of the one before, seemed equally baffling,’

‘And yet, though they meant nothing, I could not help noticing the symbol of the key on the end of the line where an arrow had appeared in the second rune. This struck me, for I was in need of a key and now these two runes taken together were pointing to one.

‘I turned to the next rune along.

‘And at once I felt great excitement for if I was not mistaken here was the runic symbol for water. Surely then this was telling me that water was the key, and possibly a secret source of water as I already suspected. And not just a key to the tragic events of Harding’s death but possibly another kind of key entirely, a key to the secret code of this rune.’ The Doctor’s tone was passionate. It was easy to imagine his excitement the previous night as he set about his decipherment. ‘I moved,’ he said, ‘on to the next in the line.’

‘This quite specifically stands for a yew tree. But it also means transformation. For me this signified that a yew tree must point to the key, which in natural terms was more than possible. But with the next …

‘I was in difficulties again.’ The Doctor’s shrewd face was picked out now largely by lamplight as he talked.

‘I did not recognise it but when I consulted the book I found it a not uncommon runic symbol, standing it seems for God or mouth or blessing. It was the second reading that interested me most, for the idea of a mouth could indicate the mouth of a spring.

‘The sixth I knew at once, for it is one of the most common of all runes.’

‘This is Ing for fertility or God. But fertility seemed the appropriate reading here, for it supported in a general sense the notion of a spring. So finally I arrived at the last and eighth rune of the line which is …’

‘And here was surely the conclusion of the runic message, for I knew quite well this stands for happiness. So now if we look back, it is not difficult to read the progression.’ The Doctor turned away to the window a moment. He frowned as if he might have caught a glimpse of something in the orchard trees but clearly could make nothing out and after a time he faced us again. ‘Consider then all of them taken in order. The line starts with a possession bequeathed by ancestors. There follow two unknown runes which nevertheless point to something which seems to be a key. The key leads us directly to water and this water stands beside a yew tree. After the yew tree is a mouth, which could well be the mouth of the spring with an additional association of blessing. And finally comes happiness.

‘All of this then seemed fairly clear, if only I could but understand the second and third runes. I examined them over a considerable time last night and at last decided they were not so difficult to read at all. The square could stand for a house, indeed it is exactly the way a child draws a house. If so, it would logically be this place in which we are standing, not only because all the associations point to The Glebe but because it is here we have been told the rune was found.

‘The diagonal line on the second and third rune was in each case, I discovered to my great excitement, meticulously drawn, showing a forty-eight-degree angle, diverging three degrees from what must be cartographically the north-western corner of this house. Now there was no indication of how far this line might extend but it did not take me long to realise that if you lengthened it far enough you would be in the vicinity of the clearing where we found Harding. And so it was, using a compass glass, I was led to that yew tree and finally to the spot itself. There I discovered the spring, but I believe I may also have found much more.’

The Doctor put down his paper. It was now so dark in the room it was fortunate he had the lanterns, though one of them looked to be badly trimmed and was flickering, adding to the bizarre lighting effects.

The wind had reached its full strength now and rain had started to splatter on the windows.

‘And so,’ he said, ‘it is time to test that belief.’

Nobody moved. There was no sound other than the wind and the rain. The Doctor ignored the flickering lantern and took the good one in his right hand. The shadows were now becoming truly fantastic, a great crooked one of Bell played on the wall as he advanced to the side of the room.

He moved to the recess beside the empty fireplace and stood at the edge of it, though there was absolutely nothing there that I could see.

For a time, the Doctor waited. ‘I think I would ask you to keep your distance, gentlemen,’ he said. Then he moved forward, placing the lantern down on the floor in the corner.

The light from the other lantern being increasingly feeble, it was much harder to see anything in detail now. I could make out the Doctor was standing bolt upright, and then he seemed to kneel. I strained to hear but the tempest was so loud that sound offered no clue to his movements. I was aware of the stillness of the other men behind and beside me. To an outsider it would have looked as if we were participating in some strange spiritual ceremony, a black mass perhaps, with Bell as its leader.

Now he was crouched down and turning backwards in a contorted movement and I heard a great gasp from Bulweather. For, impossible as it seems, the figure before us was disappearing into darkness. Soon I could see nothing of him and suddenly the lamp too had vanished, leaving only an empty space.

We all moved forward, of course, despite his interdiction, and Bulweather had now picked up the other lantern. While dim, it was better than nothing. He held it aloft where we had last seen the Doctor to no avail. There was nothing at all here. Just the plaster and the engraved chair rail and the flagstones. In the corner his silver-topped cane lay where he had left it. Naturally we tapped and banged, pressing on the engraved rail and the skirting board and other places too, looking for a secret entrance of some sort but without the slightest result. Bell had been swallowed up by the house.