The case-book of Sherlock Holmes
and we have therefore recommended Mr. Ferguson to call upon you and lay
the matter before you. We have not forgotten your successful action in
the case of Matilda Briggs.
We are, Sir, Faithfully yours,
MORRISON, MORRISON, AND DODD.
per E. J. C.
"Matilda Briggs was not the name of a young woman, Watson," said
Holmes, in a reminiscent voice. "It was a ship which is associated
with the giant rat of Sumatra, a story for which the world is not yet
prepared. But what do we know about vampires? Does it come within our
purview either? Anything is better than stagnation, but really we seem
to have been switched on to a Grimm's fairy tale. Make a long arm,
Watson, and see what V has to say."
I leaned back and took down the great index volume to which he
referred. Holmes balanced it on his knee and his eyes moved slowly and
lovingly over the record of old cases, mixed with the accumulated
information of a lifetime.
"Voyage of the Gloria Scott," he read. "That was a bad business. I
have some recollection that you made a record of it, Watson, though I
was unable to congratulate you upon the result. Victor Lynch, the
forger. Venomous lizard or gila. Remarkable case, that! Vittoria,
the circus belle. Vanderbilt and the Yeggman. Vipers. Vigor, the
Hammersmith wonder. Hullo! Hullo! Good old index. You can't beat
it. Listen to this, Watson. Vampirism in Hungary. And again,
Vampires in Transylvania." He turned over the pages with eagerness,
but after a short intent perusal he threw down the great book with a
snarl of disappointment.
"Rubbish, Watson, rubbish! What have we to do with walking corpses who
can only be held in their grave by stakes driven through their hearts?
It's pure lunacy."
"But surely," said I, "the vampire was not necessarily a dead man? A
living person might have the habit. I have read, for example, of the
old sucking the blood of the young in order to retain their youth."
"You are right, Watson. It mentions the legend in one of these
references. But are we to give serious attention to such things? This
Agency stands flat-footed upon the ground, and there it must remain.
The world is big enough for us. No ghosts need apply. I fear that we
cannot take Mr. Robert Ferguson very seriously. Possibly this note may
be from him, and may throw some light upon what is worrying him."
He took up a second letter which had lain unnoticed upon the table
whilst he had been absorbed with the first. This he began to read with
a smile of amusement upon his face which gradually faded away into an
expression of intense interest and concentration. When he had finished
he sat for some little time lost in thought with the letter dangling
from his fingers. Finally, with a start, he aroused himself from his
reverie.
"Cheeseman's, Lamberley. Where is Lamberley, Watson?"
"It is in Sussex, south of Horsham."
"Not very far, eh? And Cheeseman's?"
"I know that country, Holmes. It is full of old houses which are named
after the men who built them centuries ago. You get Odley's and
Harvey's and Carriton's--the folk are forgotten but their names live in
their houses."
"Precisely," said Holmes coldly. It was one of the peculiarities of
his proud, self-contained nature that, though he docketed any fresh
information very quickly and accurately in his brain, he seldom made
any acknowledgment to the giver. "I rather fancy we shall know a good
deal more about Cheeseman's, Lamberley, before we are through. The
letter is, as I had hoped, from Robert Ferguson. By the way, he claims
acquaintance with you."
"With me!"
"You had better read it."
He handed the letter across. It was headed with the address quoted.
DEAR MR. HOLMES, (it said)--I have been recommended to you by my
lawyers, but indeed the matter is so extraordinarily delicate that it
is most difficult to discuss. It concerns a friend for whom I am
acting. This gentleman married some five years ago a Peruvian lady,
the daughter of a Peruvian merchant, whom he had met in connection with
the importation of nitrates. The lady was very beautiful, but the fact
of her foreign birth and of her alien religion always caused a
separation of interests and of feelings between husband and wife, so
that after a time his love may have cooled towards her and he may have
come to regard their union as a mistake. He felt there were sides of
her character which he could never explore or understand. This was the
more painful as she was as loving a wife as a man could have--to all
appearance absolutely devoted.
Now for the point which I will make more plain when we meet. Indeed,
this note is merely to give you a general idea of the situation and to
ascertain whether you would care to interest yourself in the matter.
The lady began to show some curious traits quite alien to her
ordinarily sweet and gentle disposition. The gentleman had been
married twice and he had one son by the first wife. This boy was now
fifteen, a very charming and affectionate youth, though unhappily
injured through an accident in childhood. Twice the wife was caught in
the act of assaulting this poor lad in the most unprovoked way. Once
she struck him with a stick and left a great weal on his arm.
This was a small matter, however, compared with her conduct to her own
child, a dear boy just under one year of age. On one occasion about a
month ago this child had been left by its nurse for a few minutes. A
loud cry from the baby, as of pain, called the nurse back. As she ran
into the room she saw her employer, the lady, leaning over the baby and
apparently biting his neck. There was a small wound in the neck, from
which a stream of blood had escaped. The nurse was so horrified that
she wished to call the husband, but the lady implored her not to do so,
and actually gave her five pounds as a price for her silence. No
explanation was ever given, and for the moment the matter was passed
over.
It left, however, a terrible impression upon the nurse's mind, and from
that time she began to watch her mistress closely, and to keep a closer
guard upon the baby, whom she tenderly loved. It seemed to her that
even as she watched the mother, so the mother watched her, and that
every time she was compelled to leave the baby alone the mother was
waiting to get at it. Day and night the nurse covered the child, and
day and night the silent, watchful mother seemed to be lying in wait as
a wolf waits for a lamb. It must read most incredible to you, and yet
I beg you to take it seriously, for a child's life and a man's sanity
may depend upon it.
At last there came one dreadful day when the facts could no longer be
concealed from the husband. The nurse's nerve had given way; she could
stand the strain no longer, and she made a clean breast of it all to
the man. To him it seemed as wild a tale as it may now seem to you.
He knew his wife to be a loving wife, and, save for the assaults upon
her stepson, a loving mother. Why, then, should she wound her own dear
little baby? He told the nurse that she was dreaming, that her
suspicions were those of a lunatic, and that such libels upon her
mistress were not to be tolerated. Whilst they were talking, a sudden
cry of pain was heard. Nurse and master rushed together to the
nursery. Imagine his feelings, Mr. Holmes, as he saw his wife rise
from a kneeling position beside the cot, and saw blood upon the child's
exposed neck and upon the sheet. With a cry of horror, he turned his
wife's face to the light and saw blood all round her lips. It was
she--she beyond all question--who had drunk the poor baby's blood.
So the matter stands. She is now confined to her room. There has been
no explanation. The husband is half demented. He knows, and I know,
little of Vampirism beyond the name. We had thought it was some wild
tale of foreign parts. And yet here in the very heart of the English
Sussex--well, all this can be discussed with you in the morning. Will
you see me? Will you use your great powers in aiding a distracted man?
If so, kindly wire to Ferguson, Cheeseman's, Lamberley, and I will be
at your rooms by ten o'clock.
Yours faithfully,
ROBERT FERGUSON.
PS.--I believe your friend Watson played Rugby for Blackheath when I
was three-quarter for Richmond. It is the only personal introduction
which I can give.
"Of course I remember him," said I, as I laid down the letter. "Big
Bob Ferguson, the finest three-quarter Richmond ever had. He was
always a good-natured chap. It's like him to be so concerned over a
friend's case."
Holmes looked at me thoughtfully and shook his head.
"I never get your limits, Watson," said he. "There are unexplored
possibilities about you. Take a wire down, like a good fellow. 'Will
examine your case with pleasure.'"
"_Your_ case!"
"We must not let him think that this Agency is a home for the
weak-minded. Of course it is his case. Send him that wire and let the
matter rest till morning."
Promptly at ten o'clock next morning Ferguson strode into our room. I
had remembered him as a long, slab-sided man with loose limbs and a
fine turn of speed, which had carried him round many an opposing back.
There is surely nothing in life more painful than to meet the wreck of
a fine athlete whom one has known in his prime. His great frame had
fallen in, his flaxen hair was scanty, and his shoulders were bowed. I
fear that I roused corresponding emotions in him.
"Hullo, Watson," said he, and his voice was still deep and hearty.
"You don't look quite the man you did when I threw you over the ropes
into the crowd at the Old Deer Park. I expect I have changed a bit
also. But it's this last day or two that has aged me. I see by your
telegram, Mr. Holmes, that it is no use my pretending to be anyone's
deputy."
"It is simpler to deal direct," said Holmes.
"Of course it is. But you can imagine how difficult it is when you are
speaking of the one woman whom you are bound to protect and help. What
can I do? How am I to go to the police with such a story? And yet the
kiddies have got to be protected. Is it madness, Mr. Holmes? Is it
something in the blood? Have you any similar case in your experience?
For God's sake, give me some advice, for I am at my wits' end."
"Very naturally, Mr. Ferguson. Now sit here and pull yourself together
and give me a few clear answers. I can assure you that I am very far
from being at my wits' end, and that I am confident we shall find some
solution. First of all, tell me what steps you have taken. Is your
wife still near the children?"
"We had a dreadful scene. She is a most loving woman, Mr. Holmes. If
ever a woman loved a man with all her heart and soul, she loves me.
She was cut to the heart that I should have discovered this horrible,
this incredible, secret. She would not even speak. She gave no answer
to my reproaches, save to gaze at me with a sort of wild, despairing
look in her eyes. Then she rushed to her room and locked herself in.
Since then she has refused to see me. She has a maid who was with her
before her marriage, Dolores by name--a friend rather than a servant.
She takes her food to her."
"Then the child is in no immediate danger?"
"Mrs. Mason, the nurse, has sworn that she will not leave it night or
day. I can absolutely trust her. I am more uneasy about poor little
Jack, for, as I told you in my note, he has twice been assaulted by
her."
"But never wounded?"
"No; she struck him savagely. It is the more terrible as he is a poor
little inoffensive cripple." Ferguson's gaunt features softened as he
spoke of his boy. "You would think that the dear lad's condition would
soften anyone's heart. A fall in childhood and a twisted spine, Mr.