The Secret Files of Sherlock Holmes (27 page)

Dismissing the constable who had brought it round from St Auban, the four of us climbed into it and, with McGregor and Holmes at the oars, we rounded the point into Penhiddy Bay.

It was a bright clear morning with only a light breeze barely ruffling the surface of the sea, which aided our progress. Within a short time, we had passed the small island where the
Margretha
lay at anchor, taking care to keep well clear of the vessel although by that time the two men had gone below and the deck was deserted.

There was no sign, either, of the coastguard cutter which had orders to keep out of sight beyond Penhiddy Point until nine o’clock, by which time, Holmes had estimated, we should have landed at the beacon and it would be too late for the crew of the
Margretha
either to warn Callister of our presence or to make their own escape out to sea.

Holmes’ estimation of the time of our arrival was accurate to within a few minutes for it was five to the hour when we landed, secured our own boat close to Callister’s and, scrambling over the boulders, gained the rocky plateau on which the beacon stood. A quick dash of about twenty yards took us to the foot of the steps leading up to the door which yielded silently on well-oiled hinges and gave us access to a small vestibule.

To our left lay a room, its door swinging loose and allowing us a glimpse of an ill-lit chamber full of discarded lumber. Ahead of us, a spiral staircase ascended, its flight of stone steps hugging close about a central pillar and disappearing into the upper reaches of the tower. We ascended these as rapidly and as quietly as we could, confident that our footsteps could not be heard above the surge of the sea beyond the walls.

On the ascent we passed several more disused rooms until we reached a landing about halfway up the beacon where freshly whitewashed walls and a new, secure door warned us that we had arrived outside Callister’s laboratory.

Here we halted, crowded together into the small space, while we regained our breath and then, as Holmes raised his hand, a
pre-arranged signal, we flung our combined weight against the door.

Our entry took Callister totally by surprise.

He was bending over a workbench on the far side of the room and, as we burst in, he spun about, his face expressing shock and consternation.

I still have in my mind an impression of that curious chamber, fitted into the rounded tower of the lighthouse and therefore possessing semicircular walls against which a number of curved lockers and cupboards had been built with great ingenuity.

Facing us was a window looking seawards, its upper light open allowing plenty of air and sunlight to flood in and giving an incomparable view of a vast expanse of sky and ocean until they fused together into the haze of the distant horizon. Through it, I also caught a glimpse of the coastguard cutter, which had rounded Penhiddy Point and was bearing down on the
Margretha.

Apart from these fleeting impressions, I have no clear recollection of what else the room contained or what objects lay scattered about on the bench where Callister was standing, except that they included lengths of wire, parts of an engine or dynamo and several open books.

It was Callister I recall in greatest detail, especially the awkward lurch of his misshapen shoulder as he swung round to face us. But more memorable even than that was his head which, because of his small, twisted frame, seemed larger than normal. It was noble in its features, particularly the huge, brilliant eyes and the high arch of his forehead, distinguished by a deep widow’s peak of dark hair which gave the impression of a curious cap, such as medieval scholars wore, fitting close about the head.

Beside him on the bench stood the picnic basket, a large wicker receptacle fastened with two leather straps, near which lay several small squares of fine, oiled silk.

Callister, who had recovered some of his composure after the first shock of our precipitate entry, appeared quite calm as Holmes and Drury stepped forward, Drury to make the arrest, Holmes to search the bench and to remove one of the oiled silk
squares and a little tube of paper, in shape not unlike a small, squat cigar, which he unrolled and, having read its contents quickly, passed to Drury.

‘I think you will find in there all the evidence you need for the charge of treason, Inspector. The rest,’ said he, laying his hand on the picnic basket, ‘is contained in here.’

It was Callister who spoke first. Before Drury could reply, he said, addressing Holmes, his voice light and courteous, ‘Mr Holmes, is it not? I have long admired the quality of your intellect which, if I may say so, is wasted on the criminal world. Allow me to show the Inspector the evidence to which you refer.’

Turning aside, he began to unbuckle the straps which fastened down the lid of the basket, at the same time glancing back over his shoulder with an amused smile as we crowded forward to see what it contained.

It was at this moment, when our guard was down, that Callister acted.

Before Holmes could shout a warning, he had flung back the lid with one hand, with the other sweeping the books and pieces of machinery off the bench and sending them crashing to the floor. As they fell, a large bird, terrified by the noise, burst from the basket with the velocity of a bullet in an explosion of wings and feet and feathers, beating at our hands and faces and causing all of us, even Holmes, to start back in alarm at its sudden eruption.

Our confusion was only momentary but it was long enough for Callister. Thrusting us aside, he darted for the door which opened on to the landing and disappeared up the spiral staircase.

Holmes was the first to recover. With a shout to us to follow, he sprinted off in pursuit, leading the way as we raced up the steps after him.

We emerged at the very top of the lighthouse, into a small circular chamber, completely enclosed with glass, which housed the lantern and its reflectors and where another door gave access to an open gallery which ran round the exterior of the
beacon, guarded on the seaward side by a waist-high iron railing.

Callister sat crouched on its topmost bar, balancing himself with hands and feet. He remained perched there for no more than two or three seconds although to us, standing immobilised with horror in the doorway, it seemed an eternity of time.

The next instant, he had vaulted into the abyss.

Galvanised into motion by the energy of that leap, we rushed to the rails to watch as he plunged downwards, powerless to save him.

The breeze had caught his cape, billowing it out round him so that he had the appearance of a bird swooping on huge, black wings as he rode the air until it seemed to dissolve under him and he crashed on to the rocks below.

At that very moment of impact, the seabird which Callister had released from its captivity and which must have escaped from the open window in the laboratory, suddenly flew free and circled three times over the shattered body before soaring away in the direction of Penhiddy Point.

I am sure Holmes would consider it fanciful on my part but I confess when I saw that bird, it came to me that it was Callister’s soul breaking free from its own mortal captivity.

There was no time, however, for any such metaphysical speculation. Turning swiftly on his heel, Holmes had already begun the descent of the lighthouse stairs, the rest of us behind him, our feet pounding on the stone steps.

Having witnessed Callister’s fall, none of us expected to find him alive and one glance at the shattered remnants of his head was enough to persuade me that he was beyond all medical help. Nevertheless, as a doctor, I felt obliged to lift one lifeless hand and feel for a pulse.

Holmes stood silently beside me, arms folded, chin sunk on his breast, a look of such fierce concentration on his face that, even as I knelt by Callister’s body, I could feel the mental energy pouring from him in almost palpable vibrations.

Then he said curtly, ‘Callister’s death was an accident of which you, Watson, are the only witness. It is essential that neither Drury, McGregor nor I should be involved. We shall
carry the body to the boat and take it back to the landing stage, where it will be left. At the top of the cliff steps, we shall separate. McGregor, you will make your way to the road and warn the driver of the official motor car to keep out of sight until we are ready for him. In the meantime, Drury and I will conceal ourselves in the garden of “The Firs” while you, Watson, go up to the house alone to report what has happened. And remember, my dear fellow, it was an accident.

‘You are on holiday and you were rowing in the bay when you saw someone fall from the top of the lighthouse. On disembarking, you found the man was dead. You have brought the body back to the landing stage but you were not able to carry it up the steps alone.

‘Miss Mai will answer the door to you. You must use some pretext to get her away from the house for as long as possible.’ He turned to Drury. ‘Where is the nearest residence which has a private telephone?’

‘The vicarage, which is in the small hamlet of Trebower. There is a short cut across the fields.’

Holmes turned back to me.

‘Then persuade Miss Mai to accompany you. You are a stranger and might lose your way. Once at the vicarage, telephone the police station at Portswithin and report the accident, making sure you keep Miss Mai with you. Then accompany her back to the house, again taking your time, to await the arrival of the constabulary.

‘In your absence, Drury, McGregor and I will enter “The Firs” with our search warrant, arrest whoever is living there as Callister’s accomplice and remove what evidence we can find. By the time you and Miss Mai return, we shall have left in the official car.’

‘Is all this subterfuge really necessary, Holmes?’ I protested.

‘You remember my brother’s warning that Callister should be taken cleanly? To my infinite regret, I have failed to do so. Our chief concern now must be to limit the damage by avoiding any scandal which could discredit the Government.’

‘But will not Miss Mai be suspicious if, when we return,
Callister’s accomplice, who you say is hiding in the house, has disappeared?’

‘Leave that to me,’ Holmes said tersely. ‘I shall contrive some excuse when the occasion arises. And now we must hurry. Time is limited.’

We carried out his orders, placing Callister’s body in our own boat and rowing it back to the landing stage where we left it as together we climbed the cliff steps. At the summit, where McGregor departed to warn the driver of the official car, Holmes paused to give me his last instructions.

‘When it is all over, Watson, meet me at the coastguard’s cottage. I shall then lay all the facts before you and give you a full account of the affair. Now go up to the house and take care to keep Miss Mai away from the place for as long as you can. I am relying on you.’

With that parting remark, he and Drury withdrew into the coppice, leaving me to set off alone along the narrow path which twisted its way between the trees.

As I walked, I turned over in my mind what ruse I could employ to delay Callister’s housekeeper, as my old friend had requested. A sprained ankle seemed a likely ploy and thus it was that, limping heavily, I reached the house.

It was a gloomy building, no doubt named after the fir trees which had been planted close about it, perhaps to serve as a wind-break but which over the years had grown so tall and dense that they shut out both light and air, giving the house a closed-in, melancholy air.

A wide wooden veranda faced me and, still limping, I mounted the steps to knock at a green-painted door. After a short interval, it was opened by a tiny, white-haired woman whose broad, wrinkled features and yellowish-brown skin spoke of her Eurasian origins. It was a face which also demonstrated that impassive, Oriental lack of expression, for when I had blurted out my story of the accident, she betrayed no emotion apart from a widening of the eyes and a small tremble of the lips.

‘Is there a telephone?’ I concluded. ‘I shall have to inform the police.’

‘Not in the house,’ she replied in good English, her voice betraying only a slight accent. ‘Wait here.’

She made no attempt to ask me inside, leaving me on the doorstep where I had a view of a dark, panelled hall, its walls hung with Chinese water-colours and porcelain plates. I thought, but could not be sure, that I heard the sound of voices, hers and a man’s, from somewhere deep inside the house.

As the event proved, there was no need for me to persuade her to accompany me for, when she returned within a few minutes, a shawl about her shoulders, she announced, ‘I shall come with you to show you the way.’

It is not necessary for me to describe in detail what happened afterwards – the walk to the vicarage at Trebower over the fields, my telephone call to Portswithin to report the accident, and the return to ‘The Firs’ – except to record that, because of my supposedly sprained ankle, I contrived to remain away for three quarters of an hour, enough time, I fervently trusted, for Holmes and Drury to carry out their own part in the plan.

There was no sign of them when we eventually arrived back and the house appeared deserted.

On this occasion, I was invited into a small drawing-room, furnished with Far Eastern objects and with a view of the fir trees which crowded close up to the windows. Here Miss Mai left me to wait alone and I did not see her again although once more I heard noises; not voices this time but the sound of doors opening and closing and feet moving rapidly about, as if someone were searching every room in the house, an explanation for which I was to learn later from Holmes.

After about half an hour, two policemen arrived by motor car from Portswithin and I told my story, giving my name and my Queen Anne Street address with the excuse that, as I was on a walking holiday in the area and would be returning that evening to London, I had no settled residence in the area.

My ‘sprained’ ankle also served as an excuse not to help the officers to carry Callister’s body up from the boat and, after my statement was taken down, I was allowed to leave.

Once I was out of sight of the house and my subterfuge was no longer needed, I set off at a brisk pace to walk back to the
coastguard’s cottage, there to await my old friend’s return with considerable impatience, eager to learn what had happened at ‘The Firs’ during my absence and to hear the full account of Callister’s treason.