CARNACKI: The New Adventures (11 page)

“
I thought they would never recover the poor soul’s body, but within days it appeared in the spout of the Blackstarr source, washed out forlornly into the mouth of the Grey Mare’s Tail.

“
The most curious and most impossible to explain aspect of the whole affair was that the only photograph that Crossland took on his ill-fated trip to the braes of the Blackstarr, at least three days before his death, was his impromptu snapping of the waterfall itself.

“
I developed that photograph in my studio only last night.”

Carnacki turned to his side table and proffered the freshly printed and crisply realised photograph to our little party.

“This is a photograph he took himself, and it is a photograph of his own corpse in the water. Who the woman is, we can only guess.”

It was a rather terrible moment, and it knocked all my questions clean off the tip of my tongue. The phot
ograph seemed to be a double exposure, a beautiful woman, her long hair alive in a thermal updraft, hovering over the time slip picture of the dead academic.

“Right. That’s it, so out you go.”

Our glasses were empty and our powers of enquiry stunned into silence. We spilled out into a night street beneath the new moon half obscured by the orange glow of the city, with the stars invisible.

I
t was a warm summer night in Chelsea as I arrived at No. 472 Cheyne Walk for dinner with my friend Carnacki and our usual cohorts. Jessop, Arkright, and Taylor were already in the foyer, and after shaking everyone’s hand and making the usual inquiries of wife and family our gracious host stepped out to greet us.

I search for the words to portray the man, whose tales of ghost detection were the reason for our gathe
ring.

On this night, he could only be described as dishe
velled. His usually impeccable suit was covered in the dark brown stains of dirt and something much darker—a red that could only be the stains of blood. His tie was removed and shoved into his breast pocket; his shirt unbuttoned and wet with sweat.

“Dear God, man!
” escaped from Taylor’s lips as we stepped closer, but Carnacki held up a hand to quiet our concerns.

“All in good time, g
entlemen,” he relayed as he turned and bid us to follow him to the dining room.

We passed the meal in relative silence, as is the way almost every time our group of confidants meets.
After a small affair of cold beef and salad greens, we removed to the study and to the story.

No fire had been prepared in the hearth
as a result of the rare heat of the season, yet all else was familiar as our good host sat down in his great chair and produced a pipe from the side table.

Anxious to hear what could bring the appearance of Carnacki so low, the rest of us found seats and awaited the moment where his ruminations would cease and his story begin.

“You have no doubt read about the death of Garnald Renaldy in the local press?” Carnacki stated plainly.

Jessop looked fo
r the merest second as if he were about to answer, but the question was rhetorical and our host moved forward without pause.

“He was a travel
ling magician and illusionist of some note who settled here in Chelsea after making a name for himself throughout the Continent.

“His signature piece was Solomon’s Choice—a gru
esome but easily achieved trick of sawing his assistant in half while she was trapped inside a rigged box.”

Carnacki paused for a moment to contemplate the work
, and I thought back to the night that my wife and I had seen Garnald Renaldy do that very act. He was known as Renaldy the Great. His lovely assistant was also his wife, and I remembered distinctly his tasteless statement about having two wives to nag him instead of one. My own wife, holding tightly to my side, whispered in my ear at the ludicrous connexion of the trick’s name.

“Of course,” Carnacki cont
inued as if he had read my mind, “the name Solomon's Choice has very little to do with the trick itself, given that King Solomon was neither cutting a woman in half nor actually making the choice in question.

“However, these performers all have a flair f
or conjuring up fanciful connexions to things that haunt the psyche of their core audience. Biblical allusion, no matter how fleeting, can have its intended effect.”

Our host was rarely prone to digression and I began to wonder what had shaken him so much
, when he moved forward with the tale from where he entered the scene.

“I was called across town late last night by Renaldy’s widow and assistant, Anastasia Renaldy.

“She was a slip of a girl, who appeared not much older than twenty. Her long white dressing-gown hung limply at her sides as she hastened me into the foyer.

“Her husband had been dead less than two days
, and she believed beyond reason that he had returned as a presence haunting the bowels of the home they shared.

“‘Not only has he come back
,’ said the frightened woman, ‘he has murdered our driver, Shonks, this very night.’

“Needless to say, I urged
the woman to take me to the scene of the crime; and as she led me through the winding corridors of the illusionist’s mansion, I asked if the police had been called. She paused our progress and turned to look into my eyes as she begged me to assess the situation first.

“‘I could only think of calling an expert,’ she said as she took my hand in hers and led me on.

“‘How had you heard of me?’

“‘Renaldy spoke of you often,’ she replied.
‘He had heard stories of your dealing with the supernatural and had always wanted to meet the Ghost-Finder, Thomas Carnacki.’

“For a moment I wanted to ask her for more info
rmation, but my mind was quickly distracted by the grisly scene at the end of our journey.

“Two large doors stood open wide.” Carnacki leaned forward in the chair and took a puff on his pipe.
“Inside was a large room that must have been Renaldy’s study. Books of every size and colour sat on shelves that lined every wall, and a great oak desk sat at the far end of the room.

“Lying on the floor between the doors and the desk were the two halves of a very tall man.
He had been sliced apart at the stomach, and his internal organs had slid out of his upper torso to darken the wood floor with blackish-red blood.

“Seeing the body spurred me to action
, and I turned to ask Anastasia to go slowly through the events that led up to her driver’s death.

“She placed her head in her hands as she tried to
gather her wits enough to relate the tale.

“‘As I was secluded in the house
, mourning my husband,’ she began, “I decided to gather the important papers for when the inevitable lawyers came to call.

“‘I was desperate for anything to distract me from my grief.

“‘I found Shonks, who was always close at hand
, and asked him to go to Renaldy’s study and retrieve the will from the document box on his desk.

“‘We walked together down this very hall, but as I reached the doors
I found that I was too racked with grief to enter the room. Shonks assured me that he would retrieve the documents and entered the room.

“‘As soon as he stepped into the study, the world fell into phantasmic horror.’

“‘Please elaborate,’ I urged as she paused in her story.

“‘The lights of the room flickered and went black.
Renaldy’s voice came out of the ether of beyond the grave and spoke to us.’

“‘What did he say?’

“‘I was in a daze for much of the speech,’ she replied, ‘yet I remember that he called out to me and said that only his true and faithful wife could enter.’

“‘And what, pray tell,’ I asked her, “did your man, Shonks, do when he heard this?’

“She paused for a moment, as if the memory of what happened next was too much for her feminine sensibilities. Gulping air and controlling her tears, she continued, stating: ‘He laughed. Laughed like a madman and strode on into the room. He made it to where you see his body now and then paused, going instantly silent.

“‘
“Shonks?” I whispered’ (she lowered her voice to add to the effect). “Why do you stop?”

“‘Just as I finished my question, the upper half of his body slid impossibly forward off of his torso and he fell with a wet slap to the floor.’

“I watched the frightened woman for any sign of madness or deceit, but there was only the pure terror of one who had seen something she could not explain. ‘What happened then?’ I prompted.

“‘I stood dumbfounded as the voice of my husband once more came from the room.
“You will have to come in yourself, my love!” he raved, and his disembodied laughter chased me down the hall and away.’

“She lifted her hand and took my own.
‘That is when I called for you.’ She stepped closer as she continued, ‘My brave and gallant savior.’”

Carnacki brought the room to a moment’s pause
, and I glanced around to see the smiles on the faces of the gathered men. They believed that our host was hinting at a sexual attraction between him and this woman, and perhaps that had been the case; yet I knew that he was nothing if not the consummate professional.

“I pulled my hand from her grasp as gently as I could,” Carnacki continued.
“‘Mrs. Renaldy,’ I told her, ‘you should have no fear that I will get to the bottom of this mystery. If your husband indeed haunts this room, we shall see him safely to the hereafter.’

“As she thanked me profusely I inspected the large doorway that led into the magician’s den.
There was nothing out of the ordinary about the doors. I opened and shut them more than once, to no revelation.

“I would have to go into the room.

“I asked Mrs. Renaldy to step back as I cautiously took one step through the door frame. As soon as my foot stepped down inside the den, the lights of the room began to flicker. I heard the small whimper behind me as a man’s voice spoke from the emptiness ahead.

“‘Ye who walk here, know my plea,’ the voice boomed. ‘No one may enter, but the good and faithful Mrs. Renaldy!’

“Glancing ahead at the two halves of poor Shonks, I quickly stepped back out of the room before any harm could come to me as well. My backward movement had the most interesting effect. As soon as I moved from the room the electric lamps came back to their eerie brightness.

“I knelt down just outside the door and moved my hand into the room.
Nothing happened. I lowered myself to the floor and tried to glance along the wood of the planks. I could see some imbalance in the makeup of the floor of the study, but I would need some outside items for my experiment.

“I rose and asked Mrs. Renaldy, ‘Do you happen to have a garden?’

“I moved quickly through the back halls of the mansion, into the back yard and over to the gardener’s shed. There I found the items I sought, and within ten minutes I was back in the doorway to the study, a bucket of fresh dirt in my hands.

“I tossed the dirt across the floor of the study in the widest pattern I could create and knelt down once more to watch as the dark soil settled onto the floor.

“As it came to rest, I could see the dirt magically blown back around a plank not far inside the room. I slid forward through the newly laid earth until I hovered right above the spot.

“Once there, I could feel the slightest movement of air.

“I cleared the plank of soil and ran my right hand around the rectangular board. I could feel just the faintest of force press against my skin.

“I picked up dirt from the floor and aimed it at the crack between the planks.
Again, the dirt would not fall into the crack. The air pressure pushed it out and away.

“I deduc
ed that this plank had been removed and replaced at some point in the past. It was a pressure plate of some kind.

“I looked back to where Mrs. Renaldy watched in the doorway and saw her waif-like figure.

“‘As I am a gentleman,’ I said to her, ‘I will not ask you for a calculation of your weight; but I am very assured that you could walk through this room without inciting the wrath of your husband’s ghost.’

“‘What is your meaning, good s
ir?’ she asked. I rose to my knees in front of the pressure plate and traced my finger around the plank. ‘This,’ I told her, ‘is the cause of our ghostly visitation.’

“I pressed my weight onto the plank
, and the haunting started anew. The lights flashed, the disembodied voice repeated its clichéd rhyme. I released the plank and all went back to normal.

“‘It is all farce,
’ stated Mrs. Renaldy, a small hint of annoyance in her voice. ‘Damn you, Garnald!’

“She started forward into the room, but I held out a hand.
‘Though I believe these pressure plates are set to a heavier weight, I would hate to see you cut in half for a final time. Please wait until I see to the other trap.’

“She paused in her
advance and, still on the floor, I inspected the soil-covered area in front of me until I saw the plank of the next pressure plate. I then dragged myself through the dirt until I was right next to the second trap.

“Unfortunately, this also placed me closer to the two pieces of poor Mr. Shonks.
The soil around his body had mixed with the large pool of his crimson blood, and I am afraid it will never come out of this suit.”

Nervous laughter escaped from the gathered men and quickly died away.
We surely had no idea how to take the story being laid out before us.

“I calculated the height of his legs and torso as acc
urately as I could, and then I paused a moment to remove my tie.”

Carnacki pulled the tie from his breast pocket to i
llustrate his movements.

“I then held the tie in one hand and placed my other
hand on the pressure plate. As I pressed down with my weight, I tossed the tie into the air.”

Our host tossed his tie up and forward.
The silk fabric fell into two pieces as it dropped to the floor of the room where we had gathered.

“Shifting my weight on the trap from my hand to my foot, I stood up,” Carnacki continued.
“Across the room my eyes could barely trace the thin metal wire that was pulled tight and was activated by a powerful spring when the unwitting victim pressed his weight onto the plank.