Sherlock Holmes: The Shadow From Beyond (12 page)

Lebda’s servants make weekly trips into town for provisions and to service assorted needs but did not stay to socialize with the townsfolk. They are polite but sullen in their ways and would quickly return to the estate after their tasks were completed. The servants’ residence, or former guest house, is well away from the main mansion. Rumor has it that all servants must leave the mansion by nightfall to return to their residence, with the Count locking all the windows and doors behind them. There they remain until dawn when they are permitted to return to the main building.

At night the grounds of the estate are guarded by some four or more very large dogs, viscous and hungry as noted by the few curious village youths who had approached and snooped about. These canines are not fed on a regular basis and are therefore always famished and aggressive.

Few locals ever venture up that way, it remains a shunned place, said to be haunted with a menacing atmosphere and ghostly sounds that float upon the air.

Francois recounted that sometimes the Count entertains even stranger guests, whose carriages never halt in town, but race through towards the mansion and back without ever a hint of who the guests may be or what they look like. These travelers always arrive at night, their carriage windows curtained and the drivers hooded. Of late these visits had occurred more and more frequently.

The drunk also explained that, over the last year or so, there have been reports of livestock stolen from surrounding farms, and lately a few vagrants and backpackers had gone missing without a trace. Many locals pointed their fingers toward the Lebda mansion when asked for a possible reason as to these disappearances, Francois meanwhile is sure that they have met a tragic end at the Count’s hands. Simple folk often believe rumor when no facts are available and it seems that when anything goes wrong in this area Lebda is blamed.

Francois explained to Holmes and Watson that a teenage boy had argued with his father and ran away from home last week. Although it was not the first time the boy had ran off, the father was very worried as his son had always returned home the following day or soon after. As of today he still had not returned. Watson noticed some of the nearby locals in the pub shaking their heads in disdain while making the sign of the cross after this statement. Not much more of the mysterious Count is known, and the only news of late was that he had recently left his mansion for a few weeks or more on some personal business. An entourage of carriages left the estate not but a few nights past on some trip out of the town. The information of his departure was supported by local merchants who were told by Lebda’s servants to cut all food orders to a minimum for now.

The pair thanked Francois for his time by purchasing him another bottle of wine, and then retired up to their room.

Shadows In The Night

“We must get into that mansion Watson!” decried Holmes as they ascended the stairs to their room. “Our trail ends at his gate unless we can collect more facts to aid us! It is obvious that Lebda has already moved on and we must not let him get too far ahead or we may never catch up to him! Finding out where he has gone and what he is up to are our next priorities. I yet know what his diabolic scheme is about, but I fear the worst. Our answers can only be found at his home. Tonight we will try our hand at his lock!”

The rest of that evening was spent gathering the items needed to break into the mansion later that night; black shoe polish, a small travel pillow and some hand torches were taken from their own baggage, while dark clothing, toques and gloves were purchased from a local vendor. All items seemed logical in selection, yet it was stop at the food market that had Watson scratching his head in wonder.

“A can of nuts and pound of ground steak? Are we off to a picnic Holmes? And Macadamia nuts? Of all snacks to grab, they are quite the luxury item in these parts no? Wouldn’t some plain walnuts have done, and for a fraction of the cost? Holmes, what is the need for these foodstuffs?”

“Patience my dear fellow. All your answers will be provided in time.” Holmes replied with a grin before adding, “Don’t forget to pocket your pistol and bullets, you never know when they may come in handy.”

Later that evening, around 10 pm they enjoyed a light snack of crusty bread, aged cheese, liver pâté, salad and a few pints of refreshing French beer to cleanse their palette. Later, when darkness had fully arrived, Holmes and Watson donned tuque and gloves and used the shoe polish to blacken their faces, which lent them an almost invisible countenance in the gloom. They left out a back window, dropped softly to the ground behind the inn and departed unnoticed on foot towards Lebda’s mansion on the hill.

With their dark clothing and painted faces they drifted like spectral shadows amongst the trees.

Directions acquired earlier from village locals set them on their proper way and the mansion was reached about an hour later. All seemed still in the cool night and the house loomed dark and quiet on the hill ahead. It was a massive wood and brick structure with gabled roofs and wrought iron ornamentation. Stone gargoyles leered menacingly down from the upper levels like frozen sentinels. The brilliant stars in the clear night sky reflected like glittering diamonds off the large paned windows.

The duo cautiously made their way around to the north side of the estate, scaled a small stone wall of about five feet, and descended lightly into the backyard. So far no servants had been noticed about the grounds, all must be asleep in their quarters at the other end of the estate. They walked softly and were careful to make as little noise as possible; in fact the whisper of the wind was all that was audible as they stalked through the estate. They managed to arrive to about fifty feet from the side of the mansion windows before dark shapes were seen skulking about the grounds just ahead of them, the dogs! In the moonlight Watson could see that they were massive beasts indeed, perhaps over sixty pounds each and wondered at how they may avoid being detected and attacked.

The companions faded back into the shadow of a small storage shed, out of sight, but not smell. The dogs slowly crept closer, their noses upturned to any strange scents upon the wind. From his side pack Holmes removed ten meatballs made of the ground raw steak that he had prepared earlier in their room. They were about the size of tennis balls and had more than a few of the macadamia nuts hidden within their centers.

“Now Watson you will see science in action, observe!” and with that hushed claim he tossed the meatballs in the direction of the ominous brutes. The keen olfactory senses of the startled dogs picked up the scent of fresh meat immediately and soon they scampered over, mouths drooling. All descended to feast on the meaty morsels which were gulped down hungrily within seconds by the slobbering canines.

“No wait and watch.” whispered Holmes, his gloved hand held aloft in a sign of pause. A few minutes later the dogs began to make light whimpering sounds as they wandered slowly around in circles. Eventually their legs gave out from beneath them, they crumpled under their own weight and collapsed upon the ground. “Now my boy! We must be swift!” Holmes stated as he readied to make a dash for the rear patio doors.

“But the dogs Holmes?” asked a slightly perplexed Watson as he stared at the heavily breathing brutes sprawled upon the grass.

“An allergic reaction to the macadamia nuts causes canines to develop a tremor of the skeletal muscles, and weakness or paralysis of the hindquarters,” Holmes explained. “The dogs will be unable to rise and will remain distressed for a time. Eventually the symptoms will wear off and leave the beasts no permanent harm. I know of another crafty trick for dogs that incorporates the use of aniseed, remind me to explain it to you at another time.” He took a quick glance back at his handiwork. “Come Watson, let us make haste!” The detective then ran past the incapacitated brutes and onward toward Lebda’s brooding mansion, the doctor close behind.

Holmes and Watson braced against the side of the house beside a set of glass patio doors that reflected the brilliance of the starry sky above. Holmes quietly tried the handles but they held fast, locked.

“A little lock picking will be needed I suppose,” Watson remarked, “Did you bring your kit along?” “This time there will be no need.” replied the detective as he removed the small travel pillow he had brought along with him. He placed it against one of the glass panes of the patio door before smashing it inward with his elbow. The pillow absorbed most of the blow and reduced the noise to a minimum. “Sometimes simple is best,” he whispered as he fiddled with the latch through the broken glass, “and fastest.”

The lock, now opened from within, allowed them access to the interior of the dark yawning manor beyond.

Mansion of the Damned

Once safely inside the mansion Holmes and Watson turned on their hand torches to illuminate the vast interior. The beams of light that crisscrossed over the elements within, revealed great opulence and splendor. The large rooms were adorned with intricate carpets, tapestry and drapery that covered floor and wall alike. Volumes of books on never ending shelves lined the remaining uncovered surfaces, while artwork and statuesque occupied every available niche. Ornately carved wood-worked furniture filled the many rooms and hallways of the sprawling building. An obvious Middle Eastern theme ran deep within subject and style throughout the mansion and Holmes noticed that upon the air lingered the scent of burnt patchouli incense.

After a quick examination of the ground floor that revealed little, they entered the main hall from the parlor and approached the base of a huge stairway that wound upward to the second floor landing above. Silently Holmes pointed up to the next level, Watson nodded in confirmation. They cautiously climbed the plush carpeted stairs ever on alert for sounds of alarm from beyond, but all remained silent. Holmes noticed and studied the portraits of the famous historic figures that lined the wall of the stairway as they slowly ascended.

“Who are these people Holmes, in the portraits that is?” Watson enquired as he examined the nameplates beneath the many renderings.

“They are famous Muslim figures from history past.” Holmes replied quietly as he gestured to the images. “I am not familiar with all of those on display but those of note that I do recognize include; Saladin, the renowned leader of the Muslim forces that fought against the Crusader army in the defense of Egypt. He also invaded the Kingdom of Jerusalem in 1187 and annihilated the Crusader army entrenched at the Battle of Hatti. He was eventually killed by King Richard the 1st of England at the Battle of Arrif. Saladin was one of the greatest Muslim military leaders of all time and is highly revered within Middle Eastern society. “This next portrait is of Al-Razi, one of the greatest Muslim engineers and alchemists of history, whose work remained in use for centuries after his death. He discovered sulphuric acid and was also a respected physician.” The detective then moved forward and in front another heavily bearded personage he pointed. “Here is Al-Farabi, another of the greatest scientists and philosophers of his time. He was credited for separating logic into two groups; idea and proof. He was also famous for his demonstrations of the existence of void in physics. Many say he also dabbled in elements of the occult.”

Watson studied the wicked sneer upon the face of the historic figure then focused upon the next well rendered portrait that Holmes pointed out.

“This next depiction is definitely one of an occult acolyte; the Arab magician Abdul-Kadir was known for his evil exploits and sinister experiments using the so-called dark arts and compiled The Book of Power to record his results, of which there is only one known copy. It is locked deep in the vaults of the library of the Vatican, perhaps alongside their copy of the Necronomicon.” Holmes continued, “This portrait here is the most recent, and features Abdel-al-Kadir the Algerian military leader who not so long ago led a rebellion against France with his Muslim brothers. He was famous for his guerrilla war tactics that caused his opposition much grief. Eventually he was forced to surrender and died in 1883.”

“Quite a motley bunch Holmes!” stated Watson as he peered at the intricate paintings.

Holmes did not reply at once, as his attention was focused upon another of the large portraits. This one featured a middle aged Muslim figure in traditional garb and ornamentation yet his face was a distorted visage of madness, its countenance a likeness of pure insanity, with curled lips, furrowed brow and wide starring eyes.

The nameplate below the portrait read; Abdul Alhazred.

“Was he not the mad poet you said wrote the dread Necronomicon?”

“Yes,” agreed Holmes. “Lebda definitely held great regard for these Muslim heroes and so-called scientists, and based on the objects and designs that fill his home, Lebda must certainly be a Muslim himself. Come, let us explore the next floor Watson, I’m sure we will find the information needed to move onward with our investigation.”

The stairway ended at a second story gallery similarly furnished as to the one below, with plush carpeting, tapestries, and highly ornamented wood furnishings.

The duo peered cautiously into many bedrooms before entering into what seemed to be Lebda’s personal study. The rather large room was sprawled across most of the upper front portion of the mansion. The study contained hanging tapestries, draperies and paintings featuring vivid Middle Eastern themes. Some areas within the room were obscured by thick velvet curtains that descended from the high ceiling; there were a few darkened alcoves along the wall and a fireplace, against the western side of the area that sat cold and empty save for a pile of ash.