SHERLOCK HOLMES and the BEAST of TERROR(BEN BROWN) A NEW CASE FOR HOMES

It was just another typical wet, miserable day.
Out in Baker Street, there were people walking about with umbrellas, all drenched to the skin and cabs and carriages were going back and forth.
Then there was I, Sherlock Holmes.
I was staring out into the street, but not paying attention to all the hustle and bustle.
Instead, I was scrutinizing an aged hunch-backed man with a crooked stick, a long grey beard, a large grey moustache, thick wavy grey hair, which came down to his shoulders, a pair of worn-out brown boots, a long grey cloak, torn in many places and round dark glasses, standing outside the empty house across the street.
Whoever he was, had been standing there for some time – an hour perhaps.
Why was he standing directly opposite where Watson and I live? Was he some kind of spy? Why was he wearing dark glasses? Was he looking up at me?
“Holmes, why have you been looking out into the street for the past hour?” said Watson. “Something, or someone has obviously caught your attention.”
“Right you are Watson. Come and see for yourself.”
Watson came and stood beside me.
“Well Holmes?”
“I’ve been staring at that hunchback opposite our lodgings?”
“What of him?”
“Well, I can’t help but wonder if he’s spying on this place. Why the dark glasses? Is he looking at us?”
“Well, I don’t attach any importance to the matter.”
Maybe I was wrong.
I was just going to go and sit down, when a cab drew up outside.
Out of the cab, there stepped a man – medium-sized with thick dark brown hair, a full brown beard, a thick brown moustache, thick eyebrows, a brown leather coat, black trousers, black boots and a navy-blue umbrella.
“This might prove interesting Watson,” said I.
“What might?”
“We have a visitor.”
I then noticed that the hunchback was gone, but paid no thought to him and sat down – ready to meet whoever had arrived.
I heard the door being opened and closed, followed by the voices of Mrs Hudson and the man coming up the stairs.
Finally, Mrs Hudson entered the room.
“There’s a man here, who wishes to speak with you Mr Holmes.”
“Show him in Mrs Hudson,” I said.
Mrs Hudson stood aside – allowing the man to enter.
“Which one of you is Sherlock Holmes?” the man asked, in a Cornish accent.
“I am,” said I.
“I must speak with you urgently, Mr Holmes,” the man said in a voice, which expressed anxiety.
“First sit down and tell me who you are.”
I got up, so that the man could sit down by the warmth of the fire.
“Get him some tea please Mrs Hudson,” I said.
Mrs Hudson left the room.
The man looked at Watson, who was sitting in his usual chair.
“This is my friend and colleague Doctor Watson.”
“I’ve heard of you Watson,” the man said.
“Now then, tell me who you are,” I said.
“My name is George Tobin Mr Holmes.”
“I take it that you are Cornish, by the sound of your accent?” Watson asked.
“Yes Sir. I am the owner of an Inn, in a small village called St Just.”
“State your business please Mr Tobin,” I said.
“You are the very person who is needed in the area where I live Mr Holmes.”
“Go on,” I said.
“Mr Holmes, the area in which I live is being terrorized. People are living in mortal dread.”
“Terrorized by who?”
“Not by who Mr Holmes, by what.”
“What do you mean by what?” asked Watson.
“There is a force of evil in the area, a terrible demon of some kind. It feeds off livestock and is never seen, neither by day, nor night. Worst of all, it emits a spine-chilling, unearthly sound, which stirs the neighbourhood.”
I thought the matter over for a moment.
“Most interesting,” said I.
“You say that it feeds off livestock?” Watson asked.
“Yes Sir. Every night it feeds off a calf or a sheep from a different farm – leaving the remains to be discovered by the farmers.”
“When did this all begin?” Watson asked.
“Ten days ago.”
“Why bring me into it?” asked I.
“Because I and the rest of the people in the area know that you have handled such cases before.”
For a moment my thoughts were drawn to the Hound of the Baskervilles.
I was about to say that I would accept the case, when Mrs Hudson came in with a pot of tea for Mr Tobin.
“Thank you,” Mr Tobin said.
“You’re welcome.”
“I’ve decided to accept your case Mr Tobin,” said I.
“Thank you, Mr Holmes.”
“Another case Mr Holmes?”
“Yes Mrs Hudson, another case and a most interesting one.”
“Where are you off to this time Sir?” Mrs Hudson asked.
“Cornwall,” I replied.
Once Mr Tobin had drunk his tea, Watson and I packed our suitcases.
After exchanging farewells with Mrs Hudson, the three of us travelled by cab to Paddington station.
After that, we boarded the train and began our journey to Cornwall. It was a wonderful journey, but I suspected that Mr Tobin hadn’t told Watson and I the full story.
Furthermore, the hunchback, whom had been in Baker Street earlier that day, occupied the compartment directly opposite.
There was something disturbing about the hunchback, whoever he was. Was he dogging us?
On the way, the train stopped at a number of places, including Reading, Exeter, Newton Abbot, Exeter and Plymouth.
At one point it crossed the great Isambard Kingdom Brunel bridge, which spanned the Tamar.
After crossing the bridge the train continued, right down through Cornwall – stopping off at several places, including St Austell, Truro, Redruth, Camborne, until it finally reached the seaside town of Penzance.
By that time, it was night.
The lights of the town were shining and a bright full moon, set in a sea of stars, cast a path of light on the ocean and lit up the land.
Mr Tobin spoke of St Michaels Mount – a small island with a castle on top, just off shore.
Watson, myself and Mr Tobin got in a cab, which was no different to those in London and left Penzance.
As the cab made its way through the Cornish countryside, we saw buildings, old mines, fields, farm animals and carriages and cabs going back and forth.
Finally, the cab entered a small village known as St Just. A few more cabs and carriages were going about, in the fairly empty streets, lamps were shining, dogs were barking and dozens of candles were shining inside the houses.
At last, the cab stopped outside an Inn. I could hear people inside and there was a black sign above the door with (THE MINERS ARMS) written on it in gold, Old English lettering.
“Well, this is it,” said Mr Tobin. “The Miners Arms.”
Mr Tobin led Watson and I inside the Inn, which was fairly busy with men and women seated both at tables and the bar, all gossiping, drinking and puffing away at pipes or cigars.
There were several dogs there too, including a greyhound lying by a large open fire.
Standing behind the bar, there was a woman with chest length wavy black hair and green, cat-like eyes, wearing a dark red dress.
Watson and I followed Mr Tobin over to the bar.
“Well, here they are Sally my dear,” Mr Tobin said. “Sherlock Holmes and Doctor Watson.”
At that, everyone looked at Watson and I.
“Which of you is Mr Holmes?” Sally asked kindly, in a Cornish accent.
“I am,” I replied.
“I’m glad you’re here Mr Holmes,” said Sally. “This area needs you and Doctor Watson too. These are dark times and evil is at work.”
“Your husband has told us of the situation,” Watson said.
I wasn’t prepared for what came next.
“Did George tell you two about the pair of gipsies?” Mrs Tobin asked.
“No,” I replied.
“What two gipsies?” asked Watson.
“Tell them George.”
“I’d rather not.”
“Why not?” Sally asked.
“Because it’s not my place to say.”
Mr Tobin was on edge.
“Go on Mr Tobin,” said I.
“Very well Mr Holmes.”
“Were all ears,” said Watson.
“There are two gipsies living on a farm, not far from St Just, owned by a man called Jake Trembath and his wife Jill. They never come here to the village, so we hardly know anything about them. In fact, they stay away from society.
“What’s more, the gipsies arrived here just before the beast came into the area.”
“Why didn’t you tell Holmes and I of this before?” asked Watson.
“Because I felt that it should have come from the Trembath’s.”
That was understandable.
“You did well to tell us Mr Tobin,” I said.
“Anything that will help you and Doctor Watson put a stop to the outrageous happenings, which have been taking place in the area Mr Holmes.”
Suddenly, a young lady – about eighteen years of age resembling Sally, came in behind the bar.
“This is our daughter Kelly,” Mrs Tobin said.
“Who are they?” Kelly asked curiously.
“Sherlock Holmes and Doctor Watson,” replied Mrs Tobin.
“Which of you is Sherlock Holmes?” Kelly asked.
I nodded my head.
“Show them to their rooms Kelly,” Mrs Tobin said.
“Yes Mum.”
Kelly took our cases and showed us to our rooms. My room happened to overlook the square outside.
“Mr Holmes, I hope that you and Doctor Watson solve the mystery and rid the area of this unseen, supernatural fiend, for I have a dreadful premonition that it will start preying on humans soon.”


THE INVESTIGATION BEGINS

The following day was very windy.
Watson and I left the Inn to begin the investigation.
The village of St Just turned out to be entirely different to the mighty city of London.
There were of course cabs and carriages going about, but the streets were far from packed – seeing as the population was smaller by a very long way.
Furthermore, the place was more like a community, where everyone seemed to know each other, instead of being far apart.
However, Watson and I didn’t come here to question the villagers. Visiting the local farms is where our investigation would begin.
After leaving St Just, we went to a farm owned by a man, called Henry Tonkin.
“So you’re the famous Sherlock Holmes?” Mr Tonkin said asked.
“Indeed I am and this is my friend and colleague Doctor Watson.”
Mr Tonkin was in his sixties with grey hair going white, a red face, blue eyes, a flat brown cap and all the other traditional clothing of a farmer.
He happened to be the owner of an Alsatian called Rex.
“I’m ever so glad you’re here Mr Holmes and you Doctor Watson.”
“Watson and I have been told of the goings on around here,” said I.
“One of my calves was preyed upon two nights ago. Follow me and I’ll show you where it happened.”
We followed Mr Tonkin and Rex out into the yard, through two fields, full of grazing cows and finally into an empty field.
“This is where it happened Mr Holmes.”
Mr Tonkin showed us a patch of grass right in the centre of the field.
“Rex and I heard the hideous sounds of the beast and the agonizing cries of its victim. When we came out, I saw a sight, which I shall never forget as long as I live.”
“Go on,” said I.
“I saw the skeleton of one of my calves Mr Holmes. It was all bloody, broken, covered all over with teeth marks and stripped completely bare.
Then there were the footprints – bird-like footprints, larger than a human hand, but with very short inner toes. After that it rained, so all the footprints and traces of blood disappeared.”
It was a blood-curdling account, but it got me no step forward.
“If you and Doctor are going to visit other farms, you’ll be told exactly the same story Mr Holmes.”
“Well, we’d better continue with the investigation Watson.”
We exchanged farewells with Henry Tonkin and left the farm.
“What did you make of it all Holmes?”
“It was a most ghastly account, but it got us nowhere.”
“I agree.”
“It may take some time to solve this case.”
“If we solve it.”
After leaving the farm, Watson and I visited two more farms – one owned by a Mr and Mrs Chapman and the other by a Mr and Mrs Tregennis – the latter of whom owned sheep and a German Shepherd.
Both couples gave us parallel accounts to the one given by Henry Tonkin and we were taken to the places where the catastrophic events had taken place.
After that, we went to a cattle farm owned by a Mr Jack McFadden and his eighteen-year-old daughter Hayley, both of whom hadn’t had any trouble yet.
While there, we met a stable boy called David Hunter.
Mr McFadden told us that the young man came into his employment around about the time the gipsies appeared in the area. This was most bizarre, but it led to nothing.
So Watson and I continued on from farm to farm – only to be given the same account.
I was starting to take the matter very seriously. But whether or not the supernatural was involved I knew not. I laid a finger on that for the present.
Watson and I had visited ten farms so far and were on our way up to one – situated on a hill top.
When we reached the farm, we saw two workers cleaning out stables and a third feeding over a hundred Rhode Island Red chickens.
“Good day gentlemen,” said a middle-aged man, who came out of another stable.
“Terry Reynolds, I presume?” I asked.
“I am. Who might you be?”
“My name is Sherlock Holmes, and this is my friend and colleague Doctor Watson.”
“At last you’ve come Mr Holmes.”
I could tell that Mr Reynolds was afraid and there was no need to guess what of.
“I can tell that you’re troubled,” said Watson.
“You are right Doctor Watson. One of my calves was eaten by the beast last night.”
I thought something of the kind had happened.
“Will you show us where the event took place?” I asked.
“Yes Mr Holmes. If you and Doctor Watson follow me.”
Mr Reynolds led Watson and I out of the yard, down through two cow fields and finally into a field at the bottom of the hill – next to a narrow lane with sheep fields belonging to another farm on the other side.
It was then that I laid eyes on the most, ghastly sight, which I had ever seen.
Lying on the ground in the middle of the field was the bloody skeleton of a calf – stripped bare of flesh. Many bones were broken, two of the limbs were dislocated, blood, which had not yet completely dried, lay splattered all over the place and the bones were pot-marked with what appeared to be, hundreds of teeth marks.
Furthermore, there were footprints all around the skeleton – bird-like footprints, larger than a human hand, but with much shorter inner toes.
More footprints like those approached the remains, while others moved away in the opposite direction.
I could tell by the way the footprints were positioned, that whatever had been there, had moved stealthily at first, before running swiftly towards its victim – like a lioness, or a cheetah and left slowly.
Whatever it was that had eaten the calf was far from small, because of the size of the footprints and no animal known in the area could strip an entire calf to the bone.
That wasn’t all, for there were countless cow footprints heading out of the field.
Now I was beginning to see the sheer brutality of it all.
This wasn’t the work of some Hound of the Baskervilles-like creature, no, it was something far more savage, something pure evil.
“What on Earth could have done this?” Watson asked.
“It’s beyond me Watson.”
“I was going to burn the remains, but then I thought it better to leave it for you Mr Holmes and you Doctor Watson to examine.”
“You did right to do so Mr Reynolds,” I said. “This is visible evidence at least, but whether or not it will lead to anything, I don’t know.”
“You must put a stop to it Mr Holmes,” said Mr Reynolds said. “You must put a stop to this menace for all time.”
Watson and I followed Mr Reynolds back into the yard.
“What do you make of it all Mr Holmes?” one of the stable workers asked.
“Right now, I’m not sure.”
“What about you Doctor Watson?” asked the other stable worker.
“I have no idea.”
“I did try to persuade Mr Reynolds to get the police involved Mr Holmes,” said the third worker, who was now sweeping an area of the yard. “But he wouldn’t have it.”
“Why not?” Watson asked.
“Ask him yourself Doctor Watson.”
“Well Mr Reynolds, why did you not involve the police?”
“Because, it was pointless. If I had got the police involved, they would have dismissed the whole matter.”
“Why do you say that?” asked I.
“Because you can’t arrest the supernatural Mr Holmes.”
I didn’t press the matter any further, for it seemed obvious that Mr Reynolds – like many, if not all of people in the area, believed in the supernatural side of the affair. Even I wasn’t unconvinced entirely that the work of the supernatural was involved.
Watson and I exchanged farewells with Mr Reynolds and the three workers before leaving the farm.
“So what now Holmes?”
“Now we shall go back to the Inn. It’s been a long day’s work and we haven’t really got anywhere so far.”
“Very well Holmes.”
“Tomorrow, we shall visit the gipsies at the farm owned by Mr and Mrs Trembath.”
There was nothing more to be done for the day, so we went back to THE MINER’S ARMS.
“Any progress Mr Holmes?” George Tobin asked.
“Not yet I’m afraid.”
“Have you been to see the gipsies?” asked Mrs Tobin.
“Not yet,” Watson replied. “But we’ll visit them tomorrow.”
“There is something, which happened while you and Doctor were out Mr Holmes,” said Mr Tobin.
“Go on,” I said.
“Jack McFadden’s daughter came here.”
“And?” I asked.
“She gave me a letter to pass onto you.”
“How very bizarre,” said Watson.
Mr Tobin gave me the letter.
I opened the envelope and read the letter.

Dear Mr Holmes,

I know that you are said to be the one person, who can hopefully put an end to the terror in the area, but at the same moment I believe that this is a case, which you cannot solve.
You and Doctor Watson, are meddling with a force of evil beyond anyone’s comprehension and I’d advise you both to return to the safety of Baker Street.
Hayley McFadden.

I was just about to hand the letter to Watson when –
“Let me see that Mr Holmes,” came a familiar voice.
I turned round and saw David Hunter from Jack McFadden’s farm standing right behind me.
I was taken aback.
“The letter Sir,” David demanded.
I wasn’t sure what to do. After all, the young man did work on the farm where Hayley lived. Maybe there was something, which concerned the man.
“Very well,” I said.
I handed the letter to David, who quickly read it, before giving it back.
David then went over to a corner, where a very familiar figure was sitting. It was none other than the hunchback, whom I had seen in Baker Street.
I was mind-blown.
“Look over there Watson,” I said, as David sat down opposite the man.
“Great Scot. You don’t suppose – “
“Shh – not now,” I whispered.
What was the meaning of it? Were we being shadowed?


THE CASE GROWS DARKER

The following day, my thoughts were on yesterday’s events. The skeleton and the footprints in the field, the accounts given by local farmers, the letter from Hayley McFadden, which David Hunter had demanded thoroughly to read and finally, seeing the hunchback in the Inn.
What stumped me most, was the fact that David had spoken with the hunchback. Was there a connection between the two of them? How did they know one another? Had the hunchback ordered David to spy on Watson and I?
My mind was filled with questions, but I was soon distracted when Jack McFadden burst into the Inn. When he saw Watson and I sitting by the fire, awaiting our breakfast, he came over – terror in his eyes.
“I must speak with you Mr Holmes,” he said fearfully. “And you Doctor Watson.”
“What, now?” asked I.
“Yes Mr Holmes.”
“Go on,” I said.
“The beast invaded my farm last night.”
“I presume that it preyed on one of your calves?” Watson asked.
“Not one of my calves Sir.”
“Not one of your calves?” Watson asked curiously.
“No Sir. It preyed upon my daughter Hayley.”
I was thunderstruck, just like everyone else in the Inn.
“The pair of you must come with me at once,” Jack said.
The three of us left the Inn and headed straight for Jack McFadden’s farm. When we reached it, we found David sweeping the yard.
Jack fetched his dog Harry and led us out of the yard. He then led us through three cow fields and finally, an empty one beside a narrow lane with trees on the other side.
It was then that I saw it – the skeleton – not of a calf, but of Hayley. It was all bloody and broken in places – especially the rib cage and teeth marks covered it all over. Both arms had been pulled out of their sockets and one leg.
All her lovely clothing, which included a pink dress and a pair of black stockings, was completely shredded and blood-stained, as were her torn, tall dark brown leather boots. More blood lay all around the body, along with countless footprints – resembling those, which I had seen at Mr Reynolds farm.
More such footprints indicated that the beast had approached slowly, before stopping about fifteen feet from Hayley. By that, I deduced it must have pounced. Even more prints indicated that the beast must have left slowly.
The sight of it curdled my blood.
“Great Heavens,” Watson said.
I suddenly remembered what Mr Tobin’s daughter had said, about the beast preying on humans. Now my own worst fears were realized.
I stared at Jack, who showed no sign of sadness in his eyes.
“You don’t look unhappy about it,” I said.
“I’m not.”
“Why not Mr McFadden?” asked Watson.
“Because I attach no importance to such feelings in such times as these Doctor Watson. “Why should I grieve, when the same ghastly fate might befall another?”
“It’s a ghastly sight,” Watson said. “I can’t even begin to imagine what she went through.”
A ghastly sight it was indeed, but I was beginning to see some light in the darkness – so I hoped.
I suspected that David Hunter was involved. Maybe he wanted to make Hayley pay for sending the letter to persuade Watson and I to leave the area. Maybe he told her to meet him in the field last night – right out in the open – knowing that the beast would be there. But that seemed totally impossible, for he would have faced the same ghastly fate too. Unless – he had some kind of connection with the beast, or had some control over it – control over the supernatural.
“What are you thinking Holmes?” Watson asked.
I explained my thoughts to Watson and Mr McFadden.
“You may be right Holmes,” said Watson.
“I have no case though.”
“I’ll have it out of him,” Mr McFadden said angrily.
“No Mr McFadden,” said I. “I’ll deal with him myself.”
“Very well Mr Holmes.”
“Should we get the police involved? Watson asked.
“No. I want nothing to do with the police.”
“Why not?” asked I.
“Because the supernatural can’t be arrested.”
“Let’s just see what David has to say,” Watson said. “He may have nothing to do with it.”
So we went back to the farmyard and found David still sweeping away. When he saw us, he stopped and came over.
“Well Mr Holmes?” he asked. “What do you make of it?”
“It’s a brutal affair David.”
“I can’t see myself working here much longer Mr Holmes.”
I wasn’t expecting that.
“Why not?” Watson asked.
“Well, because I might be the next victim.”
David was talking well, but I wondered slightly if he was trying to throw me off the scent.
“Where were you last night David?” Mr McFadden asked.
“Why do you ask that?”
“Because you weren’t around here when Hayley was killed.”
“You’re right Mr McFadden. I wasn’t here.”
“Why not?” asked Mr McFadden.
“Hey, what is this?” David asked.
“Mr Holmes suspects that you may have been involved with my daughter’s death.”
David faced me.
“You suspect me Mr Holmes?”
“Yes, but I have no case.”
“Just what do you suspect Mr Holmes?”
I faced David with my theories.
“But it’s like you said Mr Holmes, you have no case against me.”
“That maybe so, but I’m not going to rule you out – not yet.”
Suddenly, I remembered seeing David talking with the hunchback last night at the Inn.
“One more thing David.”
“What now Mr Holmes?”
“Who is the hunchback, you were talking with last night?”
David’s face turned very pale.
“I can’t tell you that Mr Holmes.”
“You can’t, or you won’t?”
“Please don’t press me further on that point Mr Holmes.”
Watson and I stared at one another.
“Very well David,” I said.
“Thank you, Mr Holmes. Now if you don’t mind, I have to get back to work.”
I had to be satisfied with that.
“Keep a very close eye on him Mr McFadden,” said I. “If you see anything suspicious – “
“Don’t worry Mr Holmes. I’ll deal with him most thoroughly if I see anything suspicious.”
“Thank you, Mr McFadden. Now we must be off.”
Watson and I exchanged goodbyes with Mr McFadden and left the farm.
I had a most uneasy feeling that we would end up going back there.
Furthermore, I wondered whether the hunchback had a hand in the matter.
“Well Holmes, it looks like we’re back to square one.”
I quite agreed.
“Where do we go from here?” Watson asked.
We pay a visit to the Trembath’s and make the acquaintance of the two gipsies.


THE GIPSIES

It was a bone-chilling sight, which Watson and I had set eyes on at Mr McFadden’s farm.
Enough it had been that cows and sheep were being preyed upon by the beast, but a young, innocent woman was something far worse.
After all the locals had told me and what my own eyes had laid upon, I doubted no longer, that there was some kind of terror plaguing the area.
Maybe the paranormal was involved after all.
Watson and I were now making our way to the last farm in the area, in order to question the two gipsies. Maybe that would lead somewhere.
When we reached the farm, we saw a young man feeding over a hundred chickens in the yard.
I knocked on the dark red farm house door and waited.
A moment later, it was opened by a plump woman, between four and five feet tall, wearing a blue dress and a white apron.
“Yes Sir?”
“Is your name Jill Trembath by any chance?”
“It is. Who might you be?”
“Sherlock Holmes and this is my friend and colleague Doctor Watson.”
“So the pair of you have come at last?”
“Is your husband Jake around?” Watson asked.
“Yes Sir. He’s out harvesting potatoes.”
“Take us to him please,” said I.
“First tell me why you want to see him.”
“We want him to introduce us to the gipsies,” Watson replied.
“Very well.”
Mrs Trembath led us round to the back of the house, where there was a large vegetable garden.
It was in that garden that we saw a man, busy harvesting potatoes. He was over five feet in height and plump like his wife with muddy clothing and footwear.
“There are two gentlemen who wish to see you, Jake.”
“Who may they be?” he asked.
“Sherlock Holmes and Doctor Watson.”
Mr Trembath got up and faced us.
“Which of you is Mr Holmes?” he asked.
I nodded my head.
“George Tobin told us that you two are around,” said Mr Trembath.
“We want to see the gipsies,” Watson said. “Will you take us to them?”
“Indeed I shall Sir.”
Mr Trembath led us out of the garden, through a couple of sheep fields and finally into a field with trees at the bottom.
In the left-hand bottom corner of the field, there was a wagon with two gipsies sitting outside on a log, playing woodwind instruments.
One had a long red beard, a thick moustache, a long red beard and green eyes. The other looked very much the same, except his hair was black and his eyes dark. The pair of them were middle aged with fine Romany clothing.
Furthermore, there was a deerhound lying before them.
“Good morning to you Mr Trembath,” the gipsy with the red hair said.
“Who might they be?” asked the other gipsy.
“Sherlock Holmes and Doctor Watson.”
“Which of you is Mr Holmes?”
“I am,” I replied.
“Honoured I am to meet you Mr Holmes,” said the gipsy with the red hair.
“Who might you be Sir?” Watson asked the red-haired gipsy.
“James Cartwright and this is Fred Bailey.”
“I presume that you and Mr Holmes are investigating the mysterious happenings that have been taking place around here?” Bailey asked.
“We are indeed,” replied Watson.
“Well, Mr and Mrs Trembath can’t help you in any way,” Cartwright said.
“Why not?” asked I.
“Because they haven’t had any trouble so far.”
“It will only be a matter of time,” said Mr Trembath.
When the farmer was gone, we continued.
“Have either of you come to any conclusions?” Bailey asked.
“No, we have not,” replied Watson.
“All the farmers we’ve met – except for Mr and Mrs Trembath have fed us the same story,” I said.
“Are either of you convinced?” asked Cartwright.
“We are,” I replied. “But whether or not the supernatural is involved, well, that is yet to be discovered.”
“If it can be discovered,” said Watson.
I didn’t object to that.
“We have however seen the remains of two of the victims,” Watson said.
“Is that so?” asked Bailey.
“I’m afraid so,” replied I. “The first was the skeleton of a calf, but the second, well that was something far more devastating.”
“Tell us,” Cartwright said.
“It was the remains of a farmer’s daughter,” said Watson.
“Oh my,” Bailey said.
“So now it’s humans that are falling victim to this menace?” asked Cartwright.
“I’m afraid so,” I replied.
“Maybe we should make ourselves scarce Fred,” said Cartwright.
“No, were staying.”
“But it may prey on us next.”
“Come to that it may.”
“But – “
“I said we’re staying.”
“Very well.”
This was going nowhere.
I understood that Cartwright and Bailey were living in mortal fear, but so was everyone else – except for David perhaps and it was more than likely that most people in the area wanted to get away.
“Stop arguing please,” I said. “We didn’t come here to listen to the pair of you squabble.”
“Why have you come then?” asked Cartwright.
“To ask some questions,” I replied. “Where you came from? Why you’re here? Whether or not the pair of you are involved with the happenings in the area?”
“It’s all part of the investigation,” said Watson.
“Very well,” Cartwright said. “I have been a gypsy all my life – born and bred.
“Many places I have been to, all over England – farms, by the coast, the rolling hills, roadsides, you name it. Then about four weeks ago I decided to come to this part of the country.”
“What about Bailey?” I asked.
“Unlike me, Bailey was not born and bred a gypsy. Where he came from, I don’t know. He has travelled way farther afield than I have.”
“Where to,” asked Watson.
“He’s been across Europe, Asia, Africa and right into the heart of the Amazon.”
This was turning out to be most interesting.
“Tell us in detail about your travels Bailey,” I said.
“Very well Mr Holmes. While in Europe, I travelled through the Alps, visited Paris, the Netherlands and Greece. While in Asia, I hiked in the Himalayas, visited the Dalai Lama and spent some time in Russia. While in Africa, I explored the bushland and visited Egypt.
“As for the Amazon, that’s a remarkable place with ancient ruins, built by long lost civilizations and many lifeforms, including ferocious reptilian predators, which hunt at night.
“After that, I came here to England, which is in fact, where I was born. I met James here and decided to take up the Romany life. It was then that the pair of us moved here.”
A most interesting person Bailey was turning out to be, but I neither suspected him nor Cartwright for what was going on in the area. After all, I had no case against them.
“Do you suspect us Mr Holmes?” asked Cartwright.
“No, I do not. I have no case against either of you.”
“Holmes – “Watson began.
“What about you Doctor Watson?” asked Bailey.
“Well, Mr Tobin did inform Holmes and I that the pair of you turned up in the area around the time the beast appeared.”
“What of it?” Cartwright asked.
“Just because we turned up here the same time as the beast did, doesn’t mean we have anything to do with the matter.”
“Point taken, but – “
“Save your protestations Watson,” I said.
“Thank you, Mr Holmes,” said Bailey.
I did however want a few more details.
“I would however like to know why the pair of you decided to come here and why you stay away from society.”
“Well Mr Holmes, we knew very little about Cornwall and decided to come for a while – if not to stay,” Cartwright said. “As for going near society, well, I’ve only lived among other gipsies. Fred no longer wishes to go near society, so he sees this as an excuse not to. This is the life he wanted to take up after globe- trotting.”
I was satisfied by that enough.
“Well that all sounds reasonable enough,” said Watson.
“Is there anything else, which you gentlemen wish to ask us?” Bailey asked.
Watson and I looked at one another and slowly shook our heads.
“No, that’ll be all,” replied I.
“We’ll leave you then,” Watson said. “For now.”
“I hope the pair of you will bring an end to the calamity in the area,” said Bailey.
Watson and I left the gypsies and headed back to the yard.
“What do you believe Mr Holmes?” Mrs Trembath asked. “Do you suspect them in any way?”
“No Mrs Trembath, I suspect them not.”
“What about you Doctor Watson?” asked Mr Trembath.
“Right now I don’t know what to believe.”
“They tell very fascinating stories,” I said. “But, I have not a shred of evidence against them.”
“Well Mr Holmes, we hope that you and Doctor Watson will bring an end to the power of evil in the neighbourhood,” said Mrs Trembath. “And fast. Jake and I might be the next victims.”
The thought sent a chill down my spine.
Watson and I exchanged farewells with the Trembath’s and left the farm.


FROM BAD TO WORSE

Right now, I was at loose ends and square one was in sight again.
“Where do we go from here Holmes?” Watson asked.
“I have no idea. It’s back to the drawing board.”
And so it was.
Then suddenly, a new thought hit me – a thought, which shed some light on the case.
“Something on your mind Holmes?”
“Indeed there is.”
“Would you mind sharing it?”
“Not now.”
I knew what was coming next.
“You know I don’t like it when you conceal things from me Holmes.”
“Yes, but now’s not the right time to share it.”
“Then I’ll just have to wait then?” Watson asked with a note of sarcasm in his voice.
“Save your attitude Watson.”
“So what do we do now?”
“Now, we shall take a break from the investigation.”
“Why?”
“Because we’ve hardly gained anything and I want a clear head before we continue.”
“As you please Holmes.”
“For the rest of the day we shall explore more of the area.”
So that’s what we did. We walked down to the coast, to a place called Cape Cornwall, then across the moorland for several miles, until we reached an outcrop of rocks called Carn Kenidjack.
St Just was visible from the outcrop, along with a distant coastal town, plenty of hills and the Isles of Scilly on the far horizon. It was a wonderful sight.
“Well Holmes?”
“Well what?”
“Are you going to share with me what was on your mind earlier?”
“Not yet I’m afraid. I’m still trying to piece things together. When I’m ready, I’ll tell you.”
“Very well Holmes?”
“In the meantime, we shall go back to the Inn.”
So that’s what we did.
“How’s the investigation going?” Mrs Tonkin asked.
“Watson and I are going round and round in circles. I can prove none of my theories.”
“Right now, we can do nothing,” said Watson. “This is a case we may never solve.”
I didn’t disagree there.
Watson and I sat down near the fire and looked at everyone in sight.
It was then that I saw David and the hunchback in another corner – deep in conversation. Just what was the connection between the two of them?”
The following morning, Watson and I got up early to continue with the investigation – hoping as usual that we would get somewhere.
We were just about to order some breakfast, when David entered the Inn. His face expressed sheer fright.
“I’m ever so glad I found the pair of you,” he said in a most fearful voice.
“Whatever is the matter, David?” asked I.
“Something awful has happened Mr Holmes.”
“Calm yourself,” Watson said. “Tell us what it is.”
“How can I be calm Doctor Watson?”
I had the uneasy feeling that the beast had struck again during the night.
“There’s been another killing, hasn’t there?” I asked.
“Yes Mr Holmes.”
“Who was it this time?” asked Watson.
“Mr McFadden.”
I was thunderstruck, as was everyone else in the Inn.
People started talking amongst themselves.
“Take us to the farm,” I said.
As we followed David to the farm, I thought of the skeleton of Hayley lying in the field. That was horrendous enough, but I wasn’t prepared for the shocking sight, on which I was going to lay my eyes on.
When we reached the farm McFadden’s dog came rushing up to us.
“Through here gentlemen.”
David and Harry led us into the yard.
It was there that I set eyes on a most ghastly sight.
Lying in the middle of the yard, was a skeleton, all bloody, broken and covered with numerous teeth marks, like Hayley’s skeleton.
McFadden’s clothes were all shredded and bloody and more blood lay all around the remains, along with many footprints.
More prints indicated that the beast had entered the front of the yard, pounced upon its victim and left the same way.
“Heavens above,” Watson said. “What on Earth could be doing all this?”
“I believe I can help you gentlemen,” replied David.
“Go on,” I said.
“I was in the out building where I sleep last night, when I heard a spine-chilling, unearthly shriek coming from somewhere. I then heard Mr McFadden come out of the house with Harry and after that, it happened.
A deafening roar sounded, followed by agonizing screams, shrieks and other horrific sounds of some kind of ferocious creature. Wondering what to do, I went out to see what was up.
“It was then that I saw it – a huge scaly dark blue beast with bird-like legs, a luminous red eye on either side of its enormous bird-like head, spidery arms – ending in clawed hands, a hooked claw on each foot, a writhing tail, a snake-like neck and a mouth full of razor-sharp teeth.
“Worst of all, the beast was quickly devouring Mr McFadden – alive.
“When it had finished, the beast saw me, but left the yard.”
There was silence for a moment.
“Do you still believe that the beast is of the supernatural David? I asked. “Now that you have seen it with your own eyes?”
“I do yes, just like everyone else.”
“What do you believe Holmes?”
“I have my own theories, which I am not willing to reveal – yet.”


A NEW AQUAINTANCE

“What are you thinking Holmes?”
“I’m thinking Watson, that my deductions may be correct.”
“Do you suspect someone?” David asked.
“I do,” I said.
“You don’t suspect me, do you Mr Holmes?”
“No, I don’t suspect you.”
David gave a huge sigh of relief.
I knew all too well who I suspected.
“I think Watson, that we should pay another visit to the Trembath’s.”
“Do you suspect them?” asked Watson.
“No, I suspect Bailey.”
“Why Bailey?” Watson asked.
“I’ll tell you soon.”
“What would you have me do Mr Holmes? Should I notify the police?”
“No David.”
“Why not?”
“Because Watson and I will deal with the matter.”
I knew just how we were going to do it.
“Very well Mr Holmes. But you and Doctor Watson must come with me to the Inn first.”
“Why?” Watson asked.
“Because there’s someone who wants to meet you both.”
This was unexpected.
“Very well,” Watson said.
The three of us left the farm and headed back to the Inn.
When we entered, David led us over to a table, where a familiar man was sitting.
It was none other than the hunchback.
“You,” said Watson.
“Yes, Doctor Watson.”
I had a number of questions, which I wanted answers to.
“Just who are you?” I asked. “Why were you opposite 221B Baker Street? Why were you travelling on the same train as Watson and I? Are you shadowing us? Are you a spy? Come on man, tell us – now.”
“My answer to your last two questions Mr Holmes, is no.”
“Well then?” I asked furiously.
“I happen to be a very close friend of your brother Mycroft Mr Holmes.”
This didn’t make any sense. Was Mycroft involved in the case?
“Continue.”
“Mycroft ordered me to stand opposite 221B until Mr Tobin arrived and to travel on the same train to see that you all got here. He also told me to dress like this – in order to conceal my identity.
“I presume that Mr Tobin knows of this?” Watson asked.
“Indeed he does,” replied the hunchback.
“I still don’t understand,” I said.
“Well, it so happens that Mycroft is known of in these parts – seeing as he is your brother.”
“What is your name Sir?” asked Watson.
“Michael Carpenter.”
“What is the link between you and David here?” Watson asked.
“Mycroft knows David just as well as I, which is how we came to know one another.
“When Mycroft was informed of the events going on in this area, he sent David to keep an eye on things. David chose to work on a farm, so as not to draw attention to himself, which hasn’t quite gone according to plan.”
I was taken aback by all of this.
“Why did you not tell us when we first turned up at the farm David?” I asked.
“I couldn’t say at the time – not with all that is going on – especially not while Mr McFadden was present.”
There was still the matter of why David wasn’t around when the beast had preyed upon Hayley. Maybe he was hiding somewhere on the farm.
“Tell me David, why weren’t you present when Hayley was eaten?” asked I.
“I was with Michael Mr Holmes. After reading the letter, which Hayley gave you, we had to have a serious talk, after all, it wasn’t a matter that could be ignored. After that I went back to the farm in case Mr McFadden realized that I wasn’t there.
“But never mind all that, let us all get down to the matter in hand Mr Holmes.”
We did just that.
“Have you or Doctor Watson shed any light on the matter Mr Holmes?” Carpenter asked. “Have you formed any theories? Is the end in sight?”
“Well, it’s just been one theory after another, but my recent ones do possibly shed light on the matter. Unfortunately however, the end is not in sight.”
“Do either of you suspect anyone?” asked Carpenter.
“Well, Holmes suspects a gypsy called Fred Bailey, who lives at the farm owned by the Trembath’s.”
“I have been to all the farms,” said Carpenter. “So I know of the gypsies. Met them too I did.”
“Do you suspect Bailey Michael?”
“No Doctor Watson.”
“Do you suspect anyone at all?” I asked.
“At the moment, Mr Holmes, I do not.”
“What about you David?” asked Watson.
“I too, suspect no one.”
“This ghastly affair is getting nowhere,” Carpenter said. “I believe that no one can solve this case.”
“Do you share the same opinion, David?”
“Right now, Mr Holmes, I don’t know, but tell Carpenter and myself why you suspect Bailey?”
“I will inform you all of my theories tonight when we visit the Trembath’s.”
“Oh come now Holmes,” said Watson.
“Why are we going to visit the Trembath’s?” David asked.
“Why at night?” asked Carpenter.
“I’ll explain later.”


MY THEORIES

The information, which Watson and I had received stumped us.
The hunchback, who we suspected might have been dogging us, happened to know my brother Mycroft and was, like David, working for him.
Then there was the fact that Mycroft was well known in the area.
It was all so much to take in.
Tonight, Watson and I, along with Carpenter and David were going to visit the Trembath’s. There was plenty of work to be done there – work, which may bring the mystery of the beast right into the light.
If my – yet to be revealed theories turned out to be incorrect, then it would be back to the drawing board again.
“Well, there’s nothing that can be done between now and tonight,” I said.
“What do you suggest we do then Holmes?” asked Watson.
“Explore more of the area.”
“Very well.”
“David and I will go off too,” Carpenter said. “We have plenty to think over.”
So did I.
“You have not told us where you are staying Carpenter,” Watson asked.
“I’m not at liberty to reveal that.”
“Fair enough.”
Throughout the day Watson and I explored more of the region.
We went for a very long walk along the coast to the village of Sennen, which we had seen from Carn Kenidjack.
After spending some time there, we walked straight back to St Just and joined Carpenter and David for some dinner at the Inn.
“Are all of you ready then?” asked I.
David, Carpenter and Watson all nodded.
“Let’s be off then.”
The four of us left the Inn and headed to the Trembath’s.
By the time we got there, it was getting dark.
“Good to see all you gentlemen,” Mrs Trembath said, when she appeared at the farmhouse door.
“I had a feeling that Watson and I would end up returning here again,” said I.
“I presume the pair of you have joined forces with David and Carpenter?”
“We have indeed Mrs Trembath,” said I.
“What brings the four of you here at this time?”
“Fred Bailey,” replied Watson.
“Fred Bailey?” Mrs Trembath asked curiously.
“Yes.”
“Why might that be Doctor Watson?”
“Holmes suspects that Bailey is behind the terrible events that have been taking place in the area.”
“Why Bailey?”
“Neither of us three have a clue,” David replied.
“Holmes has revealed neither his theories, nor the purpose of our visit,” said Watson.
“I shall do so while we’re here Watson and I want Mr and Mrs Trembath to be present.”
“You’d all better come in then.”
Mrs Trembath led us inside the house.
The interior of the house was most interesting.
Paintings of Cornish scenes hung all over the place and a flight of stairs covered with a red carpet disappeared into the darkness.
Mrs Trembath led us into a room with fine furniture – including chairs, a couple of tables and a bookcase, along with a flaming log fire and a pair of brown curtains – embroidered with flowers.
“Sit down gentlemen,” said Mrs Trembath. “While I go and fetch Jake.”
The four of us sat down on the chairs and waited.
A moment later, Mrs Trembath reappeared with Jake.
“Evening all,” Jake said.
“I told Jake why you’ve all come.”
“So Mr Holmes, your suspicions fall upon Bailey?”
“They do yes. Now that you’re all here I shall reveal my theories.”
“And about time too,” said Watson.
“We’re all ears,” Mrs Trembath said.
“My first theory is that Bailey is somehow connected to the beast.”
“I don’t understand,” Mr Trembath said.
“Are you saying that Bailey has some kind of connection with the supernatural?” asked Mrs Trembath.
“Not in the least.”
“How then?” Watson asked.
“It is my theory that Bailey found the beast, while exploring the Amazon and brought it to England somehow.”
“What are you saying Mr Holmes?” David asked.
“I’m saying that I no longer believe the beast to be a supernatural demon, but a wild animal from the Amazon. You yourself said that you witnessed it devour Mr McFadden.”
“Why do you believe it to be an animal Mr Holmes?” asked Mrs Trembath.
“Because Bailey told Watson and I that he saw ferocious reptilian predators and David said that the beast was reptile-like.”
“What do you believe David?” Mr Trembath asked. “Do you believe the beast to be of the supernatural?”
“Right now, I have no idea.”
“What about you two?” Watson asked the Trembath’s.
“Well, unless Mr Holme’s theories are correct, we’ll continue to believe what everyone around here does,” Mrs Trembath replied.
“If your theories are correct Holmes, then how did Bailey bring the beast over to England?” Watson asked. “Where does he keep it? Does Cartwright know anything of the matter? Is he also involved?”
“I have questioned those matters, but without coming up with any theories.”
“This is all very interesting Mr Holmes, but just exactly why have you all come here at this time?” asked Mr Trembath. “Surely not just to reveal your theories?”
“You are right.”
“Well then – “Mrs Trembath asked.
“We are going to spy on Bailey tonight – watch his movements and see if my theories are correct. After all, I have no solid evidence to prove my theories.”
“Very well Mr Holmes,” said Mr Trembath.
“Anything that may get to the bottom of the matter,” Mrs Trembath said.
“What time shall we get to work Holmes?” asked Watson.
“Around ten.”
So we just sat in the living room reading books until the time came to act.


A GHASTLY TURN OF EVENTS

The moment to act had arrived.
“You all know what you have to do?” I asked.
The others nodded.
“I will remain here and stand outside the house,” David said. “Should Bailey set the beast on the Trembath’s.”
“Good,” said I.
“I will come with you and Doctor Watson Mr Holmes,” Carpenter said.
I faced Mr Trembath.
“I will lead you into the trees at the bottom of the field,” he said. “Then return here, where Mrs Trembath shall wait.”
So everything was finally set.
Mr Trembath lit a lantern, led us out the house, out of the yard and down to the trees – where Watson, Carpenter and myself could hide safely – so I thought.
He then left.
From our hiding spot, I could clearly see Bailey sitting on the log with Cartwright, smoking a pipe, before a welcoming fire – totally unaware of our presence.
The dog was present too.
“Nobody make a sound,” I whispered.
Now we just had to wait and wait we did.
It was no short wait either.
We waited and waited for Bailey to act, but he didn’t. Why was he still sitting there? When was he going to make a move? Was he going to make a move?
He just sat there on the log smoking his pipe. At one point he refilled it and continued – without budging.
Then a series of events took place, which twisted the case.
At first, I saw some kind of luminous red object moving slowly towards the field, no more than three metres away and heard, what I could only describe as some strange hissing sound.
Something was alive among the trees – something other than Watson, Carpenter and myself.
Once out of the trees, the beast – whatever it was sprang over the wall and slowly made its way towards the gipsies, moving its tail from side to side.
The beast fitted David’s description entirely. It was dark blue and stood about six feet tall and twelve feet long with a large bird-like head – about two feet long, scaly skin, spidery arms ending in clawed hands, bird-like legs, a long tail and a hooked claw on each foot.
The luminous red object happened to be one of its eyes.
Bailey and Cartwright froze in terror when they saw the approaching beast and the dog began to bark loudly.
The beast gave a deafening, spine-chilling roar, which froze the blood in my veins.
The gipsies got up and moved slowly away from the beast, while the dog darted under the wagon.
I pulled out my revolver, but before I had the chance to fire at the beast, someone grabbed me around the throat from behind.
The gun fell from my hand.
“Watson, Carpenter, help me,” I said between gasps.
Watson and Carpenter came to my aid. They tried to release me, but whoever had me, was very strong and held on tight.
Unfortunately, I had no chance of preventing the grizzly event, which came next.
“What do we do?” Bailey asked Cartwright.
“We get inside wagon, as fast as possible.”
The gipsies acted as fast as they could, but the beast was faster.
Cartwright, who was in front made it into the wagon, but Bailey wasn’t so fortunate.
When Bailey was halfway up the steps, the beast grabbed his right leg with its jaws and dragged him screaming, back to the ground.
Then came the spine-chilling, unearthly shrieks and ferocious roars of the beast and the agonizing screams of Bailey, as he was eaten alive.
The tail of the beast writhed as it very quickly devoured the insides of its helpless victim, who soon passed out.
But it didn’t end there, because the beast continued eating its prey, until there was no flesh left.
All that remained was a very badly fractured skeleton and shredded clothing.
Then there came a short, high whistle and the beast went slowly back into the trees. That meant only one thing.
A person – unknown, was nearby.
After that, the grip around my neck loosened and I was able to free myself.
I then heard a strong scuffle behind me – followed by the sound of footsteps moving away.
“What now Holmes?” Watson asked.
“I want to examine the remains.”
Watson, Carpenter and myself entered the field and went over to the remains, which were clearly visible in the firelight.
It was a horrendous sight.
The ribcage was all broken – like a ship wreck, both arms and a leg had been wrenched from their sockets and the shredded clothes and footwear were all stained with wet blood. The skeleton was bloody and pot-marked with teeth marks and more blood lay all around the leftovers.
Those remains were of the very man whom I had suspected for being behind the evil in the area.
My theories had all been in vain.
Cartwright came out of the wagon.
He looked in surprise at us first, then set eyes on the ghastly remains of Bailey.
Never had I seen anyone look so terrified.
“I’m sorry it has come to this,” said I.
“I – I was too afraid to help him,” Cartwright said.
“I know,” said I.
“Well, I won’t be hanging round here much longer,” Cartwright said. “This will haunt me the rest of my life.”
“What will you do?” asked Watson.
“I’ll travel, like I’ve always done. However, my life will never be the same again – not after this.”
“I think it’s best if you come to the house first and explain this to the Trembath’s.”
“Very well Mr Holmes.”
Cartwright accompanied Watson, Carpenter and myself back to the house.
The Trembath’s were of course surprised to see Cartwright.
“Is it over Mr Holmes?” Mrs Trembath asked, when we were all in the living room.
“I’m afraid not. Far from it in fact.”
“What happened Mr Holmes?” asked Mr Trembath.
I told the Trembath’s everything.
“So, it’s back to square one,” Watson said.
“Indeed it is,” said I. “My theories have all been for nothing.”
“Do you still believe the beast to be out of the supernatural realm Mr Holmes?” Mrs Trembath asked.
“I don’t know. If I had shot it, I would have known.”
“With this turn of events, we may never solve this mystery,” Carpenter said.
David suddenly came in.
I told him everything.
“What now Mr Holmes?” he said.
“Now, I want to rest.”
So did Watson and Carpenter.
“You can all stay here,” said Mrs Trembath.
“Even me?” Cartwright asked.
“Yes,” replied Mrs Trembath. “Even you.”
We all thanked the Trembath’s and settled down for the rest of the night.


THE BEAST OF CORNWALL

After a very restless, nightmarish sleep, I tried to clear my head, but without success. Bailey’s ghastly fate was burned incredibly deep within me.
My theories had gone up in flames and smoke.
So it was back to the drawing board – again.
Not only that, but David and Carpenter had gone off without explanation, before Watson, Cartwright and myself woke up.
I questioned the Trembath’s about it, but they were just as puzzled as we were.
However, the Trembath’s provided the three of us with a full breakfast, but it didn’t ease things – until.
Mrs Trembath came into the room, holding a letter.
“I found this slipped under the door. It’s addressed to you Mr Holmes.”
“Thank you, Mrs Trembath.”
I took the envelope and opened it.
The letter inside took me completely by surprise.
It read.
Come to Carn Kenidjack tonight Mr Holmes and the mystery of the beast of Cornwall will be solved. I’ll meet you at the Inn at eleven.
“What does it say Mr Holmes?” Watson asked.
“You read it.”
I handed the letter to Watson, who read it.
“Let me read it,” Cartwright said.
Watson handed the letter to Cartwright to read.
“Let us read it too,” said Mrs Trembath.
Cartwright handed the letter to Mrs Trembath, who read it with Mr Trembath.
“Most interesting,” Mr Trembath said.
“The end may be in sight,” said I.
Unless it was some kind of hoax.
“The question is – who sent it?” Watson asked.
“Who indeed?” asked I.
“Well, I’m certainly not getting involved,” Cartwright said. “Not after what happened to Bailey.”
“You can stay in the house with us,” said Mrs Trembath.
“Thank you,” Cartwright said.
“What are we going to do in the meantime Holmes?”
“Explore Watson – explore. I have a lot of thinking to do – theorizing so to speak. After that, we will go back to the Inn, have some dinner and wait for whoever sent the letter.”
“Very well Holmes.”
Watson and I exchanged goodbyes with the Trembath’s and left the farm.
Throughout the day, we explored old mine buildings, areas of moorland and walked by the coast.
While doing so, I tried to construct some new theories, but I had next to nothing to go on.
Bailey was right out of the picture – so was Cartwright, who had been present when Bailey met his fate.
I no longer suspected David and Carpenter was in the trees with Watson and I.
And yet, why did David and Carpenter leave this morning without an explanation?
Now my suspicions lay upon everyone else in the area, all the farmers, all the villagers, everyone. Even Mr Tobin I laid a finger on and his family. The Trembath’s too were on my suspect list – seeing as Bailey had died on their land.
Anyone in the region could have attacked me in the trees last night – to prevent me from shooting at the beast. Anyone could have blown that whistle to call the beast off after it had finished devouring Bailey.
But the biggest mystery, was the letter.
Who had sent it?
Further still, I had no idea what the motive was behind the devastating events taking place.
Why were such killings taking place? Why in such a ghastly fashion? Why not a bullet to the brain or the heart? Why not a stabbing? Why not poison? Was there any method behind it all? Or was it sheer madness?
I shared my thoughts with Watson, who was just as baffled.
“Not a word will I speak of this at the Inn,” said I. “And neither will you.”
“Why not Holmes?”
“Because it will put everyone on guard and the culprit may be there.”
It was fairly late by the time we returned to the Inn.
We had dinner and bided our time playing chess and cards.
When it was around about eleven, people were starting to leave the Inn.
I then saw two familiar people enter. One was David, the other Carpenter.
“Look Watson.”
Watson stared at Carpenter and David.
“What on Earth are they doing here?” he asked.
The pair of them spotted us and came over
“If you come with us onto the moor Mr Holmes, the mystery of the beast of Cornwall will be solved,” said David.
I was taken aback.
Half as much had been written in the letter I received.
“Did either of you write that letter, which Holmes received this morning?” Watson asked.
“Yes,” said David. “I did.”
“I don’t like this Holmes,” said Watson.
“You must come – alone,” Carpenter said.
“I don’t like this at all,” said Watson.
I suddenly felt on edge myself.
“You three stay put for the moment,” I said.
“Why?” asked Watson.
“No why’s Watson. I want to speak alone with Mrs Tobin.”
I got up and went over to the bar – where Mrs Tobin was standing.
“Yes Mr Holmes, what can I do for you?”
“Can we talk quietly for a moment?”
“Certainly Mr Holmes.”
Mrs Tobin came out from behind the bar and sat with me in a corner, out of earshot.
“Now then Mr Holmes, what is it that you want to say?”
“First, I want you to know that the end of the terror in the area may soon be over.”
“Your case is nearly complete?”
“I hope so. However, there’s one problem.”
“Tell me Mr Holmes.”
“David over there said that if I accompany him and Carpenter onto the moor, the mystery of the beast of Cornwall will be solved.”
“Well, that’s a good thing Mr Holmes – isn’t it?”
“Watson doesn’t like it and I feel slightly on edge – especially seeing as I will be going alone with them.”
“I see.”
“I will need Mr Tobin and yourself to support me, so that I may, hopefully complete my case.”
“Anything to restore peace to the area Mr Holmes.”
“Here’s what I want the pair of you to do.”
After speaking with Mrs Tobin, I returned to Watson, David and Carpenter.
“What did you talk about?” Watson asked.
“That, I cannot say.”
“Are you ready Mr Holmes?” asked Carpenter.
“Yes.”
After a major protestation from Watson, I left the Inn with Carpenter and David.
We left St Just and headed off up a windy lane – passing a farm, which Watson and I had visited.
At one point, we turned off to the right and headed up a track, which led onto the moon-lit moorland, which Watson and I had explored earlier in the day.
In the near distance was Tregeseal stone circle and up on a hill, further away, was Carn Kenidjack.
“Well Mr Holmes, neither David, nor myself can go any further.”
I wasn’t expecting that.
“Why ever not?” asked I.
“Because you alone must solve the rest of the mystery.”
That made sense.
“Everything will be revealed at Carn Kenidjack,” David said.
“Where will you two go?” asked I.
“We cannot say,” Carpenter replied.
I was slightly on edge about it.
“Very well,” I said.
So David and Carpenter began to make their way back down the track – leaving me to go the rest of the way, all by myself.
By then, I was beginning to feel quite disturbed.
As I came within twenty metres of the cairn, I saw a very familiar object appear on the lower rocks.
My blood froze in my veins.
It was none other than the beast of Cornwall.
When the beast saw me, it gave a bone-chilling roar. It then jumped down and began to advance on me stealthily – like a big cat.
I didn’t dare draw out my revolver, in case the monster made a quick move at me and running away was right out of the question.
So, I awaited a most brutal fate.
When the beast was near enough, it positioned itself – ready to pounce.
Within its gaping jaws, there were dozens of horrendous teeth, its clawed hands were splayed wide on either side of its head and its tail was positioned like that of a cat, when ready to pounce on its prey.
The horrific thing was, I was the victim.
Never in my life had I been so paralyzed with terror. I closed my eyes – ready for the attack, but it never came.
Instead, I heard a gunshot, followed by a painful, spine-chilling shriek and a heavy thud.
I opened my eyes and saw the beast lying dead.
“Thank Heavens I got here just in time,” came a familiar voice.
I turned round and saw Watson standing four metres away slightly to the right.
“I took it upon myself to follow you Holmes. My instincts told me you were in grave danger.”
“Thank you, my dear Watson.”
“Well at least we know now that the beast is not a demon.”
“Did you see where David and Carpenter went?”
Watson was about to reply, when there came into view on the lower rocks, a figure, all shrouded in a long hooded black cloak.


THE TRUTH IS REVEALED

Who was this unknown cloaked figure? Why was its face concealed? Was it the owner of the beast?
The figure came down towards Watson and I and stopped about ten feet away.
It threw back its hood – revealing a most shocking secret.
The figure turned out to be a vampire-like man with pale white skin, dark, tunnel-like eyes, a bald head and a chilling stare.
The scarred hands, which had been concealed by the cloak, were pale like the face and the nails were more like claws.
Worst of all, the man was an old acquaintance of mine – an acquaintance, who up until now, I believed to be dead – the man, who I had sent plunging to his death at the Reichenbach falls in Switzerland.
It was none other than Professor Moriarty.
“I don’t believe it,” said I. “Professor James Moriarty.”
“No Mr Holmes, I am James’s twin Brother Jack,” the man said in a cold, chilling tone of voice.
I was baffled.
“His twin Brother?” Watson asked.
“James never told me he has a twin,” said I.
“James told me that if anything were to happen to him, I must take his place as mastermind criminal.”
I was stunned by what I was hearing.
Jack turned to Watson.
“I know all about you Doctor Watson.”
“Am I right in suspecting that you are behind all that has been going on around here?” asked Watson.
“Yes, Doctor Watson, I am behind everything.”
“Tell us all,” I said.
“Well, Mr Holmes, it all began after the death of Kernel Sebastian Moran.
“Secretly, I began to gain criminal-class followers – in order to form a super criminal organization – an organization far larger than my brother’s.
“My organization began in the London underworld, before spreading to secret locations in the British Isles and every country in Europe.
“However, it won’t end there – far from it. This is just the beginning.”
“Just the beginning?” Watson asked.
“Just the beginning. I’m going to expand my organization to the Americas, Africa, Asia, Australia, the world.”
“World domination?” asked I.
“Yes Mr Holmes.”
For a moment, I thought about the villains I had faced throughout my career, including Jack Stapleton, Charles Augustus Milverton, Kernel Sebastian Moran, Jonathan Small, Mortimer Tregennis and the infamous, James Moriarty, but none of them compared to the ruthless tyrant, which stood before me.
Never before had I seen such lust for destructive power in one’s eyes.
I then thought about the goings on in the area where I was and wondered what vile plans Jack had for the rest of the world.
“You must have travelled a lot?” Watson asked.
“Indeed. I’ve been to Tibet, China, Egypt, Australia, New Zealand, Peru, Madagascar, Canada, the heart of the Amazon, the United States and Europe of course.
“Tell us about your time in the Amazon,” said Watson.
“Well, while I was travelling through the rainforest, I came across this enormous plateau – a plateau inhabited by savages and dinosaurs.”
I stared at the creature, which lay before me.
“Is this creature one of them?” I asked.
“Yes Mr Holmes.
“I’ve seen more of these in action – either hunting down prey in packs, or alone. When hunting alone, they prey on creatures – around the size of sheep, cows and foals. They even prey on savages.”
“A parallel description to what has been going on round here,” said Watson.
“So you survived out there all alone?” I asked.
“No Mr Holmes, I was not alone. Only a fool would be crazy enough to do such a thing.”
“Who did you take with you?” Watson asked.
“A couple of people who you and Mr Holmes know.”
I was puzzled.
“Go on,” I said.
“David and Carpenter went with me.”
Both Watson and myself were stunned.
“Well you won’t be seeing them again,” said Watson.
“Why not?”
“Because they were caught by a nearby farmer and his two workers, while running back down the lane and now await the police.”
“That’s no concern of mine,” Jack said. “Neither of them, are of any use to me now.”
“Tell me Jack, how did the three of you manage to get this animal away from the plateau undetected?” I asked.
“We stole an egg from a nest, while the mother was absent and brought it to one of my hideouts beneath London. There we were able to raise the animal from birth.”
A sudden thought occurred to me.
“How is it that Carpenter and David were working for my brother Mycroft, while they were working for you too? I asked. “How did they even come to know him?”
“Neither of them knows Mycroft, nor were they working for him.”
I was baffled.
“Explain?” I asked.
“Neither my onetime associates, nor anyone else around here are acquainted with your brother.”
“That doesn’t make sense,” Watson said.
Neither did it make sense to me.
“I came down here, disguised as Mycroft and made myself well known. That way, I was able to make people believe that David and Carpenter worked for him. I fooled them all completely, as I did you two.”
Things were looking most unclear.
“Why come down here in the first place?” asked Watson.
“I had to learn the geography of the area – the lie of the land, farms, mine buildings, the village, all that kind of thing.”
That made sense.
“Soon after that, David and I came into the area together with the animal.
“David got a job as a farm worker, while I hid the animal inside an abandoned mine.
“So the stage for my masterplan was set.
“Every night I went to a different farm and set the beast on the livestock. The farmers were terrified and believed the animal to be a supernatural beast.
“It was then that I got David to ask Mr Tobin to go to Baker Street and bring the pair of you here.
“I ordered Carpenter to disguise himself as a hunchback and shadow the pair of you all the way down here from Baker Street.
“I knew all too well that the case would be most complex and very hard to solve – if not at all, because of the belief system of the locals.”
“Why did you set the animal on Hayley McFadden? Asked Watson.
“Because she sent Mr Holmes a letter, to persuade the pair of you to leave the area.”
That thought had occurred to me already.
“And you wanted her father out of the way in case he went to the police?” I asked.
“You have it Mr Holmes.”
“Why did you have Bailey killed?” asked Watson.
“Because Mr Holmes suspected he was behind the events that had been taking place in the area. So I had Bailey killed off, to throw Holmes off the scent.
“If the animal had preyed upon Cartwright last night, I would have set it on Bailey tonight.”
“Where have you been staying?” Watson asked.
“In the mine where I hid the animal. Carpenter and David stayed there too.”
Jack had played everything out very well – so well, that I admired him for it.
I was just about to say as much, when Mr Tobin and two strong men crept up very slowly behind Jack.
“Jack, I admire you. You’ve played everything out brilliantly.”
“Thank you, Mr Holmes.”
“However, you have not told me the motive.”
“My motive was and still is to have revenge on you Mr Holmes – revenge for killing my brother.”
Suddenly, Jack was grabbed from behind by Mr Tobin and the other two men seized his arms.
Unfortunately however, Jack was stronger. He freed himself, brutally-wounded his attackers and shot off.
Watson and I chased him as fast as we could.
My case was completely solved, but if I didn’t catch the fleeing villain, it would be world domination.
The fate of the world lay upon our shoulders.
We caught Jack up and wrestled him to the ground, but it was no good.
He freed himself and sped off faster.
There was nothing Watson and I could do now.
My deepest fears were realized.
The fate of the world was in Jack’s hands.
World domination it was to be.

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