The Hound of the Austinvilles

[Red Ranger 1]

I wrote this before I read that last chapter and it doesn't really fit but it won't fit after the next one either so I thought I'd squeeze it in.

“Are you sure you are comfortable in that position?” Rosetta enquired.

Watson Buckton had elected to spend the night on the floor of their room. Knowing Rosetta’s legendary detective prowess, sleeping in closer proximity to him could not fail to bring the realisation that her body was shaped differently to his. “I am quite comfortable, thank you, Rosetta,”she responded.

Thankfully, Rosetta seemed to accept the declaration. “Sir Tony. What did you make of him?”

“I had little opportunity to make his acquaintance,” Watson Buckton admitted. “Yet he seemed a kindly man and most affectionate towards his wife.”

“That has always been the impression I have received from my correspondence with Sir Alfred,” Rosetta agreed. “Yet Mr. Hugo would have us believe he is a drunkard, that his claims to have seen a hound are but delusions.”

“I fear he does slander him,” Watson Buckton replied.

“Yes. Especially since Mr. Hugo himself appears to be acquainted with the workings of a brewery. I wonder if he holds a similar opinion of Mrs. Holden-Austinville. She too has claimed to see this hound.”

“Yet it did not attack her,” Watson Buckton pointed out.

“Perhaps she was not its intended victim. A hunting dog must have a scent and if this is but a beast and a trained one at that, then it would only attack when it has been encouraged to do so.”

“But who would do such a thing?”

“Who was aware that Mr. Hugo and Mrs. Holden-Austinville were out riding that day?”

Watson Buckton cast her mind back over the events related to her. “Sir Alfred, Mr. Xavier, Lady Rachel… I believe Mrs. Holden-Austinville spoke to Miss Nicole and her father Mr. Harris, the footman Campbell saw them leaving, the coachmen Jefferies and Fernandez prepared the horses for them…”

“Suffice to say the list is vast,” Rosetta concluded. “So any one of them could have arranged for the hound’s appearance.”

“But what could they hope to gain?”

“Now that Sir Tony is gone, if a similar fate were to befall Sir Alfred and the Austin-Austinville brothers, who would inherit? Not Lady Rachel, she is merely the dowager. The lovely Martha perhaps?”

“What of Sir Alfred’s two sisters?” Watson Buckton asked. “They arrived here earlier today for the ball.”

“Ah yes,” Rosetta declared. “A Mrs. Bellingham and a Mrs. Smart if I recall. But they are both ladies of advanced years, what motive would they have for attempting to amass such a fortune at this time?” He regarded his friend with a piercing gaze. “I have an uncanny feeling, Charlie, that someone around here is not quite what they claim to be…”

[Miranda]

This bit doesn't quite fit either but I wrote it a while ago. I've edited it a lot and thought it was quite funny, and that it would be okay before the Autumn ball scenes.

*********

Oh I nearly forgot to ask you, dear friend,’ added Rosetta. ‘Were you able to interview the gamekeeper?’

‘Oh yes-er-‘ Charlie blushed, suddenly remembering the encounter with Harris in the pantry. ‘Yes, I saw him in the servants kitchen. He was a scruffy fellow, as I would expect of a gamekeeper. He was very shifty indeed. He had this enormous waxed coat that outdoors servants wear, and the pockets were bulging. I could swear I saw one of them move, but Copeland insisted it was a trick of the light.’

‘So he was hiding something from you?’

‘Definitely. My guess would be illegally obtained game birds, perhaps rabbits or hares. Anyway, he had such a broad Yorkshire accent that it was hard to understand what he said, but he seemed to be saying that he had been ordered to follow the Austinvilles and Sir Tony would make his own way back to the Hall.’

‘Hm. So Sir Tony was deliberately sent astray, it seems.’

‘It does, yes.’

‘Now my dear friend, I feel rather weary after the day’s exertions. I see you have an adjoining bathroom. I think I shall take a bath followed by a stiff drink. Care to join me?’

‘Er-‘ She thought for a moment he meant-

‘Whisky? Or brandy. I’m sure Sir Alfred has a vast range.’ He chuckled and stepped into the bathroom.

Charlie took her opportunity and changed into her nightgown. It was uncomfortable on the floor but better that than Rosetta discovering her secret. That would mean her whole life would be revealed as a lie, and she was sure he would cast her out of his life and never see her again. She must keep up the charade at all costs. She hastily blew out the lamp and wrapped herself in the eiderdown.

In the bathroom, Sherlock Rosetta pondered over his ideas. The episode with the servants in the coppice suggested some kind of fighting was occurring, but what? And why did Hugo’s cottage smell of strong alcohol? Was it a distillery? Was the gamekeeper to be believed in his story of Sir Tony’s fate, and was he poaching the Austinvilles’ game? These thoughts occupied Sherlock for quite a while. All the aches from being manhandled by the servants today melted away in the warm water.

Now what should his next move be with all these scoundrels?

Suddenly he noticed something annoying.

‘Charlie? Could you please bring me my towel. Dashed silly of me to forget it.’

Charlie wrestled with her feelings. Should she take his towel in or pretend to be asleep? Her kind heart got the better of her so she put on her thick dressing gown and picked up the guest towel.

‘Oh you are a brick, old boy,’ said Rosetta, smiling from the bath.

‘No trouble,’ the doctor held out the towel with one hand while turning away.

‘Come on man, hand it over. What’s the matter with you?’ he eventually grabbed the towel. ‘What is your opinion of the servants of this house?’ He asked, washing his feet. ‘There are definitely a few dubious characters employed here.’

‘Definitely. Let’s discuss this tomorrow.’

‘Very well. I think I shall get out now, I’m looking forward to that whisky.’

He started to sit up in the bath.

‘I’ll get out of your way then,’ Charlie hastily retreated to the bedroom. It was going to be a difficult night.

[TelephotoMarigold]

The Ball

The ballroom was elegantly lit with dozens of glowing candles in golden and silver candelabrum. The crystal chandeliers sparkled and cast rainbow prisms around the room scattering coloured droplets on the gleaming silver and gilt edged mirrors on the walls around the large room.

Harris took a long satisfying look at the shinning wooden floor he’d just that day polished with Mr Hugo’s toothbrush. The same toothbrush he’d later returned to the glass tumbler beside the washbasin in Mr Hugo’s room.

He moved to the long table placed at the end of the room and checked the china and serviettes and then polished the silver for the last time. He saw the large punch bowl and wiped it out with a clean cloth before leaving the ballroom to go check on Mrs Robert’s excellent food.

His path took him past both Rosetta and Watson and he bowed his head accordingly before catching Watson’s eye. She blushed and fiddled with her waistcoat. He merely smiled slowly and then carried on with his journey to the kitchen.

“I swear that fellow has a few secrets.” Rosetta murmured.

“Don’t we all.” Watson replied with a girlie sigh before manfully tugging on the bottom of her waistcoat.

“You know if I’d known that we were to be a ball I would have worn one of my cleaver disguises so as to not be recognised.” He murmured stroking his chin thoughtfully. “I feel sure that we will be missing something in the undertones of tonight’s festivities.”

Watson looked at him.

“Do you believe that my good man?” She murmured thoughtfully.

She had an idea and wondered if she could pull it off.

He nodded slowly.

“Still not to worry. I’m sure that we will collect a number of good clues anyway.” He said to her and patted her enthusiastically on her back.

She almost fell forward only stopping herself at the last moment.

“Suppose” she murmured. “That I could rustle up a disguise were no one would know it was I?”

Rosetta looked at his colleague.

“Come now Watson we all know that you couldn’t possibly arrange that in so short a time.” he said to her.

She shook her head and sighed.

“Allow me the chance to do it.” she persuaded.

Rosetta sighed slowly himself.

“Fine but I’ll be deuced if I can fathom what you will wear.” He muttered.

Watson smiled.

“I have just the thing.” She said and moved swiftly away.

Rosetta shook his head at the note of almost girlish excitement in Watson’s voice as the man moved away from him. He would have to have a word with him at some point about it.

***

Harris looked at Jefferies, Campbell and Fernandez as they stood before him. He corrected the slight flaw on Campbell uniform before standing back.

“You know your duties tonight?” he asked the three men and watched as they nodded.

“They know exactly what to do father.” Nicole interrupted him. “Trust me.”

She glanced over at Geoff and winked.

Harris turned to her.

“Shouldn’t you be upstairs helping Mrs Martha Holden-Austinville?” he asked her with a fatherly glare.

She smiled and moved away her long skirts swinging with each step.

Harris watched her go before turning to the three men.

“Just a reminder I was a solider and I can use a gun.” He murmured with a glare at them as he caught them watching his daughter move away.

***

Mr Hugo fiddled with the bow tie before checking his reflection in the long looking glass in the corner. He tilted the glass and caught sight of Xavier kissing Ruby in the background.

He swung round and coughed dramatically.

Xavier let go of Ruby and straightened up leaving Ruby to fall back onto the bed with a giggle.

“Eer always trying to get me into bed.” She muttered.

He looked at his brother before extending a hand to Ruby.

“Perhaps you should get ready for the ball tonight.” Xavier murmured to her.

She took hold of his hand and stood up smoothing a shaking hand down her skirts.

“H’I won’t be long.” She said, imitating Hugo’s accent.

Xavier shook his head as she left the room.

“I do hope you understand brother that we need to be on out best behaviour over the next few days. We have to prove ourselves to our relatives.” He said softly, almost warningly.

“Does that mean you and Martha will be announcing something soon?” Xavier asked.

Hugo shook his head and reached for his toothbrush. He plunged it into the warm water remaining in the jug before putting it in his mouth and brushing his teeth. He rinsed his mouth with water and stood back. He checked in the mirror one more time and smiled, his teeth now gleaming in the dim candle and paraffin lamp lit room.

“Er Hugo.” Xavier murmured.

“What now?” Hugo asked turning towards him,

“Nothing,” Xavier murmured declining to tell him that his teeth were glowing white.

***

Sir Alfred sat watching the people dancing beside him sat Lady Rachel Holden-Austinville resplendent in a black velvet ball gown. A lace handkerchief never far from her hand. Still at lest she had stopped crying for the moment. He saw Mrs Martha Holden-Austinville standing with Mr Hugo and he smiled. It was good to see her happy again.

He caught sight of young Xavier and that Miss Ruby and the scowl instantly came back to his face. Still at least she was dressed decently he supposed.

Watson eased into the ballroom from aside entrance. She was wearing a full-length evening gown in pale rose crushed velvet. White satin gloves completed the outfit along with a large ostrich feather fan. She waited for Rosetta to appear feeling almost brave enough to reveal she was a woman, although she wasn’t altogether sure that the dress wasn’t doing that job for her as she fiddled nervously with the neckline.

Jefferies moved toward the punch bowl and used the ladle to pour out several more cups of punch. He watched the room before handing a cup to Fernandez. Another moment later ad he was able to hand Campbell his. He poured out more cups before he was able to move away discretely with his own cup. They moved off hiding in the curtains to drink the punch.

“This is fowl.” Fernandez murmured.

Xavier moved until he joined them.

“Try some of this.” He suggested and tipped some liquid from his hip flask into the cups.

They took a cautious sip before drinking it down.

“We should put some of that in the punch.” Jefferies suggested. “They might cheer up a little.”

Xavier looked at him.

“Anything to get my brother to loosen up.” He proclaimed.

Jefferies took the hip flask from him and made his way back to serving the punch. He waited until he wasn’t overlooked before pouring the contents of the flask into the punchbowl.

***

“Good God is that you Watson?” Rosetta asked.

She spun around feeling the swish of the skirts against her legs.

“Yes.” She murmured.

“That is some outfit.” He commented. “And I’m impressed by the lengths you’ve gone too.”

“Gone too?” Watson echoed parrot fashion.

“Yes, you’ve removed your moustache.” He commented. “And it was just a fine handlebar moustache.” He mourned.

She coughed.

“Er Yes.” She said softly.

“Yell me Watson have you noticed anything suspicious this evening.” He asked her.

She shook her head.

“I’ve been standing here for some time perhaps if we took a turn on the dance floor?” she suggested.

He looked at her quickly.

“But that would mean dancing with a man.” He exclaimed.

She nodded and then realised that he was still unaware she was a female and sighed.

“I’m aware of that.” She said finally but well no one will know with me in this disguise.” She pointed out.

Rosetta sighed looking around the room before taking her into his arms and sweeping her on to the dance floor. He spun her around smoothly and she sighed before remembering that she was supposed to be a man.

“Excellent Watson, you are remembering to allow me to lead.” He said gruffly.

***

[Miranda]

Dear friends, Miss Marigoldly's efforts have spurred me on to write more of the Ball, this story has quite overtaken my life

**********

Rosetta, having won a dance competition the previous year, soon forgot he was not dancing with a real lady, and twirled Watson Buckton round the room enthusiastically. She would have enjoyed this, apart from the fact that every time she turned round, she caught the eye of Harris, who would wink or leer at her suggestively. She tried to ignore him but it was difficult enough keeping up the pretence of being a woman pretending to be a man pretending to be a woman, without having to fend off the butler as well.

After a few dances, Watson Buckton felt quite light headed.

‘Excuse me Sherlock, I must sit down.’

‘Oh. Very well, dear lady- er- old chap.’ He had been so carried away dancing that his usual considerateness had been pushed aside.

She sat down on a nearby chair. ‘I would like a glass of punch please.’

‘Of course.’ Rosetta’s eye had been caught by Mr Xavier and a female companion acting suspiciously by the curtains, and determined to investigate. He bowed abstractedly to his companion, and then stepped out towards his target.

Watson Buckton sighed wistfully.

‘Some punch Doctor?’

She jumped. It was Harris.

‘Oh! Yes- er-’

‘I must say, you are keeping up this charade admirably, my dear.’ He spoke closely into her ear so no one else would overhear him.

‘Thank you Harris. That will be all.’

Harris laughed rudely. ‘No, that will not be all. You will treat me as I wish, or I will reveal your secret to the world.’

‘And why would I do as you say?’ she felt her temper rising.

‘I know you heard my daughter talk of the necklace I had sent from the Orient, and I expect you deduced where it really came from. My business is lucrative and I do not want you meddling in it. So, if you keep my secret, I will keep yours. Madam.’ He inclined his head scornfully.

‘Oh there you are!’ A petite dark haired lady dressed in grey and black arrived at Harris’s side. ‘Where have you been all evening? I have been looking for you.’

Harris was not put out at all.

‘My dear. Allow me to introduce you to Charlie Watson Buckton, guest of Sir Alfred.’

Charlie smiled politely.

‘This is Mrs. Leah Baker, widow of the school teacher.’

‘Delighted to meet you,’ smiled Mrs Baker. ‘Mr Harris and I are-‘ she broke off, giggling coyly.

‘Quite,’ said Harris, his eyes warning Charlie not to comment.

********

Meanwhile, Rosetta had followed Xavier through the curtains to find Jefferies and Campbell with a couple of young ladies on their laps, punch glasses in hands. Campbell as usual was not wearing a shirt. Rosetta was taken aback at the scene.

‘Still following us around, you poncey hoity toity-‘ sneered Campbell.

‘Get out of here,’ warned Jefferies.

Before Rosetta could do anything, a blonde young lady in a very low cut dress shimmied up to him.

‘Can I show you a good time, sir?’ she breathed, pressing up against him intimately.

Rosetta was used to women throwing themselves at him, so prepared to rebuff her. Then suddenly an image of the good doctor in his womanly disguise filled his thoughts. Am I coming over all queer? he thought with concern. Perhaps I’d better sit down.

‘Freya!’ said a familiar voice, and Mr Xavier appeared, looking annoyed. ‘What have I told you about propositioning Sir Alfred’s friends? Come away at once.’ He hustled her away while Jefferies and Campbell jeered and sang raunchy songs.

Rosetta slipped away after the couple, leaving the others to their revelry. He followed Xavier and Freya upstairs, then hid behind another curtain as they entered a room.

Over the next hour, several gentlemen knocked on the door of that room, to be hastened inside. They would appear a few minutes later with a different lady each time, who would accompany them down the corridor and out of view.

Rosetta made a mental note, as he had left his notebook in the care of Watson Buckton. He must get back to her- er- him. It would be impolite to leave her- HIM- alone for too long in disguise in an unfamiliar place. It might even be dangerous.

*********

In the ballroom, Harris had left to procure punch for Watson Buckton and Mrs Baker.

‘Madame,’ whispered Mrs. Baker urgently. ‘I have something for you to consider.’

Charlie inclined her head attentively.

‘Here is a pamphlet which myself and my sisters in feminism have been giving to the ladies of the parish.’ She pressed a small folded piece of paper into the doctor’s hand.

‘Feminism?’ enquired Charlie in a low voice.

‘It is the uniting of all females in strength against the dominancy of the male sex,’ explained Mrs Baker. ‘We have secret meetings every month in the-‘

‘Quick, Harris is returning.’

‘Read the pamphlet, dear sister. You’ll understand then.’ Mrs Baker put on a welcoming smile for the butler while Watson Buckton was lost in thought.

‘Excuse me, I must go and see Mrs. Phillips. I have not conversed with her for a considerable while.’ Mrs Baker excused herself. Watson Buckton watched her walk across the ballroom to Copeland, the gamekeeper, and a dark haired lady in red on his arm.

Charlie sighed as yet again she was left with Harris for company.

‘So,’ she said, determined to unsettle him. ‘You and Mrs Baker are courting?’

Harris laughed lightly. ‘Yes. She was left a considerable sum in her husband’s will, and-‘

The doctor gasped with shock.

‘You are courting her for her money?’ she gasped.

‘No, not entirely. Mrs Baker has certain- other attributes. But as a man I suppose I don’t need to tell you about those,’ he sneered.

Charlie looked up at him in horror.

‘Am I interrupting?’ the voice she wanted to hear said. Rosetta eyed Harris in a distinctly unfriendly way.

‘Yes,’ said Harris cockily.

‘No,’ said Watson Buckton.

Rosetta and Harris glared at each other for a moment.

‘I think your servants need disciplining,’ said Rosetta. ‘They are making merry behind the drapes over there. Please go and see to it.’

He stared Harris down, and the butler, glowering, was forced to concede defeat.

‘Some more intrigues are taking place in this house,’ said Rosetta to his companion. ‘Mr Xavier seems to be- well- very popular with the ladies.’ He tried to suppress a smile.

‘Really?’ said Charlie. ‘I cannot see it myself.’ She laughed and so did Rosetta.

[Miranda]

Sir Alfred steered his elder sister round the ballroom in a stately manner. He tried not to listen to her chatter too much but it was hard to ignore.

'I see young Martha has recovered from her bereavement well,' observed Mrs. Smart, eyeing her great niece as she stood with Mr Hugo, conversing with the other guests. They made a handsome couple, she in dark pink satin and he tall and saturnine in a black evening suit.

'Considering Mr Jack had such a mysterious death, you would think it would have taken her longer.'

'Colleen please! My grandaughter is old enough to make her own decisions.'

Sir Alfred did not like to be reminded of his grandson-in-law's death but in truth the event unsettled him more than a little. It had occurred while Mr Jack was riding alone across the Moor one evening. His horse had returned to the stable without him and the search party had found Jack dead on the ground, as if thrown from the saddle. It was assumed that the horse had been startled, reared up and Jack had lost control.

But what had frightened the animal? Sir Alfred had a good idea- perhaps it was the hound slinking around on its dastardly errands.

'A good turn out for the ball, brother.' Mrs Smart interrupted his thoughts. 'Considering the terrible rumours surrounding our family home.'

'Hush sister please! This is meant to be a celebration, do not depress everyone.'

Sir Alfred had another reason to be pensive. Lady Rachel had delivered a note to him earlier in the evening, the contents of which were gravely worrying. But what would he do about it?

[jdoddy]

'Where be dear Sir Alfred' Mrs Bellingham asked a young male servant as she collected another glass from the silver platter he was carrying

'I saw him just on the strike of twelve madam, he was leaving the main hall for a breath of fresh air, in fact he had just finished conversing with your sister.. forgive me for speaking out of turn.. but his features were ashen and his skin as pale as the linen of which we dress the beds'.

'Ah Mrs Smart' Bellingham offered the name, in hope the young servant would hurry away she wished not to be seen talking with the help for too long.. she was a woman of great stature after all... 'Yes, that name rings many bells', 'they were talking and dancing for a good while before he departed to the grounds'.. 'That sounds like my dearest sister all right, she could talk forever.. even if there wasn't a soul around to listen' Bellingham laughed along with the young man before continuing. 'please accept my thanks for your help young man.. ah.. pardon my asking but what is your name?'

'Palmer Madam.. Treyton Palmer' he said with a curt nod of his head before turning with his platter and continuing his duties

Mrs Bellingham returned the nod before moving off in the direction of the large oak doors which served as the entrance to the ballroom, with one last look across the heads of the dancing crowd she turned and left

Sir Alfred was walking through the grounds of the manor, the autumn ball was getting a little.. overbearing and the slight chill that ran through the air was refreshing to his weary mind.

As he continued deeper letting the gentle wind caress his face he began to whistle.. the sound cutting through the silent night air.. the slightly haunting melody was a welcome change when compared to his sisters constant sharp gossip.. as he walked Alfred plunged a hand into the left chest pocket of his grand double breasted suit jacket and pulled out a thick parchment envelope which bore his name in a dark brown.. almost black ink.. the surface of the envelope had been torn away since Lady Rachel had left it in his possession earlier and what he had read from within had been playing on his mind all evening, Alfred took the envelope and placed it between his teeth while he searched in another pocket for his tobacco tin, it wasn't long before he was reading the long scrawling cursive once again which looped across the page in the dancing light of his cigar.. the ink shone as the fiery glow moved with the wind... 'No.. No.. Surely not?' Alfred whispered 'This cannot be true.. I must return and warn the...'

***

'We must return to the party or your Father will have my head' whispered Campbell as he and Miss Nicole ran down the grand staircase, the blonde servant straightening his tie with such fervor that he caused his companion to giggle before she responded 'My Father is busy trying to capture the heart of that Watson woman.. besides he has failed to notice his little princess is not alone in her bedchamber most nights'.. Campbell laughed before the sound of footsteps caused him to stifle himself and drag Nicole into a dark corner and out of sight.

Mrs Bellingham came into view a moment later.. from his hiding place Campbell noticed she was holding an envelope in her hand and whispering to herself 'Where is he.. It looks as if I might have to search the grounds for my elusive sibling..' and with that she moved through the front door and out into the chilly autumn air

Nicole was first to move from the hiding place.. 'Now as much as I love being close to my 'forbidden lover', my mind cannot help but wonder what that Mrs Bellingham was up to..'

When the servant did not reply she called 'Geoff?.. Geoff if your going to ign-'

but Campbell was nowhere to be seen.

'Oh!.. if that be the way it is.. just wait until I tell my father!' Miss Nicole swiftly turned on her heel and glided towards the ballroom her face glowering.. until she reached the threshold then she fixed on the most make believe smile anyone had ever seen.

***

Campbell sprinted along the top corridor of the house into the servants quarters where he found Jefferies changing his shirt.. he stepped back in shock when he saw the dark red stain which was taking up a large area of his abdomen.. Jefferies followed his eyes down to the stain before trying to explain.. 'Oh don't worry your pretty little head Campbell.. that clumsy dunce of a woman Smart spilt her drink down my shirt when I hastened to leave her presence'.. 'You do realise Jefferies..' Campbell replied through a slight laugh 'You shouldn't speak badly of Sir Alfred's esteemed guests and family.. we are here to serve.. not to judge after all'.

'Oh of course we are here to work Campbell.. Not I daresay spend have the evening canoodling with the kitchen masters daughter.. you wouldn't know of anyone who is guilty of that would you?

Jefferies took a moment to laugh at the uncomfortable expression which had since adorned the features of Campbell before continuing 'Now what is it you require with me.. I must get back down the the kitchens'.. 'Oh.. yes.. of course' Campbell took a moment to clear his throat.. 'You know that the estate has been rife with rumours about this hound of the night.. 'Yes' answered Jefferies.. placing a hand on his stained shirt before removing it with a wince 'I believe it will strike again.. tonight'.. 'but who?'... after a short silence which seemed to last an eternity both of the young servants reached the same conclusion 'Alfred'.

***

Alfred was rushing back up to the manor house.. his lungs burned in protest as he struggled.. he was almost there when he heard a rustle from behind him.. he turned on instinct..

His eyes grew wide as he scrambled back against the slight hill which in the situation had become somewhat of an enemy.. with one last piercing scream his head fell back.. his eyes had become glassy as his soul departed the mortal world. The deep wound which had caused his death almost smiled in the half light.. the envelope which had caused his panic rested in his cold dead hand.

Written on the envelope was one single word

WATSON

[Red Ranger 1]

It had not been Mrs. Bellingham’s desire to venture forth into the grounds that night but her business with Sir Alfred was of such urgency that she had done so, taking with her Palmer, the under-footman with whom she had spoken earlier, and her sister, a choice of companion that she was beginning to regret. “It is so typical of Alfred to disappear at such an unfortunate time,” Mrs. Smart complained. “And we poor women facing such terrible danger with only a slip of a boy to protect us…”

“You were not invited on this expedition,” Mrs. Bellingham reminded her. “Therefore you have only yourself to blame if you have been placed in any danger.”

“Is that not him ahead, ma’am?” Palmer enquired suddenly, shining the light on a figure resting on the ground.

Mrs. Bellingham stepped forward. “Alfred, dear? Perhaps it is time we should rejoin our guests?” She stopped as she received her first clear glimpse of her brother and saw the unfortunate state in which the attack upon him had left him.

Mrs. Smart gave out a scream of dismay. “Oh, infamy! Infamy! Murder! Ghastly murder!”

“Yes, that much is clear,” Mrs. Bellingham chided her. “You, servant, go to the hall and fetch…” She paused. The master of the hall was now dead, after all. “Fetch anyone who you think is important. And leave the lantern.”

Mrs. Smart waited until Palmer had scampered away before taking a closer look at her brother. “What is that in his hand?”

Mrs. Bellingham took a look herself. “It appears to be addressed to someone named Watson. Ah! The companion of that insufferable detective, the one who appeared at the ball attired so inappropriately. Well, we shall see what he has to say later.”

It took a few minutes for Palmer to return and his companions were not who Mrs. Bellingham had been hoping for. He had with him the detective Rosetta and Watson Buckton, together with the three servants, Jefferies, Campbell and Fernandez. “I couldn’t find Mr. Hugo or Mrs. Holden-Austinville,” he explained. “So I brought Mr. Rosetta instead.”

“Stand back,” Rosetta insisted before kneeling by Sir Alfred’s body. He paused a moment before announcing, “He’s dead.”

“Oh, marvellous!” Mrs. Bellingham declared. “I see the tales of your deductive prowess are not exaggerated.” She plucked the envelope from her brother’s hand and held it out to Watson Buckton. “There, for you it would appear, sir. Yes, do not think that your crude disguise fooled me for a moment. You make a most unconvincing female.”

“Seems pretty convincing from where I’m standing,” Jefferies commented with an amused air.

“Do they really not know?” Campbell asked him.

“I guess they’re not as used to the female form as we are.”

“That will do!” Rosetta rounded on the pair. “I insist you give my companion the respect that she - that he - is due as a guest of your late master.”

“Rosetta, the envelope is empty,” Watson Buckton revealed.

“Ah-ha!” Rosetta declared. “So either Sir Alfred was in the habit of carrying an empty envelope or some villain has been here before us and removed this crucial evidence. Either way, I feel the answer lies out on the moors.”

“You can’t go out there now, sir!” Palmer protested. “What of this fearful spirit that has done away with poor Sir Alfred?”

“I should accompany you, Rosetta,” Watson Buckton insisted.

“Now, now, dear fellow,” Rosetta replied. “Your current attire is clearly not suited to a trek on the moors at this time. I will go alone. You, boy” – he turned towards Fernandez – “is the kitchen still open at this time?”

“I think so, sir. Mrs. Roberts often works till late.”

“Capital! Then I shall pay her a visit at once. I shall leave you, Watson Buckton, to discover all that has happened in the hall tonight.”

As Rosetta approached the kitchen, he heard the voice of Mrs. Roberts drifting down the corridor. “God save us, Annie, why can’t you be more careful? Another one of Sir Alfred’s best plates gone to pieces.”

“I’m sorry, Mrs. Roberts,” came the nervous reply.

“If you’re not careful, girl, you’ll have us all out on the streets – that brother of yours as well. And then where will we be, hmm?”

“Excuse me, dear lady,” Rosetta interrupted.

“Yes and what can I do for you?” Mrs. Roberts enquired irritably.

“I have grave news for you, madame. Your master is dead.”

“Sir Alfred?” Mrs. Roberts gasped. “God save him.”

“Does that mean that no-one will mind about the plate?” Annie asked politely.

“Never mind that, girl, just… go and wipe a floor somewhere.”

“I have need of some meat,” Rosetta declared.

“Well, you’re a bit late for that, sir. That that weren’t eaten all went cold some hours ago.”

“Oh, it is not necessary for it to be cooked, dear lady. In fact, I think raw would be best.”

Mrs. Roberts looked at him curiously. “All right, Mr. Rosetta. Let me have a look in my pantry and I’ll see what I can rustle up for you.”

It had taken some doing but eventually all the guests had been sent home and Watson Buckton, still dressed in the ball gown which, she had to admit, she was quite enjoying wearing, had managed to get all the members of the household together. “As you know, Sir Alfred Stewart-Austinville, the master of this house, was killed earlier this evening. I must ask each of you where you were around that time.”

“Well, I was with my sister and the under-footman,” Mrs. Bellingham pointed out, “As you well know.”

“Such a terrible tragedy,” Mrs. Smart sobbed, dabbing at her face with her handkerchief. “And me a poor widow woman at my time of life, with no-one to look after me.”

“There is no need for pretense, dear,” Mrs. Bellingham pointed out. “Your husband abandoned you, for a lady of loose virtue. At least he had the good manners to flee to the continent and not to a former penal colony as Mr. Bellingham did when he chose to depart our marital home.”

There was a fresh barrage of sobs from Mrs. Smart.

“I was giving one of my guests, Miss Duric, a tour of the upper rooms,” Mr. Xavier explained.

“You pig!” Miss Ruby protested. “My mother warned me about men like you, or would have done if I’d ever met ’er!”

“I swear it was innocent!” Mr. Xavier claimed.

“Well, I was in the ’allway talking to the maid, Annie,” Ruby revealed.

“You converse with servants?” Mr. Hugo asked contemptuously.

“’Ere, she grew up in a horphanage, same as I did. I don’t see no reason to turn my nose up at her like you do.”

“I was in Jefferies’ bedroom,” Campbell announced.

“I knew it!” Nicole cried. “You’re both just using me as a cover, aren’t you?”

“What? No! I was just helping him take his shirt off.”

“Will you be quiet?” Jefferies hissed. “You’ll land us both in Newgate if you carry on and for something we haven’t done as well!”

“Well, I spoke with Geoffrey in the hall and then I went into the ball to dance with Jai,” Nicole explained.

Watson Buckton was about to ask to whom she was referring when she noticed Fernandez looking uncomfortable. “You?”

Nicole answered for him. “He may be a dullard but he is not without his charms.”

“I was escorting Mrs. Baker to her home,” Harris claimed. “She claimed it was a repression of the superior female spirit but a reminder of the fate of dear Sir Tony left her more desirous of my company.”

“And you, Mr. Copeland?” Watson Buckton asked.

“Eee, I were taking Mrs. Phillips to ’er ’ome, down in t’Dales,” Copeland declared. “Couldn’t leave t’poor lass at the mercy of that there ’ound now, could I?”

“And Mr. Hugo?”

“Mrs. Holden-Austinville and I had business in the grounds,” Mr. Hugo replied. “The nature of which does not concern you. And I would mark you to show me a little more respect. As the senior male member of the family, responsibility for this household now falls to me.”

“Only temporarily,” Mrs. Bellingham assured him caustically. “I will be writing to Mr. Holden-Austinville to inform him of his new responsibilities at the first opportunity.”

Watson Buckton looked at Martha in surprise. “I thought you were a widow.”

“She is referring to Mr. Lucas, my husband’s younger brother,” Martha explained. “He is currently resident abroard. With Sir Tony gone and now my grandfather, he is next in line for the baronetcy.”

“And now that we have all given an account of ourselves,” Mrs. Bellingham continued, “what of it? It is clear from his injuries that my brother’s death was caused by an animal, not by a human hand.”

“There is still the matter of the missing letter,” Watson Buckton reminded her. “The writing on the envelope was not your brother’s hand, true?”

“True,” Mrs. Bellingham conceeded.

“Therefore, since it was addressed to me, how did it fall into Sir Alfred’s possession?”

“I collected the mail this morning,” Fernandez revealed. “There was a letter for you in that. I passed them all on to Lady Rachel.”

Watson Buckton looked around. “Where is Lady Rachel now?”

“She retired early to bed,” Mrs. Smart explained. “Poor dear, after everything she’s been through these past few weeks...”

“Then I shall enquire after her.”

“A young man such as yourself in a lady’s chamber?” Mrs. Bellingham asked. “That is an affront to all decency!”

“Well, as you see, Mrs. Bellingham,” Watson Buckton replied, “at the moment I am not a young man.”

Watson Buckton had found the bedchamber empty when she investigated it and so settled to wait for Lady Rachel’s return. Her eyes alighted on the fireplace that dominated the room and among the dying embers something caught her eye. A piece of paper, a fragment, all that remained of a larger document. She took it up and read it aloud. “I, Sir Anthony Holden-Austinville of the Austinville baronetcy, do hereby acknowledge that I am the father of your child…” There was nothing more.

“What, pray, are you doing here, sir?” Lady Rachel suddenly demanded as she entered the chamber.

Watson Buckton held up the fragment accusingly. “Did you prise this from the dead hand of Sir Alfred? Is this what you have been trying to conceal?”

“I have never seen that before,” Lady Rachel protested. “I only recently learned of Sir Alfred’s death, when I visited Mrs. Roberts in the kitchen for a glass of warm milk.”

“But you did receive a letter addressed to me this morning, which you failed to pass on.”

“I thought it might contain details of the fate of my dear husband,” Lady Rachel replied. “I was eager to learn more. But when I read it, I found it contained such a scandal, one that could ruin the family’s name. I knew that the decision as to its fate must rest with Sir Alfred.”

“And what, pray, did this scandal involve?”

Lady Rachel hesitated before answering, “Sir Alfred’s son.”

Rosetta had laid out the meats acquired from the hall kitchen in front of him and settled down to wait. A mournful howl echoed around the moors. It seemed his guess had been correct. The hound was indeed abroard tonight and if he was to discover the secrets it held then this seemingly foolish course of action was his only recourse.

The howl sounded again, seeming closer this time.The choice had been made.He could only hope that he had guessed correctly about the nature of the beast… and that it considered the meat more appetising than him.

[Red Ranger 1]

Rosetta could hear a shuffling sound, a soft padding of paws on grass and earth. He stood his ground, watching as the dark shape came into the moonlight. A large and fierce-looking black hound. But that, Rosetta was pleased to note, was all. No fire and brimstone, no smoke surrounding it. Whatever parlour tricks the beast’s owner had used to give the creature a hellish appearance, they were not being performed now.

The hound stopped in front of the banquet Rosetta had laid out for it and began devouring it hungrily. The confirmation of another part of Rosetta’s theory: The creature had been trained to have food brought to it. Then it seemed to stop and sniff the air. It looked straight at Rosetta and growled.

“I know I am in no danger from you,” Rosetta declared. “You are a trained animal. You will only attack a person if you have been instructed to do so.”

The hound growled again.

“Although,” Rosetta continued, less sure of himself, “I suppose it is possible that you have been trained not to let a stranger get too close to you.”

The hound bared its teeth, teeth that he suspected it would sink into him at any moment.

Rosetta snatched up one of the lumps of meat from the ground and hurled it away from them. To his relief, the hound bounded after it, distracted by the easier to catch food. Rosetta took advantage of the fact to hurry in the other direction.

He had not gone a few steps before he heard the sounds of pursuit behind him, the heavy sound of the hound’s paws, its snarls and growls, that fearful howl that had struck terror into the hearts of its victims. He realised that the satchel he had acquired from Mrs. Roberts still held many more pieces of raw meat. He took one of them and threw it away to his right. He heard the reassuring sound of the hound changing direction, seeking out the easy prey before the moving target. The advantage of carrying the meat was that it afforded a distraction. The disadvantage, of course, was that the smell would attract the hound even more.

He realised then he had no chance of reaching the hall before the hound caught up with him.

Then he saw something, nearer than the hall. A light, as if from a candle. He strained his eyes and, in the moonlight, he could make out a small dwelling. He threw another piece of meat off to his left, giving the hound something else to chase after, then increased his pace.

He threw the satchel down a few feet from the house, leaving the last of the meat behind. He had been correct about the size of the dwelling, no more than three rooms. He hurried the last few steps to the door and hammered on it. “Please!” he called out. “Let me in!”

The sound of the hound’s paws was growing louder and louder behind him, the growls growing fiercer and fiercer as it approached its prey. The meat in the satchel would distract it for a little while. Not long.

Then he heard the sound of bolts being drawn back. He pushed the door open, falling inside, scrambling to shut the door behind him and push the bolts home again. Then he sank to the floor, exhausted. And it was only then that he saw his rescuer: a grey-haired man with an unfriendly face, candle in hand.

“You have my thanks, sir,” he breathed. “Who am I addressing?”

The man’s face did not become any more friendly. “My name is Palmer,” he said at last. “John Palmer.”

Watson Buckton had sat down on the bed beside Lady Rachel. “The letter revealed that Sir Alfred has an illegitimate son,” Lady Rachel explained. “The writer was seeking to warn you and Mr. Rosetta that if some beast is targetting the Austinville family, then that son’s life is in danger too.”

“And it gave no clues as to the identity of this son?” Watson Buckton asked.

“None at all.”

“Both Sir Alfred and Sir Tony had children born out of wedlock? And you truly knew nothing of either of them?”

“Truly,” Lady Rachel promised. “I knew nothing of a child of dear Tony’s until you presented me with this evidence that some person has tried to destroy. But I ask you, do not think ill of my husband. The death of his first wife affected him greatly, he foreswore the company of women for many years afterwards. This incident was likely an aberration. By all accounts, it is only these last few years, when we were married, that he was truly happy again.”

Watson Buckton touched the other woman’s hand gently. “I am sure you were a great comfort to him, my lady.”

Lady Rachel drew back from her, shocked. “I appreciate your sentiments, Doctor, but your actions and your very presence here are quite improper.”

While the ball gown was rather becoming and she had rather enjoyed wearing it, Watson Buckton had to admit that being a woman pretending to be a man pretending to be a woman who everyone knew was really a man was becoming confusing both for herself and everyone else. “My apologies, Lady Rachel. I fear that these female garments have quite caused me to lose myself in the part. I will go and change into something more suitable.”

Rosetta had clambered to his feet, brushing down his clothes. “Palmer?” he enquired. “Isn’t that the name of the under-footman at the hall?”

“My stepson,” the elder Palmer explained, his voice still containing no trace of welcome. “His parents are both dead so I got him his position.”

“Most kind of you.”

“If you want to spend your life scraping for your elders and betters. If I had a real son, I’d want him to show a bit more backbone.”

“You were not in service yourself?” Rosetta enquired.

“I worked for Sir Alfred for thirty years,” Palmer replied. “I practically ran that household. Then he comes back from the wars with Mr. ’Arris. Got himself a new chief butler.” He held out his arms, indicating the room. “Still, he gave me this place for life. Can’t say fairer than that. And you’re the detective Sir Alfred brought up from London, ain’t ya?”

“Sir Alfred was murdered tonight,” Rosetta told him. “By the hound that pursued me across the moor.”

“Well, isn’t that a shame?” Palmer replied with a noted lack of sincerity.

“I see by the mud on your boots that you have also been out tonight. Was that near here?”

“Well it would hardly have been in bleedin’ Edinburgh, would it?”

“Did you see anything of Sir Alfred or the hound? Or anyone else? Some evidence was removed from the scene.”

Palmer shook his head. “No, sorry, squire. I saw nothing.”

Judging by the man’s attitudes, Rosetta could well see why Sir Alfred had dispensed with his services. Not that he had been altogether impressed with his old friend’s current staff. He listened at the door for a moment. “The hound seems to show no desire to enter your dwelling. Yet I fear it would not be wise for me to venture out across the moors again until the hours of daylight. May I intrude upon your hospitality until then?”

Palmer shrugged, gesturing to nowhere in particular. “The floor’s there.”

[Miranda]

Watson Buckton decided she had obtained as much information from Lady Rachel as was proper. It was now time to turn her attention to the other members of the Austinville family.

She hastily changed into her male attire again, setting aside her sumptuous ball gown with great regret.

Satisfied with her appearance at last, she slipped silently towards the library where the Austinvilles had gathered under the direction of Mrs Bellingham. Watson Buckton paused in the doorway to observe the group.

Mrs Bellingham was pacing up and down in front of the fireplace, giving out instructions to her sister and waving her hands. Mrs Smart was listening whilst ringing her hands anxiously.

Hugo and Martha were sitting together on the chaise longue. Martha looked tired but Hugo was talking confidentially to her with her hand in his.

Lady Rachel and Ruby were on the other chaise longue. Each woman appeared uneasy and they were not conversing. Lady Rachel was gazing towards the sisters at the fireplace and Ruby towards the window.

Watson Buckton decided who she would question first. She had perfected the art of appearing beside people without them being aware of her arrival, a trick learnt from her esteemed colleague Rosetta.

‘Would you accompany me to the drawing room, Mr Austinville and Mrs Holden-Austinville?’

Hugo jumped.

‘Why, doctor? Has there been another incident?’

‘No no, I would merely like to ask you a few questions.’

‘Really! My uncle has just passed away and your detective colleague is otherwise engaged. Surely this can wait for his return?’

‘Hugo!’ thundered Mrs Bellingham. Her ears were as sharp as bat, despite her great age. ‘It is our duty as Austinvilles to clarify and assist the investigations of the law. We must ensure we are above suspicion.’

Hugo had no choice but to obey.

*******

In the pleasant, duck egg blue drawing room, Watson Buckton gestured to the couple to be seated. Before she could begin questioning them however, there was a knock at the door.

‘Yes?’ She saw Copeland the gamekeeper, twisting his cap in his hands.

‘Ee, Doctor. Beggin’ your pardon and sorry to trouble you at such a time. Could Ah speak to Mr Hugo?’

Hugo hastened out and Watson Buckton heard them talking in hushed tones.

Hugo returned arranging his waistcoat in the manner of someone ascertaining something was hidden safely in it.

‘So, could you please tell me what yourself and Mrs Holden Austinville were doing between the hours of eight and ten this evening?’

Martha seemed unable to answer so the doctor addressed herself to Hugo.

‘We- er- visited our cottage on the moors.’

‘Ah yes, my colleague informed me of your retreat. Is there anyone who could vouch for your presence there?’

Before Hugo could answer there was another knock at the door. This time it was Campbell, the footman.

‘Can I speak to Mr Austinville please?’

Watson Buckton ushered Hugo out and there was another hushed conversation.

‘So, Mrs. Holden-Austinville, what were you doing at the cottage?’

Martha looked at her, then began laughing.

‘Oh it was so funny, Charlie. May I call you Charlie?’ she patted the seat next to her. ‘Come and sit by me.’

Charlie politely declined. Was Martha quite herself today? She seemed overly happy and flirtatious.

‘What was I saying? Oh yes. Hugo and I were just-‘ Martha burst into giggles again.

She was saved from continuing by Hugo’s reappearance, patting his waistcoat once again. He seemed to be gaining weight in that area.

Watson Buckton endeavoured to question the couple, but there were two more interruptions, from Jefferies and Harris. Martha was so full of merriment and Hugo so evasive, that the doctor was rather hindered in her objective. If only Rosetta were here with his incisive powers of deduction, she mused.

‘So, you were both at your cottage for a period between one and two hours this evening?’ Watson Buckton persisted. She had always thought Hugo was a slim gentleman, but after this evening his frontage had become quite sizable.

Martha was still laughing, but suddenly sat up.

‘Hugo, I am unwell, I am going to be ill-‘ She clutched her handkerchief to her lips and leant over the side of the chaise longue.

‘Oh, my dear! I was not aware that you had imbibed so much- It is my fault entirely! Oh! My love!’

Poor Martha vomited behind the aspidistra.

Watson Buckton had seen enough.

‘Mr Austinville, I must protest. You have obviously made Mrs Holden Austinville intoxicated and she is obviously unable to endure such treatment! Shame on you! Mrs Bellingham will be merciless with her reprimands!’

Hugo leapt up to defend himself.

‘I could not care less what that old crow says! She is a-‘

Unfortunately his waistcoat, unable to bear the strain anymore, burst open and a positive treasure trove of coins and notes fell to the floor. He met the doctor’s eyes guiltily.

‘What is all this?’ demanded Watson Buckton.

‘It is merely-‘

Suddenly there was another inopportune knock upon the door. Lady Rachel burst in, her eyes full of tears.

‘Oh terrible news!’ she wailed.

‘What is it?’

‘It's Mr Lucas! We just received a telegram from India where he was studying. He is dead!’

[jdoddy]

Delhi, India

Two Days Ago...

The sweltering Indian sun was rising in the Capital as Mr Lucas Holden-Austinville gently awoke, the sunlight gently filtered through the fine curtains throwing a pool of golden light across the papers which he had fallen asleep reading, Mr Lucas.. known as Luc to his close acquaintances and pals from back in the home country had been studying writing in India for little over a year before the dreadful news of his fathers ghastly demise reached the shores of his surrogate home.. his wise old university professor had been gently suggesting for weeks that the young Holden-Austinville should return home to grieve with his family and deal with the looming 'death politics'.. but showing a streak of stubbornness reflective of his late father Mr Lucas had chosen to continue his work, but in recent days the stress of such activity was beginning to bite at his tailcoat and he frequently found himself asleep at his desk with a flask of spirits and the burning haziness of the night before always lurking in the dusky shadow.

'Hmph' Lucas moaned as he lifted his heavy head from the writing desk 'curse you foul beast' he moaned 'you fool me with your sweet taste.. only to turn sour at the close of an eyelid' as he slowly shuffled from his study into the two-roomed living quarters which he called home a knock at the door pulled him from his self sympathising thoughts. Mr Lucas had learned not to open the door to strangers a month or so into his stay in India so he moved, still shuffling to a small window which gave him a view of his front porch.

'What the devil'... he whispered to himself

For outside his door was a short figure, draped from head to toe in a black sari, he could just make out two eyes peaking from a small opening in the vast expanse of fabric, which was traditional in the country of course.. 'but never in black.. in this heat.. you'll make yourself greatly ill'

with caution he moved towards his front door, removing the chain and turning the key before swinging it wide with a gentle push.. 'Good day to you' Lucas said gently.. it wasn't long before the morning sun was attacking his eyes, making him curse his desire to open the door at all..

The unknown figure did not utter a single word, they simply bowed their head curtly before moving forward swiftly and driving the point of a concealed blade into the unprotected chest of an unsuspected Lucas Holden-Austinville.. as Lucas felt the life slowly leave him, starting from the tips of his fingers and toes he tried to scream.. to make some sort of noise that would attract someone, anyone in his time of dire need but the noise died in the deep recesses of his throat as he took his final rattling breath and fell backwards into his quarters once again.. the figure in the dark cloak stepped into the shade of the accommodation and pulled the blade from the chest of Mr Lucas.. they turned to leave before stopping and turning to face the lifeless body once again they crouched.

With the grace of somebody who was well-schooled with the dastardly weapon, which now shone cherry-red with the blood of the fallen Austinville the figure slashed open the rest of the thin cotton tunic which covered the muscular chest of Mr Lucas which lay eerily still as his heart beat no more.. once the evil stranger had torn away what remained of Lucas' clothing they set to work inscribing a message across his chest cavity.. the blood still carried enough life to trickle out of the thin cuts.. acting as the ink to the morning killers message.. which read:

कुत्ते के लिए बार बार याद आने वाला.

---

Lady Rachel whimpered as her announcement lingered in the air.. every person who was in the drawing room had fallen prey to the deathly silence which stifled any attempt for sound, Martha's sickly head disappeared behind the aspidistra once more, the sound of the young woman's retch accompanied by the sulfurous burning smell which followed was enough to awake Watson Buckton from her stupor.. unfortunately before she could jump in and take charge of the terrible situation which was unfolding before her eyes her esteemed partner Rosetta burst into the drawing room.. his sudden appearance causing the fragile form of Lady Rachel to fall forward in feint

Hugo strode forward to catch the fair lady in his arms as Rosetta addressed the room

'I rushed back from the moors as soon as I heard the news' he panted.. taking a moment to recompose himself before continuing.. 'I took a short phone call from the chief inspector in a groundsman' s cottage before running the length of the grounds.. to.. well.. get here.. anyway' 'Watson!' he called when he clapped eyes on her 'It's good to see you have returned to your usual attire.. I believe it suits your purpose much more than that frilly and overindulged article you sported at the ball old chap'.

'Nice to have you back Sir' she chirped rather unenthusiastically.. 'Now Now Watson.. where is the enthusiasm?..' Rosetta was poised to continue before a disgusted Harris interrupted 'Know your Place Sir!.. We have just been told of another grave misfortune involving this household and you are positively bouncing around like Miss Nicole in the dress fitters..' the room shook their heads in collective disapproval before Rosetta continued with his previous statements 'Yes.. of course.. you are right..' he paused for a moment and mused over his next move 'Watson m'dear.. could you go down to Mrs Phillips in the kitchens and ask for some tea to be sent up on the double.. then pop your head into my chamber and collect the envelope which I have been instructed is lying on my bed.. 'C'mon dear woman toot sweet we haven't got all day now have we?'

'Oh and Watson'.. he added as she crossed the room 'Yes Sir?' 'Be a dear and tell nobody of what has transpired.. don't want to cause any unnecessary strife among the other residents now do we?' Hugo struggled to stifle a threatening snigger as Watson replied 'No Sir.. of course not'

---

fifteen or so minutes passed before everybody was seated in the drawing room, the clinking of delicate bone china the only audible sound as the group drank in silence.

The peace wasn't kept for long as Rosetta stood, an envelope of brown paper clasped in his hand.. 'Now Ladies and Gentlemen.. I believe we have some evidence that might clear a few things up about the death of dear Mr Lucas Holden-Austinville – I took the liberty of having this slide projector set up while we drank.. and I must warn you that what I am about to show you is not for the feignt of heart' Rosetta moved towards the projection lamp and slid the photograph into a projection slide 'Watson.. please see that the candles are snuffed' he asked.. without taking his eyes from the job at hand.. as the room plunged into darkness Rosetta flicked the switch on the lamp causing a clumsy black and white photograph of a torso to slowly drag itself into focus on the canvas 'Unfortunately the image isn't great, but this was taken two days ago at a crime scene in Delhi, India.. it is, as you may have already guessed the torso of Mr Lucas Holden-Austinville and..'

'Hold your horses' interrupted Hugo.. what are those dark marks spreading across his chest.. see.. from the left to the right. Its almost as if someone has written on him'.

Rosetta clapped 'Mr Hugo.. your eyes are much keener than they look.. much keener indeed – you are correct in your observations.. a message was left across the chest cavity.. written in what we assume to be blood..' a short gasp traveled through the room like chinese whispers at this last revelation.. 'And if we take a look at a slightly enhanced copy of the photograph you will see that it is written in the cursive form of the Hindi language, which is a popular language in the region of Delhi in which Holden-Austinville had been residing.. it took a while for even our best brains to translate the message, which as you will agree deepens this mystery further than anybody will have expected.. you see – the message reads:

“ beware the haunting hound, for he has struck again”