Written by daniel brough gwydion9@HOTMAIL.COM The Adventure of the Twice-Dead Man Perhaps one of the strangest cases ever laid before Hector Vail was the mysterious death of Geoffrey Addington. Certainly it was one of the most horrifying. It was late on a Tuesday evening that the affair got its start. Vail had been busily engaged in another of his cases for several days, a curious affair involving a missing figurine, and had spent the balance of the evening performing tests in his laboratory on a shard of pottery which he had discovered during his investigation. While I am always eager to help Vail in his work, in matters of chemical analysis I fear I am useless. Consequently I had spent the evening in some boredom, watching him rush about performing his experiments. Experience has taught me that when Vail is absorbed in his work he is best left alone. He is uncommunicative and irritable at such times, and can be ill-tempered if disturbed. In light of this, I decided to go to bed early. After offering a polite 'good evening' (to which he did not reply), I retired to my room. I was jolted awake a few hours later by the sharp clatter of someone banging on the heavy oaken door which guards our flat. "For God's sake, open up!" cried a young man's voice, quavering with horror. "Open up, I say! I must see Mr. Vail at once!" I shook the sleep from my eyes and rushed to the window, looking down. I could not see much more of the fellow than the top of his hat, but the brougham he had arrived in waited in the street, the two horses prancing in place, huffing and snorting. Even by the dim light of the streetlamp I could plainly see that it was well appointed and of excellent quality, not at all like the usual Mordentshire cab. The man resumed his pounding. "Hallo!" he cried. "For God's sake, open up!" Hastily I threw on a robe and started for the sitting room. I was not surprised to find the lamps still lit. Vail has been known to work the night through when confronted with a challenging puzzle, forfeiting sleep altogether. It was not at his lab that I found him, though, but at the window. He stood gazing down at the street, hands clasped behind his back. "Well, Pendleton," he said, not turning, "it appears we have a late caller." "But who the devil can it be at this hour?" I asked, somewhat agitated. According the clock above the mantle it was seventeen minutes past one, and I was irritated at this unwanted intrusion on our privacy. "I know nothing of him whatever," said Vail, "aside from the obvious facts that he is a young country gentleman who is somewhat wealthy, carries a cane, walks with a limp, and has just come in some haste from a family estate some miles east of the city - probably within the Sedgewick or Blackhurst district, I should imagine." I moved to the window, surprised that Vail had been able to surmise so much merely from the man's appearance, especially in the uncertain light of the streetlamp. I was astonished to discover that the caller was entirely invisible from this angle. "You were able to tell all that from the man's carriage?" I asked. "Hmmm." Vail nodded distractedly. "That and the use of my hearing." The knocking abruptly subsided, to be replaced by the faint murmur of voices in the hall below. "Ah, Miss Sherington has answered the door," said Vail. "I expect she'll have a few unkind words for him before she brings him up." "And well-deserved, too," I added angrily. "Calling at such an hour, and in such a manner!" Vail went to his armchair. "We shall see. I have a feeling that the intrusion may well be warranted. In any case, it will make a welcome distraction." He gestured towards his lab with disgust. "I've run into a wall with that Clayton-Adderman business. That damnable pottery shard has put my former theories to rest, and left me confounded. Perhaps by focusing my attention on another problem I may gain a fresh perspective when I return to it." He shook his head, musing. "After several weeks of monotony during which I have had no cases at all, it now appears that I am swamped in them." He gave a half smile. "Ah well, Pendleton. Feast or famine, eh?" I returned my gaze the carriage below. I am familiar with my friend's methods, and usually I can trace his conclusions. The brougham was well-appointed, indicating that its master must be somewhat wealthy. The horses were well-lathered and panting, evidence of a rushed journey. But how Vail had determined the man had come from either Sedgewick or Blackhurst was a mystery to me, unless it had something to do with the mud spattered on the wheels and sides of the vehicle. Vail is an expert on soils of all kinds, but it seemed impossible that he could have identified this mud so precisely from this distance. Still, I reflected that the mud was at least proof that the brougham had come from outside Mordentshire, as the city's streets are cobbled. "But Vail," I said, mystefied, "how on earth can you know that he has a limp?" "He has a cane, hasn't he? The one implies the other." "But how do you know he has a cane?" Vail laughed. "You don't suppose he was banging that forcefully on our stout door with his bare knuckles, do you? He would never have raised such a clatter." "But why should that mean he has a limp?" I persisted doggedly. "I have a cane, and so have you, and neither of us has a limp. It could be merely a matter of style." Vail shook his head. "Pendleton, you surprise me. The man has obviously come in haste, on a matter of urgency. A stylish gentleman may indeed keep a cane, but he is hardly likely to snatch it up when racing out in the middle of the night on some emergency. No, the cane's purpose must be practical rather than ornamental." His eyes flickered to the door and he came to his feet. "Ah, but here is the gentleman now." Miss Sherington stood there, scowling. "A man to see you, Mr. Vail," she said coldly. "He did not give his name." Vail nodded. "Yes, yes. Very good of you to show him up, Miss Sherington. I appreciate your patience with the late hour." "I hope in future, Mr. Vail," she said frostily, "that you will refrain from entertaining guests at such hours." But our visitor had already pushed past her. He was a tall man, with a ruddy complexion and fair hair. His right leg was slightly twisted, and he leaned heavily upon a cane. He fixed his intense blue eyes on me. "Mr.Vail?" he asked. "Certainly not," I said, annoyed. "I am Hector Vail," said my friend. "My companion is Colonel Oliver Pendleton." "Yes," said the visitor, "yes, of course. I should have known you by your description, Colonel. I have followed your remarkable accounts for some time. I apologize for disturbing you, but I have come on a matter of grave urgency." "It is no matter," Vail assured him. "Please take a seat, Mr. Addington, and tell us all." The man gave a start. "You know me, sir?" he asked. "I was not aware we had met." "We have not," said Vail sitting. "But how do you know my name?" "It is inscribed on your cane," said Vail, gesturing. "'B. Addington' The 'B' stands for Brandon?" The man shook his head. "Beverly." "Ah!" said Vail. "But have a seat, Mr. Addington, and tell us how we may be of assistance. The man shook his head. "There is no time, sir. My father has been murdered this very night, and I have come to beg your help." Vail shot to his feet. "This is serious news indeed! You are right, we must go at once." He looked to me. "You will be good enough to come, Pendleton? I realize the hour is late-" "Of course," I assured him. "I am wide awake and would like nothing better." "Excellent. There is no time to lose. Mr. Addington may tell us the particulars once we are underway. If we are lucky, we may even arrive before the local authorities hae a chance to trample everything." * * * I threw on some clothing, and in minutes we were in Addington's carriage, darting through the deserted streets. Vail and I sat across from him as he related the facts of the case. "Our manor house is quite large," he began, "and also quite old. My father's room is located on the second floor, and my own chamber is just down the hall and opposite. We are the only ones who stay in the main part of the house, the servant's quarters being in the west wing. I tell you this in passing, as it may prove to have some bearing." Vail nodded. Addington paused. "Perhaps I should begin by telling you a little of my father, Lord Geoffrey Addington." "He made his fortune in tobacco, I believe?" Addington nodded, a little taken back. "I had no idea you were aware of our family, Mr. Vail." "I assure you I am not. Forgive me for interrupting; I was merely giving voice to my thoughts." Addington was bewildered. "Then how could you-" Vail waved it away. "To the trained eye, the signs are there to see. Your boots, for example, are indicative. But let us not be side-tracked by trivialties. Please continue." "Well," said Addington, resuming," it is just as you say. My family did indeed make its fortune in tobacco. Father inherited the estate and the title in his forty-third year. He was always a capable man, respected by those who knew him, and the estate prospered under his guidance. "On Friday last, and unsigned letter for him arrived by post. I thought nothing of it, but when he opened it he gasped in startlement and his face whitened in shock. I was alarmed, naturally, for I have never seen him so shaken, and I asked what was wrong. "'Nothing,' he said, drawing away from me. 'Some damn practical joke.' "But when I asked to see the letter, he crumpled it and thrust it into his coat pocket. 'I said it was nothing,' he snapped at me, 'now leave me be.' "Though he would say nothing more on the subject, over the following days my fears continued to grow. He became sullen and irritable, and took to stalking about the house at odd hours, checking to see that all the windows and doors were locked, and always armed with a small pistol. "At last, I decided that I must see that letter. I searched his room, but found nothing, and I was on the verge of giving up when my eyes fell upon his coat, which was thrown over the back of his chair. It struck me that the letter might still be in the pocked where he had thrust it two days before." "And was it?" I asked. Addington nodded. "It was, though not crumpled but rather folded neatly, showing that he had removed it and re-read it in private, perhaps several times." Vail leaned forward. "Have you the letter?" The young man nodded somberly. A moment later he produced a scrap of paper and handed it to Vail. "I don't know what I expected to find," said Addington as Vail scanned it. "A threat of blackmail or violence, perhaps. But I never expected anything so bizarre as that." "Interesting," said Vail. "Most interesting indeed." He handed it to me. "What do you make of it, Pendleton?" I took the paper and looked it over. Seldon have the winsom days departed so darkly. Three the hours wich have been counted, as you see it. Sanguine order now rains supreme in the often ridicilous affairs of men. Therefore your trust should be put in those sublime unanswered questions. And then go boldly but do not falter when we shall meet at the mother of all hollyness. Hated silence hated darkness the very pristeen signs of peace and not betrayal. "Why, it is a stream of nonsense!" Vail shook his head. "On the contrary, it is of compelling importance." Addington frowned. "Then you are able to make something of it, Mr. Vail?" he asked. "I confess that it makes no sense to me, though it has a sinister ring." "It is a message, and a very clear one," said Vail, "though in code. Try reading it backwards, Pendleton, starting with 'betrayal' and omitting the following three words each time." "'Betrayal... of... the... hated mother... shall... not go... unanswered'," I read haltingly. "'Put... your... affairs... in order... You have... three days... seldom.'" I finished lamely, uncertain how the last word squared with the rest. "Not seldom, Colonel," corrected Vail. "Seldon. You misstakenly assume it is misspelled." "Seldon?" I echoed. "But what can it mean?" "Obviously it is a signature. But there is more to the letter than its hidden message. Does nothing else strike you?" I looked it over again. "Aside from the errors in spelling, I see nothing." "Ah, but you see everything, Pendleton. As you say, it is filled with errors, and there are two places where the word has been crossed out and started again - here, at 'sanguine', and again at 'betrayal'. The handwriting is rough and barely legible. The writer is clearly not a man of letters. And yet it is filled with words like 'wisome', 'sanguine', 'sublime', 'falter', and 'pristine'." "It was dictated!" I said, understanding. Vail nodded. "Precisely. So we see that we are dealing in a conspiracy; some secret society to which Lord Addington must once have belonged, for he was able to read the code." "But this is terrible!" said Addington in quiet grief. "I had determined to bring the letter to you tomorrow, Mr. Vail. Had I brought it today, the tragedy might have been prevented!" "Calm yourself," said Vail in tones of sympathy. "You did not realize the seriousness of the letter. But we have not yet heard how your father died." Addington composed himself. "Forgive me. It has been an evening of shocks and I am afraid the strain is beginning to tell. "I keep strange hours, Mr. Vail. I have done so since a fall from a horse left me with this weak leg. The injury restricts my movements somewhat, but I am an active man and often find myself with nervous energy at odd hours. "Ths evening I was up late, reading in the library. I had thought I was the only person awake in the house, but at a quarter to twelve-" "One moment," interjected Vail. "Where does the library lay, in relation to the rest of the house?" "On the first floor, just at the foot of the main stairwell and to the right, immediately below my father's room." "And you are certain of the time?" "Yes," replied Addington. "I remember glancing at the clock when father stalked in, carrying his pistol. I was surprised to find him still awake. "His manner was distracted, and I do not believe he realized I was present until I spoke to him. When I did, he whirled on me, raising his weapon!" Addington gave us both a sober look. "My father has never been a violent man, Mr. Vail, but I believe he would have fired on me, had I not cried out in alarm. As it was, he was furious at my presence. He demanded to know for 'what fool reason' I was 'lurking about in shadows'. "Incensed, I told him that I had seen the mysterious letter and wanted an explanation. An argument erupted between us. He was furious that I had invaded his privacy, and I was angered by his bizarre behavior. 'I need no wetnurse, boy,' he snapped at me towards the end, 'and I have no time for your foolishness. Gods above, the very sword hangs over my head!' "So saying, he stormed out. It was the last time I saw him alive." Addington lapsed into silence, momentarily overcome with grief. "He was dressed for bed?" Vail asked gently. "Oh yes," said Addington, surprised by the question. "That is, slippers and robe." "Indeed," murmured Vail. "Please, continue." Addington took a moment to compose himself. "He was... he was gone for no more than five minutes when there came a jarring thump from overhead, as if a heavy chair had been violently overturned in the room above." "You were still in the library?" "Yes. I was... angry after he left, and though I tried to return to my reading, I was still fuming." Vail nodded. "Go on." "The thump was accompanied by an unnerving cry of horror. I sprang instantly to my feet and raced to the stairwell, for it was my father's voice! "I scrambled up the stairs and rushed to his door, calling out to him as I came. From inside the room came the sounds of a terrible struggle, as if he were locked in mortal combat. "'The Hand!' he cried. 'My God! The Withered Hand!' And then there was a choking sound, as if he had been seized by the throat." "You are certain of the words?" asked Vail. Addington nodded. "They were spoken clearly, though I do not know their meaning. The sounds of struggle continued, now coupled with the terrible gasping of a man fighting for breath. There was a crash as the lamp was overturned, and a muffled sound like that of a body falling to the floor. "I seized the doorhandle, but found it locked. I wrestled with it impotently, calling out to my father, when suddenly it shifted in my hands and I realized it had been grasped from the other side. It trembled for a moment, then went still. The sounds of struggle subsided. Fearing the worst, I turned for the stairs and met Hoskins coming up." "Hoskins?" asked Vail. "Our manservant. He told me he had been wakened by the furious ringing of father's bell-pull. 'Hoskins!' I cried, 'have you a key to father's room?' He nodded, and together we hastened to the door. "We were both horrified by what we found once the door was opened. There on the floor lay my father, tongue protruding grotesquely and eyes staring sightlessly. His face was contorted into a mask of fear that was terrible to behold, and there were purplish bruises at his throat. "The room was a mess; the papers on his desk had been scattered on the floor and the lamp overturned, but of the attacker there was no sign. My first thought was that he had fled through the window, but it was latched shut from the inside. "But if he had not fled by the window, then where could he be? The room was empty and there were no other exits. "I found it unfathomable, and struck with grief and horror. I did not know what I should do. I sent Brandon, our houseboy, to fetch the local constabulary, but I had little confidence in their ability to throw any light on the matter. "Then I recalled you, Mr. Vail. I have followed with interest the remarkable exploits your friend Col. Pendleton has penned, and had planned, as I said before, to bring the letter to you. I realized the only course was to fetch you immediately. So I had Jonathan, the driver, ready the carriage, and flew to Mordentshire. You know the rest." Vail leaned back, a troubled look on his face. "I fear we tread in deep waters." He lifted the letter. "May I keep this?" Addington nodded. "If you wish. But tell me, Mr. Vail - can you make anything of this awful business?" "It is very interesting," said Vail. "But I fear it is too soon to offer any theories. I shall want to examine your father's room first. But I see we have arrived." So absorbed had I been in Addington's story that I had hardly noticed the journey. Now I peered out and caught my first look at the manor and surrounding area. Tendrils of mist lay scattered about the grounds, making everything seem indistinct. The house was large and blocky; a square building constructed of aging stone. The windows were darkened, lending it a desolate air. "Ah!" said Vail in disappointment as we pulled up. "It appears the local authorities have already arrived." There was another carriage in front of the house, the sort of police wagon one is likely to encounter in the country, and a young-looking constable was stationed at the front door. We were met on the cobbled path by a trio of men leaving the house. The first was a uniformed constable, a young man much like the one at the door. Beside him stood a portly older man, short of stature, and also in uniform. The third man was already known to us. "Ah, it is Inspector Lambert," said Vail as we approached. "The man is not altogether a fool; perhaps not all is lost." "Mr. Vail!" cried Lambert, catching sight of us, "and Col. Pendleton too! Well, I'm surprised to find you here, and yet I shouldn't be. A queer business, to be sure." The older constable ignored us and adressed our companion. "You are Beverly Addington?" He had a nasal voice which grated upon the ears. "Yes?" The portly man gestured, and the two younger policemen stepped forward, taking hold of Addington by the arms. "What is the meaning of this?" cried Addington, too surprised to struggle. "You are under arrest for the murder of your father, Lord Geoffrey Addington," said the older man. "But this is absurd!" "You are certain," asked Vail mildly, "that you aren't being premature, Detective?" The stout little man looked down his nose at us. "And who might you be, sir, to tell me my business?" "I am Hector Vail," said my friend politely, "and this is my associate, Col. Pendleton." "Mr. Vail has helped us over in Mordentshire in a great many cases," put in Inspector Lambert. The little man sniffed. "Ah yes," he sneered, "the fellow you're always blathering about, Lambert. The 'amateur of crime'. Always sticking your nose where it isn't wanted and getting underfoot." Vail gave a bow. "I see my reputation precedes me." "This is Detective Claughton," said Lambert apologetically, "head of the local constabulary." "What, sir, have you to do with this gruesome affair?" demanded the detective sharply, ignoring Lambert's introduction. Vail was unruffled. "Mr. Addington came to me desiring help in solving his father's murder. I am here on his behalf." "Indeed? Then you arrive too late, for I havle already solved the crime. They may be foolish enough in the city to allow your interference, but I assure you that here in the province of Sedgewick we are astute enough to handle our own crimes." He motioned to the two men who held Addington. "Take him away." Addington struggled against their grip. "Mr. Vail, I implore you! I am an innocent man!" "I do not yet know that you are innocent," said Vail, "but if you are, rest assured I will do all in my power to free you." Addington relaxed his struggles and allowed himself to be put into the police-wagon. "Very well, sir. I leave the matter in your capable hands." The detective snorted derisively. "I cannot blame you for believing the young man, Mr. Vail, seeing as you are and amateur. But a real detective relies upon facts to steer his course, and does not allow fondness for the criminal to bline him." Vail smiled politely. "I appreciate the advice, Detective. We have heard of your exacting methods even in Mordentshire, and I have no doubt that you have solved the crime in short order." Claughton was startled by Vail's praise. For a moment he peered suspiciously at us as if fearing a trap. Then he swelled with pride. "Well, then, I shouldn't wonder if it was so. I have solved my share of crimes, and am well-respected in the field." "Indeed," said Vail, "I would not pass up the opportunity to see your genius at work. I wonder if you would instruct me on your deductions in this case?" "Deductions?" asked the stout man. "What sort of nonsense are you talking? The case is simple. Lord Geoffrey was strangled, and there was only one other man present - his son, Beverly." "Then you do not credit the young man's story?" "Pure rot. If you ever want to become a true professional, Mr. Vail, you'll learn to tell when someone's lying to you. The case is simple: the boy murdered his father, locked the door behind him as he left, and stumbled across the manservant on the stair. He then concocted a pack of lies to cover his trail. It's the only explanation. All that remains is to wring a confession from him, and that, I warrant, we will accomplish well before dawn." "I'm sure you are right," said Vail. "Nevertheless, may we prevail upon you to show us the room where the body was found?" The detective sniffed. "I haven't the time or the patience for such nonsense." "Perhaps one of your men, then?" Claughton gave a simpering smile. "I cannot spare them. I'm sorry sir. You have come all this distance for nothing. My advice is this: go back to your city and leave police work to those who are qualified to do it." "If you please, Detective Claughton," said Inspector Lambert. "I would be happy to guide Mr. Vail through the house." Claughton shot him a nasty look. "You, Lambert? Well, I suppose it's your time to waste, though I warn you, I won't have the scene tampered with." "It is not trouble," assured Lambert. "It's a complete waste of time is what it is, Inspector, and I assure you that if you were one of my men you would never be allowed to be so lax in your duty. But you may do what you like." He turned to Vail again. "It seems Inspector Lambert has decided to stay on as a tourist guide for amateurs. You will try to keep from destroying evidence, I trust?" "I assure you we will do our best," said Vail. "See that you do." * * *

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