“A bright fellow.” I opened my wire and squinted at it in the dim light. It was from Flemyng. It ran through a short list detailing Brown and his background. It was only when I got to two words, juxtaposed, that a great thrill of excitement coursed through me. They were the words: MATHEMATICIAN and CAMBRIDGE.
“What does it say?” enquired Pivcevic.
Before I could answer, there was another flash of distant lightning and a rumble of thunder. And then Father Vernon summoned me to his spy hole.
“Also a guest at your hotel I believe?” he asked.
Looking out at who he had indicated, I knew that someone had indeed been flushed out by my ruse. But, I noted, it was none of the ones I had suspected initially – that is to say, Holloway, Francesca or Frau von Denecker.
It was mevrouw van Engels.
Dressed in her changeless tweeds and brogues, I realised I was not surprised to see her. Indeed, subsequent to my reading the telegram, I confess I had from that moment begun to expect it.
“Tomas and I will go after her,” I said to Father Vernon. “You had better keep an eye on Holloway, Frau von Denecker and Francesca. If they move, follow them and try to ascertain what it is they are up to. If they appear liable to quit the village, delay them.”
“How?”
“I am sure you will think of something. And… telegraph this person.” I handed Flemyng’s wire back to him. “Use my name… no, sign it Ignatius… ask him about the two women.”
“We need to find out what she is about,” I advised Pivcevic. “So let us not catch her up. Let us endeavour to follow her without being seen.”
“Agreed.”
We set off across the meadow as quickly as we dare.
I couldn’t help thinking I should not have left the wire with Father Vernon. What if, ultimately, he was involved in all of this? Yet he had proved solid and true until now, despite all my previous misgivings. Was it not about time I trusted someone?
Taking care not to be seen, we left the village and struck out after mevrouw van Engels into the deepening darkness of the wooded mountainside, made gloomier still by the approaching storm. There was another lightning strike and the thunder now followed shortly after. As we climbed, growing hot with the effort and with the closeness of the air, we tried very hard to make as little noise as possible. I dreaded the outcome and would rather not bring it about any sooner than necessary by being rounded on before we reached that point.
However, she did not turn around. She pressed on. I could hear her taking ever shorter and shallower breaths.
And then the rain came. A great white burst of electricity lit up the clouds over our heads. This was followed instantly by thunder cannoning around the mountains, sounding for all the world like the opening salvoes at the start of Waterloo. This was followed by thick drops of rain, heavy like blood – a patter at first but very quickly turning to a steady downpour; this, soon afterwards, becoming very quickly a storm, driving across the mountains in huge swathes, submerging Pivcevic and me, and I don’t doubt mevrouw van Engels, in its torrents.
Then, all of a sudden, we were there. We had arrived where, if truth be told, I always knew we were going the moment I saw the Dutchwoman head off out of the village. I soon recognized the lush vegetation, the distant din that had grown into a powerful roar to be heard above the rainstorm, and the lank mist that rose up from the abyss like a spectre.
I could see her through the rain. She was standing some yards from the edge of the uppermost Reichenbach fall as Pivcevic and I arrived upon the scene. I held out a hand to prevent my companion advancing further for the moment. We stood there, breathing heavily, and drenched.
She was taking it all in, as if for the last time. Fear grew within me; a surmise of foreboding. Was she about to pitch herself headlong into the black, bellowing abyss for a reason, or reasons, unknown? I could not tell, but I knew that if she did, the whole sorry tale may go down with her. Like her life, it would be extinguished somewhere far below in the chasm. This exercised me and I was ashamed that this was my first and main reaction to the tableau being played out before me. My first reaction should have been that I did not wish any human life to be concluded in such a manner. Or, indeed, at all. However, before I had time to dwell upon this further revealed flaw in my already deeply imperfect character, mevrouw van Engels began to move.
I could see her take one, two, three steps closer to the edge… and then she hesitated. Pivcevic and I exchanged looks as best we might, given the conditions, and simultaneously took a long pace towards her.
She inclined her head, as if trying to hear something. And we, all three, waited. Despite the downpour and the roaring of the fall, there was also a silence. Deeper than the quietest moment and heavy with possibilities. Pervading even the tumult of the storm and the pounding of the force over its lip and down into the jaws of the ravine.
I understood finally, then, that she was remembering.
I could bear it no longer.
As though I had been propelled from behind by a powerful hand driving me hard in the small of my back, I surged forward. As I did so, I could see her raising her right hand into the night sky, like a farewell salute. She drew it back, as if holding an invisible javelin, which she intended to hurl into the heart of the gorge.
At the same moment, and most probably as a result of my sudden forward movement, I was assailed from the side and dashed off my feet by a violent assault. A man was howling in fury and frenziedly grabbing at me. It would seem that in order to prevent my reaching the woman he had intercepted my trajectory and sent me flying sideways.
We went crashing down upon the dank, rugged ground at the same time and fell to struggling furiously with one another, he in his frenzy, I in shock and terror.
I did not know at that precise moment what had become of the Dutchwoman or the Croatian. I was, suffice it to say, otherwise engaged and was presently concentrating all my efforts upon resisting this ferocious ambush.
Preserving my own life.
Unlike when I had been accosted by Hugo in the alley beside the hotel, this assault was not designed to deliver me some species of lesson or beating. It was aimed specifically at restraining me and subduing me. To that end, my aggressor kept me locked in his embrace and pinned down in the mud and the rain-soaked grass.
Even so, I managed at one point to struggle free. But the other fellow contrived to re-engage me in our wrestling match. I was not sure whether he had any particular outcome in mind other than to restrict me and prevent me from breaking free of the engagement. To that end, we found ourselves unfortunately and involuntarily struggling our way closer and closer to the edge of the precipice.
As I became aware of this increasingly inevitable threat, I tried valiantly to land one or two telling blows upon this determined adversary, but in vain. He in turn, unaware, I suspected, of the looming peril, tried to separate my ribs one from another. He did this through the simple expedient of driving sharp, powerful punches into my thorax.
I felt my feet skitter on the crumbling wet rocks right at the edge of the abyss. The tumult beneath them pummelled my senses, just as my ribcage was being pummelled by my tormentor. Realizing where I was, and terror bringing reserves of energy and power, I managed to wrest myself clear and throw the other man away from me.
“Oh no you don’t, Doyle!”
Before I had time to collect my thoughts and gather myself sufficiently to resist the next onslaught, he lunged at me once more.
I did not know whether it was his intention to thrust me over the precipice and down into the force. To be sure, however, that was precisely what was likely to happen as we engaged again at the top of the fall, like two great stags clattering antlers. I was driven back on out into space. Suspended perilously above the sucking torrent and the glistening maw below, waiting to receive its latest victim, I cried out in horror.
For a brief instant I believed
that my end had come.
I could not possibly escape this doom a second time.
But that is precisely what happened. The Reichenbach fall, at its summit, is bestrewn with vegetation. In my last desperate act, my legs flailed out beneath me. As they did so, my left foot caught against the springy roots of a sturdy bush. It had been quietly growing there, minding its own business since, I imagine, prehistory. Using that tough, flexible base, I locked my leg straight and gained myself enough purchase to thrust myself back towards the cliff top. In doing so, I drove hard against Holloway’s equal and opposite force. I clung on to him for dear life.
Surprised by the sudden impetus of my resurgence, his own effort subsided sufficiently for me to change my angle of attack. I twisted myself until I was more firmly onto solid ground. In doing so, of course, I had skewed around. This guided Holloway himself towards the edge of the precipice.
Indeed, over it. His feet slipped on the mud made impossibly oily by the rain. Now it was his turn to yell in horror.
We had not let go of one another during all of this. We both had a strong grip upon each other’s forearms. Now, though, in his justifiable panic, he released his right-handed grip of my left arm and swung around uncontrollably.
He was at my mercy.
But not for long.
I clutched more urgently with my right hand and reached with my left to grasp a sinewy shrub. For a moment he dangled there, swinging like a weathercock. He was suspended out over the void, flailing his free arm and kicking his legs in terror. The shrub started to tear out of the soil by the roots. The storm continued beating down on him, as if its sole intention was to drive him off the cliff and into the turbulent, rock-strewn waters below.
“For pity’s sake!” I cried, close to bursting with the effort of maintaining my tenuous grip upon the poor unfortunate. I was barely able to keep him or myself from plummeting into eternity. “Help us!”
Pivcevic was the first to move; mevrouw van Engels followed, in a daze.
They took hold of me. They hauled me upright and then backwards. Then, as if I were a human hawser, they proceeded to take it in turns to heave on the arm which held Holloway. Once they had contact with the terror-stricken fellow, we all three tugged and dragged at his arm. His torso followed, until he had been pulled, inboard as it were, like a drowning sailor into a storm-tossed lifeboat.
I sat upon the ground, my hair plastered, no doubt, about my head, and my clothes sodden, and spattered with mud. Blowing hard, I tried to restore my equilibrium after this latest encounter with these appalling falls. Holloway lay face down in the puddles beside me. I could hear him sobbing quietly to himself.
Looking up, I could see mevrouw van Engels, sitting upon a moss-covered rock. The one upon which I had taken refuge during my previous visit to this place. She sat leaning forward and staring into infinity. The faint phosphor of the force caught her face, causing her eyes to gleam like gunmetal. She, too, was crying.
At that moment, I heard a metallic click beside my left ear and felt something cold and ominously hard nudge itself against my temple.
“Do not make any sudden moves, doctor. Nobody needs to get hurt.”
“Tomas…” I said, wearily. I was at the end of my tether and in no mood for any more nasty surprises. However, since what was being held to my head was presumably a revolver, I did not see fit to make any sudden moves. As requested. “What is all this about, now?”
“You know very well, doctor. Not content with murdering poor Mr Brown, you have now made an attempt upon two further lives…”
“Two further…?” I felt sick. I was not sure if it was the recent exertions and perilous predicaments, or as a result of this latest accusation. “I made no such attempts, Tomas. You saw what happened.”
“Yes, I saw what happened. Even in this light it was possible to see what happened. You planned all of this, to have me accompany you as witness. In the darkness, you most probably expected that I would see what you wanted me to see. A woman in distress, planning to take her own life. You purportedly racing forward to save her, like a knight in shining armour. But then ‘accidentally’ you would instead precipitate her over the cliff.”
“That is not…”
But he was in a declamatory mood and trampled all over my sprouting protests. “If it were not for the foolhardy but noble action of Mr Holloway here… and I am sorry, Mr Holloway, that my wife and I so misjudged you… you, doctor, would have succeeded in your devilish plan.”
“But this is outrageous!” I attempted to climb to my feet to confront the fellow. But my footing was far too slippery. In any case, the muzzle just jabbed more firmly into the bony part of my cranium. I recalled that I was in no position to become outraged.
“I have heard the rumours concerning you, doctor. I have also noted the fact that rather than face justice like a man, an innocent man, you chose to abscond at the first opportunity. I also noticed that you had half the village in pursuit of you. Half the village, sir,” he prodded me recklessly in the head with his pistol, “cannot be wrong. In my country, the rule of law is either too slow or too stupid to act. In my country, sometimes decent people have to take the law into their own hands. In my country, sometimes natural justice is the best.”
I heard the hammer being cocked back.
“Holloway – for goodness’ sake, man, tell him.”
Holloway groaned but made no further contribution to the debate.
“What is there to tell? Mr Holloway made clear his suspicions to us last afternoon, while trying to gain support for his pursuit of you. He made his case very clearly and concisely and I, for one, had no further doubt. Imagine my surprise, therefore, when I was summoned to assist you in your spurious vigil.”
“Imagine!”
“I could, of course, say nothing as the priest was also present – whose loyalty, at that precise moment and place, was questionable. I knew immediately that I needed to bide my time. If this was a conspiracy, to show my hand so early and in such dangerous company would have been sheer folly.”
“He was there because he had seen reason. As I wish you now would.”
“And what reason is that, doctor?”
“That all of this has absolutely nothing to do with me. I am a complete innocent, and have been since the moment I arrived in this woebegone place. I have been inextricably fouled by the most vexatious and extraordinary circumstances. My only crime is that I had the overweening presumption to believe that I could make a difference and assist in some small part in the solution to the whole sorry affair.”
The pressure of the muzzle against my temple had eased slightly during this exchange. But now it pressed back firmly into its customary place. I was painfully conscious that the weapon was still cocked.
One slight move, one tremor, and…
“Well, if you did not kill Brown, doctor, who, pray, would you suggest did?”
I did not care for his tone but I could not deny the fact that upon this one point he had me. Following mevrouw van Engels, I had become increasinglyconvinced, or had convinced myself, that it was she. But now, her desperate and forlorn attitude had given me pause. Faced with the stark reality of having almost been killed in a second encounter with the fall, added to the imminent possibility of being shot, all my clever deductions had been swept from my mind. And then there was the precipitous and violent reappearance of Holloway. He must have seen us following the Dutchwoman.
There was another possibility, of course. Could Pivcevic himself be the murderer? Shoot me and he could walk free.
A further flash of lightning lit up the landscape. Out of the corner of my eye I could see the barrel of Pivcevic’s revolver. It gleamed with menace.
“I am afraid, Tomas, I once thought that I knew who it was that had caused Mr Brown’s untimely demise, but now I am not so sure.”
“Oh, come along, doctor. Indulge me.”
“Perhaps we might return to the village and discuss the whole affair?”
The revolver was jabbed fiercely into my temple. I yelped.
As if to concur with Pivcevic, some thunder rumbled.
“Very well, then,” I gabbled, “if you cannot wait, I believe it was mevrouw van Engels who caused Mr Brown’s untimely death.”
There was a stage wait, and then Pivcevic burst into laughter. I felt the barrel waver and shake involuntarily. I could only hope that his finger was not currently curled around the trigger. I tensed to spring. Perhaps I could wrest the weapon out of his grasp while he was thus distracted. But he quickly regained his composure.
“Van Engels? That poor benighted creature? Now I know that you are lying, doctor. And I do not like being thought a fool.”
The revolver steadied and the muzzle pressed so hard now against my head that I was almost overbalanced. Was this it? Was this the end?
“But, Mr Pivcevic…” A voice, thin and unhappy, floated across the cliff top from the direction of the rock and above the noise of the rushing water. “Dr Conan Doyle is absolutely correct. It was indeed I who killed Peter Brown.”
TWENTY-ONE
Having spoken the truth out loud for the first time, mevrouw van Engels dissolved into an anguished howl that echoed around the rocks high up under the stormy sky. It was as if she had finally allowed open a fissure she had been holding pressed tightly closed. Now that the pressure had been relaxed, the magma of despair and dereliction, like the rain, poured forth in huge, unmanageable volumes.
Pivcevic paused for a moment longer. He was disorientated by the storm that was blowing pitifully from the woman just a few feet from him. He seemed uncertain now quite what to make of anything. Then, at long last, the gun barrel’s pressure eased and presently fell away entirely. I took the opportunity to stand. Since I could sense no further resistance or potential objection from my erstwhile captor, I moved swiftly to the lamenting lady’s side. I put my arms around her. Her whole body shook uncontrollably as if in a convulsion. She howled once more at my touch. Then, eventually, slowly, her agony subsided and the storm, although not stilled, at least relented.