The Amazing Dr. Darwin

THE LAMBETH IMMORTAL

The morning had threatened rain and it was finally arriving. At the first warm drops the old horse whinnied protestingly and distended her nostrils. She lowered her head and walked on steadily through the darkened summer morning, pulling the sulky easily behind her.

“I told you, Erasmus.” Jacob Pole turned and looked at his companion triumphantly. “I knew in my guts we’d have rain after that east wind last night.”

Darwin, squeezed in beside him, pulled a brass-bound instrument from the side box of the coach and looked at it gloomily. “This still shows a setting for fair.”

“Aye, and it will, while we get soaked. I’ll back my old bones over that fancy new contrivance of yours every day of the week.”

“I begin to think you may be right.” Darwin looked up at the clouds, pouted his full lips, and shook his head. “Yet my barometer is based on sound scientific principles, whereas the behavior of your joints remains one of life’s mysteries. I am wondering now if the lessons I learned at Lichfield must be studied anew in East Anglia. Perhaps this must be somehow reset to local values.”

He poked at the barometer thoughtfully with a stubby finger, ignoring the rivulet of water that was beginning to stream from his broad-brimmed felt hat. Jacob Pole looked at it skeptically.

“I wish you could reset me along with it. Rain brings me the same aches and pains whether I am in Lichfield or Calcutta. If we had waited at the inn for an hour or two, as I suggested, we’d be snug and dry now and tapping a bottle of good port wine.”

“And tonight we’d have gout to make your present aches seem nothing,” retorted Darwin.

His companion pulled his leather cloak about him and hunched down in his seat, looking moodily at the road ahead. Its chalky surface ran, arrow-straight, off into the distance, paralleling the canal and earthen dike on their left.

“Three miles to Lambeth, at the last stone,” said Jacob Pole, his thin face gloomy. “And not so much as a barn in sight to shelter in. We’ll be soaked through before we are halfway there.”

“No doubt we will.” Darwin sounded undismayed at the prospect. “And if we are, Jacob, I will be obliged to remind you that it was at your urging that we took this detour from our original plan.”

His friend looked slyly at Darwin’s calm profile. “It was my idea to go to Stiffkey, that I admit. You’ll agree with me when you taste the Blues—the best cockles on the East Coast. But it was no idea of mine to come to Lambeth. Ancient ruins hold no fascination for me, unless there’s something like this inside them.”

He pulled a snuffbox of chased gold from a pocket inside his cloak, opened it, and sniffed a substantial pinch.

“And it was no idea of mine to go to Norwich in the first place,” he continued. “I could be back home now, with Elizabeth and my young Emily. You were the one invited to inspect the new hospital. I had a miserable time. I’ve bargained with men and women across the face of the globe, and I tell you, there’s no slyer, sharper dealer than a Norfolk tradesman.”

“That must tell something about you, Jacob, I’m afraid, since it was only last night that you were boasting about the low price you paid for the Norwich boots you are wearing. But I doubt that you’ll find opportunity to haggle in Lambeth. I expect to find flint pits there, not shopkeepers. Do you realize those diggings were old before the Romans set foot in Anglia? Some of the flints were used to build the Legion’s Fort at Brancaster, and even those were from the newer site.”

As he spoke, the old mare was plodding patiently on. The rain was warm, and not unpleasant. The surface of the canal, reflecting a steel-grey sky, was a broken pattern of small ripples as the heavy drops spattered the still waters. The line of poplar trees along the bank marched steadily away in front of them, shrinking to green dots on the far horizon.

“Ledyard said he will meet with us at the Lambeth Inn,” went on Darwin. “But I fear he may not have received our message from Norwich. The coach deliveries have been worse and worse. He warned me in his last letter that the inn offers bad food and worse beds. I hesitate to go to his home uninvited, until a personal meeting can supplement our correspondence.” He looked ahead, shielding his eyes from the driving rain with his free hand. “Take a look there, Jacob, and tell me if I am seeing true. Is that the Lambeth church ahead? If it is, then that will be Alderton Manor, on the rising ground behind the village, with Alderton Mill next to it. The flint pit should be just west of the mill.”

Jacob Pole peered far ahead, his eyes seeming to pierce the mist of raindrops. After a few seconds he nodded vigorously.

“I see all three. If that’s Alderton Manor, it’s big. I can count three wings, maybe four. But did you notice the horseman ahead of us? He’s coming this way, hugging the edge of the dike. See him, there between the water and the trees?”

The rain was easing a little. Darwin frowned into the thinning drops. “I’m not sure. You know that your sight is better than mine for distances. Do you think that it might be Ledyard?”

Pole had pulled a small spyglass from the leather travelling bag between his feet. He put it to his eye, cursing the movement of the sulky on the rough road surface.

“I think not,” he said after a few moments. “Unless your friend Ledyard has taken to riding sidesaddle. Whoever it is, she’s riding fast. Must be on an emergency errand.”

The two men watched in silence as the mounted figure approached. The woman rode a black stallion, at least seventeen hands high, controlling the big animal with no sign of effort. She pulled up quickly beside them on the roadside, with a clatter of hooves on the chalky surface.

“Dr. Darwin?” she said, leaning far over in the saddle. They looked at her in surprise. As she reined in the animal she had swept back the hood of her riding cloak, to reveal an unruly mass of blond-red hair tightly curling about her head. Darwin recalled the Viking forays into East Anglia a thousand years earlier. Some evidence of their invasions remained. The woman was in her late twenties, with blue-grey eyes and a fair complexion. The set of her jaw removed any suggestion of the china doll hinted at by her other features.

“I am he,” replied Darwin at last. “But you have the advantage of me, madam, since I find it hard to believe that you are James Ledyard, my only acquaintance in Lambeth.”

“Thank God for that,” replied the blond woman mysteriously. “I am Alice Milner. Dr. Ledyard is busy on an urgent case at Alderton Manor.”

“And he asked you to come and meet us for him?” asked Pole.

“No. He told me not to,” the woman replied, shaking down her curls. “He told me to go and lie down and get some sleep. I had to sneak out of the back of the manor and saddle Samson myself.”

“This is Colonel Pole,” said Darwin. He had caught the unspoken question in her look when Pole spoke to her. “We are travelling together. See now, if James Ledyard told you not to meet us, and suggested rest, then why are you here?”

Alice Milner had turned her horse and was walking it alongside the sulky. The old mare, ignoring both the new arrival and the conversation, was proceeding at her own steady pace toward Lambeth. The woman shook the stallion’s reins.

“Can you not go faster?” she asked, impatient at the plodding horse.

Darwin regarded her shrewdly. “No,” he replied. He paused, waiting for her response. “At least, not without some reason.”

The woman looked quickly back at the sulky. “You are Erasmus Darwin.” It was a statement, not a question. “According to Dr. Ledyard, you are perhaps the premier physician of Europe. Will it hasten your pace if I tell you that my fiancй, Philip Alderton, suffered a serious accident last night, and remains now in a grave condition at the manor?”

Darwin and Pole exchanged a swift glance. “It would indeed,” said Darwin, “were it not clear from your manner that there is more than a simple accident involved in this. If it is my medical prowess that you seek, why did not Dr. Ledyard ask for it?”

Behind them the sun was breaking through a rift in the rain clouds. It shone on the woman’s head, picking out the red-gold glints in her hair. She bit at her lower lip and stared straight ahead along the road to Lambeth.

“He does not want a second opinion,” she said at last. “But it is more than that. James Ledyard told me that you are opposed to all superstitions and religious dogmas, heathen or Christian. I rode here to implore you to apply that philosophy to Alderton Manor, and to the village of Lambeth. I cannot persuade them from their pre-Christian mysteries. The simplest accident will lead to a month of talk about the Alderton Pit.”

Darwin had watched her closely as she spoke, noting the frown on her forehead and the hesitation when she mentioned Alderton. He shook the rein he was holding, and the old mare picked up her speed a fraction.

“If I am to help you,” he said. “I will need the full story—not the fragments that you are throwing to us. Give all to us, root and branch. For instance, you lack the Norfolk accent, and I would place you from the West Country. Devon, perhaps, or Cornwall. Yet there is Dane in your appearance, not Celt. How do you come to be here in Lambeth, and what is the accident you spoke of? Remember, I cannot resolve a mystery without facts. I am no magician.”

His manner was abrupt, and there was a slight stammer on some of his consonants. Yet his manner was friendly, with a sunny smile—slightly lessened in effectiveness by the lack of front teeth. Alice Milner smiled in return, and nodded her head ruefully.

“I hope for miracles,” she said. “But I have no right to expect them. Let me begin at the very beginning.”

She pulled her hood forward to protect her from the rain, which was coming again in another heavy shower.

“You are quite right, I was born in Norfolk but not raised here. My parents live now in Plymouth, but we have our roots in East Anglia. Three years ago, I left the West Country and went to study the Asian cultures in London.” She grimaced. “From Papa’s reaction, one might think I had gone to sell my body to some of London’s gambling bucks. He became inured to the idea after a year or two, the more so when I met and was wooed by Philip Alderton. My parents in their usual fashion checked Philip’s family background when I wrote about him, and were much relieved to learn that the Aldertons have lived in Lambeth with mill and manor since the Conquest. Had father checked more than stability and prosperity, he might have been less sanguine.”

“I have heard nothing of Philip Alderton,” said Darwin. “As Ledyard has described it to me in his letters, Charles Alderton is the head of the house, and the flint pit is on Alderton land. Is Philip his son?”

“His nephew. Charles Alderton died two months ago, without issue, and Philip inherited this estate as the closest living relative. That death has added to the superstitions in Lambeth. Uncle Charles died alone, in Alderton Pit. James Ledyard says it was a normal enough death, of some kind of seizure, but the villagers rumor otherwise. The landlord of the Lambeth Inn—you will meet him shortly—is full of a strange tale of the Alderton’s family doom, that goes back for more than a hundred years. The innkeeper claims that Charles Alderton is merely the latest victim.”

“Every old family has its tales of disaster,” said Darwin. “It is no more than a consequence of record-keeping. Misfortunes will befall any line in ten generations, and you should be surprised if there were no family skeletons. So Philip came here to claim his inheritance, did he, and you came with him. What do your parents think of that?”

“They do not approve. They think me forward and imprudent. But I arrived here only last week. Philip’s departure from London on the occasion of Charles Alderton’s death was sudden. I stayed on at Dowgate Stairs and continued my studies, until Philip sent me a letter urging my presence here.”

They were approaching the village, a huddle of poor houses standing around a common. A handsome old church and a Tudor inn stood opposite each other in the center, the sacred facing the profane. Past the village, the ground rose gently in a low hill. At its crest stood the manor, and slightly to the north of it on a second slope the sweeps of the mill turned slowly in the northern breeze. Alice Milner stared ahead at the peaceful prospect. Her nose wrinkled in disgust.

“I must say the life of a Lambeth rustic has little appeal to me—although Philip has been extolling the virtues of his position as lord of the manor since my arrival. He insists that my interest in antiquities should imply an interest in Alderton, since the manor, mill and flint pit are all of great age. The heating of the manor certainly bears him out. It is a drafty icebox.”

Her tone was light, but there was a thin tremble in her voice that made Darwin look hard at her hands and face.

“Perhaps you should be riding in the coach, madam. Jacob or I can take the stallion. I believe that you are much in need of food and rest.”

Alice Milner took a deep breath and sat up straighter in the saddle. “No, I can manage well enough until we reach the inn.” She looked at Darwin with new interest. “As you surmise, I am not feeling well. There was little sleep for me last night because of worry, and no food yet this morning. Even so, I would have sworn that my fatigue was well concealed.”

Jacob Pole gave a harsh bark of laughter. He lifted his head clear of the leather cloak. “From me, my dear, and from most people. But don’t hope to hide anything from Erasmus. He can spot disease where any other would see nothing. He will see it in the way that you walk or eat or speak—or in nothing at all, if you are merely sitting. I remember the case of the Countess of Northesk, when she came this year desperately ill to Lichfield—”

“Now, Jacob,” interrupted Darwin. “This is no time for your cock-and-bull stories of medical practice. Miss Milner has yet to tell us of her fiancй’s accident, and we will soon be at the inn.” He turned to her. “If you are not too weary, my dear, pray continue with your account. I doubt that there will be privacy for discussion in the public rooms of the inn.”

She nodded. “Especially in Lambeth. The Alderton’s family business is everyone’s business here. Let me continue.

“As you will see if you ride the countryside, the mill ahead of us is the only one for a good distance. Since this is mainly wheat country, the wheels are very busy, and several villages come to this estate for their grinding. Just before I arrived here, Philip had asked Bretherton—he is the chief servant at the manor—why the mill is worked only to sunset. I should add that although Philip was born at the manor, he has not lived there since he was a small child, and he is not familiar with local habits. Bretherton told him that no one from the village will work the mill after dark. They fear the place.”

“Do they, indeed.” Darwin clicked his tongue softly, making the old mare prick up her ears. “Now you intrigue me. It must be a strong superstition, if it will stand between a Norfolk villager and his pocketbook. Is this a new fancy, acquired with the death of Charles Alderton near the mill?”

“Not at all. It goes back many years—many generations, if Bretherton and the villagers can be believed. As a result of it, Philip had to turn away grain from a big farm in Blakeney, just two days ago. Without night work, there was no way the mill could grind the corn by the time it was needed. The mill produces good revenues for the manor. As you might imagine, Philip became very angry. Yesterday, he declared that he would run the mill at night himself, to prove that the fears of the villagers were ridiculous. I didn’t care for his idea, but he scoffed at my worries. There happened to be a good easterly wind, and the mill is perfectly placed to catch one. At sunset, he went down to the mill with one of the newer servants from the manor, Tom Barton. Philip offered him a guinea for the night’s work. Barton had not been long enough at the manor to be steeped in the tales of the mill and the pit, and he had a reputation for greed.”

“Had a reputation?” Darwin reacted to the odd choice of tense.

Their companion was silent for a moment, looking away from them across the canal. The rain was moving north, to the sea beyond the gentle hill slopes ahead, and the summer air was wonderfully clear. Ripples of wind moved across the ripe wheat, field after field shaking the droplets from their laden heads.

“Yes,” she said at last. “Tom Barton and Philip were found this morning in the Alderton Pit, by the villagers arriving for work at the mill. Barton was dead. Philip was badly injured and unconscious from loss of blood. Both men had terrible wounds.”

The flowering poppies showed like specks of venous blood in the gold of the corn fields. The air was suddenly colder as the sun went behind a lingering rain cloud.

“Old Hezekiah Prescott was in the group that found them,” said Alice. “He went back to spread the word around the village. The Lambeth Immortal has come back.”

They had come to the mean houses that marked the edge of the village. Young children ran to meet the coach, and followed it at a respectful distance as Alice led the way to the courtyard of the inn and dismounted.

Darwin swung down from the sulky with an agility surprising for his bulk and looked about him keenly. The Lambeth Inn had retained its basic Tudor beams and plaster, but some rash hand had added a styleless scullery and washhouse to the rear, marring the whole structure. Across the common, the church loomed surprisingly large. In the Norfolk pattern, it was built of fragments of hard flint imbedded in grey mortar. Farther up the hill stood Alderton Manor, as big as all the houses of the village together, and behind it Alderton Mill.

“They must be a religious lot,” remarked Jacob Pole. “That church would hold everybody in the village ten times over.”

Darwin nodded. “It would. All the villages along this part of the coast had many more people when the ports were open. The silting has closed all of them over the past century. Good for the cockles, maybe, but bad for most businesses.”

“That’s true for the mill, too,” added Alice Milner. “Philip says they would never have built a post mill the size of that one, for a village the size of this.” She handed the stallion’s reins to the ostler and led the way inside the inn. “I expect we’ll be eating lunch here. May I suggest that you let me order for you? I know what to avoid.”

The main room was dominated by the huge fireplace at the far end, empty now for the summer, and by the line of serving hatches leading through to the kitchen. The landlord stood on the opposite side, by the long oak table. He was red-cheeked and at least as fat as Darwin.

“Now then, Willy,” Alice said to him in a determined voice. “We’d like lunch, and we don’t want any swill, like the pie you offered me two days ago. We’ll have coddled eggs, fresh bread, cold pork and beer—and I want to see the joint and carve it myself.”

The landlord was not at all put out by the hard words. “I’ll have it for you presently, Miss Milner,” he said cheerfully, and went back into the kitchen.

Jacob Pole looked at Willy’s waddling form as the innkeeper went through the doorway. “There can’t be much wrong with the cooking, if he can get to that size. He’d hold you in a tug-of-war, Erasmus, and there aren’t many that can.”

“You should see his wife,” said Alice. “She would make two of him.”

“Pity we’re not in Persia, or Araby,” said Pole absently. He seemed to be lost in thought, but his eye was on Alice. “I could have sold her for a fortune there. The fatter the better, as far as your Arabs are concerned.”

“And since when are women chattels,” began Alice angrily. “I admit, it was once that way here, but now—”

“Don’t get excited, my dear,” interrupted Darwin. “And you, Jacob, stop it. This is not the time. It’s just Jacob’s idea of a joke,” he explained, turning to Alice. “He has a lie for every country of the globe. Now, can we hear more of the events at Alderton Manor, or do you prefer not to discuss them here?”

“Willy Lister has the longest tongue in the village, and the biggest ears. Best wait,” she said, as the landlord returned carrying a huge tray on which stood a loin of pork, warm fresh bread, and a stone pitcher of beer.

“Eggs’ll be a minute or two. Have to be goose eggs, if you don’t mind,” he said. “Hens haven’t been laying for the past couple of days, something’s upset ’em.” He seemed ready to say more, then looked at Alice, ducked his head to avoid meeting her eyes, and hurried back to the kitchen.

“See what I told you?” she said angrily, while he was still in earshot. “Mindless, superstitious rubbish, and he’s one of the worst for spreading it.”

“But it’s not to be dismissed completely on that account,” said a voice from the door. The man who entered and walked forward to the table was in his middle thirties, short and slightly built. His legs were slightly bowed, and Darwin’s practiced eye discerned a slight limp, well disguised.

The newcomer swept off his woollen cap and held out his hand to Darwin.

“Welcome to Lambeth. I’m honored to meet you and sorry I was not here when you arrived. And this must be Colonel Pole. James Ledyard, at your service.”

“How did you know which one was I, sir?” asked Pole curiously.

“He watched me, watching his walk,” said Darwin, with an appreciative nod. “Correct, Dr. Ledyard?”

The other’s appearance was slightly sinister. He was wigless, and wore his grey-streaked black hair long and swept back, revealing a pale, bony forehead. The mouth was full and red, with canines that extended beyond the incisors. His smile was friendly, but oddly disquieting.

“And what did you decide about me, Dr. Darwin?” he asked.

“Little enough.” Darwin shrugged. “You suffered from rickets as a child, but not too badly. You are experienced in weapons-handling—in the Seven Years’ War, perhaps, although you must have been a mere child for most of it. At some time in your life you suffered a broken patella—as I did myself. Very painful, was it not?”

The other nodded. “The worst pain of my life.” His look turned to Alice. “Miss Milner, I had hoped that you would have had sense enough to remain at the manor, after the recent events there. I hope you will now return to your fiancй’s side.”

Alice stared back at him coldly. “I will—if Dr. Darwin will accompany me.”

Ledyard hesitated, then shook his head. “Dr. Darwin came here at my invitation to examine the flint pit and the ancient monuments, not to become involved in local medicine.” His manner was embarrassed and uneasy.

“But you are the one, a week ago, who told me that he is unmatched in the medical field,” said Alice. She was beginning to look angry, and her jaw was jutting forward. “If that is true, I would expect you to welcome his help, even if you deem it bold to ask for it.”

Ledyard’s embarrassment seemed to grow. “Of course, I would welcome his help, although it would indeed be an imposition to request it. But there are reasons…” He paused, clearly uncomfortable. “I will compromise,” he said at last. “If you will go now to the manor, we will—with Dr. Darwin’s approval—follow you later.”

Darwin had caught something in Ledyard’s look. “That is perfectly agreeable to me and to Colonel Pole,” he said quickly. He turned to the door, where the innkeeper was standing holding a tray of coddled eggs, unashamedly following the whole conversation. “Landlord, if you will bring those over here, we are ready to consume them. And is there a table out behind the inn, where we can eat in the open air?”

“I suppose so,” said the fat innkeeper grudgingly. “There’ll still be damp on that bench, though. Straight out the back door, on past the trough.” He put down the laden tray and left reluctantly.

“You need food too, my dear,” said Darwin to Alice. “Why not carve something now from the loin, to eat on the way back to the manor? Help yourself also to bread and eggs.”

Alice gave them a puzzled look, as though she was not sure how she had been made to follow Ledyard’s suggestions. There was a hint of future reprisals in her expression, until she picked up the carver and savagely began to cut thick slices of pork.

“I assume that Philip Alderton’s condition has improved,” said Darwin, “since you are not afraid to leave him without physician.”

“I think his situation is stable.” Ledyard picked up a slice of pork that Alice had cut and began to chew on it thoughtfully. “He lost a lot of blood, but most of the wounds are not as deep as I feared. And he has a remarkable constitution.”

“But he lost enough blood to make him lose consciousness?”

Ledyard hesitated again. “I am not sure of that. I would have said no, but I could find no head blow or other wound that could account for it, and loss of blood is the obvious explanation.”

He paused and looked at Alice.

“Miss Milner, you have now cut enough pork to feed the Tribes of Israel. Not an ideal choice of metaphor, I suppose.” He smiled to himself, and suddenly appeared a younger and more attractive man. “At any event, are you now ready to return to the manor? I wish to have a private conversation with the doctor.” Alice gave him a poisoned look. She seemed ready to argue, but Jacob Pole had stood up and walked across to the table.

“I may as well go with you,” he said. “I know from experience that we ordinary mortals get nothing from the conversation when a few bloodletters get together.”

He began to place pork and bread in a square of yellow cheesecloth. He winked at James Ledyard, who was looking at him gratefully, and turned back to Alice.

“I remember a conversation between three witch doctors, when I was looking for fire opals in Malagasy.” He began trying to ease Alice toward the door. “I had just been stung by the Great Madagascar Hornet, in an uncomfortable place that I prefer not to mention. Those potion-peddlers were jabbering away in their cuclapi dialect, discussing ways of removing the sting that would leave me enough to sit on. I lay there on my belly, warding off mosquitoes the size of bumble-bees…”

“Colonel Pole,” interrupted Alice. “We have no Great Madagascar Hornet in these parts, but”—she smiled—“if our local fishermen are to be believed, we have pike in our streams big enough to swallow a swan in one mouthful. You should get along well with them. I will come with you, but from choice, not from subterfuge.”

Darwin’s eyes remained on James Ledyard as the latter watched Alice leave the room with Jacob Pole. “A remarkable young lady,” he remarked.

“Very much so,” replied Ledyard fervently. He picked up the tray of pork and bread and gestured to Darwin to bring the eggs and beer. The two men went outside and settled themselves at a ramshackle table out of earshot of the inn kitchen.

Darwin began to attack the food with gusto. “I assume that there are aspects of Philip Alderton’s attack that are too unpleasant to mention in front of his fiancйe,” he said, through a mouthful of warm bread and goose-egg yolk. “What were his injuries?”

“As I described them,” replied Ledyard. “That was not the main reason for my reticence.” He was looking on with some surprise at the energy with which Darwin was demolishing the contents of the tray.

“Come on, man, eat up,” said Darwin, catching the look. “It’s the law of the world, you know. Eat or be eaten. Try some of these eggs. You can’t beat a goose egg for flavor.”

Ledyard shook his head. “Let me talk while you eat.” He settled back in the sun and put his knitted cap back on his head. “I was over in Moston last night, delivering a child. Stillborn, sad to say. I came back to Lambeth late, and was just settling into my bed when I was roused to go over to the manor and look to Philip Alderton. On my way, I went past the flint pit. Did Alice mention to you that Alderton and Barton were found actually in the pit?”

Darwin nodded.

“Then you may know that there is a particular story about it in the village. The pit is old—that’s why we were both interested in it. I estimate it was there thousands of years before the Romans, and as I told you in my letters it must be from the very dawn of our civilization. Now, did you ever hear of Black Shuck?”

Darwin leaned back and stopped chewing. His eyes were thoughtful. “Aye, I’ve read of it, but not recently. And not near Lambeth, either. It’s a legend by Cromer, forty miles along the coast. The black hound, big as a calf, that runs down travellers. What of it?”

“I’ll come to it. Lambeth has its own legend of a monster. The Lambeth Immortal. It has been here, the word goes, for hundreds of years, and it lives in the Alderton Pit. You’ll not get a villager there at night, and it’s hard enough during the day.”

“And the monster resembles Black Shuck?”

“In effect, if not in appearance. It rends its victim, as Barton and Philip Alderton were savaged.”

“But not Charles Alderton. Alice said he died of a seizure.”

“Of a stroke of some kind, an attack of apoplexy. Great excitement—or great fear— would produce that effect. Charles’ health in his final years was not good. But he had no wounds on his body.”

James Ledyard blinked his dark eyes in the bright sun. There was a restless and secretive air to him when he spoke of the Aldertons. Although Alice Milner had been raised in the West Country, it was Ledyard, with his broad, dark skull, who looked the Celt. He rubbed his unshaven chin and pulled his cap lower over his eyes.

“There is more,” he said. “Even Black Shuck could not account for last night’s attacks. Alice does not know it yet, but Barton had taken two of the hounds from the manor with them to the pit last night. Cambyses and Berengaria, each over five stone in weight, each of them young and strong. Their bodies were also found in the Pit. When I add that Tom Barton is a hefty young man, and that Philip Alderton has perhaps the strongest build of anyone I have ever examined, you will begin to see the problem. There is something in the flint pit that could kill two powerful and well-trained dogs and a strong man, and very nearly kill another with the muscles and build of a Hercules. Do you now see my dilemma? I am loath to add to village mutterings about the return of a monster, but I can offer no rational explanation of my own. It is a mystery.”

Darwin was sitting hunched on the bench, his double chin cupped in his hands, his elbows on the table in front of him. His grey eyes were thoughtful, alight with their usual burning curiosity.

“No,” he said at last. “It is not a mystery. It is three mysteries. What was it that killed Charles Alderton, that induced his apoplexy? What was it that killed the hounds and Tom Barton, and nearly killed Philip Alderton? And the final question: why were they all in the flint pit, at night? There must be a single answer that will explain all these things.”

He placed his hands on the table and pushed himself to his feet. “I do not think we will find answers here. With your permission, I would like to examine Philip Alderton, and inspect his wounds for myself. Also, I would like to see the body of Tom Barton. I too do not care for superstition. We must give the airy nothing of the Lambeth Immortal a local habitation and a name, and our efforts to do that must begin at Alderton Manor.”

“Why were we in the flint pit? I must say that was my doing entirely.” Philip Alderton’s bedroom was in the north wing of the manor, facing out to the distant sea. Alderton, weak but fully awake, lay propped up on pillows in the ornate four-poster bed. Darwin was seated by the bedside, and Jacob Pole stood by the window, watching the clouds sail up like great galleons over the northern horizon.

“Three days ago,” went on Alderton, his chest and arms bare, “I was going through some of Uncle Charles’ possessions in the old study in the west wing. As you can see from the style of this building, the manor is well over two hundred years old, and I wanted to find the master plan with an eye to a few changes to the buildings. There were old books and papers scattered everywhere, in odd chests and bookcases. I found all sorts of things, but not the plans I wanted. Late in the afternoon, I found the book that is over there on the mantelpiece. Colonel Pole, would you bring it over here and show it to Dr. Darwin.”

While Alderton was speaking, Darwin had been gently inspecting his wounds and his general physique. There were deep lacerations on the chest and arms, and one on Alderton’s cheek near his left eye. Ledyard’s description of him as a Hercules had been no exaggeration, although it occurred to Darwin that the likeness was drawn from the wrong mythology. With his pale blue eyes, straw-colored hair, great muscled arms, and huge rib cage, Alderton was a Norse god, a Thor who would have no trouble swinging a hundred pounds of double-bladed war axe at the enemy.

“You are fortunate,” said Darwin. “Your constitution is remarkable. Most men with these wounds would be too weak to talk. I assume that you have always been unusually strong physically? No sickness as a child?”

“None to speak of.” Alderton sounded casual. “I could always perform the usual fairground tricks—straighten horseshoes, or bend six-inch nails. At the moment I feel as weak as a primrose.” He nodded at Pole, who was looking curiously at the book he was holding. “Colonel, would you please open that and give the parchment in it to Dr. Darwin. I found it in Uncle Charles’ daily work-book, just as you now see it.”

Darwin took the yellowed page. It was singly folded and about five inches square. The writing was crabbed and spidery, and the ink had aged to a rusty red-brown, much faded. Darwin carried it over to the window to get a better light.

“Aloud, if you would,” said Philip Alderton. “Then let me explain it to you.”

Pole thought there was a condescending tone in Alderton’s voice, and looked quickly over at Darwin. The latter didn’t seem to have noticed, as he frowned at the paper in his hand.

“Moon full on the Hill,” he read, “Wind strong on the Mill, No cloud to the East. Pit send forth the Beast.”

He paused, frowning. “Go on,” said Alderton.

“Howl through the tombed brain,” Darwin continued. “God-Mercy on my Pain.”

“That was in Uncle Charles’ daybook, on the page two days before his death,” said Alderton. “The last entry in that book declared his intention to ‘resolve the mystery in the Pit’ as soon as the weather conditions were right. On the night of his death the moon was full, and the weather was clear and windy.”

Darwin was still peering closely at the yellowed paper. “This is old, well over a hundred years. See the texture of the sheet, and the writing style. Has the mill stood in its present position for such a time?”

“And longer. It is one of the oldest post mills in East Anglia. The Aldertons ground corn there for the Plantagenets. Now, if you will, take a look at my uncle’s diary. You will find it describes the origin of the note you are holding. Uncle Charles found it in the lockbox of another of my ancestors, Gerald Alderton. He quit the manor in 1655, and devoted his life to religious works. After his death, his belongings were returned here. They were meager enough, just the lockbox and a Bible.”

“But that means the monster has been in the Pit for at least a hundred and thirty years,” said Pole. “No creature lives that long. Am I not right, Erasmus?”

Darwin did not answer. He had walked to the window and was looking out across the land, north to the distant salt flats. Flowering sea-lavender, pink and purple, extended from the nearer shore to the long spit of sand that was still building to remove Lambeth further from the sea. He looked again at the paper he was holding.

“But Gerald Alderton survived the monster,” he said, ignoring Pole’s question. “And you have survived. What is your interpretation of this message?”

“Part of it is clear enough.” Alderton moved his great shoulders on the pillows. “When the moon is close to full, and there is a strong wind and a cloudless night, a Beast appears in the flint pit. That much, I decided when I first saw the paper. The rest of it, even after my experience there, remains a mystery to me. Last night the conditions were fitting. I had offered Barton a guinea to go to the mill with me and work it at night. When I saw the weather was suitable, I decided to go to the pit also. I offered Barton another guinea to go there with me, and see what we could find. He would not agree at first, but his greed drove him.”

“And he paid for that greed with his life,” said Darwin quietly.

Philip Alderton shrugged. “He was paid for his work, and I had no reason to think there would be real danger to him in the pit. Legends are not facts. It was unfortunate that he died, but my own conscience is clear.”

“Aye.” Darwin caught Pole’s look, and shook his head a fraction. “For Tom Barton, it was indeed unfortunate. But you insist that you thought there was no danger, despite the village superstitions?”

“I believed there was something in the pit, that I admit. The legend of the Lambeth Immortal is too clearly established for me to dismiss it entirely as a folk tale. I will go no further than that. Surely that is your view also, as a rational man.”

“I prefer to defer judgment,” said Darwin quietly, “until I have had the chance to examine the body of Tom Barton, and those of the two hounds.”

Philip Alderton showed his first sign of emotion. “The hounds are a loss; they were fine beasts, and valuable ones.”

“What I do not understand,” replied Darwin, “is your own position. You were in the pit, you were attacked by the Beast, and presumably you defended yourself against it. But you have said nothing of this. Did you see the Beast? What was its size, its shape, its method of attack. Have you no recollection?”

“Nothing. I remember that Barton and I were looking about us when we got to the bottom of the pit. I had just remarked that I could see nothing unusual. The moon had risen enough to give us a good view of the walls of the pit, and just to the east of us we could see the mill. It had been left free to turn at sunset, and with the strong east wind the sweeps were moving at a fine pace. I was thinking again about the waste of money in failing to operate the mill at night. After that I recall nothing until I woke here in this bed. I saw no Beast, nor do I know how or when it came to the Pit.”

“I doubt you will be operating the mill at night, after last night’s events,” said Darwin. “I think the best thing for you to do now is rest. I want to see the bodies. Then, I think that a walk over to the mill may be in order.”

Alderton leaned back. “It irritates me to lie idle like this. I wish that I felt strong enough to come with you.”

Darwin picked up his broad-brimmed hat from the foot of the bed. “Not yet. You’ll be back on your feet in a few days, but give it time. One encounter with the Lambeth Immortal is more than enough. Let Colonel Pole and me make the visit.”

“Here, Erasmus,” said Pole, as soon as they had left the room and were out of earshot of Alderton. “I’ll face danger as well as the next man, you know that. But I’m not sure I like this at all. What do you hope to see in the Pit, anyway, in broad daylight?”

Darwin’s mind seemed far away. “Daylight?” he said absently. “Did I mention daylight? We’ll be going there tonight, when the moon is up—and we must hope for a clear sky, and another strong wind. The Immortal is a finicky beast, it seems, when it comes to a personal appearance.”

“And the Pyramids,” said Jacob Pole. He put down his glass. “There’s nothing in the world the least bit like them. Armies of slaves, generations of effort—they were the burial place for kings, with all their gold and their jewels.” He shook his head. “Picked clean long ago,” he added regretfully.

“But just to see them and study them.” Alice Milner had been hanging on Pole’s words as though they were a new gospel. “I’d give half my life to visit the places you have been talking about tonight.”

“Well, I gave half mine, and there’s little enough to show for it. Some unlucky devils have given a good deal more than that. You know, they put a pretty trap in some of the Pyramids, just to discourage thievery. They placed a stone at the entrance to the inner tomb. As soon as it was moved, the stones above it fell in all along the tunnel. I’ve seen crushed skeletons that must have been two thousand years old.”

“It would be worth the risk,” said Alice. Her blue eyes were blazing with excitement. “That’s how I want to spend my life, not sitting like a stuffed monkey as the grande dame of some ha’penny estate, surrounded by peasants who’ll sell their mother for a shilling. Lady Montagu roamed the East, why couldn’t I do it?”

“Mary Montagu was an amazing woman,” said Darwin, helping himself to a large slice of gooseberry tart. “But even she could not have travelled as she did without her husband.”

“Then I’ll marry, and take my husband with me,” cried Alice.

“But first,” said James Ledyard quietly, “you will have to get Philip Alderton to accept that idea. I do not think it is the role that he sees for you. He wants a mistress for Alderton Manor, to help him rule the roost. A high position is a new experience for Philip.”

His tone was bitter. The four of them were sitting at the table in the great dining room of the east wing of the manor. The remains of two stuffed capons had been removed to a side table and Bretherton, the chief housekeeper and butler, stood to answer calls for desserts. Despite his self-effacing manner, he had been unable to resist a slight nod of agreement at Ledyard’s final words.

“In any case,” went on the young doctor. “I do not understand your interest in only foreign antiquities. The Sphinx is fascinating, I do not deny it. I would welcome a chance to visit it, should opportunity arise. But what about the flint pits, not half a mile from here? They are the relics of a civilization as old as Egypt. Dr. Darwin made a visit to Lambeth, just to see them. But you, Alice, cannot be persuaded to look at them.”

There was a pleading note in his voice. Darwin rose to his feet and went to the window. “You should see them, my dear. But I suggest that you continue to ignore them, at least for tonight. The moon is rising, and there is again an east wind. Colonel Pole and I have it in mind to take a walk over to the mill. Ready, Jacob?”

“Let me get a coat. It’s less warm tonight.” Pole looked across the table, where James Ledyard was regarding Alice with hungry eyes. “And I think I’ll take a brace of pistols, too. I never found an Immortal yet that would relish a couple of bullets through the brisket.”

“Mister Charles was carrying a pistol.” Bretherton, mournful and angular, spoke for the first time. “It did nothing to save him.”

Pole looked at the black-clad servant in surprise, but said nothing until he and Darwin had left the room. “There’s a cheerful pox-hound,” he said when they were in the hall. “First time he speaks, it’s to tell me that my powder and ball won’t work. I hope he’s wrong.”

“But he’s right, Jacob,” said Darwin cheerfully. “Weapons did nothing to help Charles Alderton—and did you know that Philip Alderton was carrying a pistol, too? It seems that he had no opportunity to use it. All the same, I support your idea. Iron will master flesh, be it of Beast or Man.”

His manner was animated, as though he was looking forward to their exploration. They took a filled lantern from the rack in the halls. As they moved toward the door, James Ledyard came limping rapidly after them.

“Dr. Darwin, would you permit a third man to come with you?”

Darwin hesitated. “Normally, I would be happy to agree,” he said after a moment’s thought. “But I am not keen to leave Philip Alderton without medical care. I would rather that you stay here, in case any crisis should arise.”

Ledyard stepped back. “If you really think it necessary, I will not argue that view.” He looked at Darwin, who did not seem disposed to speak further, and moved slowly back to the dining room.

“He’ll be as happy there with Alice,” said Pole. “He hides it well, but I’ve seen it too often to miss it. He’s hot for her. I wonder what Philip Alderton thinks of that?”

“I doubt if he notices it at all,” replied Darwin. “Ledyard is not wealthy, nor of good family. Rickets is not a disease of the rich, you will recall. He will be deemed below the Alderton scale of evaluation, by Philip at least. I would just as well have Ledyard in the house, if we are to be exploring the flint pit. Come on, Jacob. Get well muffled up. We may be out there for a couple of hours. Bretherton has instructions to organize a search if we are not back in four—though I imagine he would not find it easy to obtain volunteers for that.”

“Four hours.” Pole sniffed. “Christ, Erasmus, if we’re not back in four hours, I fancy we’ll have seen a lot more of the Immortal than we care to. Bretherton will be coming out to pick up our pieces. He’ll be able to use our guts for garters, for all the need we’ll have for them. Lead on; and I’ll keep my hands on the pistols.”

The air outside was chilly. With the red-brick bulk of the manor behind them, they walked steadily uphill toward the dark mill. It stood at the brow of the hill, north and a little west of them. The moon was close to full, and they could pick their way easily enough without need of the lantern. Ahead of them, the great sweeps of the mill were turning rapidly in the gusty east wind, and as they drew closer they could hear the groaning of the wind-shaft and toothed head-wheel, eerie across the silvered landscape.

Darwin walked to the east side of the mill and looked closely at the turning sails, black in the moonlight.

“It’s an odd design, Jacob,” he said at last. “See the lattice pattern on the sweeps? And they are an unusual width. I don’t know how efficient that is, and they don’t use that style much any more. Alderton is right, this mill is an old one, but it’s still in good working order.”

He stood for several minutes longer in silence, watching the regular sweep of the great mill-sails.

“Do you realize, Jacob, that we may be looking at a dying industry? When Newcomen’s engines are perfected, and those of our friend Jamie Watt, the days of these mills will be over. Wind power is too fickle and too variable. In another hundred years, steam mills will be grinding our corn over the length and breadth of England.”

Pole stirred restlessly behind him. “Maybe. Not in our lifetime, Erasmus, and I must say I’m glad of that. You can keep your damned steam. I’ll take the old mill here any time, over a hot fart from one of Jamie’s iron boilers. Think of the Beasts that may walk out of them. Let’s get on down to the pit. We won’t track the Immortal this way.”

Darwin did not move. “I want to examine all the pieces of Gerald Alderton’s poetic message. ‘Moon full on the Hill,’ he says. Well, we have that, certainly. And we are not lacking for his ‘Wind strong on the Mill,’ either.” He turned and looked behind them, where a low bank of thin cloud lay on the eastern horizon. “That’s not so good. ‘No cloud to the East,’ we need, and that’s undeniably cloud—but it’s not covering the moon. I wonder how much cloud the message permits. So, let’s go to the next step. ‘Pit send forth the Beast.’ It hasn’t managed to do that tonight. Let’s go along and have a look inside it.”

He took a last look at the sweeps turning above them, then walked round the mill. The flint pit of Alderton was less than forty yards from there, a deep depression cut into the soft chalk on the west side of the hill. The steps leading down into it were broad and shallow, winding in a spiral around the outer edge. Twenty feet down, the pit floor was lumpy and uneven, still showing the marks where the flints had been pried from the soft chalk.

“Five thousand years,” breathed Darwin softly. “This has been here that long.” They were standing at the very edge, looking down into the pit. A faint current of colder air seemed to rise from the depths, like a breath from five thousand winters. It was easy to imagine faint darker shapes crouched close to the moon-shadowed eastern edge.

Pole and Darwin began to walk cautiously down the wide steps, looking about them with every pace they took. The white walls of the pit reflected the moonlight, making the lantern unnecessary until they were close to the bottom.

On the final steps, Darwin unshuttered the lamp and swung it to illuminate the shadowed areas of the pit. The dark shapes seemed to flee before its beam. There was nothing to be seen, and no sound but the creaking of the mill sweeps and gears, and the soft whistle of the wind through the wooden lattice. The usual night noises were silent, cut off by the damp chalk walls.

Jacob Pole eased his pistols from their case, primed them, and quietly laid the case on the floor of the pit. The two men stepped cautiously across the uneven surface, exploring the dark clefts and overhangs where the moonlight never penetrated. On the side farthest from the mill, the chalk floor had a smooth, level area, like an oval table top. After a few minutes of fruitless search, they paused there together to decide their next actions.

The moonlight reached this part of the pit, with the moon standing almost exactly behind the mill. The latticed sweeps of the mill sails broke the beams to a pattern of rapidly moving black bars across the pit floor. Darwin watched the sweeps as they turned rapidly against the backdrop of the rising moon. His manner had become tense and silent.

“Well, ’Rasmus,” said Pole at last. He was reluctant to speak above a whisper. “What now? There’s no sign of the Beast. It will soon be midnight, by my guess, but where’s the Immortal? Did Gerald Alderton’s message tell us how long we have to wait to have it appear?”

Darwin did not answer. His eyes had fixed on the moon, as it flickered into sight through the turning mill-sweeps. His countenance was set in a frown, as though he was groping for something that was just beyond his recall. At last he nodded. He began to mutter to himself, as though counting, his left index finger firmly set on the pulse in his right wrist.

After a minute or two, he seemed to have come to some decision.

“All right, Jacob,” he said, “I don’t think we’ll be seeing the Immortal here tonight. Or tomorrow night, either. We may as well make our way back to the manor, before Bretherton begins to wonder about us.” His manner had become relaxed and yet resolved. “Could we get over to Kings Lynn, do you think, and back here again in three days?”

“Easily.” Pole drew a deep breath, and began to unload his pistols and put them in their case. “But I must say, Erasmus, this is a bit of a letdown. Where’s the Immortal? And why Kings Lynn? I thought we’d be stopping off at Stiffkey next. Is there a Beast, or isn’t there? Only yesterday, you were saying that no beast could be immortal, by its nature.”

“I’ll explain about Kings Lynn later. As for the other, I said only that no beast could ever advance the place of its species in the world, unless it would yield to its own offspring.” Darwin was beginning to retrace their steps back to the manor. “I did not say that a beast could not be immortal, in theory; only that any natural beast would at last die, as an individual, by accident or by sickness. So it must propagate its kind, if its race is to survive; and once propagation is admitted as a necessity, immortality or very long life must then appear as a disadvantage, since it reduces the rate at which the race has scope for improvement. Ergo, the Lambeth Immortal, regarded as an immortal being that has been living in the Alderton Pit for hundreds of years, must be revealed as a most improbable animal.”

Jacob Pole snorted, and jerked his thumb back in the direction of the pit. “Are you denying that Tom Barton was killed there? Do you dispute the reality of his death, or of Philip Alderton’s wounds?”

“Not at all.” They had reached the side door of the manor. “That death was very real, and the wounds fully tangible. That does not change my argument. Ghosts, if they exist— and as you know I am skeptical—cannot inflict real, corporeal wounds when they are themselves nonmaterial. And conversely, real beasts, for the reasons I have given you, cannot be immortal. Our problem, to my mind, consists only in providing the compatible link between immortality and the reality of those injuries sustained by Barton and Alderton. I prefer not to discuss this once we are again within Alderton Manor. We can go into chapter and verse on the road to Kings Lynn. I would like to leave early tomorrow morning. For now, that is enough philosophizing.”

Pole had followed most of Darwin’s comments with a look of incomprehension. “First time I’ve ever heard you call for less talk, ’Rasmus,” he grunted, as they opened the door.

The other man puffed out his pudgy cheeks thoughtfully, and turned back to look again at the dark and silent pit. “There’s good reason, Jacob, that I assure you. If ghosts were anywhere, I would have expected to meet them in that excavation. Couldn’t you almost see it, in your inner eye? The crouching figures, there in the dark, freeing the flint from the chalk, chipping away at the stone.” He shook his heavy head. “And I am not a man of a neurasthenic temperament. Well, let us defer speculation. I feel sure that no one in the manor has yet retired for the night. They are hoping or fearing a second appearance of the Immortal. I would like to have ten minutes of conversation with Alice, Alderton and James Ledyard. And I suppose we should have Bretherton present, too. Get rid of your pistols, prop your eyes open for another hour, and let us see what we can arrange.”

The coach was stuck. Despite their mightiest efforts, it would not budge from the mire that three days of rain had made of the carriage road. Darwin, cloaked against the brisk wind, looked apprehensively at the eastern sky. Far out over the metallic grey of the sea, the cloud was beginning to break.

“It’s clearing,” he said gloomily. “And the rain is over. Tonight it will be fair again, if the barometer is any guide.”

Jacob Pole looked up briefly from the side of the coach, where he was directing four local farm laborers, hastily recruited, in placing a heavy baulk of timber beneath the left side axle.

“We stayed over-long in Kings Lynn,” he said. “My fault. I had no idea that this road would become so bad with the rain. The chalk surface drains well, but there must be clay beneath. Give me two more hours, and we may be on our way again. If we hold closer to the dike for the rest of the trip I think we’ll not be mired a second time.”

Darwin had walked over to the side of the coach and was looking ruefully at the heavy clockwork instrument that lay there, carefully swaddled in gunnysacks and oilskin.

“Not your fault, Jacob. Mine. I needed to remain there until they had this ready for me. Were it not for this, I would favor going the rest of the way on foot. We cannot be above six miles from Alderton Manor. But having borne it these many miles, I reject the idea that we should leave the instrument behind.”

“Is it so all-important that we be there tonight? You told them there would be nothing of interest in the pit until we got back. Surely they will avoid it until then.”

“Not so, Jacob.” Darwin shook his head. “I wish that I had been so precise. I told them there would be nothing there for three days—which was true. But I was confident that we would be back before then. Now I regret that I did not speak more of what was on my mind. I wished to avoid starting a hare that might prove to be no more than my imagination working to excess. That would serve no purpose.”

The left timber was in place, and the right side was already similarly buttressed. Two other stout logs had been placed to serve as twin fulcrums. With the old mare pulling hard ahead, the men began to bear down on the levers that the long timbers provided.

“Come on, Erasmus,” said Pole, when Darwin, still looking east and deep in thought, showed no signs of action. “This was your idea, and you’re twice my weight. Get that arse on the end of the beam here, and see if we can’t have a little lift of the sulky. Use your heft.”

“You perceive at last the virtue of substance,” said Darwin, settling his ample rear at the very end of the beam. The sulky at once rose several inches in the mud. “A pity that you yourself are so much of skin and bone. ‘Let me have men about me that are fat’—an excellent philosophy for our present plight.”

“Hmph!” Pole grunted, heaving away on the same timber. From his spreadeagled position on the beam he could see little more than the expanse of blue cloth that covered Darwin’s broad buttocks, a few inches from his face. “Erasmus, you’re all mouth and britches. If you had been my size, we wouldn’t have bogged down at all.” He raised his voice. “Come on, lads. When I call to heave, bear down all together on the other side.”

“We must get to the manor before moonrise,” said Darwin. “If not, I am much afraid that blood will be on my head.”

“I think not.” Pole’s voice came as a series of grunts between concerted heaves at the timbers. “I still don’t see anyone going to the pit tonight, unless we are there too.”

Darwin was bouncing energetically on the beam, and the sulky gradually lifted free of the grip of the clinging mud. “Ledyard and Alderton may stay in the manor. The one that I am worried about is Alice. We know she is headstrong. She wanted to go to the pit even before we left, and I am sure that she is even keener to do so now. When that young lady makes up her mind about something, I am not sure that Philip Alderton, or James Ledyard, or even Cicero himself, has the persuasive power to change it.

“Aha!” The wheels had lifted suddenly, spilling Darwin from his position at the end of the beam full-length onto the gluey Norfolk mud. The mare, slipping as she went, managed to keep moving and haul the sulky free of the quag.

Darwin scrambled to his feet and cast an anxious look at the western sky. “An hour to sunset, at most. And feel that breeze. It’s freshening from the east. We have to get back and keep them out of that pit at moonrise.”

Pole was hurriedly handing out silver to their four helpers, then checking the wheels and axles of the sulky. “We’ll never do it. We’ll have to slow our pace when twilight comes on us, and Rebecca has had a hard time getting us clear of the muck. She won’t be able to make her best pace without an hour or two of rest.”

Darwin picked up the reins and grunted his disgust. “It’s scarcely credible. Twenty places between here and Kings Lynn where we could have had a change of horse, and now we find there is none to be had before Lambeth. Come on, Jacob, Rebecca must forget her age for tonight.”

The old horse pricked up her ears at the mention of her name, and pulled willingly south through the deepening dusk. As they drove, the cloud cover broke and dispersed before the freshening wind. The moon shone through the remaining wisps, the sun’s rim dipped below the horizon, and the first stars appeared.

By the time they were finally within sight of the lights of the manor, full dark was upon them. The old mare slowed her pace and stepped gingerly through the gloom, wisely ignoring Darwin’s encouraging words and Pole’s blistering curses.

At last they were in the grounds of the manor. They turned the coach in along the private road, through the landscaped garden with its formal topiary, and on to the servants’ wing, nearest to the west entrance. Pole thrust the reins of the sulky into the hands of a startled footman, who had stepped outside to empty a pail of peelings and kitchen scraps into the poultry run. The two men rushed together through the great house to the east wing dining room.

Bretherton was alone there, sitting at the side table and enjoying a surreptitious glass of wine. He stood up quickly, confused and embarrassed by their sudden entry. Darwin waved away his stammered explanation.

“Where are Mister Philip and Miss Alice?”

“Gone down to the mill, sir, and I fear to the pit also. Miss Alice said that she was going tonight since you had said the Beast might appear, and you had not returned. Mister Alderton said he would go with her for her protection, because he was afraid she would come to harm alone.”

“And Dr. Ledyard?”

“He followed them down, not five minutes ago. He had been out on a case, and he got here after they had left.”

Darwin swore. “Come on, Jacob. And you too Bretherton. Get down to the pit, as fast as you can go. You both have the legs of me. I’ll explain this later.”

Pole at least did not stay to question. He had heard that tone in Darwin’s voice only once before. He grabbed the startled Bretherton by the arm and dragged him off on the double. Darwin followed as fast as his age and weight would permit, but he quickly realized the folly of a headlong rush over unfamiliar ground. He slowed, and was soon far behind.

The full moon had risen in a clear sky, and lit the hill ahead. On its brow Darwin could see the sweeps of the mill turning rapidly in the easterly wind, the latticed arms black and silver in the moonlight. A little closer to him lay the dark opening of the flint pit.

He could see no sign of the others, but as he came closer he heard a loud outcry from the depths of the pit. Hurrying to the edge of it, he looked down. Alice Milner was easily visible in her long, white dress. Next to her, one arm still held in a sling, stood Philip Alderton. They were both watching a group of struggling figures, rolling around the chalky floor. It took some time for Darwin’s eyes to adjust to the deeper darkness below. When they did so, he could see that Pole and Bretherton were holding the struggling figure of James Ledyard firmly between them.

“Hurry up, Erasmus, and give us a hand,” cried Pole, as soon as Darwin called down to them. “He was attacking Alderton, just as we arrived. It’s a good thing Philip has the use of one arm now, or he might have been badly hurt before we could get Ledyard off him.”

Darwin, puffing and gasping for breath after his exertions, did not descend into the pit. Instead, he sat down heavily on the first of the chalk steps, and leaned his broad back against the pit wall.

“I’m not coming down there,” he wheezed, after another few moments to recover his wind. “Get out of the pit. All of you. Quick as you can, unless you want a close look at the Lambeth Immortal. Go on back to the house. I’ll follow you, as soon as I have my breath back. Then I believe I can show you something about this whole business. Go to it!”

His tone was urgent. Still holding Ledyard tightly, the others began to scramble up the chalk steps and move back toward the comforting lights of the manor.

The mysterious clockwork device had been freed of its sacking cover. It stood now on the dining-room table, an intricate assembly of gears and escapements. A shuttered lantern had been placed behind it. At the opposite end of the table sat the somber figure of James Ledyard, his dark clothes scuffed and whitened with chalk marks from the floor of the pit. Pole and Bretherton flanked him, also seated. Their expressions were wary and watchful. A little behind them sat Alice Milner and Alderton. Darwin alone was at the other end of the table, fiddling with the mechanism. The others watched him closely, with looks that ranged from impatience in Alderton to tight-lipped tension in Ledyard.

“How much longer, Dr. Darwin?” Alderton’s voice was exasperated. “We are putting up with your fiddling and posturing from deference to your reputation. But is it not clear from tonight’s events that Ledyard is no more than a common assassin? He was responsible for my injuries and for Barton’s death. Why do we wait here, when we ought to be delivering him to justice?”

“One moment longer,” said Darwin. “I wish to be sure this instrument is exactly set before I use it.” He exchanged a strange look with Ledyard, then bent and made a small adjustment to the brass fan that was fixed to the front of the device above the long pendulum. He squinted along the line of sight, moved the lantern a fraction, and at last seemed satisfied. He straightened up.

“I ask five minutes of your time. Then, if you wish, Dr. Ledyard will be dealt with as Mr. Alderton has suggested. I want to use this device to explain the events at the pit. It was made for us, at my specification, by Harrison the clock maker at Kings Lynn.”

“And at monstrous cost,” grumbled Pole. “It should be made of gold for the price he charged.”

“Hold your fire, Jacob,” said Darwin. “You will see that it is worth the investment we made. Before I engage the gears, let me ask, what did each of you see tonight, when you were down there in the pit?”

There was a moment’s silence. “Dr. Ledyard was attacking Mr. Alderton,” said Pole gruffly. Bretherton nodded his agreement.

“Right. And before that. What did you see, Alice?”

She looked puzzled, and glanced at Philip Alderton next to her before she answered. “Before the attack? Philip and I were alone there at first. There was really nothing to see. Just the walls of the pit, and the sky. Was it not so, Philip?”

Alderton shrugged and looked bored. “No Immortal, if that’s what you’re trying to get to, even though the conditions were supposed to be perfect for its appearance. I had gone there to tell Alice to stop that nonsense, and to return to the manor. I knew from personal experience that there are dangers in that pit. That was my main interest—not sight-seeing down there. Get to the point, and we can all end the evening.”

Darwin looked finally at Ledyard, who first seemed ready to speak, then bowed his head and remained silent.

Darwin shrugged. “I am sure that you all believe that you are telling me the truth,” he said. “It is easy to prove that none of you is telling me the whole truth. The pit is deep, as we all know. But it is not so deep as a well. From where you were standing, you could all clearly see two other things: the moon, and the mill.”

Alice nodded. “Of course.” She turned to Alderton. “Remember, Philip, I said that I could distinguish the small flints in the pit walls, even without the need of a lantern.”

“And of what possible importance is that?” said Alderton.

“Most important,” replied Darwin. “For if you could see the moon, then you could also see the mill, outlined against the moon. That will always be the arrangement when the full moon first rises. As it comes high enough in the sky to be seen from the bottom of the pit, the mill stands so that the sweeps of the mill intercept its light. Now recall, if you can, the words of Gerald Alderton’s warning—for that is what his message was intended to be. Who can remember it?”

“I do,” said Alice softly. “Moon full on the hill.”

“As it was tonight,” said Darwin. “And next?”

“Wind strong on the mill.”

“So that, had the sweeps been left free to turn, they would be moving round at a good pace. If you watch them closely, you will find that their speed depends little on the force of the wind, provided that it is beyond a certain strength. The sweeps turn at a rate that is close to constant. What is our next condition?”

“No cloud to the East,” whispered Alice.

“And why is that so important?” said Darwin. “Why, for the obvious reason. The moon would not otherwise be visible. So we had Gerald Alderton’s conditions. A moon, shining into the pit through the sweeps of the mill. Are these enough to call forth the Beast of the Pit, to rend and to kill? Are they sufficient, or is some other factor needed also? Well, that is what I propose to test, with the aid of this instrument.” He pointed to the iron and brass clockwork assembly in front of him.

The others were looking at him skeptically, except for James Ledyard who was shaking his head in vehement objection.

“Don’t do it,” he said. “For God’s sake, Dr. Darwin, no sane man will seek to conjure demons, no matter where they dwell.”

Darwin hesitated, weighing Ledyard’s words. “That is quite true,” he said at last. “Unless we raise them to exorcise them, once and for ever. It must be done. All of you, watch closely now, keep your eyes fixed on the lantern beam.”

He unshuttered the lamp, and the beam shone out the length of the room, behind Darwin’s mechanism. At a signal from him, Pole stood up and quietly snuffed the candles in their ornate mounts along the walls. He closed the heavy curtains. The room was silent, lit only by the single lantern.

Darwin bent over the instrument in front of the lamp, and released a metal catch on its side. There was a steady whirring noise and the metal fan in front began a slow revolution. Darwin hurried back along the table, paying out a length of line that was attached to the side of the mechanism. He drew it taut and took up a position standing behind the others. The fan blades intercepted the lantern beam, throwing a flickering pattern of light and dark across the interior of the room.

Darwin increased the tension on the line he was holding, and the moving blades turned faster, black bars across the bright beam. He was making delicate adjustments, seeking a particular speed of rotation. Another sound began to grow in the room. Above the steady whir of the machinery there was growing a labored, tortured breathing. It was a strangled growl, deep in the throat.

Alice had turned her head away from the beam. She gave a scream of terror. By her side, Philip Alderton, the veins in his neck and head congested with blood, began to lurch to his feet. The wooden arms of his chair splintered like dry twigs in the grip of his powerful hands. He began to turn toward Alice, huge in the flickering light of the lantern beam.

Darwin released the line. Before Alderton had fully risen, he leaned over him from behind. The doctor’s hands, strong and precise, pressed firmly on Alderton’s carotid arteries. Grunting in his throat, Alderton tried to bring his hands up to free himself from Darwin’s grip. After a few seconds, he swayed forward and fell unconscious to the thick carpet.

Darwin released him as he fell. “Let’s have lights, and quickly,” he said. He took a deep breath, as though he had been starved of air for several minutes. “You, Bretherton, bring servants here and have your Master carried up to his bed. I judge that he will be unconscious at least five minutes. Give him nothing but water when he wakens, and tend him closely until Dr. Ledyard or I have the opportunity to examine him.”

He went over to the clockwork machine and halted the whirling fan. Pole lit a spill from the lantern on the table and applied it to the candles in their wall brackets. As the room grew light again, James Ledyard gave a long sigh. He shook his head as four servants helped Bretherton to lift Alderton’s great body and bear it from the room.

“That is what my mind refused to accept,” he said. “I feared it, but it went against all my training and my innermost beliefs. I told myself that such a thing was impossible. But I was wrong.”

“Not wholly wrong, I think.” Darwin looked sympathetically at the young doctor. “Wrong in detail, but not in essence. Your instinct told the man, but not the method.” He went over to the curtains and opened them wide. The full moon was still visible, now high in the sky.

“Well past midnight, I would judge,” he said. “We must remain awake until Philip Alderton revives. Miss Alice, will you see Bretherton and ask for food to be brought here. Cold roast and a pie will suffice.” He turned again to Ledyard. “And what suspicions had you developed about Philip Alderton? I can perhaps guess some of them, from your behavior when first we met. You will recall your reluctance to involve me in treating his wounds.”

Ledyard pulled his chair closer to the table. He looked sidelong at Alice, as she slipped back into the room and sat down without speaking by the long window. “I had suspicions. I have always denied the supernatural, as inconsistent with a rational view of the world. Yet tonight we saw it with our own eyes, the conclusion that my mind had thought of, but rejected. Philip Alderton is a loup-garou, a lycanthrope. We saw the beginning of the change. If you had not rendered him insensible, he would have killed Alice, and perhaps all of us. Even in his weakened condition Philip Alderton was stronger than any of us. In wolf form he would have been irresistible.”

“He would,” said Darwin. He seated himself opposite Ledyard, and rested his chin on his cupped hands. “But that is not relevant. Your confusion arises from a mistaken belief that the wonderful and the supernatural are the same thing. A mother’s feelings when she sees her baby’s first smile are not beyond the natural. They can be explained well enough by simple laws, that derive from animal urges to perpetuate the species. They are certainly not supernatural. But I would be the last person to assert that her feelings are not wonderful. That distinction is crucial, if we wish to understand the events at Alderton Manor in the last week—and in the past two hundred years.”

Jacob Pole had been standing listening to Darwin, a lit spill still in his hand ready to light his pipe. He swore as the heat reached his fingers, and dropped the spill hurriedly to the floor.

“Pox on it, Erasmus. I suppose you think you are making sense, but it’s all gibberish to me. What the devil has Philip Alderton’s change to a bestial form got to do with smiling babies? We’ve not seen one baby since we came to the manor.”

“Jacob, have you never heard of analogy?” Darwin sighed. “So much for simile. Well, we have time to spare until Philip Alderton wakes. A full explanation will be of interest to everyone.”

He turned to Bretherton, who had quietly entered carrying a board laden with meat pies, cold roast beef, and cheeses. “Is your Master comfortable?”

“Yes, sir. Two men are at his bedside. We will know as soon as he stirs.”

“He may be nauseated when he wakens. Cutting off the supply of blood to the brain, as I did, may produce that effect. You should be prepared for that possibility.”

“Yes, sir.” Bretherton turned, but he hesitated before going to the door. “Doctor, the men are afraid of Mister Alderton. They heard what happened here. Are they safe with him, or might he change again?”

“Heard it from you, I suppose,” said Darwin. “Tell them that they are perfectly safe.”

“But are they?” asked Alice, as soon as Bretherton had left the room. “If Dr. Ledyard be correct, could not Philip change again? It is still the full moon, and the wind still blows strong on the mill.”

“That will not happen. Dr. Ledyard has guessed a part of the truth, but as Philip Alderton’s fiancйe, you must understand everything. It is not pleasant. Tell me, my dear, did you know anything of Philip’s health, or the health of his family, before you came here?”

“Philip’s health was always robust. You have seen how quickly he recuperates from injury. But of his family, I know little. I assumed that they all enjoyed good health.”

“They did,” interrupted James Ledyard. “Charles Alderton was a good age when he died, and had good health prior to his fatal seizure.”

“Very well.” Darwin cut a piece of Caerphilly cheese. “So let us begin only with facts, unencumbered by any theories. You examined the wounds of Philip Alderton, Dr. Ledyard, and you also examined the body of Tom Barton. I believe you drew certain conclusions from those examinations. Would you tell me what they were.”

“They made me very uneasy,” replied Ledyard. “Philip’s wounds had been inflicted by an animal of some sort, that could not have been otherwise from their nature. But Barton’s wounds were different. There were cuts and tears in his skin, but they were not the cause of his death. His skull had been crushed by some terrible impact. I was uneasy when I saw that, and wondered if somehow he and Philip could have fought each other in the pit.”

“Which would reduce the mystery of the Immortal to a common assault,” said Darwin. “I could see no reason for you to discourage my medical examination, unless you suspected your own conclusions and thought to shield someone else from grief and scandal. I think I know whom you hoped to protect. But you missed something. You did not also examine the bodies of the hounds.”

“Of Cambyses and Berengaria?” Ledyard looked puzzled. “Why should I?”

“Why indeed?” said Pole. “Dammit, Erasmus, I told you you’d get nothing poking around inside a couple of dead dogs. It was the messiest business I’ve ever seen.”

“A trifle smelly, I suppose,” said Darwin cheerfully. “That is something to which any doctor quickly becomes accustomed.” He cut a thick slice of roast beef and happily began to apply mustard with a lavish hand. “But it was informative. Now, another fact. Alice, my dear, those hounds were part of the household. Who looked after their care and feeding? I feel sure that it was not Philip.”

“Barton looked after all the dogs,” said Alice. “It was part of his duties. And I suspect that it was his idea to take them along to the mill.”

“Which Philip Alderton readily agreed to,” said Darwin. “That should rule out your notion, Dr. Ledyard, that Alderton had any prior intention to attack Barton using the story of the Immortal as a cover. He would never have permitted the dogs in such a case.” He picked up a thick pie, sniffed at it closely, and laid it again on the table. “Well, what then of the hounds’ wounds? They were like Barton’s, not like Philip Alderton’s. Brains beat out against a hard surface—such as the wall of the pit. When I saw that, the conclusion was clear. Alderton did attack Barton, as you had surmised. The hounds defended Barton, and then themselves. Alderton somehow killed all three, but not without extensive wounds inflicted by the desperate hounds. I’m sorry, my dear,” he added, as Alice gave a low exclamation of horror. “That seemed to be the only explanation. Even with his great strength, it was hard to imagine how he could have done it. But had he done so, his wounds were inflicted by the dogs, not by the Lambeth Immortal. That was my thought, after examining men and hounds.”

“But you raise more questions than you answer,” protested Ledyard. “Charles Alderton also died in the pit, alone. And there has been a legend about the Beast that dwells there for hundreds of years.”

“I know,” said Darwin. “That was a real problem. As I told Jacob, the idea of an immortal being, or one with a vast lifetime, is anathema to me. It would be contrary to the survival of that species. So, I turned the question around. Accept that there had been strange events in the Alderton Pit for hundreds of years. What could it be, that could endure for five or more generations?”

The other three were silent. “Some kind of spirit?” ventured Alice.

“No spirits. For me, that would be the court of last resort, and contrary to all that I believe about the natural world. Is there anything else that could persist so long? I can think of one thing.”

He turned to Ledyard. “Doctor, forget the pit, the Immortal, and all the talk of supernatural events. Imagine that you had just entered the room tonight for the first time. You went to the pit, I know, to protect Alice from what you had come to fear as a werewolf. You may be comforted to know that I believe your attack on Philip Alderton truly saved Alice’s life. But suppose all that had not been in your mind. As a doctor, what would you have diagnosed in Philip Alderton, when he rose from that chair?”

Ledyard stared thoughtfully at the table for a few seconds. He looked up quickly, dark eyes full of surmise. “With those symptoms? They could well have been the onset of grand mal.”

Darwin clapped his hands together. “Exactly. They could indeed have been caused by an epileptic seizure, a convulsive fit. Now that, as we well know, can be carried for many generations. It is a disease with a strong tendency to perpetuate itself through a family line. Charles Alderton, as you had already told me, died of a seizure. He had been alone in the pit when it happened. A severe convulsion, with no medical help nearby, could well be fatal to one of advancing years, who was already in failing health. The strain to the system is great in a case of grand mal.”

“But Philip is not an epileptic,” cried Alice. “His health has always been good. I have known him for over a year, and he has never been sick in all that time.”

“And what does the pit have to do with all this?” objected Ledyard. “If Alderton were to suffer a seizure, why should it be only when he was in a hole in the ground?”

Darwin had picked up the same meat pie and was again sniffing at it suspiciously. “I hope that the cook has not been foolish enough to omit the cloves from a squab pie,” he said in a worried voice. “I can smell mutton, onions and apples—but where are the cloves? I must have a word with her tomorrow.”

He again replaced the pie on the table. “Why in a hole in the ground? Yes, indeed. That was a most difficult question. Accept that Philip killed Barton and the hounds, when he had no control over his actions. Remember, too, his look of the Viking, and recall the berserker, who showed tremendous strength when the killing rage was on him in Norse battles. Recall that Philip’s clothes showed that he had been in some desperate fray at the bottom of the pit. It still left the question: why in the pit? And what had Gerald Alderton’s old warning about the moon, the wind and the mill to do with all this? That was when I decided that I had to look at this pit, when the conditions were right for the appearance of the Beast.”

“I wish you had told me more of this at the time, Erasmus,” grumbled Pole. “I don’t know anything about your grand mal, but the idea of being down there with the Lambeth Immortal was quite a grand enough mal to frighten me. ‘Wind strong on the Mill’ was quite right—you could hear my bowels churning with it from twenty paces.”

“You surprise me, Jacob,” Darwin said. He smiled his gap-toothed smile. “Are you not the man who tells of the midnight ascent of a Shiraz temple, guarded by the spirits of a thousand years of dead priests? You told me that on that occasion you did not turn a hair.”

“Nor did I.” Pole sniffed. “But there were rubies promised at the end of that climb. And a collection of heathen spirits are not half so alarming as a giant hound, ready to rip my backside off while I’m trying to scramble out of the pit.”

“There is a legend of gold near the pit, also,” said Ledyard. “A Viking treasure that was buried somewhere near here.”

“Now, you should never have said that.” Darwin swore heartily. “I’ll never get him away from here now. Jacob, I’m leaving the day after tomorrow, with or without you.” He turned again to Ledyard. “Did you ever read any of the works of Fracastoro of Verona? It is no idle question,” he added, seeing Ledyard’s puzzled look.

Ledyard shook his head.

“You should do so,” went on Darwin. “His book on the methods of infection, De Contagione, sets a new direction for the analysis of disease propagation. He was an acute observer, and an ingenious experimenter. I thought of him when we were in the pit the other night. In one of his works, there is a brief discussion of epilepsy. He asserted, without further comment, that seizures can in some cases be induced artificially in a patient. He talked of exposing the sufferer to a regular, flickering light, as might be accomplished by a rotating wheel that intercepts a beam of sunlight entering a darkened room.”

The others looked again at the instrument that stood at the far end of the table, the fan motionless on its front.

“The sweeps of the mill,” Alice said suddenly. “We saw them tonight, cutting across the moon’s face.”

Darwin nodded. “If James Ledyard had not come tonight, you might not now be a living woman. When you are at the bottom of the pit, the rising moon strikes behind the mill. A strong wind turns the sweeps at their highest rate. The latticework in the rotating arms makes that flickering pattern to the eyes. I noticed it, thought of Fracastoro’s remarks, and tried to time the period of the light. That device”—he pointed along the table—“achieves the same effect, independent of mill, moon, and wind. I had to have a way of varying the pace, since I was not sure of the exact frequency that would affect Philip Alderton.”

“And Charles Alderton was similarly affected?” asked Ledyard.

“And Gerald Alderton also.” Darwin nodded. “Gerald somehow discovered the circumstances that led to his seizures, and he tried to warn his descendants, while not revealing the family’s misfortune to the world. It is ironic to think that it was his message that lured Charles and Philip to the pit, and assured the new appearance of the Immortal.”

Bretherton entered the room as Darwin was speaking. “Mister Philip is awake. He seems very tired, but otherwise in no discomfort. He is bewildered to again be in his bed, when his last memory was of sitting in the dining room. I have told him nothing.”

Ledyard stood up. “I will go to him. He is still my patient, regardless of tonight’s events.”

Alice did not speak, but she rose to her feet and left the room with Ledyard and Bretherton.

“She’s had a terrible shock,” said Pole. He was looking at Darwin shrewdly. “Her fiancй is a murderer. How will she react to that?”

Darwin shook his head. “I cannot tell. Alderton is not a pleasant man, and he is overbearing and graceless with the servants. But he must be pitied.”

“James Ledyard is very fond of Alice,” probed Pole. “And I think that you are very well disposed toward Ledyard. Do you now propose to have Alderton arrested as a murderer, for the killing of Tom Barton?”

Darwin sighed. His grey, patient eyes were troubled and weary. “Don’t bait me, Jacob. You know the answer to that question very well. I am a doctor. My task is to save life, not to take it.”

“And you think that James Ledyard has the same view?”

“His feelings for Alice make his decision harder, but I think he will reach the same conclusion. Our concern must be only to make sure that nothing like this can happen again. The Alderton epilepsy is a rare form, apparently called forth only by that special stimulus of a flickering light. When Alderton finds out what he did, I hope that he will offer himself for treatment or restraint.”

“And if he does not choose to do so?”

Darwin sighed, and shrugged his heavy shoulders. “Then he must be forced to accept medical help, or placed where he can do no further harm. Remember, he must not be blamed for the sickness itself. He cannot help that disease, any more than you are to be blamed for your malaria. But he must accept responsibility for its control. Gerald Alderton faced a similar problem, and when he found out the truth he gave his life to religious works. But he already had children. Philip may decide, faced with the facts, that the Alderton line must end with him. That is not our decision.”

He looked across at the remains of the food. In an absentminded way, he had slowly disposed of most of it, even the despised cloveless squab pie. He pushed his chair away from the table.

“If that happens,” he went on. “I feel sure that James Ledyard will be more than happy to comfort Alice—and even squire her around the tombs of Egypt, if she wishes it. Ledyard has a genuine flair for the interpretation of early history.”

“And you still propose that we should be on our way tomorrow for Lichfield?” asked Pole. “You are really willing to let Philip Alderton, James Ledyard and Alice Milner resolve the rest of this matter between them?”

“I think so.” Darwin yawned and rose heavily from the table. “It is no longer our business. Come on, Jacob. I want to take a look at Philip Alderton, and it’s getting late. We’ve had a busy day. One way or another, we’ve ended a family line, removed a Beast from the pit, and killed an Immortal. Now I have to go and look at a patient.”