“In that you are correct.” Holmes had obviously been moved by our visitor’s story, and his voice was sympathetic as he asked: “You have gone to the police?”
Altamont shook his head. “I am convinced that it would be useless. So far this pair of villains have been too clever to ask directly for money. but last night–through this unidentified young woman, this confederate they have enlisted to play my daughter’s part–they hinted broadly about missing treasure.”
“Indeed? That seems a new approach.”
“I am determined that it must not be successful.”
“Of course. What exactly was the message conveyed by the young woman–whoever she may have been?”
Altamont seemed to be making an effort to remember. but then he shook his head. “Madeline did not give me the exact words. Some kind of a complaint, regarding stolen property which must be restored–God help us!–so that Louisa’s spirit may obtain eternal rest. I am mortally certain, if my wife does not spontaneously offer to enrich these scoundrels, that in their succeeding performances this supposed treasure will loom larger and larger, until eventually it is made to seem our duty to produce it and hand it over. Meanwhile, there is no law against conducting séances. If there were, I fear that half the people my wife and I know socially would be in gaol.” Our visitor gave the ghost of a smile.
Holmes was wearing that abstracted expression which generally betokened a keen and growing interest. “And you really have no idea of what treasure, or property, was meant?”
Altamont shook his head emphatically. “None whatever. The family estate in buckinghamshire is, of course, quite substantial.”
Holmes nodded, and was silent for a time. Once or twice I thought him on the verge of speaking, but he did not. “How can I help you?” he asked at last.
Altamont smote his fist upon the table. “Expose these wretches for the swindlers that they are! I am sure that events will sooner or later make their true nature plain, even to my wife, but it would be intolerable for this tragic farce to be prolonged. Spare no expense, Mr. Holmes. I want the scales lifted from Madeline’s eyes; it will be hard on her, but the longer the discovery is postponed, the worse it must be. better to face the harsh facts now than to spend years as the slave to a delusion.”
Holmes considered the problem quietly for a minute, then asked: “I suppose your wife wishes to repeat the séance?”
“Indeed she is very eager to do so, even against my opposition, and this morning she talked of little else. In fact she has pleaded with me to be present at the next sitting. Madeline has tried also to enlist the sympathy of our surviving daughter, Rebecca, and of young Martin Armstrong, the man to whom Louisa was to have been married next month. but I am sure that Martin, being a sensible young man, entirely agrees with me.”
“And supposing such a repeat performance does take place, when and where will it be held?”
Our client made a gesture signifying resignation. “No doubt Madeline will want to have it in our own house, as before. As far as I know, she has not settled on a time. Perhaps my absolute and solemn prohibition would delay the affair by as much as a day or two.” Altamont smiled grimly. “If either of you gentlemen are married, you will understand. I believe that my wife still hopes to convince me to attend.”
“She is really eager for you to do so?”
“Oh, not if I remain hostile to the idea. She is eager, as she puts it, for me to demonstrate an open mind. I have the impression that the Kirkaldys, knowing me to be a hardened skeptic, are not quite so anxious for my presence at their next performance. Of course I have not spoken with them on the point.”
It was decided among the three of us that a date for the next séance should be set, and that Holmes and I would attend, probably incognito, playing the roles of amateurs in psychic research, business acquaintances of Altamont who had convinced him to be open-minded about the possibility of communication with those who had gone beyond the veil.
Before our visitor departed, we obtained from him some detailed information relevant to the case, including the address and place of employment of Martin Armstrong. The young man, we learned, was employed as a correspondent for an American newspaper, and was now working out of an office in Fleet Street.
When our client had departed, my companion turned to me with an expression half serious and half quizzical. “Well, Watson?”
“Mr. Altamont has a just grievance, in my view.”
“So it would seem, at least on present evidence. but we must, I think, move carefully. The most obvious, worldly, down-to-earth explanation in matters involving supposed occult activity is not always the correct one.”
Something in my companion’s voice as he uttered those last words again made me look at him closely. I frowned. “Holmes–”
“Yes, old fellow, I have in mind a subject on which we have not spoken for a long time. Six years ago we shared a certain experience– one which led us rather deeply into what many would call the world of the supernatural. Those events have not been a frequent subject of conversation between us since then–”
“No,” I said. “No, they have not.”
He smiled faintly. “–but I think I may safely assume that you have not forgotten the affair?”
“I have not forgotten, Holmes. I never shall.”
“Nor have I. It would be impossible to forget any detail of the incontrovertible evidence we both observed then, of human life beyond... if not beyond death, at least beyond burial and the grave.”
“Then it is your belief...?” Still the words were hard for me to say. I am sure that I unconsciously lowered my voice. “Your belief that the Altamont girl may have become... a vampire?”
He sighed, and began to reload his pipe. “I say only that, on the basis of the evidence so far, we must keep our minds open to that possibility. Are you with me, Watson?”
“Of course!” And I endeavored to put into my voice a heartiness I was far from feeling.
For the next hour or so Holmes and I discussed mediums and their methods; he proved to be well versed in the more common methods of fraud, and outlined some of them.
I objected: “but if the events in the Altamont household took place just as our visitor described them, it is hard to see how any of these methods of deception could have been employed.”
“Not at all. Remember that our report of the incident comes only at third-hand. And, as I cautioned our client, it is incredible how easily someone willing to believe, as Mrs. Altamont so obviously is, may be deceived.”
Holmes also outlined a plan to look into the background of the medium–he proposed to begin by consulting Langdale Pike–I believe I have mentioned the man before, in other accounts of Holmes’s achievements, as his human book of reference upon all matters of social scandal.
Louisa’s fiancé, the young American Martin Armstrong, proved to be an intense, energetic man obviously still grieved by his loss. He had met Louisa in his native country, while she was visiting there with friends, and had then followed her back across the Atlantic. For some months before coming to London Armstrong had served as the St. Petersburg correspondent for his American newspaper, one that proudly continued the tradition of the brash New York Herald, which had been founded some decades earlier by James Gordon bennett.
Armstrong had been much pleased to be reassigned to London, where he would be near Louisa Altamont. Shortly after his arrival, around the middle of May, he had proposed and had been accepted.
Holmes was now eager to seek him out, and with a little judicious use of the telephone it was soon arranged that Mr. Martin Armstrong should lunch with us at Simpson’s-in-the-Strand. To judge by the eagerness of the voice on the other end of the line, the American journalist was very well pleased at the prospect of obtaining an exclusive interview with the famous Sherlock Holmes.