"Er… thank you," I said, somewhat nonplussed. Though he was well-spoken for a farmer, I would not have marked him as a great reader; and, more, I consider the perils encountered by Holmes to be far too vivid for impressionable young children. However, it was not my place to correct Robert's treatment of his offspring, particularly in front of his landlord.
"Have you found the villains?" Robert asked. "The villains who have crushed my best wheat field!"
Holmes strode across the field and rejoined us, a frown furrowing his brow. He appeared not even to notice the presence of Sir Arthur's tenant.
"Useless," Holmes said. "Perfectly useless! Here, the artist stood to sketch the scene." He flung his hand toward a spot where white dust covered the scuffed ground. "And there! A photographer, with his camera and flash powder. Fully six reporters and as many policemen trampled whatever evidence might have been left." He did not pause to explain how he could tell the difference between the footprints of reporters and those of policemen. "And, no doubt, when the sightseers arrive by the next train-"
"I can easily warn them off," Sir Arthur said.
"To what purpose? The evidence is destroyed. No! I could conjecture, but conjecture is only half the task. Proof, now; that's a different story."
He glared out into the field as if it had deliberately invited careless visitors to blur the story written there.
"If only," Holmes said softly, "the scene were fresh."
He turned abruptly toward Robert. He had taken the measure of the man without appearing to observe him.
"You saw the lights," Holmes said. "Describe them to me."
"Are you Mr Holmes?"
I blushed to admit, even to myself, that the rough farmer had a better respect for common manners than did my friend.
"Of course I am. The lights."
"The night was calm. A bit of fog, but no rain, no storms. I heard a strange noise. Like a musical instrument, but playing no melody I ever heard. And eerie… It put the chills up my back. Made the baby cry. I went outdoors-"
"You were not frightened?"
"I was. Who would not be frightened? The Folk have fled London, but they still live in the countryside, in our hearts."
"You are a scholar and a folklorist," Holmes said without expression.
"I know the stories my family tells. Old stories. The Folk-"
"The faerie folk!" Sir Arthur said. "I've seen photographs-they do exist."
"The Folk," Robert said, neither agreeing nor disagreeing with Sir Arthur. "The ones who lived in this land before us."
"The lights, man!" Holmes said impatiently.
"At first I saw only a glow against the fog. Then-a ring of lights, not like candles, flickering, but steady like the gaslights of the city. All different colours. Very beautiful."
"Foxfire," Holmes said.
"No, sir. Foxfire, you see it in the marsh. Not the field. It's a soft light, not a bright one. These lights, they were bright. The circle spun, and I thought-"
He hesitated.
"Go on, man!"
"You'll think I'm mad."
"If I do, I shall keep it to myself."
Robert hesitated. "I thought I saw… a huge solid object, floating in the sky like a boat in the water."
"A flying steamship?" I said.
"An aeroplane," said Sir Arthur. "Though I would have thought we'd hear of a pilot in the area."
"More like a coracle," Robert said. "Round, and solid."
"Did you hear its motor?" Holmes asked. "A droning, perhaps, or a sound like the autocar?"
"Only the music," said Robert.
"I've never known an apparition to make a sound like a motorcar," Sir Arthur said.
"What happened then?" said Holmes. "Where did it go, what did it do?"
"It rose, and I saw above it the stars, and Mars bright and red in the midst of them." Robert hesitated, considered, continued. "Then the lights brightened even more, and it vanished in a burst of flame. I felt the fire, smelled the brimstone-At first I thought I was blinded!"
"And then?" Holmes said.
"My sight returned, and the fog closed around me."
"What have you left out?" Holmes asked sternly. "What happened afterwards?"
Robert hesitated, reluctance and distress in every line of his expression.
"The truth, man," Holmes said.
"Not afterwards. Before. Before the coracle disappeared. I thought I saw… a flash of light, another flash."
"From the coracle?"
"From the sky. Like a signal! White light, white, not red, from… from Mars!" He drew in a deep breath. "Then the coracle replied, and vanished."
I managed to repress my exclamation of surprise and wonder. Holmes arched one eyebrow thoughtfully. Sir Arthur stroked his mustache.
"Thank you for your help, Robert," Sir Arthur said as if Robert had said nothing out of the ordinary. "And your good observation."
"Sir Arthur," Robert said, "may I have your permission to salvage what I can from the field? The grain can't be threshed, but I could at least cut the stalks for hay."
"By no means!" Sir Arthur roared in alarm.
Robert stepped back, surprised and frightened.
"No, no," Sir Arthur said, calming himself with visible effort.
"Sir-!"
I was astonished by the tone of protest in which Robert addressed the landowner.
"It's imperative that no one enter the field!" Sir Arthur said. "The pattern mustn't be disturbed till we understand its meaning."
"Very well, Sir Arthur," Robert said reluctantly.
"And set little Robbie and his brothers to keeping the sightseers out of the patterns. They may walk around the edge, but under no circumstances may they proceed inside."
"But, Sir Arthur, this field, every year, has paid your rent. This field keeps the roof over my family's head! Sir Arthur, the crop prices have been low going on two years-"
I did not blame him for his distress, and he was fortunate that Sir Arthur is a humane and decent gentleman.
"You'll not worry about the rent," Sir Arthur said. "I relieve you of the obligation for this year."
On Robert's open face, gratitude and obligation warred.
"I cannot accept that offer, Sir Arthur," he said, "generous though it is, and grateful though I am to you for making it. You and I, we have an agreement. I cannot take charity."
Sir Arthur frowned, that his tenant would not accept such a simple solution to the difficulty.
"We'll discuss this another time," Sir Arthur said. "For the moment, keep the sightseers out of the field." His tone brooked no disagreement.
Robert touched the bill of his ragged cap in acquiescence. We returned to Sir Arthur's mansion, where his gracious wife Jean, Lady Conan Doyle, presided over a fine, if long-delayed, breakfast. After our excursion, I was famished, but Holmes merely picked at his food. This meant the mystery aroused him. As long as it kept his interest, he would hold himself free of the embrace of cocaine.
For the rest of the day, we accompanied Sir Arthur to other fields where theorems had mysteriously appeared over the past few weeks. They were all, according to Holmes, sadly trampled.
We spoke to tenants who had also seen lights in the sky, but the apparitions frightened the observers; each gave a different description, none as coherent as Robert's. I could not imagine what they had actually seen.
My mind kept returning to Robert's description. Cogent though it had been, something about it nagged at my memory. I put my unease own to the mystery of the phenomenon.
And to my wonder. Holmes's skepticism notwithstanding, it would be quite marvelous if we were visited by beings from another world, whether physical or spiritual. Naturally one would prefer friendly beings like those Sir Arthur described, over the invading forces of Mr Wells's scientific romances.