What should she do now? It was quite clear that Ross was not here as Roger's friend, whatever he had claimed. And he had called that creature of his a burglar! It was obvious to her that Ross was here to steal something from the house. She felt angry and betrayed, but she didn't know how to handle this. If she told her father what she'd heard, Papa would probably have Ross horsewhipped. The only thing Alice could think of was to tell Roger and let him handle his so-called friend. She hurried off to find her fiance.

Doyle had breakfasted and shaved by the time that the one-armed ex-sailor, Brackley, turned up on the Hope Hope to say that Constable Faversham would like him to come along. Doyle had already cleared this with Captain Gray, so he scooped up his medical bag and followed Brackley with antic.i.p.ation of an interesting day. to say that Constable Faversham would like him to come along. Doyle had already cleared this with Captain Gray, so he scooped up his medical bag and followed Brackley with antic.i.p.ation of an interesting day.

He'd had a good nights sleep, and had risen early to check through the few medical volumes he'd brought with him on the voyage. There had been references to shark attacks in one of these but, as Doyle had already felt certain, the patterns didn't match the case of the previous evening. Nothing more had really occurred to him, but the conviction had grown that this was no shark attack, and that there was a definite mystery behind the corpse.

'Whatever happened to the poor man's boat?' he asked Brackley, as they hurried along the quay toward the Pig and Thistle.

'The men brought it in, sir,' the retired sailor answered. 'It's berthed behind the tavern. Will you be wanting to see it later?'

'I believe so,' Doyle replied. 'There may be evidence or clues aboard it that will aid in the investigation of this matter.'

Taking one of his few remaining half-crowns from his pocket, he slipped it to the one-armed man. This would be a good investment if a story came out of this mystery. 'See that it remains undisturbed, will you?'

Brackley gave him a broken-toothed grin. 'You can count on me, sir.'

'I'm sure I can.' Doyle felt that he'd done all that he could for the moment. There was a real sense of excitement growing within him. It was a shame that the old man had died and perished so brutally but it might be the opportunity he'd been praying for.

The Pig and Thistle was a smallish building, a typical country pub. There was a tap bar and a smoking lounge, plus a couple of rooms upstairs for the landlord and his wife, and one for the barmaid. There were two other rooms that were rented out if they were needed, but Doyle knew they were currently empty. There weren't a lot of travellers that pa.s.sed through Bodham. If the Hope Hope sailed on before he was done, Doyle was certain he could take one of the rooms for a modest price to enable him to see this through to the end. sailed on before he was done, Doyle was certain he could take one of the rooms for a modest price to enable him to see this through to the end.

The body of old Ben Tolliver was laid out in the stables behind the tavern. Constable Faversham was seated outside the small building, dozing slightly in the morning suns.h.i.+ne. Doyle wondered if the man had stood or sat on guard all night.

He had mentioned something about being the only law officer in the area. He was probably glad to have Brackley around to carry messages for him.

Faversham snapped awake with a jerk as Doyle hurried over. 'Good morning, sir,' the constable said, rising uncomfortably to his feet and straightening his tie. 'I was just catching a few nods, waiting for you all to arrive.'

Doyle pulled out his watch. 'Almost eight thirty,' he observed. 'Do you think that Sir Edward will be here soon?'

'I'm expecting him any time, sir,' Faversham answered. 'Ah, this is Doctor Martinson now.'

Doyle glanced around to see an elderly man walking carefully across the tavern's cobbled yard. Some of the stones were rather slippery from ale spilled the previous night. Martinson was clearly into his sixties, but a spry old bird for all that. He had an aquiline nose and a shock of white hair that gave him more than a pa.s.sing resemblance to an eagle. Doyle stuck out his hand as the older man approached.

's.h.i.+p's Surgeon Doyle,' he introduced himself.

'Martinson,' the other replied, shaking his hand firmly. 'I gather from Faversham here that you made a preliminary examination of the body last night?'

'Purely a cursory one, I'm afraid,' Doyle answered. 'The light was very poor, but I feel certain that Tolliver was not attacked by a shark. What did kill him is a mystery thus far.'

'Ah.' Martinson chuckled. 'I, too, am sure he wasn't killed by a shark,' he commented. 'I didn't need to examine the body to tell you that. There have been no such attacks around here for decades, to my knowledge, and certainly not in Bodham Bay.' He winked. 'So we'll have our work cut out for us today, I imagine.'

'Rather,' agreed Doyle. He was quite warming up to the old man. 'I trust you have no objection to my a.s.sisting you?'

'My dear chap, of course not! Many hands make light work, as they say, and at my age you appreciate the lightest possible work.' He spun around to face the street. 'Ah, this must be Sir Alexander! Capital, we can soon commence!'

A landau drew to a halt outside the tavern entrance and the footman jumped down to offer his hand to the first pa.s.senger that descended. To Doyle's surprise and pleasure, it was a young woman. And a pretty one, too! She was followed by an older man, richly dressed, and clearly the Justice himself. The final figure who emerged from the carriage caught Doyle's eye. He was almost as interesting as the young woman. In his cape coat and deerstalker hat, with a prominent nose and a steely eye, he was clearly a man to be reckoned with.

The trio came through the gateway and into the courtyard. Doctor Martinson waved as they approached. 'Glad you could make it, Sir Alexander,' he called. 'Who are your friends?'

Sir Alexander shook the medical man's hand. 'Glad you're here, Walter. Allow me to introduce Miss Sarah Jane Smith and the Doctor.'

'Doctor, eh?' asked Martinson. 'Of what?'

'Everything but medicine,' the Doctor replied, his gaze resting on Doyle. 'Haven't we met somewhere before?'

'I don't believe so,' Doyle replied. 'You don't look like the sort of man I'd forget in a hurry.' He held out his hand.

's.h.i.+p's Surgeon Doyle.'

Sarah's eyes lit up at this. 'Off the Hope Hope?' she asked eagerly.

Doyle was taken somewhat aback at her knowledge. 'Why, yes. But how the blazes did you know that?'

Sarah laughed in delight. 'I've read your stories,' she told him. To his surprise, she shook his hand as a man would have done. 'You're one of my favourite authors, you know. Arthur Conan Doyle.'

Doyle felt himself blus.h.i.+ng. 'Actually you flatter me too much, Miss Smith,' he replied. 'I've had only one story published so far, but it's most gratifying to know that you enjoyed it so much.'

'I'm sure we'll be reading much more by you in the future,' Sarah told him. 'You're a natural.'

'Well,' broke in Sir Alexander, 'I hate to stop all this cheeriness, but we do have work to do, gentlemen and lady.'

Faversham stepped forward. 'Ah, begging your pardon, sir, but . . .' He shuffled somewhat uncomfortably. 'I don't think that the body is a fit sight for a lady.'

'Oh. Quite.' The Justice turned to Sarah. 'Perhaps you had better wait for us here, young lady.'

'What?' Sarah's face fell. 'Come off it! I'm not squeamish, I'll have you know.'

The Doctor patted her shoulder. 'I think it would be better if you waited, Sarah,' he said. 'I'll fill you in later.'

'Well, thanks a lot!' said Sarah huffily. She threw her hands in the air and stalked off. Typical! Going off to have all the fun and leaving her to her own devices. As if she hadn't seen plenty of dead bodies in her travels with the Doctor. 'What a start to the day,' she grumbled. 'I'll bet it just gets worse.'

There was a low whistle from outside the gateway. Sarah hurried over and peered around the corner straight into three familiar faces.

'Morning!' said Rudyard Kipling breezily.

'It just got worse,' sighed Sarah.

The stable had clearly been neglected for a number of years. There were small holes in the walls that allowed light in, and windows that were so encrusted with dirt that they didn't. Cobwebs laced the whole structure possibly helping to hold it together, Doyle mused and the only evidence of any recent use was the empty ale barrels stacked for collection. There was a musty smell, mixed with the sickly stench of decay permeating from the direction of the body. Faversham had been thoughtful enough to provide nosegays for them, which offset this a trifle.

Half a dozen barrels had been pressed into service to act as a table to bear Tolliver's corpse. It was still covered over with the tarpaulin, presumably to keep off the rats that Doyle had heard scurrying for cover when they had entered the stable.

Faversham started to unlace the covering, and glanced up at the Doctor. 'Would you happen to be the gentleman that Scotland Yard promised to send out, sir?'

The Doctor frowned. 'You couldn't possibly have contacted the Yard yet about this matter,' he observed.

'No, sir, not about this. About the children.'

'Ah!' The Doctor shook his head slightly. 'I have on occasion worked with Scotland Yard, constable, but I remain for the most part an independent observer. I am here only to offer my expertise if Sir Alexander or either of these medical gentlemen wish to avail themselves of it.'

'I see, sir.' Faversham sounded disappointed.

Doyle asked, 'Children?'

Sir Alexander sighed. 'Some of the local urchins have gone missing, it appears. It didn't seem to me to be anything for concern, as Constable Faversham is quite capable. But one of the boys from Westward Ho!, the local school, went missing several days ago. His parents are apparently well connected, and they demanded a plea for aid from the Yard. So far, other than promises, nothing much has materialized.'

'Would that be a boy named Anders?' asked the Doctor.

'That's right, sir,' Faversham said, pausing in his work of uncovering the corpse. 'Joshua Anders. I thought you weren't involved with that?'

'I didn't think I was,' the Doctor said thoughtfully. 'But Miss Smith and I met three of his friends last night. They mentioned his name. How many are missing in all?'

'Hard to say, sir,' Faversham informed him. 'Seeing as how most of them have neither kin nor friends, it's hard to be exact.'

'Be inexact then.'

'About fifteen, perhaps more,' Faversham admitted.

'Fifteen children missing!' the Doctor exclaimed. He rounded on Sir Alexander. 'And you didn't think that significant?'

'They are merely wharf rats and street urchins, Doctor,' the Justice protested. 'We don't know that anything has happened to them at all.'

'Of course not,' the Doctor agreed sarcastically. 'Probably just popped off down to Brighton for a paddle in the sea.

h.e.l.lo!'

The constable had finished unwrapping the body now, and pulled off the tarpaulin. The Doctor peered at it in fascination. Both Sir Alexander and Doctor Martinson paled and turned away. 'What do you make of it, Doyle?' asked the Doctor.

Doyle stepped forward eagerly. 'As you can see, Doctor,' he explained, 'Tolliver was killed by the bite to the face. The teeth have left striations on what remains of the frontal and sphenoidal bones. The arm was taken off in a subsequent attack after he was already dead. There is too little blood marking the side of his jacket, so the heart must have stopped pumping by that point in time.'

The Doctor nodded approvingly. 'Excellent deduction, Doctor.' He whipped a small magnifying gla.s.s from a pocket and bent over the grisly remains of the head, apparently oblivious to the nauseating stench. 'And what do you make of the angle of incisions?'

Doyle frowned. 'I'm not sure I follow you, Doctor.'

'Well, look at the way the bones have been shattered in the face and how the flesh is torn from the arm.' He glanced back at the two older men. 'I'm sorry; would either of you care to take a closer look? I didn't mean to hog the best position.'

'No, Doctor,' Sir Alexander replied, blanching at the suggestion. 'Please, carry on. I'm more than happy to listen.'

'As you wish.' The Doctor seemed puzzled at this reaction. Ignoring it, he turned back to Doyle. 'Do you think a shark could have done this?'

Grinning, Doyle shook his head. 'No. Sharks always attack the limbs, and invariably the limbs of a person in the water.

But the limb was severed after the bite to the face. And Tolliver was never in the water.' He gestured at the corpse's waistcoat pocket. 'As you see, his baccy pouch is dry.'

'Capital!' approved the Doctor, slapping Doyle heartily on the back. 'Absolutely sound reasoning. You noticed, also, no doubt, that the angle of the bite is all wrong. I think we can safely a.s.sume that poor Tolliver here was staring down at whatever killed him. The attacker ripped off the front of his face. Sharks have their mouths on the underside of their heads, so to be able to rip off the face, a shark would have had to have been swimming on its back at the time. So we can discount that. Whatever creature did this has to have its mouth forward on its head and offhand I can think of no species of aquatic animal that is native to the Earth that might be held accountable.'

Doctor Martinson took a nervous step forward. 'Does it have to be a marine creature that killed him, Doctor?' he asked.

'After all, Tolliver was found on his boat, which was drifting. Is it not possible that there was on board with him some terrestrial animal, such as a savage dog, that killed him?'

'And then vanished?' asked the Doctor sceptically. He shrugged. 'It is a possibility,' he agreed. 'After all, Sir Edward and his friends were hunting some such creature on the moors last night.'

'Well, there you are then,' Martinson exclaimed. 'Surely that is the creature we're after?'

'I don't believe so.' The Doctor looked very thoughtful. 'For one thing, it was quite a distance inland and not much later than the time when Tolliver died. I myself saw the beast, and it showed no signs of having been for a swim.' He gave a sudden smile. 'Still, there's one way to be certain, isn't there?' He turned to Faversham. 'I take it that Tolliver's boat is somewhere around and hasn't been touched?'

'Aye, sir. It's moored up just behind the tavern.'

'And,' added Doyle, 'I paid Brackley to keep an eye on it and see that it wasn't disturbed.'

'Excellent,' approved the Doctor. 'I'm beginning to think that I'm really not needed here at all. You seem to be proceeding perfectly well without my aid.'

Sir Alexander frowned. 'But what will the boat tell us about Tolliver's death?' he asked.

'Where it occurred,' the Doctor answered.

'But we know where it occurred,' the Justice retorted. 'At sea.'

'Yes, but from the sea or from the boat?' asked the Doctor. 'If the creature that killed him was on the vessel with him, then there will be buckets of blood all over the deck. If it was from the sea, then the majority of the blood would have gone into the water and the decks will be relatively clean.'

'Wonderful!' exclaimed Doyle. 'You are most certainly proving your worth, Doctor. Well, are we done here?'

'Almost,' the Doctor answered. 'Let's see if we can't make poor Tolliver bear a little further witness against his slayer first.'

'Surely,' objected Doctor Martinson, 'we've got all we can already from this noisome relic?'

The Doctor gave him a wide smile. 'Bear with me, Doctor. Let's make a few small a.s.sumptions. First of all, whatever killed Tolliver didn't do it for food. An animal that hunts aims the blow at a vulnerable area a limb or the throat, depending on whether it kills by biting or strangulation. This creature instead attacked the face. A small target, if you think about it.'

'But the only one offered if Tolliver was leaning across the bows of his boat,' Sir Alexander put in.

'Correct!' The Doctor's eyes sparkled. 'Another blow against the idea that his killer was on the boat with him. Now, the body was on the boat when it was found, so Tolliver must have fallen backwards. The missing limb led Doyle to suggest that the killer attacked the corpse again as it fell. There wasn't a great deal of time for that, so the odds are that there were in fact two creatures that attacked him, almost simultaneously: one killing first with the bite to the head, the second severing the limb.'

'I say!' exclaimed Sir Alexander. 'So now instead of one mysterious killer creature, we now have two?'

'More than that,' the Doctor commented. 'Two hunting together. Intriguing, isn't it?'

'Intriguing?' The Justice s.h.i.+vered. 'It's downright scary.'

'That too,' agreed the Doctor. He turned to Faversham. 'Well, that's about it for here. Perhaps we could examine the boat now?'

'Very good, sir. If you care to go on ahead, I'll cover the body again.' The constable turned to Sir Alexander. 'Can I inform the rector that the body is ready for burial now, sir?'

'You can indeed,' Sir Alexander answered. 'The sooner the better, if you ask me.'