Séance for a Vampire, Fred Saberhagen [win 10 ebook reader txt] 📗

Rebecca, of course, had summoned aid as quickly as possible. but dusk, which was gathering at the time the boat tipped, had deepened almost totally into night before there were answering shouts and lights coming through the trees.

“We searched on, of course, through the night. Men and boys from the neighboring houses and farms, as well as from Norberton House, looking along the shore and in the water. Gradually, we all lost hope. No one found... found her... until broad daylight. by then, the girl, whoever she was, had been dead for hours. Her... her body lay on the bank, nearly a mile downstream.” briefly overcome by emotion, the young man had to pause. “Oh God! Oh, God, when I thought that was Louisa–”

In the morning, as we already knew, there had been the limp, white, unbreathing body to be taken up, carried home and mourned over. Drowning was the obvious cause of death. As we had earlier learned, there had been no visible injuries–certainly no more than a few scratches, including the two small marks upon the white, still throat.

Within a day or so, an inquest had been held upon “the poor girl, in the full belief that she was Louisa,” and her body had been duly interred.

When Armstrong had concluded his story, Rebecca Altamont took his hand and did her best to comfort him; and I remember that at the time, it crossed my mind that when grief and terror had been surmounted, there might be the chance of a more tender attachment growing between them.

Presently the young American, recovering himself a little, proposed a plan in which several of we men would return in the same rowboat to the scene of the catastrophe, and one or more might strip and jump into the water to try the experiment of tipping the craft over, just to see how difficult it was, even where the river was shallow enough to allow more or less solid footing on the muddy bottom.

“If it proves really impossible to capsize the boat that way,” he concluded, “then perhaps I was hallucinating after all.”

No one answered that directly. I could see Dracula smile faintly, no doubt at the thought of himself going for a bathe in the bright morning daylight. In a moment, the prince murmured that he would decline to take part in such an exercise. “Running water and I are not always on the best of terms,” he added. “Not to mention my tendency to sunburn.” I could see that this refusal and comment both rather puzzled the young American.

Holmes commended Armstrong’s plan of re-enactment as worthy, possibly useful. “but unfortunately there is no time for it now; there are other matters which much more urgently require our attention.”

Armstrong blinked at him. “Of course. And I still insist that the first of them is finding Louisa, wherever she may be, and thereby putting an end to this nightmare.”

At this juncture Holmes suddenly brought the name of Count Kulakov into the conversation. both of the young people could immediately confirm that there was, or had been, a foreigner of that name living in the neighborhood and attending a few social events, though neither Armstrong or Miss Altamont had ever met the man, or even seen him.

But Rebecca then went on to recall hearing Louisa say that she had met him, and did not like him.

“I remember she told me that on one occasion–months ago, before you were engaged, Martin–he had paid her attentions that were not entirely welcome.”

Armstrong frowned. He harked back to his stay in St. Petersburg and tried to recall anything he might have learned about Count Kulakov during that time. “I do think I might have heard the name somewhere–but where? Is there a possibility that he is somehow involved in this business?”

“A distinct possibility.” Then, changing the subject again, Holmes asked if the Altamonts had any plans for another séance.

Armstrong and Rebecca, during their brief stop at Norberton House before coming to see us, had already been apprised of the intentions of the family there. Louisa’s parents were naturally expecting them to keep those plans secret from any investigators who might interfere.

But Armstrong had his own agenda regarding séances. “If these scoundrels think they can somehow smuggle Louisa into the house again, and then whisk her away as they did last time, they’re in for a surprise. The police are watching too.”

Holmes’s continued questioning of Armstrong and Miss Altamont elicited the information that Sarah Kirkaldy was refusing even to talk about the possibility of another sitting. With her brother’s body in a coffin in the parlor, that struck me as hardly to be wondered at.

The young couple also had information for us regarding the time of Abraham’s funeral, which they were naturally expecting to attend. He had been struck down half an hour before midnight Tuesday and had died on Wednesday morning. The funeral and burial were planned for Saturday morning.

“Probably I shall not attend,” Holmes mused thoughtfully. “Yet I dare not delay interviewing Miss Kirkaldy as long as that. Her own safety, I think, will not permit it, and even tomorrow may be too late.” He shifted the direction of his gaze. “Mr. Prince?”

Dracula, as if he had been expecting to be called upon, smiled and nodded gently. He appeared ready to abandon his hope of catching a nap before sundown. “If you wish, Mr. Holmes, I shall be glad to visit Norberton House. Perhaps I can establish some rapport with Miss Kirkaldy. I will, of course, convey our sympathies to her on the loss of her brother–and it may be that she will tell me interesting things.”

Shortly, the prince and Armstrong had gone off together.

Holmes’s recuperative powers, as I have remarked before, were truly impressive. As nightfall drew near, only half a day following his rescue from the crypt, he was on his feet again, insisting in his masterful way that there be no delay in our investigation. When I remonstrated