George Mann - Associates of Sherlock Holmes

“Unless, of course, another had entered the mansion in your absence and removed the snake, the key, as you say, still slotted in its hole.”

“One might readily wonder that, but further events I am to relate will shed a different light on that consideration.”

Mr Holmes said, “Forgive my interruption, then. Please continue.”

“Well, mysterious though this situation was, I soon turned my attention to the matter that had brought me back to Stoke Moran. My fiancé, Percy Armitage, was dear enough to already be investigating for me a means by which I might sell the estate, as I have no sentimental attachment to it. The house itself, being in such ill repair as you will recall, with the roof of the east wing even having partly collapsed, we thought might best be demolished, but we proposed to leave that decision to whomever proved interested in acquiring the property.

“Meanwhile, with the aid of my stepfather’s former housekeeper, Mrs Littledale, I intended to set about packing up the remainder of my belongings to transport back to my aunt’s home, along with whatever had belonged to my sister that I might care to retain. As for my stepfather’s possessions, I had no desire to own any of it, so poisonous had his memory become to me.

“Mr Armitage had come to meet me upon my return to Stoke Moran, to ensure that I was capable of re-entering the scene of so much horror, but once I had thoroughly reassured him he returned to his home, near Reading, where his occupation made demands on him. I planned to stay only a matter of days at the manor house, but I would be sleeping in my old room, despite the minor repairs that had been begun on it as a ruse to force me to stay in my sister’s old room and thereby make me vulnerable to my stepfather’s dangerous pet. Mrs Littledale consented to sleep in Julia’s room during my stay so that I would not be in the house alone. Though the place repulsed me, rationally I knew the threat had passed. The police had even, at my request, warned off from the property those gypsies whom my stepfather had strangely, given his violent temperament and reclusive nature, permitted and even encouraged to set up their tents on our grounds.

“There was one unresolved and perplexing matter, however, that still caused me a good deal of nervousness, so that I slept at night locked in my room and never ventured from the house after dark. You will remember that in addition to his snake, my stepfather was also in possession of a baboon and a cheetah, which rather than being penned or chained up he allowed to roam freely within the broken-down stone wall surrounding the property, doubtlessly to intimidate and ward off any curious village folk.”

Dr Watson spoke up, “Yes, you told us that a correspondent of Dr Roylott’s had sent these animals and the snake over from India. Holmes and I, much to our unpleasant surprise, crossed paths with the baboon the night we came to investigate your situation, and once we had hidden ourselves in your room we heard the cheetah sniffing around at the shuttered window.”

I said, “The constable I spoke with told me no one in the area had seen either the baboon or cheetah since that night, nor had Mrs Littledale. Only my stepfather had ever cared for them, though I myself had never actually seen him feed them, nor even seen the substantial amounts of food they should require, particularly the cheetah. My fear was that now, starving, they might harm someone, even venture towards the nearby village in the search for food. That no one had seen them suggested three possibilities to me. For one, they may have indeed left the area to seek sustenance. Or else, the gypsies, when they had been shooed off, had taken the beasts with them, for as my stepfather’s only friends they may have been more familiar with the animals than I had known. This would explain why the creatures had never attacked the gypsies. The only remaining possibility was that, weakened with hunger, the big monkey and great cat had taken shelter in the dilapidated wing of the house, having entered it through a broken window or even the caved-in roof, and now lay helpless within.

“That first night back I slept poorly, as one might imagine, having suffered wretched dreams about my stepfather’s pets trying to claw their way into the house. In the morning, as I was taking my breakfast, a letter came that was addressed to Dr Roylott. I accepted it, and recognised at once that it was from my stepfather’s longtime correspondent from India, Mr Edward Thurn. It did not surprise me that Mr Thurn should not yet know of Dr Roylott’s passing, but I was surprised to see that the letter bore a return address from Upper Swandam Lane, indicating that my stepfather’s old friend was now staying in London. You see, the two had become acquainted during that period in which my stepfather lived in Calcutta, where he had first met my widowed mother and where Julia and I lived until only eight years ago. It was my understanding that Dr Roylott and Mr Thurn had become friends when the latter was a patient of my stepfather, shortly before the time Dr Roylott was convicted of murdering his Indian butler in a fit of rage over some thievery, thus incurring his lengthy prison sentence. It was Mr Thurn who had shipped to Dr Roylott the baboon, cheetah, and the snake you identified as a swamp adder, Mr Holmes.

“I felt it would be a violation against Mr Thurn to read his correspondence, though my stepfather was beyond such consideration and undeserving of it, so I refrained from opening the letter, though I bade its deliverer to remain until I could pen a quick reply. In my message I informed Mr Thurn, without going into all the complex and unsavoury particulars, of his friend’s passing. I thought it was the decent thing to do, given that I could hardly imagine he was aware of the use his friend had planned for that venomous serpent. As I was unwilling to preserve any of my stepfather’s belongings and wanted to be rid of them, I invited Mr Thurn to come have a look at them and freely take away whatever might strike his fancy. I knew little of Mr Thurn, never having met him in person myself, but my stepfather had said he was a world traveller with an inquisitive mind and hence an avid reader, so I alluded to Dr Roylott’s library, which, though it consists of many medical texts, also contains numerous books on very esoteric and outré subjects. I sent my letter, but later in the day regretted somewhat my haste in offering Mr Thurn a look at my stepfather’s things before I could consult with my fiancé about their potential value. Chiefly, though, my regret was due to the fact that I did not intend to remain at Stoke Moran for many days and might not still be there should Mr Thurn come visiting from London.

“That night, shortly after Mrs Littledale had retired to my sister’s former room and I to mine, a most strange and horrible sound came to us from outside the house. In her terror, which was no doubt exacerbated by the housekeeper having to sleep in the room into which Dr Roylott had introduced his snake to murder poor Julia, Mrs Littledale came pounding on my door looking quite frantic. I felt certain the weird howling cries came from either the baboon or cheetah, though I could not tell which, and I even wondered if the starving cat was attacking the monkey in its desperation. We stood paralysed, listening at the shuttered window of my room until, despite my horror, my curiosity could bear it no longer. I removed the heavy bar that secured the shutters, and cracked them open enough to peek outside.

“It was a clear night with the moon almost full, and the grounds beyond lay silvered with its glow. On the lawn not far beyond my window a strange figure lay writhing and contorting, while arching back its neck and emitting the uncanny cries we had heard. Indistinct as it was, it could only be the baboon. The primate had always been of a darkish brown colour, and I considered that it might only be the moonlight that made the animal’s body appear so pale that it almost gave the impression of being faintly luminous. It was also of a ghastly, cadaverous aspect, and I had no doubt the pitiful beast was in the final stage of starvation.