Tricks and Treats, page 30
“Of course not, sir,” I said.
Colonel Munson, recently retired, and his daughter Diana came to our district some eight months ago and purchased a house at the edge of the village.
Fresh from Sandhurst and bursting for a good show, he joined his regiment on November 12, 1918, and that initiated a remarkably consistent career. In the Second World War he sat in England during Monty’s North African campaign. When he finally wrangled a transfer to that continent, he arrived three days after Rommel’s command disintegrated. He fretted under the African sun during the invasion of Europe and when at last he breathlessly reached France, the fighting had moved to Belgium. He still fumed at a training depot near Cannes when our forces joined the Russians in Germany. In the 1950’s he set foot in Korea just as the cease fire was announced and during the Suez incident he was firmly stationed at Gibraltar. It is rumored that his last regiment’s junior officers—in secret assembly—formally nominated him for the Nobel Peace Prize.
Freddie sighed. “All I have at my place is a ghostly cavalier who scoots about shouting for his sword and cursing Cromwell. Rather common, don’t you think? Haven’t seen him myself yet, but I’m still hoping.”
Diana frowned in thought. “Who else, besides Father, has seen the Deveraux monster recently?”
“Norm Wakins did a few nights ago,” Freddie said.
I smiled. “Ah.”
Freddie nodded. “I know. Norm hasn’t gone to bed sober since he discovered alcohol. However, he has always managed to walk home under his own power. As a matter of fact, on Friday evening he was quite capable of running. Norm left the village at his usual time—when his favorite pub closed—and his journey was routine until just north of the Worly Cairn when ‘something made me look up.’ And there he saw it—crouching and glaring down at him from one of those huge boulders strewn about. His description of the animal is a bit vague—he did not linger in the area long—but from what I was able to piece together, it was somewhat apelike, with dangling arms, a hideous face, and glowing yellow eyes. He claims that it was fanged and that it howled as it pursued him to his very cottage door.”
“I shall have to carry a revolver loaded with silver bullets,” I murmured.
“Only effective against werewolves.” Freddie stretched lazily. “During the last ninety years the monster has been seen dozens of times.”
Diana turned to me. “Gerald, just how did your family acquire this monster?”
“There are dark rumors. But I assure you, there is no Deveraux monster.”
Freddie scratched an ear. “Gerald’s grandfather had a brother. Leslie. Well, Leslie was always a bit wild and just before he disappeared…”
“He went to India,” I said. “And eventually died there.”
“…just before he disappeared, Leslie seemed to grow a bit hairy.”
I remembered a few paragraphs of the letter my grandfather had left to his son—a letter which had been passed on to me by my father.
* * *
“I first became aware of what was happening when I accidentally came across Leslie at the Red Boar. It is not my usual pub—when I do go to pubs—but I was in the vicinity after seeing my tailor, and thirsty for a pint.
When I entered, I recognized my brother’s back at the bar. I also noticed that the other patrons seemed to shy away from him and that the barmaid, in fact, appeared rather pale.
When Leslie turned at my approach, I stopped in shock. His eyebrows had grown thick and shaggy, his hairline was almost down to his eyes, and his complexion had turned a dark brown. He leered when he saw me, revealing stained yellow teeth.
I had seen him less than two hours before, but now I scarcely knew him!”
* * *
“According to legend,” Freddie continued, “Gerald’s great uncle never did go to Africa, or India, or some beastly place like that. His brother was finally forced to keep him confined. In the east room on the third floor, wasn’t it, Gerald?”
“Someplace about the house,” I said. “Though if you have a monster, I should think that a more logical place to keep him might be in one of the cellars.”
“Too damp,” Freddie said. “And you must remember that your grandfather was rather fond of his brother—monster or not.”
Diana’s eyes widened. “You don’t mean that…?”
“Oh, yes,” Freddie said. “Leslie is supposed to have turned into the Deveraux monster.”
“How ghastly,” Diana said dutifully. “But why?”
Freddie shrugged. “Heredity, possibly. The monster eventually escaped. Bit through his chains, I believe. The Deverauxs always had good teeth.” He looked at me. “Either that or he was let out periodically for a constitutional?”
“My grandfather would never release a monster,” I said firmly. “Matter of honor.”
Freddie calculated. “If this monster is human…I mean solidly animal, then it would be about ninety years old—considering Leslie’s age at the time of his metamorphosis. Rather decrepit by now, I should think. Did you happen to notice its condition, Colonel?”
Colonel Munson glowered at the floor. “Seemed spry enough to me.”
“I know that people have seen the monster,” Diana said. “But is it dangerous?”
Freddie smiled faintly. “Eighty-five years ago, a Sam Garvis was found dead on the moors. He was frightfully mangled.”
“Packs of wild dogs roamed this area in those days,” I said. “Garvis was unfortunate enough to meet one of them.”
“Possibly. But fifteen years later your grandfather was found dead at the base of a cliff.”
“He fell,” I said. “Broke his neck.”
“Probably he fell because he was being pursued by the monster,” Freddie said. “It had been seen just before he died. And then there was your father. Died of fright practically at his front door.”
“I did not faint,” Colonel Munson muttered.
“Father did not die of fright,” I said. “Weak heart plus too much exercise.” I glanced at my watch and rose. “I’ll have to be running along, Diana.”
Freddie got up too. “Mother’s expecting me. Besides, Gerald needs an escort across the moors. Someone fearless.”
The colonel saw us to the door. He was a short, broad-shouldered man with a military mustache in gray prime. “I’m going to hunt the beast.”
“Best of luck,” I said.
“I’ll need it,” he said morosely. “Hunted tigers in Malaya, leopard in Kenya, grizzly in Canada. Never got a blasted one.”
Freddie and I said our goodbyes, adjusted our collars against the late afternoon’s chilly mist, and began walking.
“I rather envy you,” Freddie said.
“I’m perfectly willing to give you the monster.”
“I mean Diana.”
“Quite different.”
Freddie brooded. “Of course, I can’t court her now. You do have some kind of a definite arrangement, don’t you?”
“We’re getting married in June.”
He sighed. ‘‘My only hope is that the monster might slaughter you before then.”
“No assists, please.”
“Wouldn’t think of it. After all, we’ve known each other since time began, so to speak. Served in the same regiment. I saved your life.”
“Barely.”
“I’m fumble-fingers with bandages and the like. Besides, I couldn’t remember where the pressure points were supposed to be.”
We walked silently for a while and then he said, “You don’t really believe there is a monster, do you?”
“Of course not.”
We parted at the branch in the path and I went on toward Stonecroft.
I made my way among the lichen-covered boulders and paused for a moment at the remains of the huts. They were low roofless circles of stones now, but once they had been the dwellings of a forgotten, un-written race. Perhaps they were men erect, but I have always had a feeling that they might have been shaggy and that they crawled and scuttled by preference.
I wondered again what had happened to them. Were they all really dead and dust or did their blood linger in our veins?
The moor wind died, and I glanced up at a faint rustle. A dark figure moved slowly toward me in the swirling wisps of fog.
When it was within twenty feet of me, I recognized Verdie Tibbs.
Verdie is simple. Actually quite simple, and he likes to roam the moors.
I thought he seemed a little disappointed when he saw me, but he smiled as I said, “Hello, Verdie.”
“I thought it was my friend,” Verdie said.
“Your friend?”
Verdie frowned. “But he always runs away.”
“Who does?”
Verdie smiled again. “He has fur.”
“Who has fur?”
“My friend. But he always runs away.” Verdie shook his head and wandered back into the dusk.
I reached Stonecroft ten minutes later. No one seems to know just how old my home is. It had begun existence as a modest stone building in a distant time, but generations of Deverauxs had added to it, the last substantial addition being in 1720. My contribution has been the installation of plumbing, electricity, and the telephone. At the present time, I occupy only the central portion of the three-story structure, and very little of that.
When I reached the studded front door, I heard the great key in the lock and the bolt being drawn. The massive door opened. “Well, Jarman,” I said. “Taken to locking the doors?”
He smiled faintly. “It’s my wife who insists, sir. She feels that it would be wiser at the present time.”
“I’ve never heard that the monster enters buildings.”
“There’s always a first time, sir.”
Jarman, his wife, and their twenty-year-old son Albert, are my only servants at present. I could perhaps do without Albert, but it is family history that the Deverauxs and the Jarmans stepped over the threshold of Stonecroft at approximately the same moment. Turning out a Jarman would be equivalent to removing one of the cornerstones or snatching away the foundation of Stonecroft.
At late breakfast the next morning, I noticed that Jarman seemed worried and preoccupied. When he brought the coffee, I said, “Is there something troubling you, Jarman?”
He nodded. “It’s Albert, sir. Yesterday evening he went to the village. He wasn’t back by ten-thirty, but my wife and I thought nothing of it and retired. This morning we found that he hadn’t slept in his bed.”
“Probably spent the night with one of his friends.”
“Yes, sir. But he should at least have phoned.”
Freddie Hawkins wandered in from the garden and took a seat at the table. “Thought I’d drop over and see if you’re tired.” He helped himself to bacon. “Sleep well last night?”
“Like a top.”
“No sleep walking?”
“Never in my life.”
“You look a bit hairy, Gerald.”
“I need a haircut and I haven’t shaved yet. Bachelor’s privilege.”
“Do you mind if I examine the bottoms of your shoes?”
“Too personal. Besides, if I roamed the moors last night as the monster, I wouldn’t have worn shoes.”
“There is the possibility that you are a monster only from the ankles up, Gerald.” He took some scrambled eggs. “I suppose you’ll be dropping in at the Munsons?”
“Of course.”
“Mind if I toddle along?”
“You’re frightfully infatuated, aren’t you?”
“Fatally. We male Hawkinses are invariably lanky, tired, and muddleheaded, but we are always attracted to the brisk, practical woman. The moment I saw Diana and learned that she had once taken a course in accounting, I experienced an immense electrical reaction. You couldn’t step out of the picture, could you, Gerald? For an old comrade-in-arms?”
‘‘Not the thing to do.”
“Of course,” he said glumly. “Not gentlemanly. It’s the woman’s prerogative to break up things like this.” He seemed to have something else on his mind and after a while he spoke again. “Gerald, last night Diana saw the monster.”
I frowned. “How do you know?”
“She phoned my mother,” Freddie said. “They get along rather well.” He put down his coffee cup. “Just after she retired, Diana thought she heard a noise outside. She went to the window and there in the moonlit garden she saw the monster. By the time she roused the colonel and he found his shotgun, the creature had scampered away.”
I lit a cigar and took several thoughtful puffs.
Freddie watched me. “I don’t know what to make of it either.”
After I shaved, we walked to the Munson house.
Diana met us at the door. “Gerald, I’d like to talk to you alone for a few moments, please.”
Freddie waved a languid goodbye. “I’ll go on to the village. The Red Boar, if anyone needs me desperately.”
When we were alone, Diana turned to me. “Really, Gerald, I cannot accept a monster.”
“But Freddie is really very—”
“I mean the Deveraux monster.”
“Diana, if the animal exists, I believe that it is actually benign.”
“Benign, my foot! That thing is dangerous.”
“Even if it is, Diana, it seems that only the male Deverauxs have anything to fear.”
“Gerald, I am looking at this from the practical point of view. I simply cannot have you murdered after our marriage, especially if we have children. Do you realize that the death duties these days would force me to sell Stonecroft? I might even have to go to London to find some employment. And I do not believe in working mothers.”
“But, Diana…”
“I’m sorry, Gerald, but I’ve been thinking this whole thing over. Especially since last night. I’m afraid I’ll have to call off our engagement.”
“Diana,” I said—and winced. “Is there…is there someone else?”
She thought for a moment. “I’ll be frank with you, Gerald. I’ve been examining Freddie. He does seem to need management. I’ve met his mother and we seem to have a lot in common.”
“Freddie has his ghost too,” I pointed out. “That cavalier who runs about looking for his horse.”
‘‘His sword. But he is entirely harmless. He’s tramped about the grounds since 1643, and has never yet harmed anyone.”
“Suppose he finds his sword?”
“We will cross that bridge when we come to it.”
I went to the window. “That cursed monster.”
“It’s your own fault,’’ Diana said. “You Deverauxs should have watched your genetics and things like that.”
I left her for the village and stopped at the Red Boar. Freddie was rather pale. “I just heard,’’ he said. “Jarman’s son, Albert, was found dead on the moor a half an hour ago. Head bashed in. Quite a messy business.”
“Good Lord! Who did it?”
“No one knows yet, Gerald. But I’m afraid that people are talking about the Deveraux monster.” He smiled faintly. “Gerald, I’m afraid that I’ve given you a rather hard time about that. I just want to say that I really believe that you only need a haircut and that’s all.”
I returned immediately to Stonecroft, but the Jarmans had evidently gone on to the village.
I went upstairs to the east room and unlocked the chest. I removed the envelope and re-read my grandfather’s letter.
* * *
“I believe that the expression on my face gave Leslie considerable pleasure. I pulled myself together and was about to ask for some explanation, but Leslie took my arm and led me outside. “Later,” he said.
We mounted our horses and rode out of the village. After half a mile, Leslie pulled up and dismounted. He removed his hat and then I watched a transformation. He pulled at his forehead and the coarse hair forming his low hairline came away in his fingers. His bushy eyebrows disappeared in the same manner. “And, my dear brother,’’ he said, “my complexion can be washed away, and a good tooth brushing will remove the stain from my teeth.”
“Leslie,” I demanded sternly. “What is the meaning of this?”
He grinned. “I’m creating a monster. The Deveraux monster.”
He put his hand on my shoulder. “Bradley, we Deverauxs have been here since the dawn of history. We were here before the Norman invasion. Deveraux is not French, it is simply a corruption of some pre-historic grunts applied to one of our ancestors. And yet, Bradley, do you realize that we are not haunted by anything or anyone?”
He waved an arm at the horizon. “The Hawkins family has its blasted cavalier. The Trentons have their weeping maid waiting for Johnny to come home from the fair, or some such thing. And even the Barleys, nouveau riche, have their bally butler drifting through the house looking for the fish forks. But what do we have? I’ll tell you. Nothing.”
“But, Leslie,” I said. “These are authentic apparitions.”
“Authentic, my Aunt Marcy! They were all invented by someone with imagination to add to the midnight charm of the homeplace. People are not really repelled by ghosts. They want them. And so, when they do not tell outright lies about seeing them, they eventually convince themselves that they have.
“Bradley,” Leslie continued. “I am creating a Deveraux monster. And what better way than this? The villagers actually see me gradually turning into an apelike creature. And in a week or so, I, the human Leslie Deveraux, will disappear.”
I blinked. “Disappear?”
“Bradley, I’m the younger son. I cannot possibly remain at Stonecroft the rest of my life waiting for your demise. You seem remarkably healthy. I suppose I could poison you, but I’m really fond of you. Therefore, the only course left is for me to go abroad to seek fame, fortune, and all that rot. But before I go—as a parting present, so to speak—I am leaving you the Deveraux monster. I will be seen wandering the moors—in full costume—and pursuing a passerby here and there. I have had a complete suit constructed, Bradley. It is locked in a chest in the east room, and I will don it for my midnight forays.”
I immediately and vigorously launched into argument condemning his scheme as absolutely ridiculous and insane, and, at the time, I thought I had succeeded in convincing him to give up the entire thing. But I should have known Leslie and that half-smile when he finally nodded in agreement.
