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  Kate let out a breath, and clung to Beauregard.

  He kissed her hair.

  *

  By dawn, Declan Mountmain was in custody, apprehended at Victoria Station attempting to board the boat train. With two corpses (three, counting the mummy) in his house, he would be detained for some time. The Seven Stars, Beauregard had decided, should remain where it was. It did not strike him as a fitting addition to Her Majesty’s collection and he had taken on himself to relinquish it for the nation. He had an idea Victoria would approve.

  Kate, who had to keep out of the way while Lestrade was poking around, sat on the front steps, waiting for him.

  “The house is full of stolen property,” he told her. “Manuscripts from university libraries, impedimenta from museums. There are even body parts, too repulsive to mention, which seem not to be of ancient origin.”

  “I told you Declan Mountmain was a bad ’un.”

  “He’ll trouble us no longer.”

  Kate looked at him oddly.

  “I wouldn’t be so sure of that, Charles. We can’t exactly stand up in court and honestly tell the tale, can we?”

  Kate scratched her ankle, where the mummy had grasped.

  “I’d love to write it up, just to see Stead’s face as he spiked the story.”

  She stood up, linked arms, and walked away from Mountmain’s house. It was the Day of the Jubilee. Flags were unfurled and streets were filling, as London began its great celebration.

  “I shall not get to go to the Tower,” Kate said. “And I had a dress picked out.”

  “It’s always possible you’ll end up in the Tower.”

  She punched his arm.

  “Get away with you, Charles.”

  “I’m afraid the best I can offer is a trip to the British Museum, to see Pai-net’em returned to his sarcophagus. I doubt he’ll go on exhibition. My recommendation is that he be misfiled and lost in the depths of the collection.”

  Kate was thoughtful.

  “Nothing’s solved, Charles. The Seven Stars remains a mystery. We’re not closing the book, but leaving the story to be taken up by the as-yet unborn. Is that not always how it is?”

  Carnacki

  THE HORSE OF THE INVISIBLE

  by WILLIAM HOPE HODGSON

  Thomas Carnacki uses a combination of contemporary science and occult wisdom in his battles with the supernatural. Along with such modern equipment as a flash-camera, he draws upon the knowledge contained in a 14th-century Sigsand Manuscript and utilises the Saaamaaa Ritual to protect himself and others against the forces of evil. All his cases are related as after-dinner stories told to the narrator and other acquaintances invited to Carnacki’s house in Chelsea’s Cheyne Walk. At the end of each narrative, the detective abruptly dismisses his guests and sends them out into the night to ponder upon what they have just heard.

  Probably inspired by the incredible success of Algernon Blackwood’s collection of stories, John Silence (1908), William Hope Hodgson’s (1877–1918) first Carnacki story, ‘The Gateway of the Monster’, appeared in the January 1910 edition of The Idler. It was followed by four more tales in the magazine and another in The New Magazine, before all six were collected in Carnacki The Ghost-Finder (1913). When the book was published by August Derleth’s Mycroft & Moran imprint in 1947, three more stories were added. These included ‘The Haunted Jarvee’, which had previously appeared in the March 1929 issue of The Premier Magazine, plus ‘The Find’ and ‘The Hog’, although there has been much speculation over the years that the latter two were in fact written by Derleth himself.

  Since then, Carnacki’s exploits have been chronicled by, amongst others, Rick Kennett, A.F. Kidd, Andrew Cartmel, Barbara Hambley, Alan Moore, John R. King, William Meikle and Guy Adams.

  The following story was effectively dramatised on television in 1975 as an episode of The Rivals of Sherlock Holmes, starring Donald Pleasence as Carnacki.

  I HAD THAT afternoon received an invitation from Carnacki. When I reached his place I found him sitting alone. As I came into the room he rose with a perceptibly stiff movement and extended his left hand. His face seemed to be badly scarred and bruised and his right hand was bandaged. He shook hands and offered me his paper, which I refused. Then he passed me a handful of photographs and returned to his reading.

  Now, that is just Carnacki. Not a word had come from him and not a question from me. He would tell us all about it later. I spent about half an hour looking at the photographs which were chiefly “snaps” (some by flashlight) of an extraordinarily pretty girl; though in some of the photographs it was wonderful that her prettiness was so evident for so frightened and startled was her expression that it was difficult not to believe that she had been photographed in the presence of some imminent and overwhelming danger.

  The bulk of the photographs were of interiors of different rooms and passages and in every one the girl might be seen, either full length in the distance or closer, with perhaps little more than a hand or arm or portion of the head or dress included in the photograph. All of these had evidently been taken with some definite aim that did not have for its first purpose the picturing of the girl, but obviously of her surroundings and they made me very curious, as you can imagine.

  Near the bottom of the pile, however, I came upon something definitely extraordinary. It was a photograph of the girl standing abrupt and clear in the great blaze of a flashlight, as was plain to be seen. Her face was turned a little upward as if she had been frightened suddenly by some noise. Directly above her, as though half-formed and coming down out of the shadows, was the shape of a single, enormous hoof.

  I examined this photograph for a long time without understanding it more than that it had probably to do with some queer case in which Carnacki was interested.

  When Jessop, Arkright and Taylor came in Carnacki quietly held out his hand for the photographs which I returned in the same spirit and afterwards we all went in to dinner. When we had spent a quiet hour at the table we pulled our chairs round and made ourselves snug and Carnacki began:—

  “I’ve been North,” he said, speaking slowly and painfully between puffs at his pipe. “Up to Hisgins of East Lancashire. It has been a pretty strange business all round, as I fancy you chaps will think, when I have finished. I knew before I went, something about the ‘horse story,’ as I have heard it called; but I never thought of it coming my way, somehow. Also I know now that I never considered it seriously—in spite of my rule always to keep an open mind. Funny creatures, we humans!

  “Well, I got a wire asking for an appointment, which of course told me that there was some trouble. On the date I fixed old Captain Hisgins himself came up to see me. He told me a great many new details about the horse story; though naturally I had always known the main points and understood that if the first child were a girl, that girl would be haunted by the Horse during her courtship.

  “It is, as you can see already, an extraordinary story and though I have always known about it, I have never thought it to be anything more than an old-time legend, as I have already hinted. You see, for seven generations the Hisgins family have had men children for their firstborn and even the Hisgins themselves have long considered the tale to be little more than a myth.

  “To come to the present, the eldest child of the reigning family is a girl and she has been often teased and warned in jest by her friends and relations that she is the first girl to be the eldest for seven generations and that she would have to keep her men friends at arm’s length or go into a nunnery if she hoped to escape the haunting. And this, I think, shows us how thoroughly the tale had grown to be considered as nothing worthy of the least serious thought. Don’t you think so?

  “Two months ago Miss Hisgins became engaged to Beaumont, a young Naval Officer, and on the evening of the very day of the engagement, before it was even formally announced, a most extraordinary thing happened which resulted in Captain Hisgins making the appointment and my ultimately going down to their place to lo
ok into the thing.

  “From the old family records and papers that were entrusted to me I found that there could be no possible doubt that prior to something like a 150 years ago there were some very extraordinary and disagreeable coincidences to put the thing in the least emotional way. In the whole of the two centuries prior to that date there were five firstborn girls out of a total of seven generations of the family. Each of these girls grew up to Maidenhood and each became engaged, and each one died during the period of engagement, two by suicide, one by falling from a window, one from a ‘broken-heart’ (presumably heart-failure, owing to sudden shock through fright). The fifth girl was killed one evening in the park round the house; but just how, there seemed to be no exact knowledge; only that there was an impression that she had been kicked by a horse. She was dead when found.

  “Now, you see, all of these deaths might be attributed in a way—even the suicides—to natural causes, I mean as distinct from supernatural. You see? Yet, in every case the Maidens had undoubtedly suffered some extraordinary and terrifying experiences during their various courtships; for in all of the records there was mention either of the neighing of an unseen horse or of the sounds of an invisible horse galloping, as well as many other peculiar and quite inexplicable manifestations. You begin to understand now, I think, just how extraordinary a business it was that I was asked to look into.

  “I gathered from one account that the haunting of the girls was so constant and horrible that two of the girls’ lovers fairly ran away from their ladyloves. And I think it was this, more than anything else that made me feel that there had been something more in it than a mere succession of uncomfortable coincidences.

  “I got hold of these facts before I had been many hours in the house and after this I went pretty carefully into the details of the thing that happened on the night of Miss Hisgins’ engagement to Beaumont. It seems that as the two of them were going through the big lower corridor, just after dusk and before the lamps had been lighted, there had been a sudden, horrible neighing in the corridor, close to them. Immediately afterward Beaumont received a tremendous blow or kick which broke his right forearm. Then the rest of the family and the servants came running to know what was wrong. Lights were brought and the corridor and, afterwards the whole house searched, but nothing unusual was found.

  “You can imagine the excitement in the house and the half incredulous, half believing talk about the old legend. Then, later, in the middle of the night the old Captain was waked by the sound of a great horse galloping round and round the house.

  “Several times after this both Beaumont and the girl said that they had heard the sounds of hoofs near to them after dusk in several of the rooms and corridors.

  “Three nights later Beaumont was waked by a strange neighing in the nighttime seeming to come from the direction of his sweetheart’s bedroom. He ran hurriedly for her father and the two of them raced to her room. They found her awake and ill with sheer terror, having been awakened by the neighing, seemingly close to her bed.

  “The night before I arrived, there had been a fresh happening and they were all in a frightfully nervy state, as you can imagine.

  “I spent most of the first day, as I have hinted, in getting hold of details; but after dinner I slacked off and played billiards all the evening with Beaumont and Miss Hisgins. We stopped about ten o’clock and had coffee and I got Beaumont to give me full particulars about the thing that had happened the evening before.

  “He and Miss Hisgins had been sitting quietly in her aunt’s boudoir whilst the old lady chaperoned them, behind a book. It was growing dusk and the lamp was at her end of the table. The rest of the house was not yet lit as the evening had come earlier than usual.

  “Well, it seems that the door into the hall was open and suddenly the girl said:—‘S’ush! what’s that?’

  “They both listened and then Beaumont heard it—the sound of a horse outside of the front door.

  “‘Your father?’ he suggested, but she reminded him that her father was not riding.

  “Of course they were both ready to feel queer, as you can suppose, but Beaumont made an effort to shake this off and went into the hall to see whether anyone was at the entrance. It was pretty dark in the hall and he could see the glass panels of the inner draught-door, clear-cut in the darkness of the hall. He walked over to the glass and looked through into the drive beyond, but there was nothing in sight.

  “He felt nervous and puzzled and opened the inner door and went out on to the carriage-circle. Almost directly afterward the great hall door swung to with a crash behind him. He told me that he had a sudden awful feeling of having been trapped in some way—that is how he put it. He whirled round and gripped the door-handle, but something seemed to be holding it with a vast grip on the other side. Then, before he could be fixed in his mind that this was so, he was able to turn the handle and open the door.

  “He paused a moment in the doorway and peered into the hall, for he had hardly steadied his mind sufficiently to know whether he was really frightened or not. Then he heard his sweetheart blow him a kiss out of the greyness of the big, unlit hall and he knew that she had followed him from the boudoir. He blew her a kiss back and stepped inside the doorway, meaning to go to her. And then, suddenly, in a flash of sickening knowledge he knew that it was not his sweetheart who had blown him that kiss. He knew that something was trying to tempt him alone into the darkness and that the girl had never left the boudoir. He jumped back and in the same instant of time he heard the kiss again, nearer to him. He called out at the top of his voice:—‘Mary, stay in the boudoir. Don’t move out of the boudoir until I come to you.’ He heard her call something in reply from the boudoir and then he had struck a clump of a dozen or so matches and was holding them above his head and looking round the hall. There was no one in it, but even as the matches burned out there came the sounds of a great horse galloping down the empty drive.

  “Now you see, both he and the girl had heard the sounds of the horse galloping; but when I questioned more closely I found that the aunt had heard nothing, though it is true she is a bit deaf, and she was further back in the room. Of course, both he and Miss Hisgins had been in an extremely nervous state and ready to hear anything. The door might have been slammed by a sudden puff of wind owing to some inner door being opened; and as for the grip on the handle, that may have been nothing more than the sneck catching.

  “With regard to the kisses and the sounds of the horse galloping, I pointed out that these might have seemed ordinary enough sounds, if they had been only cool enough to reason. As I told him and as he knew, the sounds of a horse galloping carry a long way on the wind so that what he had heard might have been nothing more than a horse being ridden some distance away. And as for the kiss, plenty of quiet noises—the rustle of a paper or a leaf—have a somewhat similar sound, especially if one is in an over-strung condition and imagining things.

  “I finished preaching this little sermon on commonsense, versus hysteria as we put out the lights and left the billiard room. But neither Beaumont nor Miss Hisgins would agree that there had been any fancy on their parts.

  “We had come out of the billiard room by this time and were going along the passage and I was still doing my best to make both of them see the ordinary, commonplace possibilities of the happening, when what killed my pig, as the saying goes, was the sound of a hoof in the dark billiard room we had just left.

  “I felt the ‘creep’ come on me in a flash, up my spine and over the back of my head. Miss Hisgins whooped like a child with the whooping-cough and ran up the passage, giving little gasping screams. Beaumont, however, ripped round on his heels and jumped back a couple of yards. I gave back too, a bit, as you can understand.

  “‘There it is,’ he said in a low, breathless voice. ‘Perhaps you’ll believe now.’

  “‘There’s certainly something,’ I whispered, never taking my gaze off the closed door of the billiard room.

  “‘H’sh!�
� he muttered. ‘There it is again.’

  “There was a sound like a great horse pacing round and round the billiard room with slow, deliberate steps. A horrible cold fright took me so that it seemed impossible to take a full breath, you know the feeling, and then I saw we must have been walking backwards for we found ourselves suddenly at the opening of the long passage.

  “We stopped there and listened. The sounds went on steadily with a horrible sort of deliberateness, as if the brute were taking a sort of malicious gusto in walking about all over the room which we had just occupied. Do you understand just what I mean?

  “Then there was a pause and a long time of absolute quiet except for an excited whispering from some of the people down in the big hall. The sound came plainly up the wide stairway. I fancy they were gathered round Miss Hisgins, with some notion of protecting her.

  “I should think Beaumont and I stood there, at the end of the passage, for about five minutes, listening for any noise in the billiard room. Then I realised what a horrible funk I was in and I said to him:—‘I’m going to see what’s there.’

  “‘So ’m I,’ he answered. He was pretty white, but he had heaps of pluck. I told him to wait one instant and I made a dash into my bedroom and got my camera and flashlight. I slipped my revolver into my right-hand pocket and a knuckle-duster over my left fist, where it was ready and yet would not stop me from being able to work my flashlight.

  “Then I ran back to Beaumont. He held out his hand to show me that he had his pistol and I nodded, but whispered to him not to be too quick to shoot, as there might be some silly practical-joking at work, after all. He had got a lamp from a bracket in the upper hall which he was holding in the crook of his damaged arm, so that we had a good light. Then we went down the passage towards the billiard room and you can imagine that we were a pretty nervous couple.

  “All this time there had been a sound, but abruptly when we were within perhaps a couple of yards of the door we heard the sudden clumping of a hoof on the solid parquet-floor of the billiard room. In the instant afterward it seemed to me that the whole place shook beneath the ponderous hoof-falls of some huge thing, coming towards the door. Both Beaumont and I gave back a pace or two, and then realised and hung on to our courage, as you might say, and waited. The great tread came right up to the door and then stopped and there was an instant of absolute silence, except that so far as I was concerned, the pulsing in my throat and temples almost deafened me.