In Unhallowed Rest by John Sutton

Author:John Sutton
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: sherlock holmes, mystery, crime, british crime, sherlock holmes fiction, sherlock holmes novel, vampirism
ISBN: 9781787051782
Publisher: Andrews UK Limited 2017
Published: 2017-11-30T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter Six

It was but a short walk to Offord’s yard, and I found the fellow both at home and of a most genial and pleasant disposition. Yes, he possessed a Hackney carriage and, yes, the doctor had employed its services the previous day. Offord gladly showed me the vehicle which occupied a corner of his yard. It was only at this juncture that some of his former geniality seemed to vanish.

“Look,” he said rather sadly. “What a condition to return a rented vehicle.”

I had to agree with the man. The carriage was caked in what appeared to be clotted sand. The bright paintwork that glowed briefly from the uncovered areas, was, elsewhere, slurred with rusty-yellow streaks.

“Dunnow where he’s been to get all that sand?” continued Offord. “There ain’t much of the stuff around these parts.”

Our immediate conversation was suddenly interrupted by the sound of a horse’s hooves, followed by the appearance of a young lad leading a horse.

“Brought the gelding back, Mr. Offord” said the lad. “Dad says it’ll be sixpence for the new shoes.”

“And where does your dad expect me to find that sum of money?” said Offord smiling and winking at me. “Alright young Charlie,” he said, turning to the boy, “Give me a minute, and I’ll get your dad his money.”

“Don’t let me hold you up any longer, my dear fellow,” said I, moving away. “I have to be off anyway. However, my colleague may wish to speak with you further upon his return from Colchester.”

“Always here,” said Offord cheerily and waving a salutary hand.

I left and returned to the vicarage to find Bennett still within the church. The old gentleman, still clearly fearful from the experiences of the previous night, seemed unwilling to leave the place which had been our sanctuary. My reassurances seemed of no avail and, although I was loath to leave the poor man, I began to feel extremely famished and decided to attempt to avail myself of some breakfast at the local hostelry.

Assuring the old vicar that I would return within the hour, I left the church. The Sun Inn is situated some 70 yards from the church in which we had spent the previous night. It is a pleasant hostelry which bisects the main high street, offering simple, yet nourishing, fare to the passing traveller. Of custom, the place appeared bereft, yet the cheery landlord willingly offered me a plate of delicious Suffolk sausages and fried potatoes which I consumed with rapidity quite inappropriate to a gentleman of my station.

Having finished my meal, I was making my way back to the church when my attention became riveted upon the green gig which stood outside the doctor’s house and, more to the point, the figure of a man who was climbing into it. I broke into a run and reached the vehicle and grasped the leading trace. The man turned to me, his face contorted in anger.

“Gresham?” I cried out.

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