Friday, 5 April 1872

I was going about my usual rounds on the morning of April fifth when I was informed that Dr Merrydew had been urgently summoned to Doverton Abbey, the home of Sir Robert Plank, upstanding member of the community. Word was that Sir Robert himself had fallen gravely ill. Although I was not similarly summoned, I felt it my duty to pay a call at the Abbey so see if I might be of assistance.

Mr Smethurst, who has served as Sir Robert's butler for as long as I can remember, gave me the particulars. Sir Robert had stayed up very late, as was often his habit, working in his study that night before. He had rung for fresh tea at 11, as was also his habit. Shortly after the tea was delivered, Sir Robert rang for more tea, as the type made was not to his liking. Mr Smethurst brought up another pot of tea, then sent the remainder of the kitchen staff went to bed. Mr Smethurst waited up for his master to ring to prepare for bed. Mr Smethurst fell asleep in his chair in the hall beneath the bells, and was awakened in the morning as the cook and others began preparing for breakfast.

Mr Smethurst said he thought nothing was amiss, because Sir Robert would, occasionally, work extremely late into the night. On those occasions he would not ring to have the tea service taken away, nor ring for assistance dressing for bed. Since Sir Robert is trying to finish writing his latest book, he has been staying up quite lot with great frequency.

Mr Smethurst went to the library to retrieve the tea service. He discovered Sir Robert at is desk, laying on the desk as if he had fallen asleep at his writing. But his attempts to rouse Sir Robert were fruitless. Sir Robert's limbs were cold to the touch, while his face felt feverish, and his breathing was laboured. Mr Smethurst summoned other members of the staff to the library. The page boy was sent off to send a coachman to fetch Dr Merrydew, while the others carefully moved Sir Robert to his bed.

I next spoke with Dr Merrydew, who gave his opinion that Sir Robert has suffered a fit of apoplexy, which the doctor said was not unexpected of a man of Sir Robert's age. Dr Merrydew was not optimistic that Sir Robert's condition would improve, and had already suggested to Mr Smethurst that Sir Robert's relatives should be informed, so that might pay their respects while there was still time.

I was having a spot of tea in the kitchen before returning to my rounds when this foreigner dressed like a butler, came into the room and informed my that a Mr Oliphant was anxious to speak with me. I learned from the others in the kitchen that Mr Oliphant had been a houseguest of Sir Robert for the last few days, and that this Chinese-looking fellow was one of his foreign servants. I had been aware that Sir Robert had had a few houseguests recently -- Colonel Dunbar, who has visited many times before, and a doctor from London, who I had not met. Col. Dunbar, I knew, had got an early train out of Snodbury just that morning, and the doctor has left some days ago, so I had assumed the house was empty of guests.

Mr Oliphant, I was told, wrote stories for the London Times, though he had also done some work for the Foreign Service before that. He and Sir Robert had been corresponding for years.

I was shown to one of the parlours on the first floor and met Mr Oliphant, who proceeded to tell me that he believed Sir Robert had been the victim of foul play. There had been no previous mention of such concerns from any of the staff. I had asked several of the servants already if anyone had heard any strange noises in the night, if any windows had been discovered broken or unlatched, if any doors had been discovered tampered with or unlocked. I had already looked around a bit myself, nothing obstrusive, mind you, but it's my job to keep a suspicious eye out for signs of trouble.

I asked Mr Oliphant why he believed something had been done to Sir Robert, and he explained that Sir Robert had received a number of threatening letters. Mr Oliphant had seen one of these letters, and Sir Robert had admitted they had been arriving at irregular intervals for some months. The letter Mr Oliphant had seen accused Sir Robert of witchcraft and warned for dire consequences.

I questioned Mr Oliphant closely on this matter, as I was aware of the incident over twenty years ago involving Bill Grice. I was just a lad at the time, but my Uncle, who had been Constable at the time, had told me the tale of Bill Grice's madness. Grice had been a tenant farmer on Sir Robert's land. He took it in his head that Sir Robert was practicing witchcraft, consorting with the devil, and other similarly nefarious and sordid doings. When he was unable to convince anyone of this, be began sending Sir Robert letters threatening retribution and urging him to repent.

Mr Oliphant was aware of the previous case, but was quite certain that the letter he had seen had arrived more recently. Oliphant suggested that Sir Robert's famed college of rare artifacts from Egypt and the Holy Lands could have inspired the letter. I questioned Mr Oliphant as to whether he had heard or seen anything to indicate that there had been a break-in the previous night, and he said no, that he was a heavy sleeper.

I thanked him for his information and questioned the servants again. All attested that they had seen no evidence of a burglary. Mr Smethurst readily agreed to assist me in searching Sir Robert's study and the other rooms of the house. We found no broken windows, jimmied latches, or any other sign of forced entry. The house is full of many valuable objects--some of Sir Robert's artifacts are inlaid with jewels and gold and such. Nothing seemed to be missing, though Mr Smethurst admitted that there was so much that Sir Robert kept locked away much of the time, yet would bring out to examine again when the notion took him, that it would be difficult to say with certainty that none were missing.

I examined his desk, careful not to disturb things too greatly. At the time I had only the word of one man that anything was amiss, and no evidence to back up the accusation. I felt a more thorough search would have been exceeding my authority. I did find what appeared to be the letter Mr Oliphant described. It was tucked between two pages of Sir Robert's day book -- the pages for the 24th and 25th of March, to be precise. The outside of the letter had a two penny stamp attached, and the markings seemed to indicate (the writing was not very legible) by a postman on the 22nd of March.

Mr Smethurst recognized the outside of the letter as having arrived the previous week, on either Monday or Tuesday, he did not recall. He said that at the time Sir Robert did not react to the letter in any untoward way. On further reflection, Mr Smethurst recalled similar letters arriving in February, January, and possible December. But on none of those occasion had Sir Robert behaved as if the letters were extraordinary in any way.

I found nothing else unusual in the study, nor in any of the other rooms. I examined the grounds and inquired of the gardeners, but could find no evidence of a break-in. The only thing the gardener had noticed at all in weeks was that the grass and flowers had all died in one spot in the garden. As the site was over a hundred feet from the nearest wall of the house, I did not see how that could be relevent.

With so little to go on, I was ready to believe that the threatening letters and Sir Robert's illness were simply a case of coincidence. However, when I returned to the village, I had another discussion with Dr Merrydew about Sir Robert's case. The doctor insisted there were no wounds on Sir Robert's body to indicate an attack, and that all symptoms indicated that Sir Robert was simply a very elderly man whose time might have come.

I had taken the letter, and showed it to the local postmaster. He only vaguely recalled the letter, and could offer no other help. He did not recognize the handwriting (neither did I!).

Saturday, 6 April 1872

In the morning I stopped in at Doverton Abbey to learn if there had been any new developments. Mr Smethurst had received telegrams from several members of Sir Robert's family, indicated when they would be arriving. Sir Robert's condition was unchanged. Dr Merrydew had visited the previous evening and that morning. Servants had taken turns sitting with Sir Robert through the night.

I met Reverend Holloway on the drive as I was leaving the Abbey. We exchanged pleasantries and I was on my way.

I learned shortly after noon that Dr Merrydew had returned to the Abbey and was now keeping vigil at the bedside himself. He had urged Mr Smethurst to send messages again to Sir Robert's relatives that the situation was becoming very grave indeed. I stopped in at the Abbey that afternoon, though the situation had not changed. There was little any of us could do.

Sir Robert's relatives began arriving by train that afternoon. Mr William Plank, Sir Robert's younger nephew, arrived first, from London. Mr John Plank, son of Sir Robert's other nephew, arrived next, accompanied by his fiancee, the Hon. Miss Eleanor Carringford, and her brother, Lt. Bruce Carringford. Sir Robert's heir and eldest nephew, Mr George Plank, arrived on the 7:30 train from Cambridge. I myself met him at the station, along with Mr Thackwell, one of the coachmen from the Abbey.

Mr George was too late. Sir Robert had passed just before we arrived at the Abbey. The family was in a bit of a state, quite understandably. Since Dr Merrydew was ready to sign the death certificate as death by natural causes, I felt it was not my place to bring up the Mr Oliphant's suspicions.

I eventually returned to my home, though I did not rest easy.

Sunday, 7 April 1872

I had scarcely had my morning breakfast when the unwelcome news began to come in. Mr Oliphant and his servants were checking into the inn, having been through out of the Abbey by an angry Mr George Plank. No one in the village knew the story, but I had it from Mr Thackwell that voices had been raised at the Abbey. Further, Mr George had sent a not along for me, requesting my presence at Doverton Abbey at the earliest possible moment. I returned with Mr Thackwell.

Things were in a bit of an uproar. Mr George informed me that he believed Mr Oliphant had killed Sir Robert, in order to steal some of Sir Robert's priceless artifacts. He believed that Sir Robert had been poisoned, and he said it had been done in the evening tea.

He then ordered Mr Smethurst to tell me about the business with the tea.

On Thursday night, after Mr Smethurst delivered the tea to Sir Robert's study, Mr Smethurst was met on the stairs by one of the kitchen maids, Mary, by name. She told him that Sir Robert had begun ringing his bell insistently. Mr Smethurst returned to the study, where Sir Robert informed him that something was wrong with the tea. It tasted rotten, he said. Smethurst apologized and offered to bring more tea. At first Sir Robert said no, don't bother, then he changed his mind and insisted on a fresh pot right away.

The part which made Mr George most suspicious of Mr Oliphant is that one of his servants and he had been in the kitchen when the first tea pot was being assembled. Mr Smethurst had thought nothing of this at the time, because Mr Oliphant often sent his servants to the kitchen for tea or refreshment.

However, according to another kitchen maid, Ellie, what was different on this occasion was the Mr Oliphant had come to the kitchen himself, wondering what was taking so long, then he tried to strike up a conversation with Ellie, and inquired which of the tea services was meant for his room, and which for Sir Robert.

One of the upstairs maids, Susan, had seen one of Mr Oliphant's servants brewing up some sort of potion in Mr Oliphant's guest room, though she and Smethurst had seen similar activities in Mr Oliphant's room on other evenings.

I was somewhat irritated that Smethurst and the others hadn't mentioned this details sooner, though I suppose it all had seemed rather unimportant after Sir Robert collapsed. I pointed out that Dr Merrydew was quite certain the cause of death was natural causes, but Mr George would have none of it. He said that Mr Oliphant was well known in some circles as being possessed of mad notions, that he had argued frequently with Sir Robert about Sir Robert's historical theories, and had often expressed envy of Sir Robert's collection.

Mr George wanted Mr Oliphant arrested immediately. I pointed out that might have been easier if Oliphant hadn't been sent packing earlier in the morning. Mr George indicated that he had had merely his suspicions before, and had not learned of the tea pot incident until after Oliphant had been removed from the premises. He repeated his insistence that I arrest Oliphant.

I assured him that I would be talking to Mr Oliphant right away. I decided not to mention that if any poisoning had occurred, there had been another potential suspect in the house that night, who had left the Abbey before Sir Robert's body was discovered. However, I couldn't imagine Col. Dunbar killing in cold blood, and I was still skeptical that there had been a murder at all.

Before I could leave the Abbey, Mr William took me aside and asked about the threatening letter. He told me Mr Smethurst had mentioned it. Mr William asked me if I believed the letter. When I said I didn't know what he meant, he told me he felt the house was under a curse. He feared the letter might be at least partially right about the witchcraft, and the dangerous forces were at work. He urged me to locate the author of the letters.

I told him I was doing my best.

When I finally returned to the village, Mr Oliphant was still at the inn. He said he was expecting me. I questioned him about the brewing instruments seen in his room. He explained that during his years working for the Foreign Office in the Orient, he contracted a certain exotic illnesses. Although he recovered, he is continually troubled with certain lingering symptoms, one of which is an inability to sleep. One of his servants is skilled in some kind of foreign medicine involving potions and things brewed like tea. Mr Oliphant claimed that without regular doses of these brews, he would get no rest, nor relief from the other symptoms. He offered the names of a number of doctors who have consulted on his case who would verify his condition. He also offered to allow myself and Dr Merrydew to examine the contents of his servants' apothecary case.

When I questioned him about the tea pots, he said that Thursday night his symptoms had been particularly painful, and he had simply been anxious for the hot water to arrive so he might have is potion. He guessed who had thrown suspicion on him, and even guessed the motive that had been suggested. I did not confirm his guesses, but he insisted that I search his room and luggage that instant to satisfy myself that no artifacts taken from Sir Robert's home were there.

I did not bother to point out that if he had been expecting me, he and his servants had had plenty of time to hide such things somewhere nearby. I searched the room and luggage, and thank him for his cooperation.

Mr Oliphant repeated his firm conviction that whoever wrote the threatening letters was responsible for what had happened to Sir Robert. He added that it was possible that Sir Roberts relatives might be in danger from the same person. If the person believed that the artifacts were works of the devil, he might attempt to destroy them. He also stated his intention to remain in the village until the case had been resolved. He made several references to stories he was writing about the case for publication in the London Times.

I spoke with Dr Merrydew, who admitted that he could not rule out a number of poisons in Sir Robert's case. He further pointed out that, given Sir Robert's frail health, that a mild sleeping draught such as a weak admixture of laudinum, might trigger a fatal reaction. In other words, if someone just wanted to make sure he slept soundly enough not to hear them rummaging around in his home, they might have caused his death unintentionally. Dr Merrydew said he could perform a post-mortem examination, but it was likely to be inconclusive.

When I left Dr Merrydew's home, I was greeted by the page boy from Doverton Abbey. He handed a note to me. I opened it and read it. It was Mr George Plank, inquiring as to whether Mr Oliphant had been arrested.

I am a simple country constable. I am charged with keeping the peace in the parish: sorting out arguments, occasionally recovering stolen property, but usually it's just some of the men getting a bit too much to drink or the occasional vagrant. In London they have a Detective Department. Coppers who specialize in sorting out thorny cases. We needed an expert. So I sent an urgent request to the Detective Department of the Metropolitan Police, asking for immediate assistance in the unexplained death of Sir Robert Plank, baronet.

Later than night I received two telegrams in reply. One was from Detective Superintendent Oliphant (I wonder if he is any relation?) in London, telling me that Inspector MacGreggor would be arriving within a day to take over the case. The other was from Inspector MacGreggor in Lancashire, telling me he would arrive on the earliest possible train in the morning, accompanied by an evidence clerk and other assistants. He insisted that under no circumstances was a post-mortem examination to be performed on Sir Robert until these experts had examined the body themselves.

I sent word to Mr George that an Inspector from London was coming to take charge of the case.

Monday, 8 April

I met Inspector MacGreggor and his party at the 6:20 train. I had obtained a trap to take us to the Abbey. When I arrived at the station I found Mr Chalke from Brinkley Court there with a drag and four-in-hand, plus a cart. He told me he was there to meet the Inspector, as well. Apparently the Inspector was friends of the Travers', and would be staying at Brinkley Court. When I commented that we might have too many carts, he said that if his instructions from Mrs Travers were correct, we did not.

The instructions were correct.

The Inspector was accompanied not only by Mr Frazer, Senior Evidence Clerk, but also Mrs MacGreggor, and a Mrs Salmalin and a Mr Salmalin. The latter was dressed as a footman, the former was dressed more as you would expect a lady's companion. Introductions were made and I was somewhat surprised to learn that both ladies would be accompanying us to examine the Abbey itself.

Mrs MacGreggor explained about her family connections and acquaintences with both the Plank and Carringford families, whom she was anxious to comfort and offer condolences to. The Inspector explained that Mrs Salmalin took notes and made sketches of the scene which could assist in solving the case.

They had a prodigious collection of luggage. More than would fit in the cart Mr Chalke had brought. We also had too many passengers for my trap. Though the cart and trap together were perfect for the luggage--excepting one trunk which was quite heavy and made interesting jingling noised when it was moved--and the footman, who was sent off to Brinkley Court. The rest of us and the peculiar trunk were taken to Doverton Abbey by Mr Chalke.

I explained the situation as I understood it as we travelled I had to rush my tale a bit to get all the important details in. The Inspector listened closely, occasionally interrupting to ask a question. They told me that Col. Dunbar had been found gravely ill and unconscious in a train in Lancashire. He had been mistaken for dead by the first people who found him, but he was still clinging to life. He was under continual care at the home of Mrs MacGreggor's father. There had been another similar case in London a few days before, a Dr Kenyon, who was the same doctor that had visited Sir Robert Plank the previous week.

The Inspector believed all three men had been struck down by the same thing--be it illness or poison, they did not yet know. He had urged us not to perform the post-mortem for fear that Sir Robert was still clinging to life, just as Colonel Dunbar was.

We were met at the front door by Mr Smethurst, who explained that the family had not yet awakened, but he had been instructed to let us in to examine the study and other pertinent locations. The Inspector only looked briefly in the study, then asked Mr Frazer and Mrs Salmalin to catalogue the contents. He and Mrs MacGreggor then went to Sir Robert's bedroom, where the body had been laid out.

We had just arrived at the bedroom door when Mr Frazer came up and asked if there was a way to reach the roof. He wanted to look down the walls, because he had observed some suspicious scuff marks outside one of the windows. The Inspector asked me to assist, saying he would just take a few moments to pay his respects and examine the bedchamber.

So off I went with Mr Frazer. Mr Smethurst took us up the west stairway to the top of the tower. I have never met a man so interested in minute details as Mr Frazer. And he scared me out of a year's worth when he climbed over the parapet and hung by his toes to scrape a smudge of something off the wall. Then we were down the stairway and out the chancell hall looking for a bay window he had seen from the tower that looked interesting. And then we went down to the gardeners. I tried to explain that I had already talked to them, but he asked much the same questions I had, along with some odd inquiries about grass and foliage, then he quite indulged them and let them talk his ear off about the dead spot in the middle of the north lawn.

The Inspector then wanted to question all the servants, and finally he spoke briefly with Mr George, Mr William, and Mr John. The Inspector and his party were now ready to go to Brinkley Court to change before proceeding with further investigations. I accompanied them as far as Snodbury, where I got out to send some of the telegrams that the Inspector asked be sent, and to do my usual rounds, which the Inspector felt should be looked after.

I learned, in the village, that a rather large group of visitors had arrived on a later train, including Sir Cosmo Cowperthwaite, who owns all those railroads. They were all staying at Brinkley Court.

I was a bit concerned when I learned the Mr Oliphant had rented a trap and gone riding. But a quick word with the stationmaster assured me he had not hopped a train. I did not believe he was a murderer, because if he had been, he would have fled the village while he had the chance--taking a train to Liverpool or Gravesend of somewhere he could catch a ship to America or some other place out of our reach. Instead, he had taken a room at the inn and waited for me to come question him. Not the actions of a guilty man.

With all the excitement, I had been neglecting some of my other duties, so I worked on them for much of the day, trusting that the Inspector knew his business and seemed to have brought along more than enough assistants.

I had just returned to the village in the late afternoon when I was handed not one, but two urgent notes from Doverton Abbey. The first was from Mr William. Mr George had fallen ill--found unconscious on the floor in Sir Roberts' study. A separate note had been sent to Brinkley Court for the Inspector, this note said. If the Inspector were not there but instead was with me, I was to bring him immediately. The second note was from Mr John, conveying much of the same information.

I hurried to Brinkley Court, where I was informed the Inspector had already received the news and rushed to the Abbey.

I hurried to catch up, more than a bit worried at what I would find when I arrived…

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