We expect to arrive in Bombay tomorrow.  We have been skirting the sub-continent, but not especially closely.  I have seen some quite heavy clouds behind us, and I feel the approach of difficult weather.  Our captains are more-or-less agreed, however,  that we will reach the harbour before the worst of it overtakes us.

In some regards I am not looking forward to returning to Society, especially to the peculiarities of Colonial Society.  While I am not particularly pleased with the prospect of wearing an elaborate bustle again, simply to suit the sensibilities of the idle ladies we are sure to meet, neither am I pleased with dragging into town in my one remaining gown, looking like a miserable castaway.  

I anticipate some difficulty in convincing Wilhelmina to wear civilized clothing again.  She has been wearing the most scandalous costumes—our standard Trousers, but lacking the modest covering of a skirt.  With this, she wears a shockingly abbreviated and tight-fitting bodice, such as the hindu women wear under their saree—but without the saree to wrap over it.  I cannot easily criticize, however, as Lady Cowperthwaite is not much more covered, and after losing a favourite skirt and my best fighting boots in battle, I am scarcely any better myself.   It has been practical and necessary to adjust our standards for our shipboard work, but it won’t do to look like pirates (and ragged, unsuccessful pirates at that!) when we come into a large Colonial city.


Thursday, 17 June 1875

We have made landfall at last.  It might not be entirely accurate to say we’ve reached “dry land,” as the monsoons commenced with a dramatic thunderclap at the moment Lady Cowperthwaite’s foot stepped off the dock onto the soil of India.  We were soaked to the skin before we could reach the waiting carriages.

We were met by a Mr Nahasapeemapetilon, who is the manager of the Bombay offices of  the shipping company owned by Sir Spencer, Lt Wooster, and Mr O’Flaherty.  This company of theirs seems to be rather successful, no doubt because Lt Wooster has no practical involvement in running things.  

Word of our success against Wu Chang seems to have reached Bombay well before ourselves.  Adding to the chaos of our arrival, we were greeted by some native reporters for the Bombay Times.  I don't think we will have much option to keep a low profile.

We settled into our rented bungalow, which is the town residence of Mr George Demasiss, the Managing Director of the Bank of Bombay.  The place is quite grand and (most importantly) large enough to house our entourage.  A relation of Mr Nahasapeemapetilon has been taken on as our guide and factotum--of course there are also a number of the Demasiss' house and outdoor servants remaining with the property.  


Friday, 18 June 1875

Today was entirely taken up by shopping.  We had recommendations from our appointed guide, Mani, as to tailors and seamstresses who could accommodate our requirements.  Aside from needing ordinary day clothes, we have already had a dinner invitation from the Viceroy for Monday, and other invitations are sure to come in.  Mrs Salmalin says that although many of the English ladies are yet in the hills fleeing the heat, the ones who are still in Bombay will be quite starved for new diversions.  New additions to Society are always much in demand.

We all placed our orders for dinner gowns (post-haste!) with the orders for afternoon gowns and so on, to follow.  The gentlemen’s suits and new uniforms have also been ordered.  Several of us have also found a few items prêt-a-porter to tide us over, but of course even those must be adapted to be League-ready.

We also roamed the jeweller's district and some of us acquired a few items.  I had to dissuade Wilhelmina from buying a ring for every finger, but I was successful only after I discovered that she really only wanted to melt them down for materials—then I persuaded her it would be far more sensible, and perfectly simple, to buy raw materials instead of worked metal and stone.

Later, I also had to convince her not to store a large supply of paraffin wax in her bedroom, which I managed to do by promising her we would find a more suitable area for a laboratory and associated storage.  Really, for a brilliant inventor, she is incredibly dense.
 
Tomorrow, Lt Pellew will be taking Wilhelmina and myself to view the causeway which connects the complex of Bombay’s islands to the mainland—He tells me it was designed by Jerrold Moriarty, and so has some family interest as well as being a remarkable feat of engineering.

Lt Pellew has had some interesting things to say, including discussing with Wilhelmina that he was considering whether to go back to his original surname of Moriarty—since she has already done so, he sought her advice.  It  made her quite smug to have her father ask her opinion on something of such personal importance to him.  Since it has been now some years since Jerrold Moriarty passed on, the unpleasant notoriety of his name is gradually being overtaken by the perfectly respectable Admiral and Mrs Moriarty.  


Saturday, 19 June 1875

The causeway outing proved considerably more exciting than I had expected. I had been looking forward to a relaxing excursion(or at least as relaxing as any outing with Wilhelmina can possibly be).  I knew we would be obliged to travel through a good deal of mangrove swamp to get there, and there were many animals and plants to notice.  We had a good look around the underside of the causeway, with various of us taking it in turn to climb up to view points of interest.  Climbing with Lt Pellew, Albert, George, and Wilhelmina is somewhat humbling.  I'm sure I did quite well, considering that I was the only person in the party without prehensile toes.

We came across another expedition, a pair of herpetologists and their native guide or boatman.  They had just captured a lovely specimen of Enhydrina schistosa , and were measuring her (very carefully, as they are highly venomous).After listening to their conversation (in German), I deduced that one of them was the Lithuanian naturalist Count Stefan Lindrom, author of Die Giftschlange und seine Verbündeten, whom I had heard was working in this area.  I hailed them and introduced myself, and was gratified that they recognised my name and knew my work.  The second gentleman was Richard von Klatna, as yet unknown to me, though I know the work of two other von Klatna scions.  

In the midst of our exchange of pleasantries, we were startled by the report of a gun.  In the ensuing scramble, the snake got loose in the other boat, but we were too busy getting back to the relative cover of the causeway to worry about that.  While Lt Pellew poled us at great speed, I identified the probable source of the shot as a particularly verdant clump of Mangrove about 100 yards South of our location.  Wilhelmina instantly returned fire, but with a flare rocket.  I recognised it just in time to shield my vision.  Albert and George had a hasty and heated discussion as to which of them should go after the shooter, which resulted in a jointly-executed manoeuvre of George hurling the somewhat slighter Albert through the air, and nearly upsetting our boat in the process.  
 
Once the sloshing subsided, I kept my head down while unwrapping my rifle from its cover.  I glanced at the other boat, where Count Stefan was staring intently at the hissing snake, to all appearances mesmerising it whit his gaze, preparing to recapture it bare-handed.  Meanwhile, Mr von Klatna was shielding their terrified boatman and preparing to fire a sizeable pistol.  I was surprised when another shot rang from the shore and struck his hand, disarming him--could it be that his party was the primary target, rather than ours?  Most of our own enemies would shoot at us, knowing us to be the greater threat, even if some third party was pointing a pistol at them.

On shore, Albert had landed with predictable agility, and was brachiating among the branches shouting, "Surrender, in the name of Queen Victoria!"  The hidden enemy fired once more, giving me a point to aim for.  I got off just one shot before Albert was too close to my target for safe shooting in obscured conditions.

I heard a sharp sound from the other boat and saw, from the corner of my eye, a flying object something like an arrow speeding toward the shore.  I am certain it was a small snake.  Mr von Klatna was standing in the boat with his uninjured arm extended, I could see his lips moving soundlessly, and his eyes looked eerily black.

Moments later, Albert called out for a medic--for the fallen enemy-- and we poled over.  I was surprised by an acrid, ashy smell, which I have not encountered in several years.  My identification of the odour was confirmed when I saw the empty clothing beside a rifle--beneath the garments of a common labourer were a set of the black pyjamas worn by agents of La Ligue des Ombres.  

There was a second body, which had not combusted.  It was horribly bloated and discoloured, particularly at thecenter of the chest, where a pair of close-set punctures marked the delivery of a venomous bite.  We searched, very cautiously, for the projectile I had seen--whether it was really a snake, or a snake-shaped something else, we did not find it.  

Count Lindrom and Mr von Klatna made their way to this small patch of land.  Count Lindrom examined the bloated corpse and opined that it was the effect of the Elapsis chilinesis, the Manchurian mamba, though much more severe a reaction than he had heard of before now.  He was also puzzled at how a snake could have bitten the centre of a man's chest, where the flat surface would make it near impossible to sink the fangs.  Mr von Klatna did not enlighten us.  He and I engaged in some preliminary verbal fencing, just enough that we each knew that the other knew more than was being spoken openly.  

Wilhelmina performed efficient first aid on Mr von Klatna's hand, and proclaimed with satisfaction that he would not lose the use of his thumb.  Lt Pellew, as the most official representative of the Crown, took charge of the body, the ashes, and other sparse evidence.  I asked to know their lodgings, as we the police might want to interview them further.

We went back to our bungalow, and I related the entire chain of events to Mr Frazer and to Inspector MacGreggor, and to Mrs Salmalin and Mrs Cuthbert.  We sought out Wilhelmina and the first-aid supplies she had used on Mr von Klatna.  Using the blood on one of the cloths, the Mystics attempted to scry, but found that their target was  obscured, and Mrs Cuthbert thought that Mr von Klatna had specifically hidden himself from our investigations, knowing that we had a sample of his blood.   

Before long, our footman David came in search of the Inspector, saying that a constable had come to request Mrs MacGreggor's assistance with a body.  The MacGreggors and Mr Frazer and I made our way to the constabulary, where we met Lt Pellew, who had been the source of the request for Mrs MacGreggor.  She examined the body and said very nearly the same as Count  Lindrom.

I was not especially surprised at the arrival of Mrs Cuthbert, though the constable watching the door certainly was.  Inspector MacGreggor ushered her in.  She was very disturbed by the body, exclaiming over the "black magic" emanating from it.  She was not able to clarify if the offending aura was entirely the result of the Ligue des Ombres affiliation or if any had been added by the manner of the man's death.  She spent some time communing with the dead man's spirit, and told me with some satisfaction that she had guided him away from "the pit" where the Ombres operatives typically go to be reincarnated into another operative, and had sent him on to the next world instead.  One down, hundreds to go.

Mr Frazer and I realised that we had an appointment to call upon my old correspondent Professor Abner Peacock, who has a place at the Royal College here.  We rushed off and did our best to compose ourselves for ordinary social niceties.  It was more pleasant than I had expected to actually meet the Professor face to face, and Benton seemed to enjoy seeing him again. I had been aware that the Professor had known Mr Frazer from a boy, having worked alongside the Walgroves in the Steppes.  From my ongoing correspondence, I expected the professor to be scatty (and he certainly is), but also he proved to be to be surprisingly kind, and acutely observant in particular areas.

He was quite taken with the Parrot, which has continued to stay near me, contrary to my expectations, as we have settled into our Bombay lodgings and through all my wanderings about town.  After some conversation, the professor determined that he was already acquainted with this particular bird, whom he addressed as “Bolivar”.

I have read that the Ara ararauna is a very intelligent bird, but the interaction of the Professor and the parrot was beyond my expectation.  Bolivar had already demonstrated unusual intellectual abilities, yet today my estimation of it has considerably expanded.  I have long thought it quite a perverse creature. For all my determination to ignore the bird, it has remained, nearby if not on my very shoulder, until I have become almost accustomed to its presence.  Without any conscious effort on my part, I find I now recognise meaning in its peculiar commentary.  

Professor Peacock seemed to think nothing unusual in having a conversation with a parrot.  The Parrot made it very clear that he recognised the Professor and remembered him fondly.  When Prof Peacock knew Bolivar previously, the Parrot had been in company with the redoubtable Rip Chigwidgeon.  They had had some adventures together which had resulted in a broken wing for Bolivar, which Mr Chigwidgeon had come to Prof Peacock to set and splint.  He is fully healed now, more than 20 years later, and seems to have no difficulty flying.  No wonder Bolivar expressed such kindly feelings toward the Professor.

The Professor further indicated that (in a rare exercise of his Holy Orders) he had performed the christening ceremony for the infant Namaste Chigwidgeon.  Imagine our surprise to discover this complex of connexions!  I promised to convey greetings to Lady Cowperthwaite.  When I spoke to her later,  she asked Mrs Salmalin to send off a note instantly.


Sunday 20 June 1875

Today I attended services with others of the household.  I had been reluctant to go, but Mr Frazer wished to attend with the children, and I didn’t want them to attend without me.  The sermon was not very inspiring or clever, but at least it was not overlong either.

Shortly after the service, a conversation with Lady Smythe, the wife of the Bombay's Chief of Police, sent us haring off.  She complained that her husband had been called to duty in the very early hours of the morning to investigate 2 murders.  We could hardly ignore that!  Inspector MacGreggor and Mr Frazer agreed that it would be good form to go offer assistance to the investigation.  If I were the head of a colonial constabulary, I would probably dread the interference of interlopers from the Home office, but Inspector MacGreggor seems to have made a good impression with his visit on the day of our arrival.  We were met with reasonably sincere cooperation from the constables on the scene, and our subsequent communications with the chief himself were not a chilly as I might have expected.

The two deaths were certainly connected in time, proximity, and in the very peculiar method.  One victim was the proprietor of a jewellery shop, the very one my friends and I visited on Friday.  The other was the owner of a book shop just across the street and two or three doors down, which some of our partisans (including the MacGreggors) had visited Saturday.  Both murders happened very late last night to very early in the morning.  Since I had been into the jewellery shop, and Helen and Simon had both been to the bookshop, we could each make comparative assessments.  Mrs Salmalin and Mrs Cuthbert were with us as well, but Mrs Cuthbert was quite overcome by the "vibrations" of the morning's violence, and stayed in the carriage.  This was just as well, as Octavia, Caroline, and Robert were told to stay in the carriage and guard her.  I'm sure they would have baulked without the important assignment of looking after their beloved Auntie.  Mr Salmalin and Violet also remained on guard.

Of course, my own investigation was somewhat hindered by the constables on the scene, who did their chivalrous utmost to shield me from the gruesome body.  No doubt Helen had similar difficulties, which explains why Simon and Benton sent so many notes between the scenes--the constables were kept busy running to and fro, and were therefore out of our way.  The condition of the corpse I viewed was quite remarkable.  The initial report had suggested a severe beating, as the body was covered in bruises, and the cause of death appeared to be massive internal trauma--all the organs crushed, the ribcage collapsed.  Yet, there was very little broken skin, and no blood about the scene, and no sign of struggle.  We ruled out transportation of the body, because the victim's bodily wastes, released at the moment of death, were unpleasantly apparent.   I realized that all the victim's hair was pressed downward, that all the ribs were collapsed downward. The whole body bore a bizarre resemblance to an illustration I had seen of the body of a monkey which had been removed from the gullet of a dissected python, the snake having been killed before digestion had properly begun.  But then what had happened to the snake?  The body showed none of the signs of being digested and excreted, no dampness, no acidity.  And no snake could finish digesting one body in a few hours, much less two bodies.  If the body had been regurgitated, the downward compression would have been reversed at least somewhat.  

After prowling about the shop (and clearing my sinuses of the victim's scent), I could detect the tang of snake scent.  I suggested that the victim had at least been killed by the constricting action of a large snake, even if he did not appear to have been swallowed.  Could this have been simply death by misadventure?   Our findings we sent by coded note to the MacGreggors.  The Inspector and Helen had found similar circumstances, and Simon had found a scale stuck to a window frame.  

When we examined the scene, we confirmed that the alley door had been left ajar (which had alerted a passerby, who had called the constables).  The stock did not appear to have been disturbed, so wholesale robbery was probably not a motive for murder, if murder it was.  The constables were searching out assistants of both shopkeepers, to look for anything missing which might have been taken.

As I continued my search of the premises, I heard Robert saying firmly, "Don't come any closer."  I was instantly at the window of the shop, and I saw all three children's faces in the carriage windows, addressing a gentleman standing beside the carriage.  Mr Salmalin was watching, silent and alert, from the top of the box.  The gentleman was Allan Alsworthy Vaughn, Viscount Vaughn of Wiston, Baron Mullengar. 

I had met Lord Vaughn on Friday, at this very shop.   Mrs Cuthbert made the introductions, as she was acquainted with him from the years before her marriage.  She was barely civil to him.  According to her later description, he is himself a mystic of some power, and a rather shadowy reputation, including a mysteriously dead or disappeared wife.  I think he plays up this reputation, and likes people to think him glamorously sinister (though I would lay odds that it dissuades very few mothers from throwing their daughters at him every Season--no doubt that is one reason he is so rarely seen in England). 

In case it weren't suspicious enough that he had appeared at this jewellery shop so soon before and after the proprietor's death, he had also been in the book shop on Saturday,  where he met the MacGreggors and a few others of the League.  Quite a coincidence that he should be hanging about in this way.  Of course, we had been there also, but we are a different case altogether.

Here was the mysterious Lord Vaughn, speaking to my children.  I moved up behind him and addressed him, adding a bit of the simpering manner so often inspired by the rank of Viscount.  I primly reprimanded Robert for being rude, while giving him the wink and hand sign that means "well done."   I introduced the children by relation, but neglected to offer their names.

I asked Lord Vaughn what brought him to this part of town, and he hinted that he had sensed something strange going on and hoped to render assistance.  I noticed again the serpent-headed walking stick, the serpentine pattern in the damask of his waistcoat, the serpent tie-pin in his cravat.  Oh, really.  I have had entirely too much of snakes.  Plain snakes I would have no trouble with, they are just animals, and perfectly interesting.  It's all the mystique that annoys.  I suppose I should more correctly say I have had entirely too much of people who are obsessed with snakes.

We had learned what we could here for the time being.  Mrs MacGreggor and Mrs Salmalin both seemed a bit weary, and Mrs Cuthbert would be the better for getting away from the "vibrations".   And the children were getting restless from being confined in the carriage.   Inspector MacGreggor plans to return a little later, but for now we returned to the villa to regroup and have a long-overdue luncheon.

Mrs Salmalin proposes that the Mystics do some scrying, using the snake scale that Inspector MacGreggor retrieved, but I cannot stay now to learn the outcome.

We have scarcely scraped the mud from our boots, and we are going out again.  Mr Frazer and I will accompany Lady Cowperthwaite to pay respects to Prof Peacock.  Since one of Lady Cowperthwaite’s stated objectives while in Bombay is to learn the fate of her mother, she was very anxious to meet someone who had known her mother, and who had been in Bombay during the intervening time.  

We have learned much about her, but much of it indirect.  I had thought, all these years, that she was simply a prostitute, but of course we would never speak plainly of it.  This assumption springs from my lack of understanding of the religions of this part of the world.  Although many upper-class women are kept secluded to protect their virtue, and there certainly are prostitutes who are considered degraded, there is another class of woman here.  The prevalence of powerful goddesses in the Hindu pantheon and the worship of their generative powers means that in some forms of worship, se inter the congress  the procreative act is considered a holy sacrament.  Lady Cowperthwaite's mother, it would seem, was actually a  high-ranking priestess in one of these temples.  

Through various indirect means, we have deduced that the late, unlamented Wu Chang fathered a child through her in the course of her sacred duties:  our young Lobsang.  Wu Chang, for reasons I do not yet know, but which may be related to Lobsang, attacked the temple.  Some believe that the mother is dead, but Mrs Cuthbert has been unable to reach her, and other investigations suggest that she is still alive and invoking the protection of Kali over Lobsang.

Lady Cowperthwaite is hoping that the professor will be able to shed some light on her situation, and I rather think she will simply like him for his own eccentric charms.

Meanwhile, others of the household will observe the festivities in the courtyard of Mahalakshmi Temple, one of the largest temples in Bombay.  The beginning of the monsoons is celebrated with a tremendous gathering of fakirs and “holy” persons, with particular reference to and reverence for three great goddesses, Lakshmi, Kali, and Saraswati.  Interestingly, the goddesses are considered to be in seclusion for the first 3 days after monsoons begin, as though they were indisposed as mortal women are.  We only know this because many of us speak Hindustani, since the natives do not normally explain this to English ladies. 

Our carriage is ready.  Where is my hat?


Sunday, 20 June 1875
(continued)

It is now quite late.  We have all had much to discuss this evening, as many of us have learned different things in the far-flung corners of this town.

Our appointment with Professor Peacock was informative.  He welcomed Lady Cowperthwaite with charming avuncular fondness, though of course he has not seen her in many years.  We asked questions about Lady Cowperthwaite's mother and her life.  He answered as forthrightly as he could, considering that some of the topics were quite uncomfortable for a well-bred gentleman (especially one of holy orders, however dis-used) to discuss with ladies.  At times, the professor seemed quite nervous, a state showing in bouts of stuttering and knocking things over.  At other times, he was quite calm and matter-of-fact.

Lady Cowperthwaite's mother's name is Manjula.  Professor Peacock last saw her a few days before the Temple was attacked in 1867.  She had a very young son (who we presume is Lobsang).  Neither Manjula nor her son were seen after the attack.

The common belief about the attack was that robbers attacked the temple to steal its wealth, and in the ensuing struggle, the temple caught fire and burned almost completely.  A number of treasures were saved and salvaged, and these were disseminated to other temples.  The Professor said that Manjula had told him of a belt she had taken from one of the men with whom she had practised her sacred duties.  This belt, made of the shed skin of "the Mother of All Dragons," was supposed to confer strength and invulnerability to the wearer, and Manjula stole it in order to destroy it.  She had enlisted the Professor's aid in incinerating the skin--which meant that it had already been destroyed when the man (Wu Chang) returned to reclaim it, several years later.

During our visit, another of the professors, a Dr Langtree, looked in, and brought his niece Miss Langtree.  Prof Peacock became significantly more tongue-tied in Miss Langtree's presence, and I detected a not strictly avuncular fondness for her.  

The other point of interest in this visit was that a peculiar trio of animals has continued to follow Lady Cowperthwaite about.  The jackal and the peahen are not so remarkable in themselves, as both are common enough even in town.  The most unusual is the collared Scops owl, Otus bakkamoena, which is not ordinarily accustomed to human habitations.  Prof Peacock looked out his window and commented on it.  These three animals (or possibly other individuals of the same species and appearance) have been following any carriage conveying Lady Cowperthwaite.  We first noticed them just after our arrival in Bombay, when Mrs Cuthbert commented that all three creatures were associated with the Goddess Kali.  

Our visit concluded when I received a message from Mrs Cuthbert via Sgt Frazer.  While looking about at the Festival, the group had spoken to a few native mystics and fakirs.  One of these addressed Mr O'Flaherty, at first mistaking him for Rip Chigwidgeon (I suppose all massive European gentlemen look the same to such an one).  
The mystic said he had a message for Lady Cowperthwaite from "the Dark Mother" (an epithet of the Goddess Kali), and his aura was such that Mrs Cuthbert believed him and sent for us.  

He revealed his story thus:  Some 20 years ago, this man had been a follower of a cult of an old deity known as Vritra, in the form of a great serpent (snakes again!).  He was instructed by those higher in the cult to kidnap the child Namaste Chigwidgeon and sacrifice her to Vritra.  He was thwarted by, in his words, "the mother, the father, and the parrot."  Bolivar had said, "snake in the grass" on seeing him, so I knew which parrot he meant. 

The mystic told us that Rip Chigwidgeon had spared his life with the admonition that he must serve Kali and do good works, and he declared that he had done so since.  Note that the man had only one eye and was scarred and crippled, so I don't think Mr Chigwidgeon spared him by a very great margin.  Still, Mrs Cuthbert and Mrs Salmalin agreed that he now acted as a conduit for the power of Kali and that they had witnessed him (or Kali's power through him) heal a very sick woman in this way.  

The message he relayed was this:  "It can't rain all the time, but it must.  You will find the dagger near the source, but beware the serpent." 

He told us he did not understand the Dark Mother's messages, he simply repeated them as she directed.

After this, we all decided to return to our bungalow to regroup, dine, and rest.

Inspector MacGreggor's findings:
The Inspector went back to the two shops.  With diligent and undisturbed searching, he found a letter in a secret compartment in the desk.  It was addressed to the shop's proprietor, from Count Kolinzecki, commissioning the search for a particular book relating to the cult of Vritra.

Before long, none other than the shadowy Lord Vaughn came also to the shop, also claiming that he was investigating the deaths.  Lord Vaughn conveyed every appearance of wanting to help, and told Inspector MacGreggor about the significance of the snakes as spirits of drought.  He made no cavil at discussing topics magical with the Inspector.

Inspector MacGreggor escorted him out of the shop, but as he resumed his search, he heard Lord Vaughn in conversation with another man in the alleyway.  Lord Vaughn called the other party "Langtree."  The two of them had a somewhat heated discussion, in which "Langtree" accused Lord Vaughn of using dark magic.  It was apparent from the discussion that "Langtree" is also mystically inclined and thinks himself on the side of the righteous--it is certainly possible that this was the same Dr Langtree whom I met earlier today. Lord Vaughn defended his motives and method before leaving the area.  Then the late Mr MacGreggor attempted to tell the Inspector that Helen urgently needed them at home, but could not be more specific, and then the Inspector seems to have lost his senses for a bit, and found himself outside without remembering how he had left the shop.  He wisely concluded that he should get back and report this, as well as bringing the letter he had found to the mystics.

Now, the results of the Mystics' investigations:
After our return from the murder scenes this afternoon, our mystics scried using the snake scale found by Inspector MacGreggor.  The mystics saw the bookshop owner working at his ledgers in the dark hours of morning.  There was a knock at the back door, and he answered, addressing the person outside as "my lord," and seeming to expect the visit.  The visitor was shrouded in shadow, possibly veiled from mystical observation.  The snake was not.  As the visitor spoke with the victim, a spectacularly large constrictor slithered in, but the victim did not seem to notice it at all.  The visitor and the victim conversed about a particular ancient book which the visitor had commissioned the victim to acquire for him.  

The victim, seeming possibly mesmerised, simply stood, swaying slightly, as the snake wound its coils about him.  It coiled all the way up his body and engulfed even the head, and then proceeded to swallow the victim.  However, almost as soon as the last bit of the victims feet had passed into the snake's gullet, the snake faded from sight, leaving the body crushed but not digested.  According to the horrified Mrs Cuthbert, the mystical serpent consumed the "soul" of the deceased victim, leaving no part for heavenly reward or reincarnation or even damnation.  

As I am writing, they are in the parlour scrying with the letter brought back by Inspector MacGreggor.  Although I am interested to learn what they see, I am rather dreading that it will be more of this serpent nonsense.
. 

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