The Adventure of The Sussex Vampire

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The Adventure of The Sussex Vampire
     Holmes had read carefully a note which the last post had brought him. Then, with the dry chuckle which was his nearest approach to a laugh, he tossed it
over to me.
      "For a mixture of the modern and the mediaeval, of the practical and of the wildly fanciful, I think this is surely the limit," said he. "What do you
make of it, Watson?"
      I read as follows:
      
      46, OLD JEWRY,
      Nov. 19th.
      
      Re Vampires
      
      SIR:
      Our client, Mr. Robert Ferguson, of Ferguson and
      Muirhead, tea brokers, of Mincing Lane, has made some
      inquiry from us in a communication of even date concerning
      vampires. As our firm specializes entirely upon the assessment of machinery the matter hardly comes within our
      purview, and we have therefore recommended Mr. Ferguson to call upon you and lay the matter before you. We
      have not forgotten your successful action in the case of
      Matilda Briggs.
      We are, sir,
      Faithfully yours,
      MORRISON, MORRISON, AND DODD.
      per E. J. C.
      
      "Matilda Briggs was not the name of a young woman, Watson," said Holmes in a reminiscent voice. "It was a ship which is associated with the giant rat
of Sumatra, a story for which the world is not yet prepared. But what do we know about vampires? Does it come within our purview either? Anything is better
than stagnation, but really we seem to have been switched on to a Grimm's fairy tale. Make a long arm, Watson, and see what V has to say."
      I leaned back and took down the great index volume to which he referred. Holmes balanced it on his knee, and his eyes moved slowly and lovingly over
the record of old cases, mixed with the accumulated information of a lifetime.
      "Voyage of the Gloria Scott," http://www.gxqingyuan.com he read. "That was a bad business. I have some recollection that you made a record of it,
Watson, though I was unable to congratulate you upon the result. Victor Lynch, the forger. Venomous lizard or gila. Remarkable case, that! Vittoria, the
circus belle. Vanderbilt and the Yeggman. Vipers. Vigor, the Hammersmith wonder. Hullo! Hullo! Good old index. You can't beat it. Listen to this, Watson.
Vampirism in Hungary. And again, Vampires in Transylvania." He turned over the pages with eagerness, but after a short intent perusal he threw down the great
book with a snarl of disappointment.
      "Rubbish, Watson, rubbish! What have we to do with walking corpses who can only be held in their grave by stakes driven through their hearts? It's pure
lunacy."
      "But surely," said I, "the vampire was not necessarily a dead man? A living person might have the habit. I have read, for example, of the old sucking
the blood of the young in order to retain their youth."
      "You are right, Watson. It mentions the legend in one of these references. But are we to give serious attention to such things? This agency stands
flat-footed upon the ground, and there it must remain. The world is big enough for us. No ghosts need apply. I fear that we cannot take Mr. Robert Ferguson
very seriously. Possibly this note may be from him and may throw some light upon what is worrying him."
      He took up a second letter which had lain unnoticed upon the table while he had been absorbed with the first. This he began to read with a smile of
amusement upon his face which gradually faded away into an expression of intense interest and concentration. When he had finished he sat for some little time
lost in thought with the letter dangling from his fingers. Finally, with a start, he aroused himself from his reverie.

      "Cheeseman's, Lamberley. Where is Lamberley, Watson?"
      "It is in Sussex, South of Horsham."
      "Not very far, eh? And Cheeseman's?"
      "I know that country, Holmes. It is full of old houses which are named after the men who built them centuries ago. You get Odley's and Harvey's and
Carriton's — the folk are forgotten but their names live in their houses."
      "Precisely," said Holmes coldly. It was one of the peculiarities of his proud, self-contained nature that though he docketed any fresh information very
quietly and accurately in his brain, he seldom made any acknowledgment to the giver. "I rather fancy we shall know a good deal more about Cheeseman's,
Lamberley, before we are through. The letter is, as I had hoped, from Robert Ferguson. By the way, he claims acquaintance with you."
      "With me!"
      "You had better read it."
      He handed the letter across. It was headed with the address quoted.
      DEAR MR. HOLMES [it said]:
      I have been recommended to you by my lawyers, but
      indeed the matter is so extraordinarily delicate that it is most
      difficult to discuss. It concerns a friend for whom I am
      acting. This gentleman married some five years ago a Peruvian
      lady the daughter of a Peruvian merchant, whom he had
      met in connection with the importation of nitrates. The lady
      was very beautiful, but the fact of her foreign birth and of
      her alien religion always caused a separation of interests and
      of feelings between husband and wife, so that after a time
      his love may have cooled towards her and he may have
      come to regard their union as a mistake. He felt there were
      sides of her character which he could never explore or
      understand. This was the more painful as she was as loving
      a wife as a man could have — to all appearance absolutely
      devoted.
      Now for the point which I will make more plain when we
      meet. Indeed, this note is merely to give you a general idea
      of the situation and to ascertain whether you would care to
      interest yourself in the matter. The lady began to show
      some curious traits quite alien to her ordinarily sweet and
      gentle disposition. The gentleman had been married twice
      and he had one son by the first wife. This boy was now
      fifteen, a very charming and affectionate youth, though
      unhappily injured through an accident in childhood. Twice
      the wife was caught in the act of assaulting this poor lad in
      the most unprovoked way. Once she struck him with a stick
      and left a great weal on his arm.
      This was a small matter, however, compared with her
      conduct to her own child, a dear boy just under one year of
      age. On one occasion about a month ago this child had
      been left by its nurse for a few minutes. A loud cry from the
      baby, as of pain, called the nurse back. As she ran into the
      room she saw her employer, the lady, leaning over the baby
      and apparently biting his neck. There was a small wound in
      the neck from which a stream of blood had escaped. The
      nurse was so horrified that she wished to call the husband,
      but the lady implored her not to do so and actually gave her
      five pounds as a price for her silence. No explanation was
      ever given, and for the moment the matter was passed over.
      It left, however, a terrible impression upon the nurse's
      mind, and from that time she began to watch her mistress
      closely and to keep a closer guard upon the baby, whom she
      tenderly loved. It seemed to her that even as she watched
      the mother, so the mother watched her, and that every time
      she was compelled to leave the baby alone the mother was
      waiting to get at it. Day and night the nurse covered the
      child, and day and night the silent, watchful mother seemed
      to be lying in wait as a wolf waits for a lamb. It must read
      most incredible to you, and yet I beg you to take it seriously, for a child's life and a man's sanity may depend
      upon it.
      At last there came one dreadful day when the facts could
      no longer be concealed from the husband. The nurse's nerve
      had given way; she could stand the strain no longer, and
      she made a clean breast of it all to the man. To him it
      seemed as wild a tale as it may now seem to you. He knew
      his wife to be a loving wife, and, save for the assaults
      upon her stepson, a loving mother. Why, then, should
      she wound her own dear little baby? He told the nurse that
      she was dreaming, that her suspicions were those of a
      lunatic, and that such libels upon her mistress were not to be
      tolerated. While they were talking a sudden cry of pain was
      heard. Nurse and master rushed together to the nursery.
      Imagine his feelings, Mr. Holmes, as he saw his wife rise
      from a kneeling position beside the cot and saw blood upon
      the child's exposed neck and upon the sheet. With a cry of
      horror, he turned his wife's face to the light and saw blood
      all round her lips. It was she — she beyond all question —
      who had drunk the poor baby's blood.
      So the matter stands. She is now confined to her room.
      There has been no explanation. The husband is half demented. He knows, and I know, little of vampirism beyond
      the name. We had thought it was some wild tale of foreign
      parts. And yet here in the very heart of the English Sussex —
      well, all this can be discussed with you in the morning. Will
      you see me? Will you use your great powers in aiding a
      distracted man? If so, kindly wire to Ferguson, Cheeseman's,
      Lamberley, and I will be at your rooms by ten o'clock.
      Yours faithfully,
      ROBERT FERGUSON.