Read Online Black Ceremonies by Charles Black, David A. Riley - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Charles Black, David A. Riley
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so I indicated that Dawson should bring more drinks for all of us.
And once Dawson had done so, Major Guthrie began his story.
“Well now, it so happened back in eighty-four, that I was staying up in, in … um … ah …” Guthrie paused trying to recall where exactly he had been staying. “Well, remote sort of a place, wherever it was. I was up – yes, it was definitely up – up there doing a spot of hunting and shooting, and what have you, you know the sort of thing, I’m sure?” The Major raised a querying eyebrow.
We nodded and agreed that we did indeed.
“Anyway, it wasn’t there, wherever that was, but at a place called Morstan House that the events in my story took place. Do you know it?” Guthrie asked.
We didn’t.
“Well, my old regimental comrade, Hadingly-Scott had got the place, and he’d invited me to visit if I was ever in the locale. I can’t for the life of me think why, as we could never stand each other. But there you are, and so, as it were, was I. You see this hunting and shooting trip that I had taken, was indeed in the locale of Morstan House. Wherever that might in fact be. Tricky thing memory, you see. Has this strange habit of playing tricks on you,” he offered by way of explanation of his memory loss.
“Well, I turned up unannounced and unexpected at Morstan House, and was horrified to find that Hadingly-Scott had passed away. Terrible loss, really fine fellow. I must have missed hearing about his death because I had been out of the country at the time. But I can’t tell you anything about that – top-secret, don’t you know? And to think no one bothered to inform me!” the Major snorted in disgust.
“I did remember that before I had left for India, I had heard that Hadingly-Scott had not long returned from someplace in Africa, and was suffering from some sort of illness – but I had no idea that it might have been serious. Furthermore, there had been a number of rumours doing the rounds. Rumours that he had had some sort of falling out with one of those witch doctor fellows whilst he was over there.”
Seemingly unaware that he had let slip that his top-secret mission had taken him to India the Major leaned forward conspiratorially. “Apparently this falling out resulted in the witch doctor putting some sort of curse on old Hadingly-Scott. Would you believe it?”
“Mumbo jumbo.” Hurst snorted.
“You think so, do you, Doctor?” Guthrie sat back in his chair, and paused to light a cigar. “Ah, that’s good,” he declared.
John remained sceptical. “Superstitious nonsense.”
Major Guthrie raised an eyebrow at John’s scepticism. “Queer sorts those witch doctor chaps; don’t you know? I remember back in seventy-nine; when I was out in Africa myself,” the Major paused again, a pained expression upon his face. “Actually, now I come to mention it, I don’t remember. How extraordinary. Oh well, never mind.”
I had to smile, as I heard poor old Hurst groan. Fortunately, the Major didn’t notice.
“Anyway, where was I? Oh, yes.” Picking up the thread of his story again, the Major continued. “So his son was master of Morstan House now, and although the fellow was obviously still in mourning, and had a quite distressed and distracted air, he invited me in and made me most welcome.
“We dined on a simply excellent dinner, absolutely splendid meal.” The Major patted his belly. And I feared we were in for a discourse on food – one of the Major’s favourite topics.
Obviously I was not alone in my fears because Soames asked, “Did you broach the subject of Hadingly-Scott senior’s death?”
That earned him a glare from the Major, but I’m sure Edgar thought it was worth it.
“Of course I enquired about the manner of his father’s death, but perhaps not surprisingly he was reluctant to talk about his father’s demise in depth. However, he did reveal that it was true that his father had succumbed to an illness he had picked up whilst on
And once Dawson had done so, Major Guthrie began his story.
“Well now, it so happened back in eighty-four, that I was staying up in, in … um … ah …” Guthrie paused trying to recall where exactly he had been staying. “Well, remote sort of a place, wherever it was. I was up – yes, it was definitely up – up there doing a spot of hunting and shooting, and what have you, you know the sort of thing, I’m sure?” The Major raised a querying eyebrow.
We nodded and agreed that we did indeed.
“Anyway, it wasn’t there, wherever that was, but at a place called Morstan House that the events in my story took place. Do you know it?” Guthrie asked.
We didn’t.
“Well, my old regimental comrade, Hadingly-Scott had got the place, and he’d invited me to visit if I was ever in the locale. I can’t for the life of me think why, as we could never stand each other. But there you are, and so, as it were, was I. You see this hunting and shooting trip that I had taken, was indeed in the locale of Morstan House. Wherever that might in fact be. Tricky thing memory, you see. Has this strange habit of playing tricks on you,” he offered by way of explanation of his memory loss.
“Well, I turned up unannounced and unexpected at Morstan House, and was horrified to find that Hadingly-Scott had passed away. Terrible loss, really fine fellow. I must have missed hearing about his death because I had been out of the country at the time. But I can’t tell you anything about that – top-secret, don’t you know? And to think no one bothered to inform me!” the Major snorted in disgust.
“I did remember that before I had left for India, I had heard that Hadingly-Scott had not long returned from someplace in Africa, and was suffering from some sort of illness – but I had no idea that it might have been serious. Furthermore, there had been a number of rumours doing the rounds. Rumours that he had had some sort of falling out with one of those witch doctor fellows whilst he was over there.”
Seemingly unaware that he had let slip that his top-secret mission had taken him to India the Major leaned forward conspiratorially. “Apparently this falling out resulted in the witch doctor putting some sort of curse on old Hadingly-Scott. Would you believe it?”
“Mumbo jumbo.” Hurst snorted.
“You think so, do you, Doctor?” Guthrie sat back in his chair, and paused to light a cigar. “Ah, that’s good,” he declared.
John remained sceptical. “Superstitious nonsense.”
Major Guthrie raised an eyebrow at John’s scepticism. “Queer sorts those witch doctor chaps; don’t you know? I remember back in seventy-nine; when I was out in Africa myself,” the Major paused again, a pained expression upon his face. “Actually, now I come to mention it, I don’t remember. How extraordinary. Oh well, never mind.”
I had to smile, as I heard poor old Hurst groan. Fortunately, the Major didn’t notice.
“Anyway, where was I? Oh, yes.” Picking up the thread of his story again, the Major continued. “So his son was master of Morstan House now, and although the fellow was obviously still in mourning, and had a quite distressed and distracted air, he invited me in and made me most welcome.
“We dined on a simply excellent dinner, absolutely splendid meal.” The Major patted his belly. And I feared we were in for a discourse on food – one of the Major’s favourite topics.
Obviously I was not alone in my fears because Soames asked, “Did you broach the subject of Hadingly-Scott senior’s death?”
That earned him a glare from the Major, but I’m sure Edgar thought it was worth it.
“Of course I enquired about the manner of his father’s death, but perhaps not surprisingly he was reluctant to talk about his father’s demise in depth. However, he did reveal that it was true that his father had succumbed to an illness he had picked up whilst on
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