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Tales From Hanna Towers

An Anthology of Stories From The Collection Of Private Memoirs Of An English Gentlemen

The Case Of The Mysterious Stranger.

Easter was fast approaching and as is usual at this time of year, Coverdale and I were busy preparing my 40-foot Broads Cruiser, "The Bohemian", for our annual boating trip through the meandering East Anglian waterways. With a feeling of growing excitement the trusty old boat was cleaned and polished until she shone as brightly as the day she was launched in 1935.

Coverdale was still tinkering with the engine when Mrs. MacDougall interrupted us with our morning tea, supplemented by generous rounds of freshly made sandwiches.

"Will you be gone for long sir?" inquired Mrs. MacDougall in her fine Scottish brogue. I could detect a certain amount of concern in her voice as she handed me my china cup.

"About two weeks", I said. "Why is something wrong," I questioned.

"Well sir, I've seen a mysterious man hanging around the grounds. A stranger I've never seen before. He looks like an odd piece of work if you ask me".

"In what way", I said.

"He dresses in black from head to foot. He has a long cloak right down to his ankles and a large wide brimmed black hat", she said.

"How very odd", I mused. "Have you seen this mysterious fellow?" I said turning to Coverdale.

"Indeed I have sir," said Coverdale, who by now was wiping his oily hands on a rag. "I've taken the precaution of alerting the ground staff to keep an eye out for him", he continued.

"Yes and we'll throw blighter off the grounds if we get hold of him", I exclaimed, somewhat annoyed. Reassured, Mrs. MacDougall returned to the kitchen.

Coverdale ushered me to one side before continuing. "I didn't want to say anything in front of Mrs. MacDougall but I chanced to see this scallywag peering through the kitchen window two nights ago while I was on my evening stroll around the grounds," confided Coverdale.

"Good show Coverdale, best not to tell Mrs. MacDougall, it would only frighten her. I want the ground staff to patrol in pairs at night just in case. You'd better inform Constable McTavish when you go to the village this afternoon."

"Very good sir," said Coverdale returning his attention to the boat's engine. This mysterious stranger sounded very odd. I vowed to look into this matter and find out what this rascal was up to. I wasted no time.

That night Coverdale and I made a hide from recently felled bushes close to the driveway. Our hidden lair allowed us to clearly observe the kitchen and most of the castle. We sat patiently and waited, occasionally sipping from a flask that, by good fortune, Coverdale happened to have with him. We were in luck. It was a clear night and the moon was almost full. Its soft iridescence glow illuminated the Gothic castle and grounds.

"Can you see anyone?" I whispered to Coverdale.

"No, all quiet sir," he reported.

"Wait!" alerted Coverdale

"What is it?" I whispered nervously.

"I can see someone walking across the drive", said Coverdale.

I lifted my field glasses to my eyes and scanned the scene. There he was, the mysterious stranger who had been described to me by Mrs MacDougall.

"Let him get to the kitchen window, then we'll rush him." I said.

The black shape moved slowly across the gravel drive taking care not to make a noise. He stopped. Coverdale and I held our breath as the figure peered inquisitively in our direction. Had he seen or heard us I wondered? After a few seconds he turned and continued his dastardly movement towards the castle arriving at the kitchen window in a matter of a few seconds.

"After three," I whispered to Coverdale who nodded in reply.

"One…two…three…GO!!!"

Coverdale and I jumped up and rushed headlong towards our mysterious quarry. Hearing our footsteps noisily crossing the gravel drive the dark figure turned and in an instant started to run with Coverdale and I in hot pursuit. On and on we chased. He was heading for the walled kitchen garden next to the south end of the castle. Coverdale and I were closing in on him as he turned and pointed towards us.

"He's got a gun!" I shouted as Coverdale and I both dived to the ground.

It was then that I heard a dog bark as it ran full tilt into the stranger, knocking him over. Dog and man rolled around on the ground, the man shouting, the dog growling. I instantly recognised our gallant canine saviour. It was Ulysses, Benson the gardener's dog. Benson arrived on the scene and Ulysses, Coverdale and I chased the mysterious figure as he scrambled over the garden wall. Ulysses' grip on the figure's cloak released with the sound of ripping cloth. Coverdale jumped up onto the wall and peered into the dark forest using his flashlight, which by good fortune he happened to have with him.

"He's gone sir," shouted Coverdale, disappointment etched all over his face.

"Never mind," I said, "We'll report this to Constable McTavish is the morning.

"Good work Benson!" I said shaking the gardener's gnarled hand. "And good work Ulysses". I said shaking Alsatian's gnarled paw.

With that we all rolled with laughter. We returned to the castle and quickly despatched three stiff brandies. Then Benson told me his story. Faithful old Ulysses had woken Benson after hearing a suspicious noise outside. Old Ulysses, somehow sensing the danger had not barked. Instead he cleverly woke his master and beckoned him outside. From the door of his cottage Benson had watched the intruder as Coverdale and I ran to arrest him. At this brave Ulysses had bolted across the lawn to intercept the blighter, followed by his chasing master. After hearing Benson's story Coverdale and I as one burst into applause.

"Bravo Benson, bravo Ulysses," we chorused.

"You and Ulysses certainly saved our bacon," I said to Benson as I refilled his glass.

"If old Ulysses had not been so quick off the mark we could have all been goners.

"We must get to the bottom of this mystery," I said.

The following morning we all woke early. Mrs. MacDougall prepared us a hearty breakfast still unaware of the previous night's adventures. I thought it best not to worry her further and so I swore Coverdale, Benson and old Ulysses to secrecy. After breakfast Coverdale reversed the Silver Ghost out of the garage. For the sake Mrs. MacDougall's peace of mind I had concocted a cover story of having to obtain gardening produce from Flange and Spigots Ironmongers and Garden Suppliers in the village.

Benson and I joined Coverdale and we drove down the long gravel driveway on our secret mission. Coverdale had cleverly attached our trailer to complete the deception. Old Ulysses sat proudly in the front seat, he certainly was the hero of the hour. Presently, at the Police station, we related our incredible story in some detail to a dumb-foundered Constable McTavish.

"I'm dumb-founded, what an incredible story," said the portly Constable.

"Sounds like you had a lucky escape sir. If old Ulysses hadn't been so quick of the mark you could have all been goners".

"Yes Constable, but what does all this mean, who is this mysterious fellow?" I asked.

"I don't know sir, beats me. I'm checking with Scotland Yard right now. We'll see if they have any information about mysterious fellows in the area. Of course I'll keep you informed but if you take my advice you'll get your gamekeepers to patrol the grounds around the clock. I'd get them to keep their shotguns handy just in case," warned the Constable ominously.

"Do you really think that's necessary?" I asked.

"Can't be too careful sir," said Constable McTavish.

With that we left the Police station and crossed the road to Flange And Spigot Ironmongers and Meat Suppliers where I bought Ulysses a large piece of his favourite steak, which he gulped down in a flash.

"Just reward faithful old Ulysses." I said as we all rolled with laughter.

The following day the telephone rang in my study. It was Detective Inspector Peacock from Scotland Yard. He had been alerted by the urgency of Constable McTavish's inquiry and had taken the first available train from London down to the village. He was speaking to me from his rented room at the Inn. I briefed him about the recent strange events and told him all about the previous night's incredible story.

"What an incredible story," said the Inspector. "Sounds like you had a lucky escape sir. If old Ulysses hadn't been so quick off the mark you could have all been goners," he added.

I informed the Inspector that I had cancelled my planned boating holiday because of the crisis.

"No, don't do that sir, it's best to carry on as usual. I'll keep watch from a discreet distance but for now carry on as if nothing has happened." he advised.

The following days were quite uneventful. And so that Saturday we set off on our boating holiday as planned. Coverdale had personally supervised the transportation of the Bohemian to our holiday destination. Coverdale and I travelled in the Silver Ghost while the rest of our party followed in a bus I had chartered from Flange and Spigot Ironmongers and Coach Tour Operators. I had changed from my usual tweed jacket and plus fours and was now resplendent in my boating attire. This ensemble consisted of white flannel trousers, black blazer (complete with my Hanna Towers boating club badge) and was topped off by my peeked white yachting cap, which I wore slightly tilted to one side. My maroon coloured cravat prevented a recurrence of the hacking cough that had blighted my early childhood.

Presently, we arrived at the moorings where my 40-foot broads cruiser, "The Bohemian," was tied up awaiting our arrival. She looked splendid as she gently bobbed up and down in the gentle swell. Her paint glistened and her brass fittings shone brightly in the glorious early summer sunshine.

"Do you know Coverdale?" I said, "A day like this makes you proud to be an Englishman."

"Here here, sir" agreed Coverdale with a patriotic smile.

After depositing our bags and equipment on the boat we walked to the four canal cottages that were to be our head quarters for the next two weeks. The cottages were located next to the Jolly Roger Inn, which Coverdale and I had visited regularly during our previous hols.

"Good morning sir," said old Jack the cheery landlord.

"Hullo Old Jack," I said as I warmly shook his gnarled hand.

Old Jack had worked for my father for many years until a bizarre hunting accident curtailed his employment as head gamekeeper. My father had generously bought the pub in order to provide employment for old Jack after his prolonged convalescence following his unfortunate mishap. Since then we had frequented it's cosy taproom whenever we were in the area. The glorious log fire and generous brandies reminded me so much of home. As Old Jack, Coverdale and I talked nostalgically about old times a small voice interrupted our melancholy.

"Hello sir," said the little voice.

I turned around and there to my surprise was Old Jack's young son, Young Jack.

"Hullo Young Jack," I said as the young boy ran eagerly towards us.

"Can I have a ride on the Bohemian?" asked young Jack.

"Of course you can my boy," I said as young Jack stroked Ulysses who by now had joined us with his master.

"Come on chaps, lets have a drink for old times sake," I said as we all strode purposefully towards The Jolly Roger.

Over a couple of generous brandies Coverdale and I recounted our incredible story to Old Jack.

"What an incredible story," said Old Jack. "Sounds like you had a lucky escape. If old Ulysses hadn't been so quick of the mark, you could have all been goners," he added.

"Yes I know," I agreed.

"Strange though," continued old Jack, "Your late father had a similar thing happen when I was gamekeeper at Hanna Towers."

"Really, what happened?" I asked.

"Well sir it was like this…"

Old Jack recounted his tale about a dark mysterious stranger who had been seen prowling the Gothic castle's grounds twenty years earlier. He and the other gamekeepers had a similar experience to ours when they cornered the sinister interloper. In the darkness he had produced a gun and had threatened them in an almost identical fashion to the way he had threatened us. The situation was saved when old Jack's faithful Bull Mastiff, Gerald, attacked the scoundrel. He was sent packing with a quick nip from the dog's powerful jaws.

After old Jack had finished I looked at him and said. "Sounds like you had a lucky escape, if old Gerald had not had such powerful jaws you could have all been a goners."

"Yes I know," agreed old Jack.

Suddenly I felt strangely uncomfortable. I had for many years experienced premonitions that I now took seriously. Coverdale sensed my concern.

"Do you feel strangely uncomfortable sir?" inquired Coverdale.

"Yes, I feel as though we are being watched," I whispered.

"Good heavens," exclaimed old Jack.

My eyes quickly scanned the room. I knew all the regulars who were standing at the bar. Then I noticed that the door that led to the inn's cellar was slightly ajar.

"Act normally," I said as I started slowly towards the suspicious door. Coverdale sensed the danger and followed close behind drawing his Police truncheon, which by good fortune he happened to have with him.

"After three," I said to Coverdale who nodded in reply.

"One…two…. three…. GO!!!" I shouted as I flung open the cellar door to reveal our sinister watcher. Coverdale raised his truncheon only to stop as he recognised the man who was now exposed. It was Inspector Peacock.

"What the…." I exclaimed looking at the cowering detective.

"Steady on chaps," he said. " I was just keeping watch from a discreet distance. I'm keeping an eye on you."

"I think we should keep an eye on you Inspector", said Coverdale, to which we all roared with laughter.

Inspector Peacock joined us and over a generous brandy told us how he had been observing our movements since we left Hanna Towers. The diligent detective had stalked our every move.

"Sounds like you've stalked our every move," I said.

"Yes," replied the intrepid inspector, "and I'm not the only one who's been following you." he added.

"You don't mean?" I exclaimed.

"Yes, the mysterious stranger followed you here," the inspector informed us.

"Blighter!" shouted Coverdale.

"Steady on old chap, let's try and keep our cool," I said.

"I'm sorry sir, but if there's one thing I detest it's mysterious strangers stalking our every move," Coverdale continued fuming.

"I can see your fuming old chap. Landlord, stiff brandies all round," I said.

"Hoorah," chorused the chaps.

Presently, aboard the Bohemian, Coverdale and I sat on the poop deck looking up at the stars shining brightly in the inky blackness of space.

"You know Coverdale," I said "When I look up at the stars shining brightly in the inky blackness of space it makes me proud to be an Englishman."

"Here here," agreed Coverdale with a patriotic smile.

We went over the day's events. Suddenly we heard a commotion coming from the cottages. Through the still night air I heard the unmistakeable voice of Mrs. MacDougall. Coverdale and I rushed down the Bohemian's rickety gangplank and on to terra firma. We arrived at the cottages as Mrs. MacDougall ran from the kitchen into the lane.

"What is it Mrs. MacDougall?" I asked

"It's the mysterious stranger sir. I saw him looking through the kitchen window," she squealed in her lilting Scottish brogue.

"The dirty swine!" exclaimed Coverdale.

By now the commotion had alerted all the staff who had by now spilled into the lane. Old Jack had rushed from the Jolly Roger and said. "He went that way."

Old Jack pointed towards the old abandoned boat yard.

"Quick Coverdale, he's gone toward the old abandoned boat yard," I cried.

We rushed down the lane in hot pursuit. Old Ulysses, who by now had the blighter's scent in his nostrils, over took us.

"Get him lad," shouted Benson. Suddenly Ulysses jumped into the darkness and as he did we heard an earth-shattering scream. We all stopped.

"Did you hear that earth-shattering scream?" I asked panting for breath.

"Yes sir," replied Coverdale.

We ventured forward slowly. Coverdale looked through his passive infra-red night viewing goggles, which by chance he happened to have with him. With the ingenious device he scanned the darkness.

"He's there sir," reported Coverdale. "He's fallen down an abandoned dry dock in the abandoned boatyard."

There was a rustle of leaves behind us. As we turned Inspector Peacock emerged from the bushes. He walked on, aided by Coverdale and his passive infra-red night vision goggles, and stood by the mysterious dark stranger. Benson ordered old Ulysses to release his grip on the blighter's throat.

"Who are you, and why have you been stalking our every move," I shouted demanding an explanation.

"I'm Carlos the former chef at Hanna Towers," said the fellow. "I was employed by your late father until a bizarre kitchen accident ended my career. Because of my injuries I became bitter and twisted and I've spent the last twenty years in a sanatorium convalescing," he continued.

"Poor chap," said Coverdale, who after hearing the unfortunate fellows story was no longer fuming. Inspector Peacock questioned,

"But you had a gun which you pointed at the gamekeepers twenty years ago and at Coverdale and his master the other night."

"No, no it's not a gun it's the walking stick that I've used since my bizarre kitchen accident. I no longer need it but I got used to having it when I was convalescing in a dingy Sanatorium."

"So why are you stalking our every move?" I asked.

"I wasn't," replied Carlos, "I just wanted to see my extensive range of kitchen appliances that I had to leave behind all those years ago. They were left to me by my beloved grand mama when she died," said poor old Carlos who by now was clearly emotional.

"I can see you're clearly emotional," I said, "What we all need is a good stiff brandy."

"Hoorah!" chorused everyone.

With that we all returned to the cosy taproom of the Jolly Roger where we despatched a round of stiff brandies. By now Carlos had become less emotional and it turned out that he was quite a descent chap.

"I can't help feeling sorry for old Carlos," I said to Coverdale and old Jack. "It must have been hellish for him in that dingy Sanatorium for all those years."

"Not to mention the pain and suffering following his bizarre kitchen accident," added Coverdale.

"I wish we could help him in some way," I said.

"Perhaps he could work in the kitchens of the Jolly Roger," said old Jack. "I could do with a good chef."

"What a splendid idea," I exclaimed.

I beckoned to Carlos.

"Did you beckon to me sir?" asked Carlos.

"Yes." I said. "Look here, old Jack has just had a splendid idea. How would you like to work as chef in the Jolly Roger?"

"Really sir," said a disbelieving Carlos who had become clearly emotional again.

"Thank you sir, thank you old Jack," said Carlos.

"I can see you're clearly emotional again, we'll talk about this in the morning," I said.

With that we all retired to our beds for a well-earned sleep. The following morning Mrs. MacDougall and Carlos cooked us all a hearty breakfast. Mrs. MacDougall had returned Carlos' extensive collection of kitchen appliances to their rightful owner who had arranged them neatly in the Jolly Roger's kitchen.

After breakfast Coverdale and I treated young Jack to a ride on the Bohemian. Everyone joined us including Inspector Peacock and our new friend Carlos. Old Ulysses sat proudly in the wheelhouse as I steered along the meandering river.

" What a splendid adventure!" I said to Coverdale.

"Yes sir, splendid," agreed Coverdale.

After our holiday Coverdale and I were relaxing one evening in my study. Over two generous brandies we relived our incredible story.

"You know," I said "It's nice to have a happy ending."

"Yes sir," replied Coverdale as I topped up his glass,

"But it was a good job old Ulysses was so quick off the mark," he added.

"Yes," I said chuckling,

"Or poor old Carlos might have shot us with his walking stick."

With that we both roared with laughter.

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