Episode 10. The Casebook of Dr Miller- Case 4, pt 3. An unlikely Fellowship.
Dr Oliver Miller finds himself part of a most unlikely fellowship as an interview with The Society for Physical Research leads to the formation of an investigative party and subsequent investigation at Berkeley Square.
Written, narrated and produced by Charles Walker
The Casebook of Dr Miller © 2023 by Charles Walker is licensed under CC BY-NC-ND 4.0
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Ashton Manor Kevin MacLeod (incompetech.com)Licensed under Creative Commons: By Attribution 3.0 Licensehttp://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/3.0/
Transcript
An Unlikely Fellowship.
What follows is a recounting of my experiences of the 25th and 26th of March 1886. Possibly the most bizarre of my investigations up until this point in my self-appointed and dare I say it ‘career’ of paranormal investigator, although in truth I do not believe that I had as yet admitted to myself that this was to be the future and all-encompassing course of events.
I had put into action my decided upon course of action and as such I had made contact with the Society for Psychical Research. A number of meetings or rather interviews followed with eminent members of the society at their headquarters at Vernon Mews. I had been listened to and questioned it seemed from every possible angle, and it was apparent to me that many of the same questions were being deliberately asked in subtly different ways, the continuity of facts in my answers being compared.
The society I knew, was comprised of members of good name and some of considerable renown in other areas and endeavours. I was also aware the aim of the society rather than being in true believers looking for any evidence to support claims of the supernatural or paranormal, was in fact the opposite. The society had been formed to utilise science to investigate claims ranging from out of body experiences, contact with ‘the other side of the veil’ to telepathy and telekinesis, and in using such scientific methods to explain the phenomenon as either mundane and easily explainable, as pure fakery, or to report when no scientific explanation could be provided.
It was after several interviews that I found myself being seated in the meeting room of 1 Vernon Mews with a certain Mr Green (as he had introduced himself on out first meeting- although I had the feeling that this was not his true name), and with four strangers, or at least strangers to me. Our host lost no time in affirming that there was interest in my case, however it was not the Society for Psychical Research that would be investigating due to the rather fantastical nature of my claims, but rather an off shoot of the organisation, a more peripheral organisation that called upon the resources of a number of individuals as and when deemed necessary. He gave a thin smile here, a more, he paused, ‘eclectic’ mix of individuals and ‘skills’. He went on to say that had I not been a person of such good standing in the community and not having shown any predilection to the fantastical before- that my case as presented would have been imagined as the deliberately constructed or possibly the imaginings of a person suffering from some illness of the mind. I shifted uncomfortably in my seat, both somewhat offended and put out, and at the same time understanding that I would just some few short months earlier have proffered the same conclusion had such a case have been presented before me.
He gestured to the others in the room, stopping at each to briefly provide introduction. It turned out to be the case that even the present group had not met before, and introductions were required from all for the benefit of all and not simply for myself. The first to introduce himself was Lawrence, a man I would guess to be in his forties- he introduced himself as a foreign ambassador for the British government, now on a period of leave from the ambassadorial service. His attire was commensurate with his position, although to my eye a little overdone in formality and elegance- rather akin to when a piece of music is played note for note to perfection but without the small nuances of feeling and interpretation that a true musician brings, and as such becomes a technical exercise devoid of the elegance and expression of playing that makes it appealing.
His manner seemed somewhat condescending in his appraisal of the situation and the group of people that he now found himself in.
To his right and my left sat a rather strange, lean individual- a rather crumpled top hat adorning the drawn face, a full length and rumpled, black many pocketed coat hanging from the man’s slender frame. The nose was long and hooked and the eyes were small but bright, in constant motion, and, as though he had read my thoughts, he introduced himself as Fagin. The character from Charles Dickens's Oliver Twist had been firmly ingrained in my mind. With a somewhat put on air of grandeur he introduced himself to be the proprietor of Oculus Antiques and Curiosities. He gave a thin rather cold smile- more customers looked than bought, he pointed to his eye- oculus, he pronounced. I felt the word was as an apt descriptor for himself as his eye constantly roamed in an appraising manner.
Opposite me and to my right sat two members of the fairer sex although as time would prove the one had far more metal and was far more to be feared than most men. Harriet had a somewhat pale completion, but what she lacked in colour she more than made up for in presence. She was she announced a nurse in employ at the Bethlem Royal Hospital, also known as St. Mary Bethlehem, Bethlehem Hospital and Bedlam, a psychiatric hospital in Bromley, London. She was, she continued, trained in the treatment of many psychiatric conditions and was well versed with the methods of application of electric shock treatment and lobotomy. Her eyes seemed to light up at this pronouncement and I immediately felt that she was not a person that I would wish to be under the tender care of. I had had occasion to be called to the hospital and it was a fearful place.
The final member of our newly formed group was Silvia- a far more comfortable woman with a quieter manner and demeanour and she quietly introduced herself as a Parapsychologist. She said no more.
I had not known what to expect, but it was certainly not this. I did not understand what, other than possibly the Parapsychologist- an ambassador, a dealer of antiquities and curiosities and a possibly pathological psychiatric nurse could bring to the table.
Mr Green, smiling and possibly reading my expression interjected to say that all those now gathered had been brought together for their skills that lay beyond the surface of what could be perceived by the eye on first meeting and far outside the requirements of their occupations. I am sure that I caught a scowl in the direction of Mr Green from Ambassador Lawrence.
Our host continued to the effect that the owners of No50 Berkeley Square had been contacted and that from this very evening the house was ours for the next two or three days. The investigation would start from tonight. A large ring of keys was passed to me at this point. There being a number of hours before dark the ‘group’ would disperse to gather whatever items they deemed necessary for the stay and investigations and that we should all meet up at the house before dusk, to allow time to settle in and to set up whatever equipment may be necessary for a thorough and scientific investigation.
To be perfectly honest I left Vernon Mews more apprehensive than when I had arrived. I had taken an instant dislike to the Ambassador, having the impression that I had met his kind before- more show than substance, and more in love with the position and its privileges than of serving others. The nurse to be frank scared the very life out of me and I was certain that the Apotropaic marks on the coin and watch would not afford even the modicum of protection from her. The dealer looked to me like an individual that would be more likely to pilfer from the premises than to carry out any legitimate investigation. The only person in that room that gave me any modicum of comfort was Silvia- the parapsychologist, a profession that only a year earlier I would have seen as one of utter bunkum. How strange the twists and turns of life can be.
However, there being nothing for it other than to accept the help offered (I had no other alternatives and I was in far too deep now to simple walk away)- I thanked all for their interest and arranged a suitable time for our reconvening at Berkeley Square.
I did not wait to listen to the discussions of what may be brought to aid in our pending investigation, preferring to leave for my own home to collect the few items that I had taken on my previous visit to that accursed house. The coin and pocket watch with their inscribed Apotropaic marks were always on my person so that only left the revolver, night stick and bulls eye lantern to be collected- none of which had actually served any purpose on my first visit.
I arrived in Berkeley square well before dusk and some hours before the agreed meeting time. I did not wish to enter the house on my own and so I took a leisurely stroll in the square to take my mind of whatever events could possibly unfold over the next few hours. The square itself was an extremely pleasant distraction and if one did not know better even No50 looked inviting from the outside.
The first to arrive was the man who called himself Fagin, a fake name I presumed or maybe some inside joke to do with his trade. His full-length coat looked even more voluminous as he walked toward the house, the many pockets seemingly jammed full of what I knew not, and I also noted that there was a large bulge running down the entire left side of the coat. His manner was furtive, and I caught more than once purposeful glance through the neighbouring houses windows as he passed them bye. Silvia and Harriet arrived more or less at the same time, just before the set meeting time. The Ambassador arrived a full 15 minutes late, pulling up in fine carriage and being escorted to the front door by a servant heavily laden with luggage. This only further reinforced my dislike of the man as a pompous and shallow individual.
And so it was that in my eyes, this rag tag and mismatched gaggle of individuals entered No50 Berkeley Square leaving the known behind and throwing ourselves into the hands of the unknown and what fate may bring.
I had presumed, and as it was to transpire incorrectly, that my fellow investigators would immediately examine the property and then start to set up whatever devices that they had seen for to bring with them. I was to be sorely disappointed. The first hour of so of time in the house was given over to the frivolity as I deemed it, of securing the best sleeping places. The Ambassador living up to my judgement of his character taking the master bedroom on the second floor and leaving his baggage in the hallway for others to take up. His man had already driven off, so I wondered who amongst us was expected to provide this service.
I myself chose no room, deciding upon utilising the drawing room again as my temporary refuge and resigning myself to the chaise lounge for any restless repose.
Finally, it would seem that all were happy with their arrangements and congregating in the drawing room the discussion moved to the subject of a reconnoitre of the house. It was at this point I also discovered what the furtive Fagin had under his coat, as preparing to seat himself he first removed a preposterously large blunderbuss from under the many folds of the coat. The weapon, if that is what it could be called, looked as though it would pose more danger to the wielder than to whatever unfortunate creature or person was in its sights. I also once again noted the well-practised roaming and appraising eye of Mr Fagin, no doubt every pocketable item in the room had been afforded a price.
This was not however the most concerning item that had been brought. The Psychiatric nurse placing a large wooden box on the centre table, a polished brass plate on the top announcing ‘Matthews Brother’s ‘Pocket Magneto Electric Machine’’- catching my eye, she smiled, somewhat too enthusiastically, and informed me that this was a very useful item being extensively used in electroshock treatment. I shuddered to think of the poor souls that were afforded her tender care.
There was much discussion, which I shall not relate, but the organisation of the preliminary investigation proved to be as disorganised and amateur as I was not becoming to expect. A small wallet of clippings had been made available to us by the Society for Physical Research, many of which I had already collected during my own investigations- however some were new to me and these were read and discussed. After a seeming endless amount of time the group split to investigate both the attic and the cellar- both of which had many reported seemingly paranormal events.
I did not accompany any of the others to these locations, confining myself to revisiting the areas I had previously inspected during my own investigations. The house was as it had been on my visit, a well-appointed and well decorated, desirable residence in one of London’s most affluent areas. To the casual visitor there was nothing that would hint of the terrors that this house held.
I was called upon after a while to assist with securing all of the internal doors in the attic and any of the rooms that we would not be using during our visit. I only entered the attic space, the domain of the children’s bedrooms for a few moments to lock doors as asked, but the abandoned and long forgotten toys that were scattered around the space did not improve my spirits. Harriet seemed perfectly at home and was busily laying a line of chalk and salt along the bottom edge of each door as it was locked. She explained that anything passing through the area would disturb the chalk, the salt- well who know, it might do something- she looked almost manic in this explanation. She rather too enthusiastically continued reminding me that many instances of movement and cries had been reported as emanating from this attic space and that if reports were to be believed that a child had been murdered in this very space. I gladly locked the door to that attic as we exited to re-join the others.
Lamps were lit in all of the rooms and curtains were drawn open and tied back in order to leave no areas unlit or obscured, this seemed to be very sensible to me. Certain doors were also left unlocked as although we wished to bar certain routes, we at the same time did not wish to remove any escape routes that we may wish to make use of.
House lit and secured as best as possible we once again convened in the drawing room to discuss the progression of our plans. It sounded as though the ‘experts’ were planning on taking advantage of the drinks decanters and having a good night’s sleep and this would not do, so I proposed a group investigation of the first floor and especially the library adding that maybe there may be some documents or some such there that may relate to the house’s history.
Fagin would not enter the library, instead hanging around just outside of the door, on occasion quickly peeking into the room and withdrawing rapidly. Silvia had been drawn to a corner at the back of the room where it became there was one vacant space that had been left seemingly the removal of a single book. I had perused the library quite extensively on my first visit to this house but being more interested in history and natural histories- especially in the birds of the Africa’s, I had neglected to note that there was a small section of books on the more esoteric. The small selection covered subjects ranging from phrenology to telekinesis and out of body experiences. Silvia’s hand was however poised over the vacant space left by whatever book had at some point occupied that space. She quietly informed us all that there was something unnatural about this gap, the books presence was still in the space, the physical book was not- she passed her hand between the volumes either side to demonstrate the obvious lack of anything physical in the proximity.
I proffered that in such as well-ordered library it was strange that one book should not have been put back into its place amongst the others. There were no gaps in any of the other bookshelves and as the rest were to confirm, no books had been found in any of the other rooms. Surely one that seemed to be so meticulous in their collection would not allow for the misplacement of even one of the tombs.
Harriet took a small and rather misshapen cloth doll from her pocket- the porcelain face deathly white and peeling of lacquer, maybe it could be the act of a child? A shiver ran down through my spine as she placed it carefully upon a side table and at the same time glancing around the room as though expecting to see small hands appear from some hidden vantage point. I looked around nervously and placed my own hand in my jacket pockets as the sudden fear of feeling a small, cold hand pressed into mine own invaded the darkest corners of my mind. Maybe that child is still here and knows where the book is, she added.
To my utter dismay at this point it was suggested that Silvia make use of her Ouija board, maybe she could contact either the child or the Sailor, John, that had died from throwing himself from a second story window! He could after all confirm if it had been murder as the courts had ruled, or the result of supernatural experience as Frank O’Brien had reported. It was rapidly agreed by all (save me) that this was an excellent course of action, and that the séance should be held within the very room he had exited to his death. Even the Ambassador, Lawrence, seemed to show mild enthusiasm at this course of action. This made me more adverse to the prospect, if that was possible.
The decision had however been made and after drinks were poured the party relocated to the master bedroom, which was somewhat to my delight, as it seemed to thoroughly dismay the Ambassador (it being his chosen room of repose). I do not know if it was the invasion of the space that he had now deemed as his own for the duration of our stay, or the thought that this was the location of such unfortunate events in the past- I believed that it was the former, but his discomfort in the present somewhat comforted me.
As none of us know of the child’s name and no factual reference could be found to the event in the newspaper cuttings, the house was also devoid of any personal effects of the absent owners such as paintings of family, it was decided that an attempt to contact John was our best course of action.
The events that were to shorty follow and the madness experienced by some of the members of our party make for a tale fit for the worst of nightmares and one that I shall give it’s own separate recording of. It is getting late into the evening as I make this record, and I do not wish to re-live those events in the darkening hours that I now find myself in.
I do not suggest that any that may find this recording- find or continue with the record to follow. However, for those that do have the misfortune to discover this and the subsequent recording, and in continuing with this report, I advise caution for there is only so much that the mind can be exposed to before it loses its grip on reality and insanity pervades through ones very essence until only a shadow of being remains.
