Doyle and Wells

By Pete Minall

"Doyle and Wells"

Do the dead have a voice?

Dr Arthur Conan Doyle knew they did!

It is the 1890’s and in this modern age of the Industrial Revolution and Queen Victoria. Doyle has been contacted through the spirit world by a woman, whose soul is desperately seeking peace and retribution.

Shadow Dr Doyle and his sceptical friend HG Wells as they journey through the murky world of Victorian séances. Share in their determined attempt to solve the mystery uncovered by their investigations.

Observe as the two friends trawl through libraries and archives attempting to unravel the problem before them, a conundrum emanating from centuries ago.
Follow their meetings with such luminaries of the age as Bram Stoker, Sir Henry Irving and Dr Joseph Bell, the man on whom Doyle based his character Sherlock Holmes. What is The Golden Dawn and who is “The Warty One?”

Can the two authors make amends for a wrong committed during the infamous witch trials of the English Civil War? In untangling the mystery what will they find and what will they do next?

All these questions and more will be answered in “Doyle and Wells.”

To quote Sherlock Holmes, "“Come, Watson, come! The game is afoot.”

"Doyle and Wells" is the third part of "The Trust" series of books. It a stand alone book and you do not need to have read any of the others in the series.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Pete Minall
• Release date: Dec 4, 2015
• ISBN: 9781310367304

Pete Minall

Pete lives in Cornwall, England and loves old English folk traditions and customs, such as Wassailing. He has also dressed up and participated in period re-enactments for well over forty years.Having had three careers, working in silk screen printing within the pharmaceutical industry, technical theatre involved with lighting and lighting design and finally his own shop selling European style board games and puzzles. Pete is now looking forward to retirement and a fourth career as a writer! Pete also does work at Lanhydrock House for the National Trust and can often be found filming bits and pieces on various TV and film productions in Cornwall. He is happily living with his partner, Gabrielle, in Bodmin, Cornwall along with one dog and two house rabbits.

Book preview

The Trust

Part Three

Doyle and Wells

Peter Minall

Copyright © 2015 Pete Minall

All rights reserved.

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Cover by JTLDes1gn5

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Table of Contents

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

About the Author

Author’s Acknowledgements

Biographies

The Trust

Chapter One

Autumn 1892

The two men relaxed as they leaned casually against the railings, smoked their pipes and looked out towards the sea. All was well with the world. They both remarked how they had never seen a sky so grey nor so big. Beneath this enormous sky the perpetual grey swell of the English Channel undulated in softly rounded, rhythmical patterns, slowly coming towards them from the middle distance before growing into waves and then tumbling over, turning white as they crashed full spirited into the immovable sea wall, their power and magnificence now suddenly, a spent force. The constant cycle of movement mixed with the rising and falling of the note of the water was both reassuring and comforting.

This place has seen many comings and goings over the years Herbert, said Arthur rearranging his muffler around his neck to keep out the wind which was scurrying towards them over the tops of the waves. Some famous, some infamous, some prominent and some secretive.

But surely Arthur, that is the nature of a busy sea faring town like Portsmouth, said Herbert turning to speak to Arthur as he re-adjusted the top button of his own overcoat. He could feel the cold wind trying to snatch the warmth from his body.

Did you know, said Arthur looking absent-mindedly towards the horizon, that here in this very port is the world’s oldest dry dock, just imagine that. The stories it could tell of the ships and men which have passed through it. Arthur raised his hand to point out to sea and added, Can you just see that old ship of the line out there on the horizon towards Gosport? Herbert shaded his eyes and squinted into the brusque greyness, "That is The Victory, once the flagship of Horatio Nelson himself. The pride of Trafalgar and now it is the home of the Naval School of Telegraphy, a true mix of the old and the modern. Herbert could see the ship rolling in the far distance and thought he was glad he was not a young rating trying to keep his sea legs on her decks today. In 1181, a chapel dedicated to Thomas Becket was built here by Augustinian monks. In fact Henry V was the first person to fortify the town, Arthur involuntarily licked his lips and tasted the saltiness that had come from the fine spray whipped up by the crashing waves which had been carried on the wind landing lazily on his face. Why the town has even played an important part in the development of the Industrial Revolution. Marc Isambard Brunel, the father of the famed Portsmouth engineer Isambard Kingdom Brunel, established the world's first mass production line here at the Portsmouth Block Mills, where he produced pulley blocks for the rigging for the Royal Navy's ships. Arthur was obviously in one of his reflective yet informative moods and so Herbert let him continue with his local history lesson un-interrupted. It was also to here that Richard the Lionheart returned after being held captive in Austria during the Crusades. Herbert leaned far out over the railings, hands grasping them tightly as he looked down at the churning white waters of the expended waves as they began their noisy rush seawards before being hurtled into the sea wall once again in a never ending phase of construction and destruction. He could not stop himself being amazed at the power of nature. A sudden gust of wind rapidly returned him to a position of safety while simultaneously clutching at his hat, which he feared in that instant he would lose. In 1194 the King gave Portsmouth its first Royal Charter granting permission for the borough to hold a fifteen day annual Free Market Fair. Later the West African Squadron were commanded by the Royal Navy to put an end to the horrors of the Slave Trade, all out of Portsmouth, need I go on? Arthur looked towards his companion and continued, As you can see Portsmouth has partaken in many of histories finest moments."

I have had a very pleasant morning here with you Arthur, and I can tell you are proud of this fair town, but I know you did not ask me here to look at your old practice in Southsea or to have a lecture on this noble town's history or even to look at the naval dockyards, as splendid as they might be. Herbert felt apprehensive but continued, Arthur, exactly why did you ask me to come down here, wouldn't it have been easier for us to have met in London? After all old man, I have just become a husband and as stimulating and pleasant as your company always is, I am a long way away from my new bride! Which reminds me old chap, Isabel sends you her warmest regards.

Ah, the beautiful Isabel, you are a lucky man Herbert, Arthur sighed wistfully. Let's go back to the hotel and take shelter from the cold and wind. Over a pot of tea and some Dundee cake, I can relate to you my tale and more importantly ask you for your advice, which is after all, what I seek.

Both men turned their backs on the sullen tide and strolled along the sea front and into the town until they came to their hotel, where they went into the lounge and ordered tea and cake for two.

Coats were hung, a table was found, seats comfortably arranged, bottoms parked and a brief silence reigned supreme as both men re-adjusted to the warmth and informality of their new surroundings. The silence was gently broken by Herbert, Arthur it occurred to me to ask you a question whilst I was on the train coming down here, one that I have failed to ask you up until now, said Herbert.

Ask away old man, I'm sure our friendship will survive it! laughed Arthur.

Forgive me for being so blunt Arthur, but why are we friends? Herbert had a quizzical look on his face as he asked his friend the question, then continued, After all I am a young married man of just twenty six, I have yet to make my mark on the world, I am un-travelled, I still even live with my Aunt and Uncle and have no serious job to speak of and the only positive thing I do is to aspire to be a writer, like you.

Arthur laughed and looked at Herbert with a twinkle in his eyes. Well Herbert, I see qualities and greatness in you that I know will come to fruition. Sooner than you think in fact, you remind me of myself before I found my direction in life. Brimming full of ideas and as yet unfulfilled ambitions. We are also of a close age, after all I am thirty three, so not so very much older, but I foretell that when you are my age old man, you will be far more important and far more respected than I will ever be, you my boy are an unfulfilled genius, Arthur declared with a beaming smile. Herbert bushed at these kind words.

Tea and cake arrived courtesy of the formally attired black and white clad waitress and was efficiently yet politely placed for the convenience of the two men. She glided away without a word. Both men felt the warmth of their friendship and that of the open fire percolating into their hearts. I’ll be mother, said Arthur as he lifted the lid of the silver tea pot and gave the contents a final stir. Milk, sugar? he asked, hand poised to carry out his friends instructions. As soon as the two cups had been prepared to both men’s satisfaction, he poured the steaming tea. Upon completion of this very English ritual, both companions picked up their saucers and cups and leaned comfortably back into their respective chairs. Where upon they sipped the delicate flavour the tea leaves had produced. Arthur could not help to marvel how the leaves had travelled half way around the world aboard clipper ships, their flavour tightly locked within, only to be released when mixed with boiling water in the pot which sat before them on that grey afternoon in Portsmouth, a journey made solely for their gratification and pleasure. The world could certainly be a wonderful place.

Arthur came out of his internal flight of fancy after a moment or two, looked steadily at his friend and continued, Herbert, you should have more self-confidence and a sound and resolute belief in your personal qualities. I remember that day a few years ago when your letter found its way to my hand, not a couple of miles from this very spot at my practice in Southsea. The earnestness of the writing, the description of your life and of your ambitions for the future. All words which excited and captivated me in equal measure. I had no other avenue open to me but to return your correspondence and learn more about my potential new friend, the aspiring writer. Arthur smiled whilst re-calling that initial letter and the emanating correspondence.

"Arthur, when your reply came to my door, I was elated that such a personage as your self would find the time to reply to me at all! But the amity and interest you were affording me were quite overwhelming, after all who would have thought that I, Herbert George Wells would receive such an unannounced, glowing letter of fraternity from the great historical author, traveller and creator of Sherlock Holmes, Arthur Conan Doyle.

Chapter Two

So how may I help you Arthur, said Herbert eagerly leaning forward in his chair to take another sip his tea. I fear all I will be able to do will be to offer my advice and counsel.

Capital! That is exactly what I would like from you my dear Wells. Arthur once again made himself comfortable in his chair before continuing, My story starts about a year ago, having had just seen the publication of my Holmes work, The Sign of Four. As we have discussed before, this came about in the summer of 1889 during what I refer to as, The Golden Evening" when Mr Stoddart, editor of Lippincott's Monthly Magazine invited me to dinner with a group of friends at the Langham Hotel. While there I was commissioned to write a story for an English version of Lippincott's which would feature an English editor along with English contributors, I was flattered by the offer and The Sign of Four was the end result, by the way did I ever mention before that Oscar was also there that night and he also promised Stoddart a story. The fellow came up with The Picture of Dorian Grey, which I thought was an admirable piece of work. Writing the story was fun for me but I had also been busy promoting my story, The White Company so it was a fraught period."

Ah interjected Herbert, "I remember you telling me how The White Company was a story very close to your heart."

Yes, indeed it was said Arthur, "When I was a young boy, my mother and I used to make up stories of glorious medieval Knights and the chivalrous acts and deeds they performed, back in the days when a man’s honour was more important than his social standing or wealth. It was while attending a lecture on medieval times that the idea of resurrecting those family stories came to me, so off I went away from the dirty, grime filled smog's of Holmes's London to the