to make a sound like a motorcar," Sir Arthur said.
"What happened then?" said Holmes. "Where did it go, what did it do?"
"It rose, and I saw above it the stars, and Mars bright and red in the midst of them." Robert hesitated, considered, continued. "Then the lights brightened even more, and it vanished in a burst of flame. I felt the fire, smelled the brimstone—At first I thought I was blinded!"
"And then?" Holmes said.
"My sight returned, and the fog closed around me."
"What have you left out?" Holmes asked sternly. "What happened afterwards?"
Robert hesitated, reluctance and distress in every line of his expression.
"The truth, man," Holmes said.
"Not afterwards. Before. Before the coracle disappeared. I thought I saw . . . a flash of light, another flash."
"From the coracle?"
"From the sky. Like a signal! White light, white, not red, from . . . from Mars!" He drew in a deep breath. "Then the coracle replied, and vanished."
I managed to repress my exclamation of surprise and wonder. Holmes arched one eyebrow thoughtfully. Sir Arthur stroked his mustache.
"Thank you for your help, Robert," Sir Arthur said as if Robert had said nothing out of the ordinary. "And your good observation."
"Sir Arthur," Robert said, "may I have your permission to salvage what I can from the field? The grain can't be threshed, but I could at least cut the stalks for hay."
"By no means!" Sir Arthur roared in alarm.
Robert stepped back, surprised and frightened.
"No, no," Sir Arthur said, calming himself with visible effort.
"Sir—!"
I was astonished by the tone of protest in which Robert addressed the landowner.
"It's imperative that no one enter the field!" Sir Arthur said. "The pattern mustn't be disturbed till we understand its meaning."
"Very well, Sir Arthur," Robert said reluctantly.
"And set little Robbie and his brothers to keeping the sightseers out of the patterns. They may walk around the edge, but under no circumstances may they proceed inside."
"But, Sir Arthur, this field, every year, has paid your rent. This field keeps the roof over my family's head! Sir Arthur, the crop prices have been low going on two years—"
I did not blame him for his distress, and he was fortunate that Sir Arthur is a humane and decent gentleman.
"You'll not worry about the rent," Sir Arthur said. "I relieve you of the obligation for this year."
On Robert's open face, gratitude and obligation warred.
"I cannot accept that offer, Sir Arthur," he said, "generous though it is, and grateful though I am to you for making it. You and I, we have an agreement. I cannot take charity."
Sir Arthur frowned, that his tenant would not accept such a simple solution to the difficulty.
"We'll discuss this another time," Sir Arthur said. "For the moment, keep the sightseers out of the field." His tone brooked no disagreement.
Robert touched the bill of his ragged cap in acquiescence. We returned to Sir Arthur's mansion, where his gracious wife Jean, Lady Conan Doyle, presided over a fine, if long-delayed, breakfast. After our excursion, I was famished, but Holmes merely picked at his food. This meant the mystery aroused him. As long as it kept his interest, he would hold himself free of the embrace of cocaine.
For the rest of the day, we accompanied Sir Arthur to other fields where theorems had mysteriously appeared over the past few weeks. They were all, according to Holmes, sadly trampled.
We spoke to tenants who had also seen lights in the sky, but the apparitions frightened the observers; each gave a different description, none as coherent as Robert's. I could not imagine what they had actually seen.
My mind kept returning to Robert's description. Cogent though it had been, something about it nagged at my memory. I put my unease own to the mystery of the phenomenon.
And to my wonder. Holmes's skepticism notwithstanding, it would be quite marvelous if we were visited by beings from another world, whether physical or spiritual. Naturally one would prefer friendly beings like those Sir Arthur described, over the invading forces of Mr Wells's scientific romances.
Holmes dutifully explored each damaged field, and listened to the descriptions of flashing lights in the sky. But as he was presented with nothing but old and damaged evidence, his inspections became more and more desultory as the afternoon wore on, his attention more and more distracted and impatient. He also grew more and more irritated at Sir Arthur's ruminations on spiritualism, and nothing I could do or say could divert the conversation. Like any true believer, Sir Arthur was relentless in his proselytizing.
Toward the end