October 17, 1868
Phillips Harbour
After Caliban's rendition of prior night's events, he and Herbert Shaft return to the boathouse to treat Caliban's injuries. The chimpanzee waits in the boathouse, where the large oilskin windows provide better light, while Shaft goes to the Babbage to fetch bandages.
As Shaft returns to his companion, Mr. Oldridge comes rattling up the dock in his wagon, the drafthorse moving at an atypically brisk trot. "Mr. Shaft!" he shouts over the noise of the wagon, reining the horse to a stop near the boathouse. "Mr. Shaft, your balloon's been destroyed! It's terrible, just terrible, silk all over the field!" The lanky man looks distraught at his own news.
"I know, Mr. Oldridge," Shaft replies. "I've just come from there. Some sort of wild animal did the damage, if you can believe it. Caliban was even injured trying to defend the property."
The ape ooks glumly.
"Your monkey was there? And he couldn't fight of the beast? What was it, a wolf pack?" Oldridge combs his fingers through his hair, climbing down from the wagon. "I'd not have thought an animal would go after a crate for a machine. Were you storing food for the trip at the site, too?"
Bandages in hand, Herbert pauses at the door to the boathouse to tell Mr. Oldridge, "It may have been a pack, but at least one was strong enough to drag Caliban off by the neck. That would require either a very LARGE wolf, or.. do you have bears?"
Caliban rubs his neck gingerly, then winces.
"Bears? Huh. I've heard tell o' them from time to time, but the trappers say there ain't none in these parts any more, leastways none that they can catch." Oldridge follows Shaft, opening the door for him since his hands are full. "Anything I can do for you, mister? Want me to send for the vet? We ain't got one in town but there's one near Innsham."
Oldridge peers at Caliban, tilting his head to one side. "Or Doc Green might be willin' to treat him, I reckon. Guess a monkey's sort of like a person, innit?"
The chimpanzee gives Oldridge a big monkey smile, perhaps grateful for the comparison.
"That's kind of you to offer, but I'm used to taking care of Caliban's occasional wounds," Shaft says, blocking the door a bit with his body. "If it looks there's serious damage to his neck, I'll bring him to Dr. Green. I'll need to rent your wagon again to pick up the debris from the balloon as well."
"Certainly, Mr. Shaft." Oldridge takes a step back to get out of Shaft's way, abandoning his look into the boathouse. "I ... don't imagine you'll be able to fix it, will you?"
Another glum look. Clearly Caliban doesn't rate the odds of this as very high.
"I'm certain there are sailmakers in town that could do the job," Shaft comments. "But I really do not know the extent of the damage yet."
Oldridge looks hopeful at this idea. "That'd be swell. Uh ... Mitchell was looking forward to seein' her fly, you know. Reckon I was a mite curious myself. Hope your monkey's all right, sir -- I'll leave you be now."
"Thank you again, Mr. Oldridge, and if you could, let people know about a large animal on the loose?" Shaft says in parting.
"You bet I will, Mr. Shaft! I'll be sure Mr. Jenken knows what happened too." The man waves and returns to his wagon, setting off again.
The ape gives his master a look, then glances sideways after Mr. Oldridge.
Shaft closes the door and takes the bandages to a washbasin. After years of working with staining chemicals and mortal remains, he's figured out that it's better to wash things whenever possible. "Don't trust him, Cal?" he asks the ape.
Caliban shakes his head. He gestures toward the now-departed Mr. Oldridge, then mimes the talking motion with one hand. Then turning around and pretending to curtsey, he brings up both hands and mimes both talking.
"You're worried that he'll scare the town's women?" Herbert asks, as he brings the bandages over to Caliban, along with a soaped rag to clean away any dried blood.
Caliban shakes his head again, but waggles a hand as if to suggest his master is close to the mark. Turning one hand to face the other, he makes one talk, then the other one turns around, and moving the first hand around to the other side, he pantomimes the talking continuing, on and on.
"Gossip?" Herbert asks as he examine's Caliban's neck. "Do you think I should have prevaricated about the cause of the balloon's destruction?"
Caliban nods at the first, then shrugs.
The monkey points to the door, then pantomimes walking from that direction, inward, then points at his master. He mimes talking, both hands facing Mr. Shaft.
After cleansing out the fur matted my blood and pushing it away from the injury Shaft can see that puncture marks, though not very deep ones, line both sides of Caliban's neck. With the fur cleared away, some of the puncture marks well blood.
The pattern of the mark is similar to that of a wolf's jaw, except that the teeth are too large and spaced farther apart than any canine's. Still, it'd be consistent with the gigantic wolf that Caliban described earlier.
"More will come to talk about it," Shaft guesses. "Well, that's easy to fix. Since you were the only witness, they can ask you what happened." He actually grins until he sees the fresh blood. "Oh my. Perhaps we should see Dr. Green after all. I think your wounds need to be sewn closed." He applies the bandages for now, to at least keep the blood from matting into the fur. "The last time the notion of wolves came up, it was after you'd communed with that poor dead tattooed man."
Caliban nods up at the boss. Then furrows his brows at the second thought, as if trying to recall. "Ook!" He nods vigorously.
Shaft and Caliban walk to the General Store to find out where Dr. Green lives. Mr. Oldridge gives them directions, then applies a little persuasion to get the still-grumpy Jake Greene to take the foreigners to the man's house. On the ride over, abut the only conversation Mr. Shaft manages to get out of Jake is that he's not actually related to Dr. Green.
The doctor has a small surgery attached to his home. Once there, the newcomers have to wait while he finishes removing a cast from a young man's arm. Once that's done, he emerges into this waiting room to give a curious look at the threesome. The doctor is a paunchy older man, white haired and balding on top, and friendly-looking. "Er ... what seems to be the trouble?"
The chimpanzee clings to his master's hand, looking vaguely worried.
"My friend here was attacked by an animal last night," Shaft explains. "He's got some deep puncture wounds on his neck that haven't healed."
Dr. Green looks from Herbert, to Jake, to Caliban. "Ah ... your friend. The ape here? Of course, the bandaged one. Umm. I don't usually work on animals, sir, but I can take a look if you like, if you're sure he's docile." He gives the chimpanzee a worried look not unlike Caliban's own.
"He's docile," Herbert promises, and gives Caliban's hand a squeeze. "But it would probably help if you had something for him to bite down on.."
Caliban blinks up at Dr. Green, then turns his head so the doctor can see the injury. "Ook?"
"Ah. Right. This way, then." The doctor gestures for them to follow him into the surgery. Once inside, he offers Caliban a rubber ball to chew on, then gingerly begins to unwrap the wound, making tsking noises.
"Is something the matter, doctor?" Herbert asks, at the tsking noises.
Caliban chews on the ball, making squeaky noises. He looks absorbed in tasting it.
"I'm going to shave off the fur around the wound so I can get a better look," he tells Shaft. "Keep him still, please." He brings a basin of water, soap and a lather brush, and a straight razor back to the examining table.
The ape gives his master another worried look, but holds still.
"It will grow back," Shaft promises the ape.
A tiny whimper.
While he works, the doctor mutters, "A pity Bernice isn't here." He rinses the blade with each cut, commenting to Shaft as he's about halfway through, "Your pet is quite well-behaved, sir. I've had grown men who squirmed more under examination."
"He's British," Shaft explains.
"Ah, is that it?" The doctor chuckles. When he's done shaving, the doctor eyes the puncture marks with a deepening frown. "Were you there when he was attacked, Mr. Shaft?"
Caliban mouths the ball, turning it around a few times with his tongue as the doctor examines the wounds.
"No, unfortunately," Shaft says, sounding a bit down about it. "I gather the wounds were caused by a large wolf though."
Caliban makes muffled ooking noises.
Dr. Green pulls a needle and a length of surgical thread from one of the drawers in the table. He frowns again at Mr. Shaft's response, shaking his head as he eyes the wounds. "I don't know. You know, Mr. Shaft, I don't work on animals but I've treated a lot of bites and this ... looks odd." He threads the needle as he continues to Caliban, "Now, this'll hurt a bit." He pats Caliban on the back. "Be a good boy now."
The ape looks worried again, but continues mouthing the ball. Squeak.
"Odd in what way?" Herbert asks, coming around to watch. "Because he survived them?"
"Well ... er ... I hadn't thought about that but now that you mention it -- yes. If these are bite marks, and I can't think what else they'd be if not bite marks, than whatever bit him must have been huge. I'd expect something with jaws that size'd be able to bite his poor head right off." Green pinches the skin closed around one of the larger puncture marks, then puts a few quick stitches in it to keep it shut.
Squeak. Squeak. Squeak.
"So, would you say then that it did not intend to mortally wound Caliban?" Shaft asks.
Squeak squeak squeak squeak squeak.
"I mean, look how far apart these marks are," he continues, pointing to one puncture low on Caliban's neck and another not far beneath the ear. "I mean ... that's massive. I've never seen a wolf nor dog that big. A bear, maybe? I don't know if it meant to kill him or not, but it sure seems like it should've been able to had it wanted to, don't you think?" As he talks, he sponges off blood from other punctures and stitches them shut, pausing now and then to cut thread and pat Caliban reassuringly.
Squeaksqueaksqueaksqueaksqueak!
Caliban tries to take it as stolidly as his master would want a true British monkey to, though the thought going through his head probably is probably not of the Queen.
"If there are any surviving footprints of the beast, I can see about having one cast in plaster," Herbert offers. "Someone should be able to identify it."
Squeak! Squeaksqueaksqueak. Squeak!
"Unless something or someone else stopped it, of course," Dr. Green muses. "Perhaps another of these beasts interrupted the first, and during a fight between them your pet escaped. Ah, yes. I'm sure Mr. Tanner would recognize the prints if you got one." Green finishes with the last stitch and leans back. "There you go, my boy, worst is over. Just going to bandage up the rest, the little ones are scabbing over fine."
Squeak. The ape lets out a sigh.
"Thank you, doctor," Shaft says with relief. "Will I need to bring him back in to have the stitches removed?"
Green sponges away the rest of the blood, then wraps the ape's neck securely in a length of clean cloth. "I'll come 'round in a few days to check on him and change the dressing, Mr. Shaft. I think he'll be all right, though. Not much bruising and there doesn't seem to be any internal damage to his throat or spine."
"Ook, ook," the ape observes to his master seriously, endeavoring to look nonchalant as he pops the ball out of his mouth and puts it down.
"Oh, and try to make sure he doesn't scratch at it or pull off the bandage, either." Dr. Green pats Caliban fondly on the shoulder again. "You're a good patient, though, you won't cause your master any trouble now, will you?"
Caliban gives the doctor a wan closed-lips monkey smile.
Dr. Green chuckles. "It's almost like he understands you, isn't it? Bright creature."
"Thank you again, doctor," Herbert says. "We staying at the steam-ship in the harbor. What do I owe you for your services?"
"You're quite welcome. I admit I'm relieved, I was afraid I'd have trouble on my hand when you showed up with your beast, Mr. Shaft," Dr. Green says as he accepts his fee. "Now the only animal I'm worried about it whatever attacked him. If it'd go afer your ape, I'm sure that beast wouldn't balk at attacking people, either."
Jake Greene gives them a lift back to Jenken's field and waits in the wagon as Shaft and Caliban dismount and go to the wreckage of their balloon. A long-haired white cat paces around the basket, sniffing at the ground with his tail swishing. When he spots Caliban, he runs over, mewing.
"Ook!" The ape has turned his shirt collar up to slightly hide the bandage wrapped about his throat, but it's still pretty evident. He gallops over and sits next to the cat, then offers a tentative petting.
"Someone is happy to see you, Caliban," Shaft says, as he goes about collecting pieces of balloon fabric. He tries to mentally calculate just how much of the gas bag as been torn apart.
The cat arches his back into the petting, then turns to press his nose against Caliban's palm, turning a worried eye to the chimp's bandaged neck.
Caliban makes monkey noises at the cat. He settles in, evidently enjoying the breeze and sun and patting the cat.
As he picks up the pieces, it becomes increasingly obvious that a large part of the silk balloon is missing entirely. The parts that are left have been ripped into pieces of a few square yards or so, and usually not along the seams -- shreds by comparison with the whole.
Herbert sighs as he carries the cloth back to the basket. With so much damage, it would be safer to just create a new gas bag. But that really isn't something the local sailmakers are likely to know how to do, and even Shaft isn't sure of the design pattern - he just commissioned the original from specialists in France.
Even if the locals could match the pattern, there couldn't possibly be enough silk in this town to manufacture a new gas bag. And by the time Shaft could get an order for it delivered, the Game would surely be over ... one way or another.
"The Albatross is definitely grounded, Caliban," Herbert reports to his companion. "We'll have to make do with a map, or the help of our allies."
The cat waves his tail, looking up at the man and mewing again.
Caliban nods up at his master. "Eek."
"Hello Islington, I hope your mistress is faring better than we are at this point," Shaft says to the cat.
The Persian curls his tail into a question mark and paws at the ground once.
Not being overly familiar with felines, Herbert isn't sure if the cat is asking a question or if it needs a moment of privacy. "I'll let you two get back to your conversation, shall I?" he finally says, bypassing the issue. "Mr. Greene and I should be able to load the basket onto the cart."
Caliban smiles up at his boss. "Ook," he says, waving.
Herbert goes over to the cart to ask for Mr. Greene's assistance.
Although Jake Green hasn't been much help so far, at Mr. Shaft's request he does help the Englishman carry the basket and the remnants of the crate back to the wagon.
Islington perks up his ears, looking at Caliban with new interest as the two converse. Jake Greene gives the animals a frown as he and Shaft pass them, carrying the basket. "Yer chimp likes cats, does 'e?"
"I should get him a pet someday," Shaft remarks, after loading up more pieces of crate. "Would you care to have a look around with me? I'm hoping to find some good tracks of the animal that attacked last night."
Caliban relaxes in the sun a bit, scratching behind the cat's ears and under its chin. He gives his master a slightly worried look.
"Eh. All right," Greene says, without enthusiasm. He follows Shaft to the edge of the field, where flattened brush suggests some part of the balloon may have been dragged. In the damp soil by the river, Shaft finds a couple of clear cloven-hoof prints, while Jake Greene whistles at a pawprint. "Willya lookit that?"
"Two different prints," Shaft notes, then goes to look at the pawprint.
Jake brings one of his own boots alongside it. The pawprint is about two-thirds as long. Jake takes off his cap, shaking his head. "Bear track," he says. "Who'd believe it, a bear 'round here?"
"Are you certain it's a bear?" Herbert asks the man.
Jake shrugs. "Lookit the size of it. What else could it be? Too small fer Bigfoot, I'd say."
"We should make a cast of it, just to be certain," Shaft suggests. "There are different types of bears, and it would be good to know which we are dealing with."
The other man shrugs again. "I ain't gonna stop you. You got the stuff to make a cast, go right ahead."
The monkey exchanges one last set of ooks with the cat before it gets to its feet to join its master.
Islington watches as Caliban walks away, his fluffy tail flagging. Then he turns and sets off in the opposite direction.
When they return to the boathouse, while Herbert retrieves a suitable supply of plaster, Caliban rummages through their other possessions. Jake Greene leaves to return the wagon to the General Store once they've got the basket and crate remnants unloaded.
After a bit, the ape retrieves a long bronze cannister with two curving antennae like a scarab's. He offers this to his master with a serious look.
"Do you think we're about to get haunted?" Herbert asks as he takes the device and checks it over, along with its 'battery'.
Caliban shakes his head. He points at his neck, makes bitey motions with a hand, then points at his master, and repeats the bitey motions, only much more severely.
The battery with the spirit stunner is dry, just like all the other batteries when shipped. Still, Herbert has enough necroplasm available to give a few charges to the Spirit Stunner without depleting his supplies.
"Oh, of course," Shaft says, as he goes to charge up the battery from the Analytical Engine's reservoir. "I'll also carry my pistol. Do you have any idea who told St. John about the balloon?"
The ape holds the revolver out for his master next, looking serious. He shakes his head.
Man and chimp return to the site to cast the footprints, which they accomplish without incident. A few onlookers are leaning against the fence, talking to each other, when Shaft and Caliban return through the field. "Hello, Mr. Shaft!" a young man they don't rrecognize calls out. "We thought you were going to fly today!"
Wearing a turtle-neck sweater, and having taken the opportunity to fix them both a quick breakfast, the ape saunters by his master in much fortified spirits.
"Ah, there was an unfortunate accident with the balloon," Shaft tells them. "It was irreparably damaged during the night."
"Awww," the first speaker says, looking disappointed. "Sorry to hear that, mister!" One of the young men beside him murmurs something, at which a third chuckles.
The ape gives his master a curious look, glancing over to the onlookers.
"I don't suppose any you men would recognize what made this?" Shaft asks, holding up the casting of the pawprint.
"Ook, eek."
Two of the men take a step back at the sight, while the last leans forward, whistling. "Is that for real, mister?"
"I take it from your reactions that you do recognize it?" Shaft asks.
They shake their heads. "Not me," one says. "Bear maybe?" "Looks like a wolf." "Are you crazy? It's too big for a wolf!"
Caliban, hesitant to disturb his master's evident rapport with the gentlemen, instead stands by his master stolidly, hands clasped behind his back.
"Thank you, gentlemen," Shaft says, then asks, "How did you know I was planning to launch my balloon today?"
"Oh, Mrs. Green told me," the first young man says.
A second adds, "You heard from Mrs. Green? I thought I told you."
The last says, "No, you told me. Who told you?"
"Oh, the Oldridge boy, their eldest."
The monkey gives his master a sideways look and grimaces.
"But you hadn't heard about the vandalism before now?" Shaft asks.
"Naw." All three look abashed. "The foreman's had us busy since dawn," the first complains. "I was real sorry to have missed the launch. Though I guess it didn't matter after all."
"I'm sorry to have disappointed you all," Shaft apologizes. "I don't suppose you know where I could find a very accurate map of the town, though?"
They look at each other. The stoutest one shrugs. "Ask Mr. Larkson, I guess. He's the town clerk."
"Ah, thank you," Shaft says, then puts away the cast and tips his hat to the men. "Afraid I must be off now, good day to you all."
"Ook, ook," says the ape agreeably as he doffs his fez likewise.
A little hunting -- actually, a stop by the General Store -- and they learn the location of the town's office of records. But it's only open from 10 to 3 on weekdays, and today is a Saturday. "If it's real important," Mr. Oldridge says, somewhat dubiously, "You could stop by Mr. Larkson's house. Is it about the wolf pack's attack?"
The ape scratches behind an ear, as if pondering what to do.
"No, actually," Shaft says. "I was hoping to find an accurate map of the township, preferably one that included the buildings."
"Oh. Well, I imagine that can wait until Monday, right?" Oldridge says.
Sad monkey eyes.
The shopkeeper appears to be immune to sad monkey eyes.
"Probably," Shaft admits. "I am unsure as to who to talk to about the animal attack, actually."
Caliban starts looking around the store, possibly pondering lunch already.
"If you want to catch the beast, I'd think trappers. Dan Tanner -- he runs the tannery -- could put you in touch with several, I'm sure," Oldridge suggests.
By now, it's late enough that lunch would be a good idea.
"Perhaps I will go see him after lunch," Shaft says, then thinks better of it. "That is.. unless the smells of the tannery are likely to make me regret it. Have you been there yourself, Mr. Oldridge?"
"Sure have. It's pretty rank, all right. Never made me lose my lunch but it'd put you off your appetite, I expect," the shopkeeper says.
Pork chops, carrots, onions, and potatoes gives a pretty clear indication what the chimpanzee intends their lunch to be. "Ook," he says brightly, holding the bag up for his master to purchase.
Mr. Oldridge glances over the items in Caliban's hands, and starts tallying up the cost even before Shaft approves the purchase.
"Perhaps we'll wait a bit before seeing Mr. Tanner then," Herbert notes, getting out his wallet to pay for the food.
A few hours later, having given lunch time to digest, Herbert and Caliban make their way upriver to the tannery. The business is as unpleasant as expected; the only blessing is that the building is upwind so they can barely smell it until they're on top of it. At that point, there's no escaping the awful combination of of rotting flesh and the almost as overpowering scent of the chemicals used to cure the drying hides. A few stray dogs are nosing through a heap of unidentifiable scraps at the back of the tannery.
Fanning his nose, the chimpanzee extracts a somewhat worn handkerchief and holds it over his muzzle. "Ooook," he says, and there's no mistaking the disgusted sound of his moan.
"I don't think we'll be shopping for animal remains here," Herbert comments to the ape, while getting out his own handkerchief. "Hopefully Mr. Tanner will not be difficult to find."
When they step inside, they find one older man and a couple of teenaged boys working away, stretching racks of skins. The older man notices their entrance, and wipes his hands as he leaves his apprentices to deal with the hides. He approaches the man and his chimpanzee with barely a curious glance at Caliban. "G'd afternoon. What can I do for ya?"
"Mr. Tanner?" Herbert asks. "I have some unusual footprints I was hoping you could help identify."
"Yup, that's me. Sure, I'll have a look at 'em." Mr. Tanner waits.
Caliban holds out the casts, since he's been carrying them so his master wouldn't need to be encumbered.
Mr. Tanner looks at the two casts. "That's a deer, buck I'm sure, too big for a doe. Pretty big for a buck, even. He must be an impressive one. This one ... " He frowns at it. "This for real, Mr. Shaft?"
"Yes, the creature that made this one also was able to pick up my friend Caliban here by the neck," Shaft notes.
Caliban rubs at his neck gingerly with one hand, the one with the buck casting, then decides to leave well enough alone. "Ook," he says, glancing over at Mr. Shaft.
Tanner snorts. "Well, it'd be big enough to, I reckon, if it's real. I ain't never seen a print like that one, Mr. Shaft. Where'd you get it?"
"In the fallow field near the mouth of the river," Herbert says. "Both prints."
The man eyes him suspiciously. "What, here? In Phillips Harbour?"
One of the apprentices has left off his work to drift closer. "Yeah, Mr. Tanner! A monster attacked his chimpanzee this morning, didn't you hear?"
Herbert nods, a bit gravely. "The wolf-like one was made last night. I've no idea when the deer one was made, but it was nearby."
Caliban draws himself upright and gives the apprentice a serious nod and a half smile.
"Get back to work, Joe," Tanner says, cuffing the boy. "A monster, huh?" He glances at Caliban, then at the print. "Take it to the preacher, Mr. Shaft. That ain't the print of no animal found in nature."
Both the apprentices gasp, although Joe has hurried back to his companion.
"Ook?" The ape scratches behind an ear and then gives his boss a doubtful look.
"You aren't suggesting this belongs to some sort of supernatural beast, are you?" Shaft asks.
"I'm sayin' that it ain't natural, Mr. Shaft. There ain't no wolf in the world that makes a track that big. That's as big as a bear forefoot, but it ain't no bear track -- pad shape and toes are both wrong, bear's foot is more oval, here, and toes more straight across," he says, gesturing demonstratively to the cast. "So ... well, ya can draw yer own conclusions, I ain't no expert on things what ain't natural. Unless -- " he gives his apprentices a surly look " -- some scamp is playin' a prank on you."
The apprentices hastily return their attention to their work.
"Dr. Green treated Caliban's wounds, which were quite real, Mr. Tanner," Shaft replies. "But I don't think much can be done about this monster wolf for the moment, beyond hoping it does not appear again. Thank you for your expertise in identifying the print, however."
"'s too big for a wolf," Mr. Tanner mutters, folding his arms. "Still think ya'd better show it to the pastor, Mr. Shaft. Ain't right."
The ape tries to look properly appreciative, despite his haste in putting the castings back in a basket and putting a handkerchief to his nose. He bows a little.
Shaft tips his hat to the tanner, and says, "I'll see to it, sir."
The sight of the ape bowing and covering his nose elicits a chuckle from the tanner. "Mighty fastidious pet ya've got there," he says, then nods to the Englishman. "Good. Good day to ya, mister."
On the way back from the tannery, Herbert asks Caliban, "I don't suppose you noticed if the Hart showed up before or after the attack?"
The ape scratches behind an ear thoughtfully. He pulls out the casting of the wolf, then points at his neck; then he sets it back, and pulls out the buck's cast, and the wolf's, holding them both carefully in one hand.
"You saw it when the wolf was carrying you?" Herbert asks.
Caliban shakes his head. Replacing the castings, and keeping just the wolf one out, he points to the wolf one, then at his neck, then makes a walking gesture to the right. Then pointing at the wolf alone, he walks his hand back to the left. He places a hand over his own eyes, before removing it and looking up at his master.
Caliban points at himself next, then pantomimes walking left again. Then he indicates his eyes, and the ground, and then gestures to both the castings.
"Ah, when you recovered and started following the wolf back, you then noticed the extra tracks?" Herbert guesses.
"Ook, ook," the ape says, nodding.
"But you didn't actually see the Hart?" Shaft adds.
Caliban shakes his head. He points at his nose and then at the buck's casting.
"You could smell it though?" the man asks.
A nod.
"Interesting," the man notes. "Our Darklight photograph suggests that the Hart is opposed to St. John. If this wolf creature is of her making, it would be no surprise for the Hart to appear and watch it. And if the deer pulling her coach in the photo were also transformed people, as the dead man we found suggests, then so too might the wolf be a human."
"Perhaps we should try pick up the trail again where you left off this morning," Herbert suggests. "And.. I don't suppose you could tell if it was a he-wolf or a she-wolf, could you?"
The ape considers how to answer that, then traces the classic hourglass curves in the air with a wry grin.
Caliban waggles his eyebrows.
"Ahem," Shaft says, clearing his throat. "I meant.. by odor, or something. It would be useful to know if the creature was actually Sarah St. John herself."
The ape points at the wolf's cast, then makes the hourglass outline again.
"It was a female wolf then?" Shaft asks.
Another nod.
"In that case, following those tracks could tell us much!" Herbert says. "We should go while the trail is still relatively fresh."