Dear Diary,

I almost wept with relief when I saw Dr Quigley and Dr Winstanley returning from the mound. Quigley looked rather perky given the incident we had just witnessed and cheerfully revealed that Jennings’ corpse had been sucked dry of blood as he tucked into a large ploughman’s lunch.

None of my companions wished to expose themselves to ridicule so it was left to me to summon the local constabulary. The village’s one police constable was justifiably suspicious when he heard my story, but undertook to inspect the mound after I had dragged him into the tavern to hear the reluctant support of my friends.

We accompanied the constable, but found little on the mound except for a splash of blood at the place where the attack occurred. Tracks led away from the mound as though Jennings’ body had been dragged off somewhere, but we lost the trail before we could find it.

The splash of blood was enough for the constable to ask that we remain in the village overnight. During the evening I became suspicious of the publican (a Mr Dick Blair), who said he took possession of the tavern shortly after the events of early 1926 and claimed to know nothing of supernatural events which the other villagers swore to us had occurred. I had planned to take this issue up with the publican the next day, but events were sadly to overtake us.

During the night Winstanley and I both experienced the vivid dreams to which I, at least, have become accustomed. Winstanley’s dream was more unusual than mine. In it he dreamt of a story and that story appeared to be about him. He dreamt of love and death and of waking to see his lover’s grave. A falconer in his dream had the name “Hastur” but before it could go further we were all awakened by a piercing whistle.

The whistle was quickly followed by the sound of splintering wood and breaking glass coming from downstairs. I heard Fred, Quigley and Keats dash to investigate as I raced for a window. Through the pane I saw the creature that killed Jennings clamber out through a large hole in the side of tavern and extend its wings. By the time my companions reached the ground floor it had flown into the night.

Quigley was the first to find the publican’s body. Mr Blair had been ripped in two and the wall to his bedroom had been opened to the bitter winter winds. The local constable was soon on the scene, but not before Dr Winstanley had pocketed an address book and a black whistle in the shape of the creature from Mr Blair’s floor.

The constable, perhaps blaming our presence for the murders of Jennings and Blair, told us to leave town the next day - but took our details before we departed.

Once we were back in London we resumed our investigations. Winstanley found that the creature we had seen was something called a “Byakhee” and that it is a servitor of someone called “the unspeakable one”.

Blair’s address book contained the names and addresses of Bacon, Quarrie and Wainwright. This confirmed for us that the publican was somehow integral to the occult goings-on that had contributed to Mr Roby’s madness.

Winstanley discovered that an archaeological team had excavated at the mound some years ago and he questioned them. A member of the team advised that they had been looking for Roman ruins but had found nothing of interest. Winstanley asked about the monoliths we had seen and was told that they were not there at the time of the excavation.

On his return from this investigation Winstanley saw a man in a white mask on the street. This man looked at Winstanley and started to walk towards him. A woman walked in front of the man in the mask and he walked straight through her. The woman screamed and fainted and the man in the mask vanished. Winstanley rushed to the woman’s aid and assisted her home. The woman claimed not to have seen the man in the mask and did not remember colliding with anyone before her collapse.

Winstanley was shaken by this event, but not as shaken as I was a short time later when I was confronted by Dr Trollope’s murderer. I was watching Bacon’s house from a nearby tavern when I accidentally bumped a tall, skinny man with a pointed nose. I turned to apologise and he punched me once hard in the face breaking my nose. I fell and as I picked myself up the man let his coat open to reveal a knife and whispered “I know why you are here”. Before I could respond or any of the other people in the tavern could apprehend him the man slipped away.

The man’s description matched that of Dr Trollope’s killer and the knife convinced me that he was the man. I reported the attack at once to the detective in charge of Trollope’s murder investigation and made clear my view that Mr Bacon was somehow connected to the crime.

At breakfast the next morning we found two letters which caused considerable discussion. The first related to Mr Roby’s hearing and Dr Quigley responded at once asking that the hearing be held over until our investigation is complete. The second letter was from someone called Mr Wilfred Gesty. Mr Gesty claimed to be a “friend” and urged us to follow Mr Bacon (who he called “a wicked man”) on the night of the full moon. Mr Gesty claimed that Mr Coombs would normally accompany Mr Bacon on such outings, but that he would ensure he would not on this occasion.

There was a week between the letter’s arrival and the full moon and in that time Dr Winstanley contacted an astronomer and connected the mystical events we knew of to the movements of a star named Aldebaran. We noted that this star was currently on the rise and that thought sent shivers down our spines.

Dr Winstanley also spent considerable time and effort conducting an occult ceremony which he hoped would imbue a dagger of his with some unknown mystical power.

On the night of the full moon we gathered outside Mr Bacon’s house and observed him leave just before midnight. We followed him as he walked to the river and then watched as he approached a sleeping homeless person. We heard him muttering some chant as he leant over the man and watched him reach for the man’s throat. At this Dr Winstanley leapt into action and yelled at Bacon to stand away. Bacon turned to us and we saw that instead of hands he had snakes at the end of his arms.

Bacon smiled and called for Coombs, but his smile slipped away as Coombs failed to appear. Winstanley drew a revolver and advanced on Mr Bacon, but his bullets seemed to have little effect. Bacon threw the good doctor into the icy river and then turned to face the rest of us. I raced to rescue Winstanley while Quigley made good use of an antique shooting piece and bought Bacon down. With Fred’s help I managed to drag Winstanley from the river and then we searched Bacon’s body. We found his house keys and another black stone whistle and then pushed his body into the river.

We returned to Bacon’s house and let ourselves in with his key. While Keats and Fred stood watch outside Quigley and I searched the house while Winstanley warmed himself by the fire. We found many occult books and I took one of these and a little silver bell. In the basement Quigley found a thin passageway and tried to slip inside. Something savaged him as he tried to squeeze through and it was all we could do to drag him free and then flee the house.

The next day we received another letter from Mr Gesty. The opening line of this letter thanked us for “Mr Bacon’s murder” and the letter deteriorated from there. Gesty is clearly mad but some of what he said must have some value. I copy a fragment from his letter here:

“I hope to go home to the West Country soon to inherit. For you alone I am to take Atkinson’s place when the old man dies. He cannot live two years at most. He says I am here for the goat, but he owes me too and I will be paid for what he owes me. The woman at Nugs farm well [was?] Mr Quarry’s wife. The old man never had her. The child is not his. I laugh when I think he can make things wilder than dreams and blacker than nightmares but he cannot climb into her bed. How his old loins must itch when he thinks of her. So first we must play the last cards with Edwards and the god he follows. Edwards needs Mr Roby and if he gets them there will be hell to pay. Worse I think for hell is a weak imagining. You must stop that. Edwards will call on me too. He needs me. I will not answer. Rather I will call on the British Gods and they will guard the best of their servants.”

We at once rang the asylum and asked that extra men be put on to watch over Roby and tomorrow we will set off to see him.