The will then went on to provide that the house should not be sold for five years, nor anything taken out of it. During this period his nephews and niece were to have free access to it whenever they wished, or any person they might appoint could visit it. If they chose they could let it furnished for five years. They could burn it or pull it down if they liked, but if it were intact at the end of five years, it was to be sold, and the proceeds equally divided.
‘These are the only conditions,’ the will concluded; ‘but, as I am doing so much for my relatives, I may just mention two things which I should like done, but they are in no way commands. On the finding of my wealth, if it is found, I should like ten per cent of it given to a society or societies for the feeble-minded. And, as I have explained to my relatives more than once, I should like to be cremated, but I leave the decision to them. If cremation is considered too expensive, I must be buried in the usual way.’
Although the house at Norbiton was still intact, I was told by George Bryant that during the last twelve months every nook and cranny had been searched without avail. He still believed that the wealth was hidden somewhere, but he had begun to doubt whether it would ever be found. Naturally, when he heard of Sims’s attempt to sell a diamond pin, his hopes revived. His brother Charles had always thought that Sims knew something, but he himself had not thought so. Now the affair was on an entirely different footing.
When I had told my story in the empty room at Chelsea I think we were all three convinced that this was the toughest problem we had ever tackled.
‘Did the relatives respect the old man’s wish and have the body cremated?’ Zena asked.
‘No; he was buried in a cemetery at Kingston.’
‘Then they don’t deserve to find the money, and I hope they won’t.’
‘I do not like the relatives,’ I returned; ‘but in this matter there is something to be said for them. They have always been opposed to cremation, a fact which Mr Ottershaw knew quite well, and, recognizing the contemptuous tone of the will, not unreasonably, I think, they decided that the wish was expressed only to annoy them, and that their uncle had no real desire to be cremated.’
‘One of your absurd questions,’ said Quarles.
‘It seems to me I have never asked a more natural or a more sensible one,’ said Zena.
‘I won’t argue, my dear,’ Quarles returned. ‘I presume that paper you have there, Wigan, is a copy of the wording of the will?’
‘Yes,’ and I handed it to him.
‘Of course, you do not think Sims has any connection with this jewel robbery you have been engaged upon?’
‘No; he would not be selling so valuable a stone for twenty pounds.’
‘And you have come to the conclusion that his story is a plain statement of facts?’
‘I think so.’
‘You are not sure?’
‘Well, one cannot close one’s eyes to the possibility that he may dislike the Bryants as much as his master did, and may be keeping his master’s secret,’ I answered.
‘Or he may have learned the secret by chance,’ said Zena.
‘He may,’ said the professor. ‘You questioned him upon that point, Wigan?’
‘He says he knows nothing.’
‘What has become of the pin?’
‘It is in the hands of the police at present, but will be handed back to him. There is no evidence whatever that he is not the rightful owner. The Bryants wanted to have him arrested.’
Quarles spread out the paper, and began reading parts of the will in a slow, thoughtful manner.
‘“Frankly I would take what wealth I have with me if I could”.’ And Quarles repeated the sentence twice. ‘That might imply that there was no wealth to speak of; and, following this idea for a moment, the permission to burn the house or pull it down might suggest a hope in the old man’s mind that the frantic search for what did not exist would result in the destruction of even that which did – the house and furniture. The fact that he desires ten per cent of the wealth, if it is found, to go to imbeciles rather favours this notion; and his wish to be cremated may be an attempt to make his relatives spend money upon him from whom they were destined to receive nothing.’
‘It would be a grim joke,’ I said.
‘A madman’s humour, perhaps,’ said Zena.
‘He goes on: “This being impossible, I suppose”, and then says he has hidden his wealth. He did not seem quite certain that he could not take it with him, did he?’
‘You think –’
‘No, no,’ said Quarles, ‘I haven’t got as far as thinking anything definite yet. The will then explains in a riddle where the treasure is hidden. He was alone in a room. He didn’t send the treasure out of the house. The statements are so deliberate that I am inclined to believe in a treasure of some sort.’
‘So am I,’ I answered, ‘because of the valuable pin he gave to his man.’
‘When was this will made?’ asked Quarles.
‘Nine years ago.’
‘Living as he did, he would hardly spend his pension,’ the professor went on. ‘Money would accumulate in nine years, and, since there is no evidence that he did anything else with it, we may assume that the hoard was periodically added to, and, therefore, he must have placed it where he could get at it without much difficulty.’
For a moment Quarles studied the paper.
‘I think we may take his statements literally,’ he went on; ‘so unless the treasure was very small, small enough to be concealed inside a brick, it seems obvious that it was not hidden in the walls of the house, or it would have been found in the process of pulling down.’
‘If we are to be quite literal, we must remember that he says brick by brick,’ I pointed out. ‘It might therefore be hidden in a brick.’
‘I have thought of that,’ Quarles returned; ‘but in pulling down bricks would get broken, especially a hollow brick, as this would be. I think we may take the words to mean only total demolition, and that there is no special significance in the expression “brick by brick”. Burning does away with the idea that the treasure may be hidden in woodwork.’
‘If he put it under a ground-floor room or under a cellar neither pulling down nor a fire would disclose it,’ said Zena.
‘Every flag in the cellars has been taken up,’ I answered; ‘and all the ground underneath the house has been dug up.’
‘Is there a well?’ she asked.
‘No; that was the first thing I looked for when I came there.’
‘He says in a room,’ Quarles went on. ‘I don’t think that means a cellar.’
‘Do you think the treasure was small in bulk and placed in his coffin?’ said Zena eagerly, leaning forward in her chair as she asked the question.
‘Certainly in that case he would be perfectly justified in saying that he didn’t send it out of the house,’ said Quarles.
‘It is most improbable,’ I said. ‘To begin with, Mr Ottershaw wished to be cremated, so would hardly leave any such instructions. And, further, Sims saw him placed in his coffin, and says nothing was buried with the body.’
‘It is an interesting problem,’ said the professor; ‘but one does not feel very much inclined to help the Bryants.’
‘Then you have a theory?’ I asked.
‘I haven’t got so far as theory; I am only rather keen to try my wits. There is a shadowy idea at the back of my brain which may be gone by morning. If it hasn’t, we’ll go and see Sims.’
Next morning when I went to Chelsea, as I had arranged to do, I found Quarles waiting for me, and we went to Fulham together. Sims had two rooms in his niece’s house, but took his meals with the family. We went into his sitting room and he was quite ready to talk about Mr Ottershaw. I told him that Quarles was a gentleman who thought he could find the hidden money.
‘I shall be very gla
d if he does,’ said Sims. ‘The Bryants will know then that I had nothing to do with it. Mr Charles has been the worst; but since I tried to sell that pin Mr George has been as bad.’
‘I take it you don’t like the Bryants,’ said Quarles.
‘I don’t dislike them, only when they bother me.’
‘Your master didn’t like them?’
‘Didn’t he? I never heard him say. He wasn’t in the habit of saying much to anybody, not even to me.’
‘You were fond of him?’
‘Loved him. He wasn’t what you would call a lovable character, but I loved him, and he liked me. You see, him and me were born in the same neighbourhood, five miles out of Worcester; and when he came back from India he came down there to see an old friend, since dead, and I happened to be there at the time out of a job. That’s how we came together fifteen years ago.’
‘You didn’t go at once to Norbiton?’
‘Not until three years afterward.’
‘Where were you during those three years?’
‘In several places, part of the time in Switzerland, and in Germany.’
‘Now about this treasure, Mr Sims?’
‘Bless you, sir, I don’t believe in it.’
‘The will very distinctly mentions it.’
‘I know. I’ve heard such a lot about that will from the Bryants that I know it almost by heart. It was a joke, that’s what I think. Why, Mr Charles has asked me more than once whether I didn’t slip it into his coffin.’
‘Mr Ottershaw gave you no such instructions, I suppose,’ said Quarles.
‘The only instructions he gave was that I was to lay him out, and to see him put into his coffin if he was buried, and, whatever happened, to see him decently carried out of the house. There was some talk of his being cremated, and I suppose the master didn’t know how they would take him away then. No doubt he thought the Bryants would have a woman to lay him out, so he left a letter for me to show them. The master always did hate women.’
‘And you did this for him?’
‘Gladly, and I helped the undertaker lift him into the coffin. I was there when he was screwed down, so were Mr George and Mr Charles. There was nothing but the body buried; nothing.’
‘The Bryants wouldn’t have him cremated, I understand,’ said Quarles.
‘And quite right, too,’ said Sims. ‘It’s a heathenish custom, that’s what I think.’
‘And you don’t believe there was any large sum of money?’
‘No, I don’t. I should have seen some sign of it.’
‘Your master gave you a very valuable pin,’ said Quarles; ‘I don’t suppose you had seen that before.’
‘It’s true, I hadn’t.’
‘There may have been other valuables where that came from.’
‘I don’t think it,’ said Sims. ‘I don’t believe the master himself knew it was so valuable.’
As we walked up the Fulham Road I asked the professor what he thought of Sims.
‘Simple – and honest, I fancy.’
‘You’re not quite sure?’
‘Not quite, but then I am not sure of anything in this affair yet. I suggest we go and see Mr George Bryant. I want his permission to go over the house at Norbiton.’
George Bryant lived at Wimbledon, and we found him at home. Much of our conversation went over old ground, and need not be repeated here; but the professor was evidently not very favourably impressed with Bryant. Nor did Bryant appear to think much of Quarles. He smiled contemptuously at some of his questions, and, when asked for permission to visit the house at Norbiton, he said he must consult his brother and sister.
‘Except that I am keenly interested in the affair as a puzzle, I don’t care one way or the other,’ said Quarles. ‘Whether you handle the money or not is immaterial to me, but I have a strong impression that I can find it.’
‘In that case, of course –’
‘There are conditions,’ said Quarles, ‘and one or two more questions.’
‘I am willing to answer any questions.’
‘Did you often visit your uncle?’
‘Only twice in ten years, and on each occasion he was not very well – a touch of gout, which was what made him so ill-tempered, I imagine. My brother Charles was with me on one occasion; my sister, I believe, never went there.’
‘Yet you all expected to profit by his death?’
‘His letters certainly gave us to understand that we should, and so far the will was no surprise to us.’
‘Has the clause in the will which forbids the removal of anything from the house been observed?’ Quarles asked.
‘Most certainly.’
‘I mean with regard to trifling things.’
‘Nothing has been taken. Of course, the will has been complied with.’
‘It wasn’t with regard to Mr Ottershaw’s cremation.’
‘We did what we considered to be right, and I refuse to discuss that question. For my own part, I believe if James Sims could be forced to speak the mystery would be at an end. I cannot help feeling that the police have failed in their duty by not having him arrested.’
‘I daresay that is a question my friend Detective Wigan will refuse to discuss,’ said the professor. ‘Do you care to hear my conditions? You can talk them over with your brother and sister when you consider whether I shall be allowed to go over the house or not.’
‘I shall be glad to know your fee,’ said Bryant.
For a moment I thought that Quarles was going to lose his temper.
‘I charge no fee,’ he said quietly, after a momentary pause; ‘but if the money is found through me, you must give ten per cent for the benefit of imbeciles according to the wish of the deceased, and you must pay me ten per cent. That will leave eighty per cent for you to divide.’
‘Preposterous!’ Bryant exclaimed.
‘As you like. Those are my conditions, and I must receive with the permission to visit the house a properly witnessed document, showing that the three of you agree to my terms.’
‘I am afraid you will wait in vain.’
‘It is your affair,’ said Quarles, with a shrug of his shoulders. ‘Remember I can find the money, and I believe I am the only man who can.’
On our way back to town I asked Quarles whether he expected to get the permission.
‘Certainly I do. George Bryant is too greedy for money to miss such a chance.’
‘And do you really mean that you can find the money?’
‘At any rate, I mean the Bryants to pay heavily for it if I do.’
Quarles was right. Three days later the permit and the required document arrived, and we went to Norbiton.
As I had visited the house already, I was prepared to act as guide to the professor, but he showed only a feeble interest in the house itself. The only room he examined with any minuteness was the bedroom Mr Ottershaw had used, and he seemed mainly to be proving to his own satisfaction that certain possibilities which had occurred to him were not probabilities.
‘There’s a ten per cent reward hanging to this, Wigan,’ he chuckled. ‘We’re out to make money on this occasion. Bryant seems to have spoken the truth. The place appears to be much as Mr Ottershaw left it.’
He had opened a cupboard in the bedroom, and took up two or three pairs of boots to look at.
‘Large feet, hadn’t he? Went in for comfort rather than elegance. I never saw uglier boots. But they are well made, nothing cheap about them.’
‘You don’t expect to find the money in his boots, do you?’
‘Never heard of hollow heels, Wigan?’ he asked.
‘You couldn’t hide much money if every boot in the house had a hollow heel.’
‘No, true. I wasn’t thinking of hollow heels particularly.’
Then he took up a stou
t walking-stick which was standing in the corner of the cupboard, felt its weight, and walked across the room with it to try it.
‘Nothing hollow about this, at any rate,’ he said, after examining the ferrule closely.
When we returned to the hall he was interested in the sticks in the stand.
‘He was fond of stout ones, Wigan,’ laughed Quarles. ‘Well, I don’t think there is much to interest us here.’
Our inspection of the house had been of the most casual kind. We hadn’t even looked into some of the rooms, and the odd corners and fireplaces to which I had given considerable attention on my former visit hardly received a passing glance from Quarles.
‘Have you looked at everything you want to see?’ I asked in astonishment.
‘I think so. You said the cellars had been dug up, so they are of no interest, and I warrant the Bryants have already searched in every likely and unlikely place. What is the use of going over the same ground, or in examining cabinets and drawers for false backs and false bottoms, when others have done it for us?’
‘What is your next move, then?’
‘I think we may as well go back to Chelsea and talk about it.’
I must admit that, in spite of my knowledge of Quarles, I thought he was beaten this time, and that he was using bluff to hide his disappointment. I thought he had gone to Norbiton with a fixed idea in his mind, only to discover that he had made a mistake. He would not discuss the affair on our way back to Chelsea; but when we reached the house, he called for Zena, and the three of us retired to the empty room.
More Rivals of Sherlock Holmes Page 32