by Hugh Ashton
It took us some twenty minutes to reach the spot, and on the way, I enquired further regarding Holmes’ face.
“ Oh, that,” he chuckled. “ I fear that my left canine is now a matter of history, thanks to the fists of the erstwhile Ludlow Lad, who is now in the Bow-street cells on a charge of assault. I will tell you more anon.”
We reached the fatal spot and we could easily see that Holmes’ prediction had been fulfilled. A still form, clad in white fabric, lay at the bottom of the pool, the only movement being the cloth rippling in the current of the river.
Jeavons gave orders to the constables to bring the body to the surface. “ How did you know — ? ” he asked Holmes.
“ The first few sentences of this letter. Here.” He retrieved the letter from his pocket and read aloud, “ ‘My dear Mr. Holmes, By the time you read this, I will have joined my dear Gerald in that place where he left me for ever. I heard about Dowell and Haddon. I am guessing that Soames and Mathews are next, and then it would be my turn. But it shall not be. Farewell, Lydia Scythorpe.’”
“ Clear enough as a suicide note,” nodded the inspector. “ But what is this connection with Soames and Mathews and the other two ? ”
“ All in its place,” replied Holmes. “ Let us deal with one thing at a time.”
The constables, with some difficulty, retrieved the body and laid it on the bank. Holmes felt around the skirts, and nodded sombrely. “ Stones in the pockets. She left herself no room for second thoughts or remorse.”
“ The poor girl,” said I, with feeling. “ What could have driven her to this ? ”
“ The shame of exposure and arrest,” said Holmes. “ You may feel sorry for her, Watson, but she was the ultimate moving spirit behind many of the robberies carried out throughout the country over the past year or so.”
The police officer started. “ Will you explain this ? ” he demanded, in an angry tone. “ I would remind you that withholding information from the police is an offence. I think that you owe us some kind of account.”
“ Softly,” said Holmes. “ You have all you need before, save the minor details. Let us bear Miss Scythorpe to the mortuary, and then someone must inform the vicar of the loss of his daughter.”
“ That is my responsibility,” said Jeavons. “ Mr. Holmes and Dr. Watson, please return to the station and await me there.”
We did as we were bid, and Holmes completed his perusal of another handwritten sheet that had been enclosed with the letter, nodding in agreement from time to time as he read it. “ No, Watson, you may read it later,” he said to me. “ For now, I wish to assemble the facts that I have just learned.”
He sat in silence with his eyes closed, opening them only when the inspector entered the room.
“ I have done this many times,” said Jeavons, “ and informing the relatives of the deceased is never pleasant, and never becomes easier.”
“ That is very true,” I said, with feeling. “ I have never become accustomed to the task.”
“ Mr. Holmes, perhaps you can now tell us of your theories.”
“ No theories,” said Holmes mildly, “ since what I had deduced has been corroborated by this sheet here which was enclosed with the letter from Miss Scythorpe. I have, however, discovered some motives which were unknown to me. Let me begin by saying that the guiding spirit in the Devereux household was not Soames, the supposed master of the house, but Mathews, the valet. Furthermore, the meeting with Mrs. Devereux which led to the marriage between her and Soames was no accident. It had been arranged by Miss Scythorpe.”
“ Why ? ” I asked. “ Why would she wish to bring about such a match ? Was she unaware of the kind of man that Soames is ? And of Mathews’ past ? ”
“ On the contrary,” my friend replied. “ It was for that very reason that she contrived to being them together. I had my suspicions of this, but lacked proof of a motive until I read this letter. Lydia Scythorpe loved Gerald Devereux, and it seems, from what she has written to me, that the affection was fully returned. Unprepossessing in appearance she may have been, but it seems that at one time she must have possessed a character which was sweet and affectionate. Gerald’s father approved the forthcoming match, but on his death, Mrs. Devereux, whose acquaintance I have yet to have the pleasure of making, forbade her son any further intercourse with Miss Scythorpe.”
“ On what grounds ? ” asked the inspector, who had been making notes.
“ For the most trivial of reasons, Miss Scythorpe writes. On account of her looks. Mrs. Devereux, according to this letter, was concerned about the possible appearance of her future grandchildren.”
“ Absurd ! ” I burst out.
“ There is another reason that occurs to me, though it is not mentioned in the letter. Mrs. Devereux may have regarded the girl as a fortune-hunter, determined to seize as much of the late John Devereux’ property as possible. At any event, the mother’s interdiction cast a cloud over the son, and as we know, he took his own life.”
“ That was an accident,” protested Jeavons.
Holmes shook his head. “ It was no accident. I refuse to reveal the source of my information, but I can assure you that Gerald Devereux’ death was suicide. This is confirmed independently, by the way, by the mention here of a farewell note by Devereux to Scythorpe. Very well, then. The poor girl was distraught, not unnaturally, and sought revenge on the mother, while still retaining friendly relations with the girls of the family. She had done charity work among the poor in the cities, and there had come into contact with some of the lowest of the low. Among these were Mathews and Soames. Both had been in service, Mathews as an under-footman, and Soames as a coachman, but had pursued other lines of business as housebreakers, and had additionally been engaged in pilfering from their employers. So much can be learned from their police records.
“ Soames has good looks of a kind, and a plausibility about him which inspired Scythorpe to set him at the widow Devereux. Once installed as her new husband, he would have control of the estate, and would in all probability bring the Devereux household into ruin and bankruptcy. Mathews, as I mentioned, was the guiding spirit of the two, and would be brought in as some sort of personal servant to Soames. I imagine the relationship provided much secret amusement to the pair.
“ In addition, as the respected master of a considerable prestigious estate, Soames, or rather, his alter ego, Mathews, would be in a position to organise criminal gangs. Who would ever think of looking for the meeting place of a gang of housebreakers in such a house ? We know that every Friday, Mathews invited his confederates to plan the next week’s robberies, which were carried out at the start of the week, as I discovered from my researches. If these activities were discovered and made public, the shame and embarrassment attached to Mrs. Devereux’ second marriage would surely preclude any good marriage by her daughters. Indeed, it is quite possible that Mrs. Devereux was well aware of the activities of her second husband and his valet, but preferred to keep silent.”
“ I know that many of us in the town had our doubts about Soames, but this …” exclaimed Jeavons.
“ I confronted Mathews with all this at Charing-cross station when I met him earlier today,” continued Holmes, “ revealing my true identity. His denial was swifter than I had anticipated, and came in the form of a stinging right that has cost me my left canine. For all that he retired from the Fancy some years ago, his punch is not to be ignored. However, neither is mine, and I emerged, somewhat battered, as you can see, but victorious. Mathews is now in the cells at Bow-street, but I anticipate that other charges will be added to the original one of assault very soon. I leave the exact formulation to your discretion, Inspector
.”
“ It all seems so unbelievable,” I said.
“ Hell hath no fury … ” repliedHolmes. “ I have seldom encountered such a cold-blooded, calculating scheme, designed to bring a whole family to ruin. There is another aspect that you may care to investigate at more length, Inspector, and that is the possibility that Miss Scythorpe was being blackmailed by this pretty pair. She certainly blackened their names enough when she spoke to us about them, did she not, Watson ? I believe that when she talked to us, she was in some hopes that their activities would be curtailed, but when the time came for their arrests, her nerve failed her, and she decided that the music would remain unfaced by her.”
“ But there is one thing you have left unexplained,” said the inspector. “ The bodies and the empty coffins.”
“ This is a macabre and grisly business,” said Holmes. “ Has either of you ever heard of the Hand of Glory ? ”
Both Jeavons and I shook our heads.
“ Accounts vary as to the exact nature of this superstition,” said Holmes, “ but it was popularly believed by members of the criminal classes in the past that a candle made of the fat rendered from the corpse of a hanged man, and held in the preserved left hand of that corpse would either render the holder invisible, or else render all in the house immobile, save him who held the Hand of Glory. You can see how a robber would value such an article, should it actually exist.”
I shuddered. “ Grisly indeed. I think it is easy to see the pattern now that you have explained the superstition.”
“ One of the members of this gang obviously still believed in this tale. Soames, or rather Mathews, arranged with the authorities that the corpses of two executed criminals be given to him for burial, claiming some humanitarian motive. He claimed that they were friends of his,” said Holmes. “ It may well be the truth, in that they had a past acquaintanceship. Once the bodies had been placed in the icehouse, the left hands were removed.”
“ As I told you, Inspector,” I interjected.
“ The bodies were presumably removed on Friday night to a place where the fat from the bodies could be removed and candles created from it.” Holmes ignored the looks of disgust from both Jeavons and myself and continued. “ Of course, something had to be provided for the burials, and the coffins could not be empty. I assume that they were filled with ice packed in straw.”
“ Indeed, that is what was used.”
“ The hands would be pickled according to a recipe involving salt and various bodily fluids. There are also various so-called magical ceremonies to be carried out before the Hands of Glory can be used. I am sure that Soames will tell you all about it, Inspector, should you wish to know the details. My friend Tobias Gregson at Scotland Yard has charge of Mathews, by the way, when you need him here.”
“ Well, Mr. Holmes, it would appear that you have wrapped this up pretty neatly,” said Inspector Jeavons. “ You will, of course, be available to give evidence and to appear at the inquest of Miss Scythorpe ? ”
“ If you feel it is really necessary,” said Holmes. “ However, I have a commission on hand from one of the Royal Houses of Europe which may require a protracted absence from the country. But you may always address correspondence to me at 221B Baker-street. Come, Watson. We must away.”
Once in the train, I could not forbear from asking Holmes how he reached his conclusions.
“ When we saw the corpses in the icehouse with their left hands removed and in the bucket of salt, it immediately put me in mind of the Hand of Glory, an old story which had somehow stuck in my mind since the time I read about it as a student. Of course, the legend of the Hand of Glory was believed only by criminals, and since the master of the house was involved, he must thereby be of that class. ‘ Like master, like man,’ we were told by Lydia Scythorpe, and that set me to ask myself which was the master, and which the man. The rest was a matter of elementary research in the police-court records. It helped, of course, that I had some personal knowledge of Mathews’ past, but otherwise, this was a trivial case, with little of interest to it, save the deliberate forcing of the nuptial hand as a method of revenge. That is, to my knowledge, unique in the annals of crime.”
And so Sherlock Holmes lightly dismissed a case which I confess still sends a chill down my back as I relive those days.
The Case of the Disappearing Spoon
Of all the cases associated with my friend, the celebrated consulting detective Mr. Sherlock Holmes, one of the most amusing was this, which I have chosen to entitle “ The Case of the Disappearing Spoon”. There are those who may feel that the events related here are too trivial to have engaged the attention of what I consider to have been the greatest mind of his age, let alone be worth the setting down in print, but I nonetheless present them as an example of the kind of problem on which Holmes occasionally found himself engaged.
In this instance, our customary leisurely breakfast was interrupted by the entry of Mrs. Hudson, announcing the arrival of “ a client, Mr. Holmes. He sent in his card, and said to me that you would remember him.”
“ Indeed I do,” Holmes remarked, examining the square of pasteboard. “ Arthur Bourne-Hunter. I remember him clearly from our time at school together. He was in a slightly more advanced class than I, and was a keen cricketer, as I recall, a pastime in which I took, and continue to take, little interest. Show him in, Mrs. Hudson. And another cup for his coffee would, I believe, be welcome.”
Mr. Bourne-Hunter proved to be a man of moderate middle age, attired as a man of business, and a fine gleaming top hat set off the ensemble whose foundation was provided by a costly overcoat. There appeared to be a certain roughness about the collar and cuffs of his shirt, and I noticed a little scuffing around the worn heels of his boots, however.
“ Well, Holmes,” were his first words to my friend. “ I will wager that you never expected to see me as one of your customers.”
“ I am always delighted to see my old school fellows,” answered Holmes, “ no matter to what depths they may have fallen.”
The other’s face fell as he pondered the implications of the words, and then he burst out laughing. “ It is nothing of that nature, Holmes,” he explained. “ I stand accused of no crime or wrongdoing. Indeed, the matter regarding which I have come to consult you is of so trifling a nature that I would hardly consider it worthy of your attention.”
“ Tell me of it, all the same,” my friend instructed him. “ Since you appear to have followed my career with some attention, you will need no introduction to my friend and colleague, Dr. John Watson, who has been good enough to reproduce some of my cases, albeit in a regrettably sensational and dramatic manner.”
I bowed towards our visitor, and he returned the salute.
“ I observe,” continued Holmes, “ that your happy marriage has been blessed by the addition of a daughter to your family. A second child, but I condole with you on the loss of the other infant.”
“ It would appear that you have been keeping your eyes on my fortunes,” replied our visitor, visibly astonished.
“ By no means,” answered Holmes. “ I merely observed the charms attached to your watch-chain, the second of which is rimmed in jet, of the type which is usually worn by those who enjoy a matrimonial state and who have suffered a sad loss to their family. When I see a doll, of the type enjoyed by younger children, protruding from the parcel bearing the name of the famous West End toyshop, I conclude that your child is a girl.”
“ I see that you have retained the habits of your youth. Holmes here,” turning to me in explanation, “ was forever playing this sort of trick on us at school. And then, as now, he was always perfectly correct. But to business.”
“ To business,” Holmes agreed.
“ As I s
aid, the whole affair is so laughably trivial that I feel embarrassed about mentioning it at all. You should know that I serve on a number of committees of organisations that do good work in a number of fields — the preservation of ancient buildings, provision of goods and lodging to the needy, and so on. The meetings of these committees are typically held at the house of one of the members, usually one of the officers. I take my turn in the hosting of these meetings, at which refreshments in the form of tea or coffee, with sandwiches and cake and so on are typically served. I am sure you are familiar with such events, Holmes ? ”
“ By repute only,” smiled Sherlock Holmes. “ I move in rather different circles than do you, I fear. Pray continue your narrative.”
“ We are, I suppose, well-to-do, my wife and I, and we possess plate of various kinds, including a set of antique teaspoons, six in number. We keep these pieces of Georgian silverware in a case, and after one of these meetings two days ago, my wife was informed by our maid, Anne, that one of the spoons was missing. A thorough search of the kitchen, the butler’s pantry, and the room in which the meeting had been held failed to discover the missing utensil. I trust my servants absolutely — they have all been with me for years, and there is no doubt in my mind that they are telling the truth when they say that the spoon is not in their possession. I regret to say that my current suspicion is that one of our guests, that is to say, one of the committee members, had abstracted it. Here is a list of those present on that day.” He handed Holmes a sheet of paper torn from a notebook.
“ Do you suspect any one of them in particular ? ”
“ If you were to ask me such a question, I would have to say that each one of them is above suspicion. Four of the members of the committee meeting on that day are known to me personally, and have been for a number of years. Of those four, three are in Holy Orders in the Established Church. One is a Rural Dean, and the other two are rectors or vicars of prosperous parishes. The fourth is a Conservative Member of Parliament, Sir Augustus Derringford, tipped, so I am informed, for a place in a future Cabinet.”