‘So you wish Holmes to continue investigating,’ I concluded. ‘As a matter of fact, your husband did call earlier this evening, and tried to persuade him to desist. Holmes was no more amenable to persuasion than Lord Goring expected. Indeed, he is out seeking more information about the case at this very moment.’ I recalled that, in fact, I had very little idea of what, exactly, Holmes was hoping to discover.
‘I’m so pleased to hear it,’ Lady Goring beamed. ‘In that case, I had better be going back to Grosvenor Square. Gertrude will be back from the reception soon, and she may wish to look in on me when she returns.’
She stood, and I did likewise, ready to show her out. But something else had occurred to me. ‘One moment, please, Lady Goring,’ I said, sounding to myself like Holmes again. ‘Can I take it that the testimony you gave in my presence yesterday morning was all accurate? There’s nothing you wish to retract or amend?’
Mabel paused, considering. ‘Most of it was,’ she said at last. ‘Everything material, anyway. I wasn’t quite frank about my reasons for going up to the library.’
‘I see.’ I tried to sound stern. ‘And those were?’
She sighed. ‘I was concerned for a dear friend. I had seen how Lord Illingworth was behaving towards Cecily, and it upset me. I dare say you have heard of his history?’
‘I have indeed,’ I said, recalling Langdale Pike’s characterisation of the man as a habitual philanderer. ‘How was he behaving?’
‘In a manner I would describe as excessively fond. Of course, Cecily is a sweet girl and many people are excessively fond of her. I am myself. But when a man of Lord Illingworth’s reputation is seeking time alone with a young wife, particularly one whose husband is so ineffectual and self-absorbed as dear Algy, it is a worry. I went to the library to consider what I should do about it: whether to talk to Cecily, or to Algy, or even to Lord Illingworth, or simply to let the matter slide. Cecily is a grown woman, after all, soon to be a mother, and should perhaps be trusted to make her own decisions. I’m sure that she would say so, at least.’
‘And what conclusion did you come to?’ I asked.
‘I have not reached it yet,’ she admitted. ‘What would you do, Dr Watson?’
‘I’d confront the fellow and threaten to thrash him to within an inch of his life,’ I averred. ‘Not that that’s an option for you, I realise, but you may call upon my services if need be.’
I showed her to the door, where she resumed her voluminous cloak. Her coachman came in response to her wave, and Lady Goring left, apparently unobserved. The coach was unmarked, and in her cloak Her Ladyship would have gone unrecognised. Any unpleasantness that our watcher in the shadows might stir up about the visit would, I hoped, attach to me alone.
I retired to bed, slept well as I have said, and awoke to find Holmes still absent. He returned as I was eating Mrs Hudson’s kippers, drinking my coffee and reading the Morning Chronicle. I was unsurprised to see Sir Robert Chiltern’s name prominently featured, that being a frequent enough occurrence, but the reason was a surprising one. It seemed that he had given a speech in the Commons the previous afternoon opposing the government’s latest bill to regulate financial irregularities.
Though heaven knows I am no avid follower of politics, Sir Robert’s involvement in our case had caused me to note the circumstances concerning the bill, which he had been widely expected to favour. The regulations it would introduce were to limit the proliferation of a certain kind of fraudulent reinvestment scheme, the details of which I was unable fully to follow, and it had been supposed that he would pledge the Opposition’s support for these measures. His reputation for fiscal prudence and probity had virtually dictated it, and the newspaper professed itself much surprised at the feebleness of his arguments against it. Even so, without his backing the bill was expected to founder.
I realised that at the time the speech was given, his sister must have still been in custody, and I supposed that this aberrant behaviour could be accounted for by the very natural distraction such a state of affairs might cause. It seemed peculiar to me, though, that in such a situation Chiltern had not excused himself and allowed some deputy to make the speech in his stead.
Politics has never been my area of interest, however, and I had already moved on to a consideration of the criminal stories when Holmes returned, grimy, tired and footsore, having tramped between a dozen different public houses situated across London. He tossed aside his stick and knapsack, retired to his bedroom, and emerged ten minutes later in his own clothes, looking not only well-scrubbed but somehow also radiantly refreshed.
‘My dear fellow,’ he said, ‘I have made what may prove to be a breakthrough in the case. I may have an identity for Mr Bunbury. Time will tell, or rather Major Roderick Nepcote will. He is meeting us at ten o’clock at the police mortuary.’
Surprising though this statement was, I was bursting with eagerness to tell Holmes what I had learned from Mabel Goring, and he acquiesced to listen. I told him of her visit, not forgetting the presence of the sinister observer; of Lady Goring’s suspicions of Lord Illingworth and his possible designs on Cecily; and also of her misgivings about her menfolk, including her idea that Lord Goring might have some less than honest reason for warning Holmes away from the case.
‘That point, at least, did not require much mental exertion to deduce,’ Holmes observed drily, helping himself to a kipper.
‘But don’t you see, Holmes?’ I asked excitedly, for I had given this matter some consideration overnight, and had arrived at a conclusion that I hoped was worthy of Holmes himself. ‘Lady Goring believed that the conversation she overheard related to herself, but she had no proof of that. Her brother and husband spoke of a “she” whose word had proved reliable, and was somehow connected with Lady Goring’s release. What if they were talking about someone else entirely? Lord Goring, at least, knows Mrs Teville, and perhaps knows more than he has told us. If she is a career blackmailer, and not merely an opportunistic one, then she might be able to apply her sinister pressure to others – perhaps even to Inspector Gregson, or someone else at Scotland Yard. And her price for that might be your removal from the case!’
Holmes considered this for a moment. ‘An adventurous leap, Watson,’ he concluded eventually, ‘but made with some deftness of footing. You are coming on. As you say, it seems clear that Goring and Chiltern were discussing someone other than Lady Goring, and we have already suspected the hand of a female criminal in this case. I would remind you, though, that we have no direct evidence against Mrs Teville, not even that of her identity. It would also be unusual for a blackmailer to victimise someone personally connected to them at a later stage in their career. One might imagine Violet Cardew beginning by blackmailing her daughter out of desperation and then, having discovered a taste or a talent for it, proceeding to apply the technique to others, but the reverse would be more surprising.’
He added, ‘I also have grave trouble seeing Tobias Gregson acting so intemperately as to incur the attentions of a blackmailer. But hark!’ he said, before I could reply. ‘I hear his most constabulary tread upon the stair. Pray, not a word of this to the inspector for the moment, Watson, though I shall have to confess our appointment in the mortuary. I should much prefer to be certain of my facts before I share them.’
Precisely as he finished the sentence, Mrs Hudson ushered in Inspector Gregson, who for once was beaming with pride. ‘Well, gentlemen,’ he said, ‘the case is as good as solved. There are a few details yet to be cleared up, and we haven’t made our arrest just now, but it’s perfectly clear to me who did it, and it’s only a matter of time before I get my hands on him.’
‘Him?’ I repeated in surprise.
Gregson replied, ‘Oh, the lady on the balcony is a red herring, Dr Watson. Or a midnight-blue one, perhaps,’ he added, tickled by his own witticism.
‘Please tell us from the beginning, Inspector,’ Holmes requested. ‘The doctor and I are entirely agog.’
‘Well
, gentlemen, I can tell you in confidence that we’re now seeking Lord Illingworth in connection with the murder of the unknown person going by the name of Bunbury. His Lordship may be trusted in the diplomatic service, but between you and me, he is not the sort of man who I would wish introduced to my daughter. It seems he has rather a habit of getting girls into trouble, and not just servants either.’
‘While that is certainly reprehensible, it does not mean that he is capable of murder,’ Holmes observed. ‘The offences are quite different.’
‘I’ll grant you that, but it does not encourage me to give him the benefit of the doubt. But let me tell you what we’ve really found out. We’ve been getting statements from the last few guests we didn’t manage to talk to on the night, to find out what they have to say. Some of them have been elusive, and the last two we needed to speak to were Lord Illingworth and Mrs Teville.’
‘They know each other,’ I observed, remembering the sturdy diplomat speaking to the lady with the fan. ‘It was Illingworth who helped Mrs Teville leave, despite your constables’ best efforts.’
‘So I gather, but by the lady’s account he was just being gentlemanly. She says they don’t know each other well – in fact, I think she rather dislikes him. She also corroborated much of what we already knew about the times guests arrived and left, and what they were wearing. She had nothing in particular to say about Bunbury, and she hadn’t been near the library. She did, though, see what happened to Lady Goring’s shawl.’
‘Mrs Teville saw her take it off, then, as she said?’ I asked, with relief but also some suspicion.
‘Just as she said,’ Gregson confirmed. ‘That’s why we let Her Ladyship go yesterday. Not the constabulary’s finest hour, perhaps, but I still maintain that I did as I must under the circumstances.’
‘You may rest assured of that, Inspector,’ Holmes confirmed. ‘It was your duty at the time.’
‘Well, regardless of that,’ said Gregson, trying his best to give an impression of indifference to Holmes’s approval, ‘Mrs Teville told us that she saw Lady Goring remove the shawl in the music room. She was sitting close to the fire, it seems – Lady Goring, that is – near where Mrs Cecily Moncrieff was sitting with Lord Illingworth. Mrs Teville’s view was that Lord Illingworth was monopolising Mrs Moncrieff, and that Lady Goring was remaining nearby out of concern for the young lady, on the grounds of his scandalous reputation. Mrs Teville understands that her own reputation might not make her an entirely trusted chaperone in such circumstances.’
That fitted with Mabel’s own account, although as I had only received her permission to share it with Holmes, I did not tell Gregson so.
Holmes asked, ‘Did you learn of Lord Illingworth’s notoriety from Mrs Teville, Inspector?’
‘No, again she corroborated what we knew already. I have my ear to the ground, Mr Holmes, and there isn’t much that gets past me.’ Gregson paused to gather his thoughts, then continued, ‘Mrs Teville remembers noticing at the time that the brooch was pinned to the shawl. She says she was concerned in case some servant saw it, or one of the musicians, and found the temptation a bit too much for them. She was going to take it when she left and give it back to Lady Goring. But then she saw Lord Illingworth doing the same, so she supposed that it would find its way back to her. He may be a reprobate, but he’s a wealthy man and she didn’t take him for a thief.’
Holmes asked, ‘So Lady Goring preceded Lord Illingworth from the room?’
‘According to Mrs Teville, Cecily Moncrieff left first, and Lady Goring followed shortly afterwards. Lord Illingworth remained for a few minutes, then gathered up the shawl and went. A few more guests arrived, then Mrs Teville left some time later.’
‘And what do you believe happened next?’ Holmes asked.
‘My guess is that Illingworth tore the brooch away from the shawl deliberately, so he could incriminate Lady Goring afterwards. He was in the music room when Merriman mentioned Bunbury’s presence. He must have been worried when he saw Lady Goring go up to the second floor ahead of him, but when she came down again within a few minutes he realised that she had only served to strengthen the story of her guilt. He went upstairs to the room, found Bunbury already outside on the balcony, gave the man the brooch, and then pushed him over.’
‘Why, then, did Mabel Goring not mention having seen Bunbury when she entered the library?’
‘He might have gone out onto the balcony while he was waiting, if he had found the door unlocked,’ Gregson said. ‘Or he might have panicked when she arrived, tried to hide behind the curtain, and found it ajar then. Either way, it would make Her Ladyship’s testimony an honest one. She would have been unaware of his presence there.’
‘And the woman who was seen on the balcony with Bunbury?’ asked Holmes.
Gregson said, ‘Ah, well, we only have the maid Dora Steyne’s word for that. My guess is that Dora is in Lord Illingworth’s pay, or else suborned somehow. He’s a persuasive man, especially where the female sex is concerned.’
‘I see. From what you told us the day before yesterday, Dora Steyne’s room is at the top of the house, overlooking the garden.’
‘It is indeed,’ said Gregson. ‘From there it would be much easier to toss that shawl into the tree, where it would be seen, in furtherance of the plan to implicate Lady Goring in the crime.’
Holmes had already given Gregson a brief account of his ballistics experiment at the Moncrieff house, and Gregson had responded with a stern lecture about the sanctity of police evidence, before shaking his head and making a note to send a constable round to collect the shawl. My friend asked now, ‘Has Dora confirmed your suspicions?’
Gregson replied, ‘We brought her in this morning and my men are questioning her. If she’s guilty we will know soon enough. But, of course, another servant might have thrown the shawl, or Illingworth could have made his way up to the servants’ quarters and done it himself.’
‘Though either option would mean we might trust Dora’s testimony once again,’ Holmes noted, ‘as far as we did previously, at least. It seems to me that all you have at this stage is supposition, Inspector. Certainly the fact that the shawl was in Illingworth’s possession is suggestive, but Mrs Teville might have been quite correct in supposing that he would hand it back to its owner. Lady Goring might then have put it back on, and the murder taken place in exactly the way you previously supposed.’
‘If that was all we had you would be right,’ Gregson continued rather smugly. ‘None of what I have told you proves anything as far as it goes. But it was enough to make us even keener to interview Lord Illingworth. I went to his house in St James’s Square and had a stern word with his manservant and secretary, and they admitted he hasn’t been back home since the day after the Moncrieffs’ ball, with no word to either of them about where he might be found.’
Holmes raised an eyebrow. ‘That is certainly interesting,’ he confessed. ‘We saw him that day, at a distance in the street, and he certainly seemed somewhat distracted. Perhaps, though, such behaviour is not so very unusual for a man of Illingworth’s habits. There are doubtless other places where he might choose to stay.’
‘Well, that was what his secretary said, though not at first. When I mentioned murder, though, he was quick enough to tell me that this has happened often enough before. Still, with Mrs Teville’s testimony it sufficed to justify us searching His Lordship’s townhouse, and his study particularly. And what do you suppose we found there?’
‘You know that I dislike supposition, Inspector.’ A trace of a smile played about Holmes’s lips. ‘But were I to oblige, I would suppose that you found evidence that Lord Illingworth has been blackmailing his daughter, Cecily Moncrieff.’
‘Good Lord!’ I exclaimed, quite astonished.
For his part, Gregson looked crestfallen, and somewhat petulant at having his thunder stolen. ‘How did you know?’ he asked.
‘I did not know, Inspector. At your insistence, I supposed. Lord Illingworth has
a history of irregular paternity, and you said that he was showing particular attention to Cecily.’ He did not mention that we had known this ourselves before his arrival; nor, I noticed, did he mention our own theory of a female master criminal, which would surely have cast some doubt upon Illingworth’s guilt. ‘Watson and I discovered yesterday that, while Cecily’s mother is believed dead, her father’s identity is known only by vague rumour even to her closest friends – a fact we would have told you already,’ he added in response to Gregson’s indignant expression, ‘had you not been so eager to recount your own activities.
‘We also learned that Cecily is being blackmailed by someone addressing her as “daughter”. It is not difficult to put these pieces together to make a coherent picture. Since it would be the height of foolishness for Illingworth to retain a copy of his own typewritten letter to Cecily, I surmise that he kept her reply to him, out of a misplaced, and I have to say quite twisted, sense of sentiment. From what we know, though, he does appear to be somewhat fond of the young woman.’
Gregson scratched his head a little resentfully. ‘Well, your guess is on the money, Mr Holmes. What we found, in one of his desk drawers, with very little effort made to hide it, was this.’
He took from his pocket a much-folded letter, which he handed over. Holmes read it aloud.
Dear mother or father, if such you are, which I must inform you I consider doubtful,
If the warnings I have been given about the behaviour of young children are true, then to feign death to avoid parental responsibility shows admirable delicacy of feeling on your part, but I cannot but feel that the time for such demonstrations of sentiment passed some years ago.
After nearly twenty years’ absence, I would expect less formal manners from a parent than for them to introduce the mselves to me by correspondence alone, yet rather better ones than to do so only with veiled hints of shameful secrets and the price of silence.
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