by David Marcum
“I’ll go and ask her,” Mr. Crellan answered, and having rung the bell, proceeded to find Miss Garth.
Presently he returned with the lady. She was a slight, very pale young woman; no doubt rather pretty in ordinary, but now not looking her best. She was evidently worn and nervous from anxiety and want of sleep, and her eyes were sadly inflamed. As the wind slammed a loose casement behind her she started nervously, and placed her hand to her head.
“Sit down at once, my dear,” Mr. Crellan said; “sit down. This is Mr. Sherlock Holmes, whom I have taken the liberty of inviting down here to help me in a very important matter. The fact is, my dear,” Mr. Crellan added gravely, “I can’t find your poor father’s will.”
Miss Garth was not surprised. “I thought so,” she said mildly, “when you asked me about the bureau yesterday.”
“Of course I need not say, my dear, what a serious thing it may be for you if that will cannot be found. So I hope you’ll try and tell Mr. Holmes here anything he wants to know as well as you can, without forgetting a single thing. I’m pretty sure that he will find it for us if it is to be found.”
“I understand, Miss Garth,” Holmes asked, “that the keys of that bureau never left your possession during the whole time of Mr. Holford’s last illness, and that the bureau was kept locked?”
“Yes, that is so.”
“Did you ever have occasion to go to the bureau yourself?”
“No, I have not touched it.”
“Then you can answer for it, I presume, that the bureau was never unlocked by any one from the time Mr. Holford placed the keys in your hands till you gave them to Mr. Crellan?”
“Yes, I am sure of that.”
“Very good. Now is there any place on the whole premises that you can suggest where this will may possibly be hidden?”
“There is no place that Mr. Crellan doesn’t know of, I’m sure.”
“It is an old house, I observe,” Holmes pursued. “Do you know of any place of concealment in the structure - any secret doors, I mean, you know, or sliding panels, or hollow door frames, and so forth?”
Miss Garth shook her head. “There is not a single place of the sort you speak of in the whole building, so far as I know,” she said, “and I have lived here almost all my life.”
“You knew the purport of Mr. Holford’s will, I take it, and understand what its loss may mean to yourself?”
“Perfectly.”
“Now I must ask you to consider carefully. Take your mind back to two or three days before Mr. Holford’s illness began, and tell me if you can remember any single fact, occurrence, word, or hint from that day to this in any way bearing on the will or anything connected with it?”
Miss Garth shook her head thoughtfully. “I can’t remember the thing being mentioned by anybody, except perhaps by the nurse, who is rather a touchy sort of woman, and once or twice took it upon herself to hint that my recent anxiety was chiefly about my poor father’s money. And that once, when I had done some small thing for him, my father - I have always called him father, you know - said that he wouldn’t forget it, or that I should be rewarded, or something of that sort. Nothing else that I can remember in the remotest degree concerned the will.”
“Mr. Mellis said nothing about it, then?”
Miss Garth changed color slightly, but answered, “No, I only saw him to the door.”
“Thank you, Miss Garth, I won’t trouble you any further just now. But if you can remember anything more in the course of the next few hours it may turn out to be of great service.”
Miss Garth bowed and withdrew. Mr. Crellan shut the door behind her and returned to Holmes. “That doesn’t carry us much further,” he said. “The more certain it seems that the will cannot have been got at, the more difficult our position is from a legal point of view. What shall we do now?”
“Is the nurse still about the place?”
“Yes, I believe so.”
“Then I’ll speak to her.”
The nurse came in response to Mr. Crellan’s summons: a sharp-featured, pragmatical woman of forty-five. She took the seat offered her, and waited for Holmes’s questions.
“You were in attendance on Mr. Holford, I believe, Mrs. Turton, since the beginning of his last illness?”
“Since October 24th.”
“Were you present when Mr. Mellis came to see his uncle last Saturday?”
“Yes.”
“Can you tell me what took place?”
“As to what the gentleman said to Mr. Holford,” the nurse replied, bridling slightly, “of course I don’t know anything, it not being my business and not intended for my ears. Mr. Crellan was there, and knows as much as I do, and so does Miss Garth. I only know that Mr. Mellis stayed for a few minutes and then went out of the room with Miss Garth.”
“How long was Miss Garth gone?”
“I don’t know, ten minutes or a quarter of an hour, perhaps.”
“Now Mrs. Turton, I want you to tell me in confidence - it is very important - whether you, at any time, heard Mr. Holford during his illness say anything of his wishes as to how his property was to be left in case of his death?”
The nurse started and looked keenly from Holmes to Mr. Crellan and back again.
“Is it the will you mean?” she asked sharply.
“Yes. Did he mention it?”
“You mean you can’t find the will, isn’t that it?”
“Well, suppose it is, what then?”
“Suppose won’t do,” the nurse answered shortly; “I do know something about the will, and I believe you can’t find it.”
“I’m sure, Mrs. Turton, that if you know anything about the will you will tell Mr. Crellan in the interests of right and justice.”
“And who’s to protect me against the spite of those I shall offend if I tell you?”
Mr. Crellan interposed.
“Whatever you tell us, Mrs. Turton,” he said, “will be held in the strictest confidence, and the source of our information shall not be divulged. For that I give you my word of honor. And, I need scarcely add, I will see that you come to no harm by anything you may say.”
“Then the will is lost. I may understand that?”
Holmes’s features were impassive and impenetrable. But in Mr. Crellan’s disturbed face the nurse saw a plain answer in the affirmative.
“Yes,” she said, “I see that’s the trouble. Well, I know who took it.”
“Then who was it?”
“Miss Garth!”
“Miss Garth! Nonsense!” cried Mr. Crellan, starting upright. “Nonsense!”
“It may be nonsense,” the nurse replied slowly, with a monotonous emphasis on each word. “It may be nonsense, but it’s a fact. I saw her take it.”
Mr. Crellan simply gasped. Holmes drew his chair a little nearer.
“If you saw her take it,” he said gently, closely watching the woman’s face the while, “then, of course, there’s no doubt.”
“I tell you I saw her take it,” the nurse repeated. “What was in it, and what her game was in taking it, I don’t know. But it was in that bureau, wasn’t it?”
“Yes - probably.”
“In the right hand top drawer?”
“Yes.”
“A white paper in a blue envelope?”
“Yes.”
“Then I saw her take it, as I said before. She unlocked that drawer before my eyes, took it out, and locked the drawer again.”
Mr. Crellan turned blankly to Holmes, but Holmes kept his eyes on the nurse’s face.
“When did this occur?” he asked, “and how?”
“It was on Saturday night, rather late. Everybody was in bed but Miss Garth and myself, and she had been down to the dining-room for something. Mr. H
olford was asleep, so as I wanted to re-fill the water-bottle, I took it up and went. As I was passing the door of this room that we are in now, I heard a noise, and looked in at the door, which was open. There was a candle on the table which had been left there earlier in the evening. Miss Garth was opening the top right hand drawer of that bureau” - Mrs. Turton stabbed her finger spitefully toward the piece of furniture, as though she owed it a personal grudge - “and I saw her take out a blue foolscap envelope, and as the flap was open, I could see the enclosed paper was white. She shut the drawer, locked it, and came out of the room with the envelope in her hand.”
“And what did you do?”
“I hurried on, and she came away without seeing me, and went in the opposite direction - toward the small staircase.”
“Perhaps,” Mr. Crellan ventured at a blurt, “perhaps she was walking in her sleep?”
“That she wasn’t!” the nurse replied, “for she came back to Mr. Holford’s room almost as soon as I returned there, and asked some questions about the medicine - which was nothing new, for I must say she was very fond of interfering in things that were part of my business.”
“That is quite certain, I suppose,” Holmes remarked, “that she could not have been asleep?”
“Quite certain. She talked for about a quarter of an hour, and wanted to kiss Mr. Holford, which might have wakened him, before she went to bed. In fact, I may say we had a disagreement.”
Holmes did not take his steady gaze from the nurse’s face for some seconds after she had finished speaking. Then he only said, “Thank you, Mrs. Turton. I need scarcely assure you, after what Mr. Crellan has said, that your confidence shall not be betrayed. I think that is all, unless you have more to tell us.”
Mrs. Turton bowed and rose. “There is nothing more,” she said, and left the room.
As soon as she had gone, “Is Mrs. Turton at all interested in the will,” Holmes asked.
“No, there is nothing for her. She is a new-comer, you see. Perhaps,” Mr. Crellan went on, struck by an idea, “she may be jealous, or something. She seems a spiteful woman - and really, I can’t believe her story for a moment.”
“Why?”
“Well, you see, it’s absurd. Why should Miss Garth go to all this secret trouble to do herself an injury - to make a beggar of herself? And besides, she’s not in the habit of telling barefaced lies. She distinctly assured us, you remember, that she had never been to the bureau for any purpose whatever.”
“But the nurse has an honest character, hasn’t she?”
“Yes, her character is excellent. Indeed, from all accounts, she is a very excellent woman, except for a desire to govern everybody, and a habit of spite if she is thwarted. But, of course, that sort of thing sometimes leads people rather far.”
“So it does,” Holmes replied. “But consider now. Is it not possible that Miss Garth, completely infatuated with Mr. Mellis, thinks she is doing a noble thing for him by destroying the will and giving up her whole claim to his uncle’s property? Devoted women do just such things, you know.”
Mr. Crellan stared, bent his head to his hand, and considered. “So they do, so they do,” he said. “Insane foolery. Really, it’s the sort of thing I can imagine her doing - she’s honor and generosity itself. But then those lies,” he resumed, sitting up and slapping his leg; “I can’t believe she’d tell such tremendous lies as that for anybody. And with such a calm face, too - I’m sure she couldn’t.”
“Well, that’s as it may be. You can scarcely set a limit to the lengths a woman will go on behalf of a man she loves. I suppose, by the bye, Miss Garth is not exactly what you would call a ‘strong-minded’ woman?”
“No, she’s not that. She’d never get on in the world by herself. She’s a good little soul, but nervous - very; and her month of anxiety, grief, and want of sleep seems to have broken her up.”
“Mr. Mellis knows of the death, I suppose?”
“I telegraphed to him at his chambers in London the first thing yesterday - Tuesday - morning, as soon as the telegraph office was open. He came here (as I’ve forgotten to tell you as yet) the first thing this morning - before I was over here myself, in fact. He had been staying not far off - at Ockham, I think - and the telegram had been sent on. He saw Miss Garth, but couldn’t stay, having to get back to London. I met him going away as I came, about eleven o’clock. Of course I said nothing about the fact that I couldn’t find the will, but he will probably be down again soon, and may ask questions.”
“Yes,” Holmes replied. “And speaking of that matter, you can no doubt talk with Miss Garth on very intimate and familiar terms?”
“Oh yes - yes; I’ve told you what old friends we are.”
“I wish you could manage, at some favorable opportunity today, to speak to her alone, and without referring to the will in any way, get to know, as circumspectly and delicately as you can, how she stands in regard to Mr. Mellis. Whether he is an accepted lover, or likely to be one, you know. Whatever answer you may get, you may judge, I expect, by her manner how things really are.”
“Very good - I’ll seize the first chance. Meanwhile what to do?”
“Nothing, I’m afraid, except perhaps to examine other pieces of furniture as closely as we have examined this bureau.”
Other bureaux, desks, tables, and chests were examined fruitlessly. It was not until after dinner that Mr. Crellan saw a favorable opportunity of sounding Miss Garth as he had promised. Half an hour later he came to Holmes in the study, more puzzled than ever.
“There’s no engagement between them,” he reported, “secret or open, nor ever has been. It seems, from what I can make out, going to work as diplomatically as possible, that Mellis did propose to her, or something very near it, a time ago, and was point-blank refused. Altogether, Miss Garth’s sentiment for him appears to be rather dislike than otherwise.”
“That rather knocks a hole in the theory of self-sacrifice, doesn’t it?” Holmes remarked. “I shall have to think over this, and sleep on it. It’s possible that it may be necessary tomorrow for you to tax Miss Garth, point-blank, with having taken away the will. Still, I hope not.”
“I hope not, too,” Mr. Crellan said, rather dubious as to the result of such an experiment. “She has been quite upset enough already. And, by the bye, she didn’t seem any the better or more composed after Mellis’ visit this morning.”
“Still, then the will was gone.”
“Yes.”
And so Holmes and Mr. Crellan talked on late into the evening, turning over every apparent possibility and finding reason in none. The household went to bed at ten, and, soon after, Miss Garth came to bid Mr. Crellan good night. It had been settled that both Sherlock Holmes and Mr. Crellan should stay the night at Wedbury Hall.
Soon all was still, and the ticking of the tall clock in the hall below could be heard as distinctly as though it were in the study, while the rain without dropped from eaves and sills in regular splashes. Twelve o’clock struck, and Mr. Crellan was about to suggest retirement, when the sound of a light footstep startled Holmes’s alert ear. He raised his hand to enjoin silence, and stepped to the door of the room, Mr. Crellan following him.
There was a light over the staircase, seven or eight yards away, and down the stairs came Miss Garth in dressing gown and slippers; she turned at the landing and vanished in a passage leading to the right.
“Where does that lead to?” Holmes whispered hurriedly.
“Toward the small staircase - other end of house,” Mr. Crellan replied in the same tones.
“Come quietly,” said Holmes, and stepped lightly after Miss Garth, Mr. Crellan at his heels.
She was nearing the opposite end of the passage, walking at a fair pace and looking neither to right nor left. There was another light over the smaller staircase at the end. Without hesitation Miss Garth turn
ed down the stairs till about half down the flight, and then stopped and pressed her hand against the oak wainscot.
Immediately the vertical piece of framing against which she had placed her hand turned on central pivots top and bottom, revealing a small recess, three feet high and little more than six inches wide. Miss Garth stooped and felt about at the bottom of this recess for several seconds. Then with every sign of extreme agitation and horror she withdrew her hand empty, and sank on the stairs. Her head rolled from side to side on her shoulders, and beads of perspiration stood on her forehead. Holmes with difficulty restrained Mr. Crellan from going to her assistance.
Presently, with a sort of shuddering sigh, Miss Garth rose, and after standing irresolute for a moment, descended the flight of stairs to the bottom. There she stopped again, and pressing her hand to her forehead, turned and began to re-ascend the stairs.
Holmes touched his companion’s arm, and the two hastily but noiselessly made their way back along the passage to the study. Miss Garth left the open framing as it was, reached the top of the landing, and without stopping proceeded along the passage and turned up the main staircase, while Holmes and Mr. Crellan still watched her from the study door.
At the top of the flight she turned to the right, and up three or four more steps toward her own room. There she stopped, and leaned thoughtfully on the handrail.
“Go up,” whispered Holmes to Mr. Crellan, “as though you were going to bed. Appear surprised to see her; ask if she isn’t well, and, if you can, manage to repeat that question of mine about secret hiding-places in the house.”
Mr. Crellan nodded and started quickly up the stairs. Half-way up he turned his head, and, as he went on, “Why, Nelly, my dear,” he said, “what’s the matter? Aren’t you well?”
Mr. Crellan acted his part well, and waiting below, Holmes heard this dialogue:
“No, uncle, I don’t feel very well, but it’s nothing. I think my room seems close. I can scarcely breathe.”
“Oh, it isn’t close tonight. You’ll be catching cold, my dear. Go and have a good sleep; you mustn’t worry that wise little head of yours, you know. Mr. Holmes and I have been making quite a night of it, but I’m off to bed now.”