The Secret Notebooks of Sherlock Holmes

by June Thomson

  ‘Which brings me to the matter of the whisky decanter. Mrs Grafton noticed that she had to refill it more frequently than in the past and suspected that either my great-uncle was drinking more than usual or Adams had access to his master’s tantalus.4 Once again, I was left with nothing tangible on which to base my suspicion; certainly nothing with which I could confront Adams. All I could do was keep up my correspondence with Mrs Grafton and continue visiting my great-uncle on the first Sunday of every month as I had done in the past.

  ‘And then three weeks ago, Mr Holmes, I received the letter which I have shown you, forbidding me ever to enter the house again because of my “threatening behaviour”, as my great-uncle calls it.’

  ‘You are referring, of course, to the anonymous letters. Have you any idea what was in them?’

  ‘I have indeed,’ Maitland replied. Reaching once again into his inside pocket, he drew out an envelope from which he extracted a folded sheet of paper which he again handed to Holmes, who scrutinised for several long moments in silence before passing it to me without any comment.

  As far as I could see, it was a piece of ordinary, inexpensive white writing-paper such as one might buy at any stationer’s. Its only remarkable feature was the message on it, which had been laboriously composed of words or single letters cut from a newspaper and stuck to the sheet.

  It read: ‘Beware! You are an old fool who deserves to go to Hell.’

  It was undated and bore no name, not even initials.

  ‘May I see the envelope?’ Holmes enquired and, having been given it, he again looked at it in silence before passing it on to me.

  Like the message, words and individual letters cut from a newspaper had been used to compose the address. Apart from this, I only noted that the envelope was of the same ordinary brand as the writing-paper and that it bore a West Central London postmark.

  As I was examining it, Maitland was continuing, ‘At my request, Mrs Grafton removed this letter from my great-uncle’s bureau drawer and sent it to me with a note explaining that there were six more similar letters sent over the four weeks since my previous visit to Holbrook Hall. I should also add that my address in London is in the West Central postal district. I can only assume my great-uncle, with Adams’ encouragement, has come to the conclusion that it was I who sent the letters.’

  ‘To what purpose?’

  Maitland gave a wry smile.

  ‘Exactly, Mr Holmes! What possible motive could I have for threatening my great-uncle in this way? On the other hand, Adams could have a very good reason for causing a rift between my great-uncle and myself. In the first place, I am now barred from seeing him again, thus preventing me from witnessing whatever devilry Adams has planned against Great-uncle Reginald. And secondly, I am the main heir to my great-uncle’s estate. Should I be disinherited, I fear Adams will become the sole beneficiary.’

  ‘Would Sir Reginald be foolish enough to cut you entirely out of his Will in Adams’ favour?’

  ‘He is a very stubborn man, Mr Holmes, who once he has taken against someone, for whatever reason, would never forgive that individual. My father is a good example of his intractability but there are other instances I could give you of friends and colleagues whom in the past he has discarded quite ruthlessly. You can understand now, I assume, why I referred in my letter to you of the urgency of the affair.’

  ‘Indeed I can, Mr Maitland,’ Holmes assured him grimly. ‘And I give you my word that the case will receive my immediate attention. Before you leave, however, there are one or two further details I need to establish. To begin with, I assume Adams came with references?’

  ‘I believe so. Mrs Grafton would be the best person to ask about this matter.’

  ‘Of course. That brings me to my second point. Please give me the vicar’s name and address so that, if need be, I can write to Mrs Grafton myself.’

  ‘Of course. He is the Reverend George Paget and the address is The Vicarage, Meadow Lane, Holbrook, Kent. Both the vicar and especially his wife are on friendly terms with Mrs Grafton, who is a regular member of the church, and they understand some at least of the situation at the Hall. They will, I am sure, do everything they can to help you, should you apply to them.’

  ‘May I keep the threatening letter and its envelope for the time being?’ Holmes enquired.

  On receiving Maitland’s consent, Holmes rose to his feet and held out his hand.

  ‘Then that is all for the moment,’ said he. ‘I shall write to you as soon as there is anything to report.’

  After his client had left the room and we heard the street door close behind him, Holmes turned to me.

  ‘I fear that Maitland is correct in thinking some devilry is afoot and that Adams is behind it.’

  ‘You seem quite convinced of that, Holmes.’

  ‘My dear fellow, it is as plain as the proverbial pikestaff. The anonymous letter confirms it.’

  ‘Does it? I confess I do not see how. Anyone could have sent it. And if it is indeed Adams, how did he contrive to post the letters in London?’

  ‘Oh, that is easily arranged!’ Holmes said, waving a dismissive hand. ‘He has an accomplice to whom he sent the letters and who in turn posted them in a pillarbox in the West Central district. I think we may find his co-conspirator also played another role in the affair. Which reminds me. I have an errand to carry out myself at the post office.’

  ‘What role are you referring to?’ I asked, bewildered.

  But Holmes was busy putting the anonymous letter in his pocket before snatching up his hat and stick and making for the door. Moments later, I heard him whistling in the street for a cab.5

  At the time, I assumed he had left the house in order to send a telegram to the vicar and his wife, requesting an interview, as indeed he had. But there was another reason for his hasty departure which I did not learn about until much later. He had gone to the Diogenes Club6 to consult with his elder brother, Mycroft, whom at that stage of the investigation I did not even know existed.

  The telegram which Holmes sent that morning prompted a swift reply that afternoon from the Reverend George Paget. He wired to say that Holmes and I would be very welcome to call at the vicarage the following day where we could meet Mrs Grafton, and suggested we caught the 10.26 train from Victoria to Chichester, the nearest station to Holbrook, where he would meet us with the pony and trap.

  The Reverend Paget, an elderly, white-haired cleric with a scholarly air, was waiting for us as arranged, and we set off on the three mile drive to Holbrook, down pleasant Sussex lanes which wound their way through cornfields, the wheat not yet ripe enough for harvesting. Everywhere the trees and hedgerows were in leaf and wild flowers spilled in soft and scented profusion from the wayside verges.

  The conversation was as pleasant as the view and covered many interesting topics including early church music, one of Holmes’ particular interests,7 and rural life, about which my old friend expressed an unexpected enthusiasm to my great astonishment.

  ‘I can think of nothing more agreeable,’ he declared, ‘than to retire to a small farm and spend my declining years observing Nature in all its myriad forms.’8

  He made no reference to the matter which had brought us there. Indeed, he had said nothing further on the subject even to me since he had returned from sending the telegram the previous day, and I was as mystified as ever by his assertion that the anonymous letter confirmed Adams’ guilt. As for the vicar, he was of a cautious and retiring nature and his only reference to the matter in hand was to point his whip towards a large Queen Anne mansion standing in extensive grounds which we passed on our way to the village.

  ‘Holbrook Manor,’ he remarked.

  Shortly afterwards we turned into the gates of the vicarage which was, like him, of a discreet nature, a high laurel hedge and heavy lace curtains protecting it from the public gaze.

  Mrs Paget must have been even more retiring than her husband, for we did not meet her at all. Instead, we were shown directl
y into the vicar’s study by a female servant where Mrs Grafton, Sir Reginald’s housekeeper, was waiting to receive us, a little nervous at the prospect of meeting two unknown gentlemen, one of whom was Sherlock Holmes, the great investigative detective.

  But she was a sensible, down-to-earth woman, not easily daunted, and Holmes, who has a knack of putting ordinary people at their ease when he puts his mind to it, soon won her over.

  ‘It was most kind of you to agree to meet us, Mrs Grafton,’ he said, smiling benignly as he shook her hand. ‘I greatly appreciate the trouble you have taken. And pray let me assure you that anything you say will be held in the strictest confidence both by me and my colleague, Dr Watson. Our sole purpose is to enquire into Sir Reginald’s well-being so that we may reassure his great-nephew, Mr Maitland, who is my client in this affair. Now, to get down to business, madam. Were you able to carry out the instructions I gave you in my telegram to the Reverend Paget?’

  ‘Indeed I was, Mr Holmes,’ the lady replied and, opening the large black reticule she was holding in her lap, she took out a small bundle of envelopes, tied together with tape, which she handed to him. He examined them swiftly, first the postmarks on the envelopes and then the letters themselves which he removed, unfolded and hurriedly scanned.

  For my benefit, he remarked, ‘They are similar to the one we have already seen, the same postmark, the same threatening messages spelt out by the same method of using words and letters cut from a newspaper. And the same newspaper, as well, which confirms my theory.’

  He said no more, returning the bundle to Mrs Grafton with the enquiry, ‘No one will notice they are missing, will they?’

  ‘I think not, Mr Holmes. They are kept out of sight at the back of the bottom drawer in Sir Reginald’s bureau and, as he never uses the study in the morning, he is not likely to notice they have gone. As soon as I return to the house, I shall replace them in the drawer.’

  ‘And the names and addresses of the referees?’

  ‘They are here, sir,’ Mrs Grafton replied, handing over a small sheet of paper. ‘I copied them from the correspondence which was also kept in Sir Reginald’s desk, in the top drawer in this particular case.’

  ‘Excellent!’ Holmes exclaimed, the compliment bringing a touch of colour to the good lady’s cheeks. ‘May I keep them?’

  ‘Pray do so, sir.’

  ‘May I ask what the Honourable Mrs Kelmore and Brigadier Charles Carraway had to say about Adams?’ Holmes enquired, glancing down at the piece of paper.

  ‘I did not dare to spend too much time reading their letters, Mr Holmes, let alone copying them out word for word. But I pride myself on having a good memory and can give you the gist of their contents. The Honourable Mrs Kelmore praised his honesty and loyalty, saying she was sorry that after four years, he had to leave her employ due to her own change of circumstances. The Brigadier, who acted as a character witness, stated he had known Adams for the past ten years and could highly recommend him to any prospective employer.’

  ‘One last question before you go, Mrs Grafton. You obviously know Adams well. May I have a description of the man?’

  Mrs Grafton seemed a little taken aback by this request, as I was, too. What possible purpose would it serve for Holmes to be told of Adams’ appearance? But, after a moment’s hesitation, she replied, ‘He is, I should say, five and forty or thereabouts; of medium height and build; clean-shaven; dark hair and eyes; always very smartly dressed. Quite handsome, too, I suppose,’ she added a little grudgingly. ‘At least, I’ve noticed the ladies seem impressed by him and I’m not referring to just the female servants.’

  ‘Any distinguishing marks? A mole, say? Or a scar?’

  ‘Well, now you come to mention it,’ Mrs Grafton said, looking a little flustered, ‘there is something odd about his ears. The lobes are very small, sir, compared to most people’s.’

  She seemed embarrassed at having noticed, let alone spoken of, such a tiny, intimate detail, and Holmes was quick to restore her peace of mind as he escorted her to the door.

  ‘Mrs Grafton,’ he said solemnly, ‘you would make an excellent private inquiry agent. Your powers of observation are quite outstanding. If, by the way, Dr Watson and I were ever to call at the Manor, you are to treat us as perfect strangers, you understand? I am sure with your undoubted talents you will manage that small deception with no trouble at all.’

  We ourselves left soon afterwards, the Reverend George Paget driving us back to Chichester in time to catch the 2.57 train to Victoria.

  The journey gave me the opportunity to put to Holmes several questions regarding the inquiry which until that moment I had not had the chance to ask him.

  ‘I am a little puzzled, Holmes …’ I began.

  ‘About what, my dear fellow?’

  ‘About Adams’ testimonials. How was it possible that two highly respectable people, an Honourable lady and a Brigadier, were ready to supply him with references? Maitland was suspicious of him the moment he met him. Did they not also have reservations themselves about his character?’

  ‘Oh, references are easily arranged!’ Holmes replied with a nonchalant air. ‘Adams or his accomplice acquired the sheets of headed writing paper from the referees’ residences.’

  ‘How?’ I broke in.

  ‘By buying them, of course, from the servants employed in the houses.’ Holmes sounded a little impatient at my obtuseness. ‘Any one of the servants, a housemaid or a footman, may be persuaded to part with a sheet of his employer’s stationery for a fee, say, of half a crown. The writing paper is then taken to a “screever” and, before you ask what such a creature is, Watson, allow me to explain. A “screever” is an educated person, a clerk perhaps or even a lawyer, who is down on his luck and, again for a fee, is willing to write references to order. They are also employed by professional “cadgers” to write begging letters or bogus testimonials. They can be found in certain taverns or lodging houses and their fees vary, I believe, between sixpence to five shillings, depending on the length and complexity of the false documents.

  ‘Should the references be taken up, the servant involved would have been paid an extra fee to intercept the letter before it reached its intended recipient so that the “screever” could write a reply in the referees’ names.

  ‘But that is by the way. What is significant about this aspect of the affair is Adams’ obvious knowledge of the ways by which such deceits can be practised, which suggests this is not the first time he has carried out such a fraud. That is why I wanted a description of Adams, as I have no doubt that would have been your next question,’ he concluded with a smile.

  That had indeed been my intention and I was astonished by my old friend’s apparent ability to read my very thoughts.

  ‘Do you think you may be able to bring him to account?’ I asked.

  ‘I sincerely hope so, my dear fellow. Adams is almost certainly not his real name but I have no doubt that he, like a snail, has left behind a slimy track by which we can trace his past movements. That will be my first task on our return to London.’

  He set out on this assignment soon after we had returned to our Baker Street lodgings, pausing only for a hasty luncheon of black coffee and bread and cheese, before plunging off once more down the stairs on his way, I assumed, to carry out his intention of investigating Adams’ past.

  I was used to this precipitate behaviour on Holmes’ part and did not resent in the slightest the fact that he had not invited me to take part. Nevertheless, once he had gone and the flurry of his sudden exodus had died down, our sitting-room seemed so very quiet and empty that I, too, decided to look for a diversion elsewhere and, taking a hansom to my club, found Thurston9 also alone and looking for company and so the two of us whiled away the afternoon playing billiards.

  It was quite late when Holmes returned, tired but with a triumphant air about him which told me that his researches into Adams’ past had proved fruitful.

  ‘We have him here!’ he cried exulta
ntly, holding out the palm of his hand towards me before adding, ‘And tomorrow the trap will shut on him!’

  And with that his fingers snapped together to form a fist.

  We set off for Victoria the following morning to catch the same train we had caught the day before, but on this occasion we had company on the journey. As we walked down the platform towards a first class carriage, a middle-aged lady dressed in black and with a veil drawn down over her face approached us nervously.

  Holmes had apparently met her before because he immediately introduced her to me in a rather dramatic manner.

  ‘Watson, my dear fellow, I would like you to meet Miss Edith Cresswell or, to refer to her alter ego, Tisiphone, one of the Eumenides10 who, if you recall your Greek mythology, hunted down and punished all those who had transgressed. Miss Cresswell has graciously agreed to perform the same service for us. Once we are on the train, I shall explain how I came to make her acquaintance and she will then repeat for your benefit what she knows about the unspeakable Adams.’

  Once we had settled into our carriage and the train had set off, Holmes began his account.

  ‘As you are aware, Watson, I already had very grave suspicions of Adams and strongly suspected that he intended to wheedle his way into Sir Reginald’s good books and make himself so indispensible that he might, at the very least, be left some money in his master’s Will. I also suspected that he would, if the opportunity arose, so alienate Sir Reginald from his only living relative, his great-nephew, in order to supplant him as sole heir to the estate, a plot Adams had already put into motion with the use of the anonymous letters.

  ‘I explained to you yesterday, my dear fellow, that it seemed to me highly likely that this was not the first time Adams had used these means to his own financial advantage. On thinking over this aspect of the affair, I suddenly remembered my—’