Sherlock Holmes and the Abbey School Mystery

by John Hall

  ‘H’mm. It is certainly a very thorough explanation, Watson, and I might have been inclined to think that the truth lies that way. But I had listened to Miss Greville, you see, and I was impressed by her testimony. I had to earn my fee, and so I went along to the Abbey School to ask a few questions of my own.’

  ‘And?’ I asked, for Holmes seemed to hesitate.

  ‘And I am sure that they are hiding something. Not in concert, I do not claim that they are all in any sort of conspiracy, but there seemed an overall air of reticence, a reluctance on the part of boys and masters alike to answer any of my questions.’

  ‘That’s not so difficult to understand, though, Holmes. The boys would be embarrassed at something that involves one of their masters, while the masters would not want to dwell on anything that reflected badly on the school as a whole.’

  ‘Oh, I agree that a certain amount of discomfort, discomposure, was to be expected, a certain desire not to say too much out of school, so to speak. But it went beyond that, or I am much mistaken, Watson. The headmaster, Dr Longton, was positively short with me, he told me that he hadn’t asked my opinion, he questioned the legality of my asking questions –’

  ‘About time someone did! You do rather usurp the function of the official police at times, Holmes.’

  He laughed at this. ‘You may be right. Dr Longton was, of course, well within his rights to refuse to speak to me. But none the less, I had the distinct impression that it went deeper.’

  ‘You actually suspect the headmaster of the most exclusive school in England of being implicated in some skulduggery?’

  ‘I do not say that. But I am far from satisfied, Watson.’

  We smoked in silence for a time, then I said, ‘But, Holmes, if it were not an accident, and it were not suicide, then that rather narrows the field down, does it not?’

  Holmes nodded, but said nothing.

  ‘Really, Holmes! Who on earth would want to kill a young schoolmaster? Was he popular with his fellow masters, and the boys?’

  Holmes nodded. ‘He was well liked by everyone, it seems.’

  ‘There you are, then. No money worries, no enemies. Not the picture of a murder victim, Holmes.’

  ‘Nor of a suicide?’

  I frowned. ‘No, I accept that, and I believe that the verdict was correct, that it was some tragic accident. I have already suggested that the young man was attempting to confront his fear of heights, and that it went tragically wrong. That is, I think, the only logical explanation.’

  ‘And I think you are wrong, Watson, although I could not begin to tell you why I think so. All my instincts tell me that there is more to it than meets the eye. And that is why I have come to consult you.’

  ‘I am flattered, Holmes. I am only sorry that I have not been able to help more.’

  ‘Ah.’ He had the grace to look embarrassed.

  ‘Oh, I see! You want practical help, rather than just advice, is that it? Well, I had planned to start my next novel this week, but I’m sure that I can spare a day, or even two, if that will serve.’

  Holmes studied the toes of his boots with some care. ‘The fact is, Watson, I was rather hoping for a little more than that. The difficulty is, you see, that I have already been to the school, I am known to them.’

  ‘Oh, I see, you want me to go there alone? Well –’

  ‘No, no.’ He waved me to silence with an impatient gesture. ‘You cannot be identified as a colleague of mine, or they will simply close ranks again.’

  ‘But what reason, what justification, would I have for going there and asking questions, other than as an associate of yours?’

  Holmes sighed. ‘The headmaster has not yet replaced the dead man, Greville. The Third form still lacks a form master, and the school as a whole lacks an English teacher. I need a reliable man on the inside, and there is no better man than you. The headmaster, as I say, is pretty desperate to find someone, as it is halfway through the academic year and there are few masters looking for posts just now. A word from the Duke of Greyminster would secure the post for you. You will need another name, of course, that of John H Watson is too well known, but I shall leave that to you.’

  ‘Good Lord! Are you joking, Holmes?’

  ‘I was never more serious, Watson.’

  ‘But – well, for one thing, I know nothing at all about teaching. I have no qualifications, no experience.’

  Holmes waved a hand dismissively. ‘How difficult can it be? As to qualifications, you have written many short stories for the popular press, several books about me which certainly deserve the title “imaginative fiction”, and I don’t know what else. If that is not sufficient qualification to teach English, then pray what is?’ He waved his hand round my little study. ‘What is more, if more were needed, I see by the very many slips of paper marking your place in these books that you have been doing some heavy research into the world of letters. Now, honestly, can you think of a man better qualified for the task?’

  ‘It is true that I have been reading up on English history,’ I admitted.

  ‘And chiefly its fictional representations, I see.’

  ‘Much easier to read than dry old text books, Holmes.’

  ‘Then will you not give it a try? It may be of the first importance, Watson. I have said that the Abbey School is an exclusive establishment, but perhaps I have not made clear to you just how exclusive it really is.’ He produced a memorandum book and opened it, passing it across to me. ‘That is a list of just a dozen or so of the boys currently at the school, with the names and occupations of their fathers.’

  I glanced through his list. There was a cabinet minister, two bishops, various captains of industry whose doings were reported almost daily in the popular press. And against one entry with a foreign name Holmes had laconically noted the father’s occupation as, ‘King’.

  ‘These are impressive names, Holmes. Some of the richest, most famous men in the entire world evidently send their sons to the place.’

  He nodded. ‘You see now why we must find out if anything is not what it should be?’

  ‘But, Holmes, even if I were ten, twenty, times better qualified than is the case, there is another, a more weighty, reason why I cannot do as you ask.’

  ‘Oh? And what may that be, then?’

  I could see there was no help for it. Holmes was not in any mood to be satisfied with half-truths. And so I gritted my teeth, metaphorically speaking, and told him some of the reasons why I could not help him, very much on the lines which I have set down at the beginning of this chapter, although I had to soften it a bit for his sake.

  He heard me out in silence, then got to his feet. ‘I quite understand,’ he said. ‘It is for the best, after all. You have your new life, your new family.’ He sighed. ‘I grow old, Watson. I tell you, I have been very seriously considering my own retirement.’

  ‘Surely, not, Holmes?’

  ‘I have. There is no relish in the work anymore, my boy. Not since you – well, let us not dwell on that.’

  ‘And this business of the Abbey School, Holmes?’

  ‘Oh, I shall just have to let the matter drop. Very likely it is as you say, the whole matter was a tragic accident.’ And he shook my hand, helped himself to another of my cigars, and saw himself out, leaving me floundering in my study pretty much open-mouthed.

  Dear reader, I do not know what you would have thought under the circumstances. I only know that I felt the most heartless, miserable cur under the sun, a worthless wretch indifferent to his fellow man. A dozen times I started up from my chair and set off towards the telephone in the lobby, meaning to tell Holmes that I had changed my mind. And a dozen times I sat down again, resolved to keep the promise which I had made to myself when I remarried. It was unfortunate to have to let Holmes down, I told myself, and it would be a fine thing to work with Holmes one last time, but my mind was made up. Needless to say, I abandoned any hopes of starting my novel for the day, and sat smoking pipe after pipe in gloomy
abstraction.

  When the luncheon hour came round, I was in a dismal mood. But as soon as I saw my wife’s expression, I forgot my own petty problems, for trouble was writ large on her lovely face. ‘What is it?’ I asked at once.

  ‘Oh, it is Elizabeth. She saw your man.’

  I knew at once what my wife meant. The lady she mentioned was a widow, an old friend of my wife’s, and had consulted me in a professional capacity after feeling unwell for some time. I had not liked what I saw, and referred her to a colleague for a second opinion. ‘Bad news, then?’

  My wife produced a letter. ‘It is as you thought. Consumption.’

  ‘Ah.’

  ‘But your friend is quite optimistic. He says that six weeks in Egypt will work wonders.’

  ‘Oh, well, that is not so bad. From the look on your face I thought it was something very serious.’

  ‘Is it not?’

  ‘It is not exactly a laughing matter, I agree,’ I said, ‘but Anstruther knows his job. He has specialized somewhat in that field since I first knew him, and if he says that six weeks will help, you may rely upon him that it will.’

  ‘But, John! Six weeks! And a two-week journey there and back. Poor Elizabeth has no-one, you know, no family or anything of that sort. She will be quite alone.’

  ‘She has her servants, though, that married couple. And it is the tourist season, there will be plenty of people on the boat, and once she gets there.’

  ‘Oh, servants! And strangers. What good are they? I mean no-one of her own sort, a friend. Unless she advertises for one of those horrid paid companions, some dreadful young girl who knows nothing of the world, and is sure to run off with some sheikh at the first opportunity.’

  Frankly, I thought this unlikely – after all, if the girl were so dreadful and knew nothing of the world then why on earth should even an undiscriminating sheikh bother with her in the first place? – but I knew better than to say as much. ‘Look here,’ I said, ‘why should you not go with her?’

  Her face lit up at once. ‘Oh, that is what I thought of at once, but I rejected the idea, of course, since it would mean leaving you alone here for such a long time.’

  ‘Never mind about me, my darling. Of course you must accompany poor Elizabeth. You can write to me, and tell me all about it when you get back. It won’t be such a very long time, after all.’

  ‘But what will you do? I know that you won’t eat properly, you’ll spend all your evenings at that horrid club of yours, smoking and drinking far more than is good for you.’

  I rather demurred at this slander. ‘I shall be fine, ‘ I said. ‘In point of fact, I have had a rather interesting offer, a temporary post at a very exclusive school, to help them out of a little short-term difficulty.’ I thought it as well to omit any mention of Holmes’s name, even under these changed circumstances. ‘It will only be for a few weeks, or so I hope, so it should all work out nicely.’

  On any other occasion, my wife would naturally have had a good many questions to ask about this, but so relieved was she to be able to accompany her friend that my words went almost unremarked. And indeed the prospect of her going to Egypt rather overshadowed my own little plans. We discussed the matter a little further, as it was no small step which she contemplated, but in the end we agreed that my wife should indeed go with her friend; and I am certain that you will agree that no other decision was possible.

  After luncheon my wife hurried off to tell Elizabeth the news, and I strolled to the telephone. Then I had second thoughts. Holmes has sent me startling telegrams often enough, so why should I not turn the tables, give him a modest surprise? It was a fine day for January, and I had been sitting inside all morning, so I decided to combine business and pleasure. I lit my pipe, walked to the Post Office, and sent the following – ‘Have decided to take up your offer of a post as English master. Can start Monday. Regards, Harold Harris.’

  Two

  ‘And this is your room, Mr Harris.’ Carstairs, the young man who acted as secretary to the Abbey School, stood aside and ushered me through the door. ‘Rooms, I ought to have said,’ he went on, ‘for you have a study here, and a bedroom through there, quite separate. Here are your keys. If I were you, I’d keep the bedroom door locked through the day, and any personal items in there. The boys do sometimes tend to wander into the masters’ studies through the day, you know. Oh, for excellent reasons, of course,’ he added hastily, ‘if they have to see the master concerned, or what have you. I’m not suggesting that they would pilfer anything, or anything of that kind, but they can be infernally curious, prying into things, as you doubtless know better than I.’

  ‘But they wouldn’t steal anything, surely?’

  Carstairs flushed. ‘I have never – that is, I have known of only one such sad occurrence in my time at the school, sir, and that was dealt with in a summary fashion. No, but boyish curiosity is not so uncommon, and it is as well to guard against it.’

  ‘I shall take your advice, sir.’

  Carstairs glanced at his watch. ‘I am very sorry that Dr Longton was not here to greet you in person, but, with its being the first day of the new term, there is always a good deal to do. I am sure he will see you as soon as possible.’

  ‘Indeed. And I shall not detain you further, sir, for I realize that you will be kept busier than most.’

  Carstairs laughed, but looked relieved. ‘You are right, Mr Harris. Unless I can be of any further help at the moment, I shall return to my duties. Please let me know if there is anything else you need, or if you have any questions which you think I can answer,’ and he left me alone in the study.

  As always, my baggage was not sizeable, and I soon distributed my things in the inner bedroom, which was commodious enough, if a trifle spartan as regards to furnishings. I had brought nothing with me which might reveal my true identity, but even so I thought it might be as well to follow Carstairs’s advice and keep the bedroom door locked when I was not actually occupying it. I turned the key, then, and looked round the study, which was pretty much, as I seemed to remember, similar to rooms from my own school days, not that I saw the inside of the masters’ studies much, save on those occasions – not, alas, infrequent – upon which I had to report for punishment. I shuddered at the thought, and resolved that during my tenure of office, be it never so brief, no boy in my charge should be caned, or even set the meaningless task of writing ‘lines’, were there any alternative humanly possible.

  Just as I had taken this decision, and was wondering in a vague kind of way what to do next, there was a tap at the door, and it opened to admit a tall gentleman. ‘Mr Harris?’ said he. ‘I am Dr Longton, sir, and I am delighted to welcome you to the Abbey School, even if it will be for only a term or so.’

  Even had he not introduced himself, I would have recognized him from Holmes’s description. Dr Longton was some forty years of age. He stood an inch over six feet tall, and broad in proportion, but there was not an ounce of fat on him, it was all solid muscle and bone. A glance at his face showed that he was more than simply an athlete, the strong chin, prominent nose, high forehead and shock of grey hair indicated a thinker of some calibre. The archetypal headmaster, in fact, or rather the archetype of what a headmaster ought to be, but often is not. I held out my hand. ‘I am delighted to meet you, sir. Will you have a cigar?’

  ‘And I am equally delighted to meet you.’ Dr Longton’s handshake was firm and manly. ‘I shall not smoke, thank you, though I have no objection to your doing so at the moment. In general, though, I do not encourage the practice through the school day, or indeed after hours when it is in sight of the boys. However, should you care to come to the Senior Common Room after dinner this evening, I shall be most happy to accept your cigar, and offer you and the other masters a glass of sherry. It is our custom here to have an informal gathering of the staff on the first evening back to work, as it were.’

  ‘You are most kind, sir.’

  ‘Think nothing of it. I am, as I say, most
gratified that you were available at such short notice.’ He hesitated fractionally, or so it seemed to me. ‘His Grace the Duke of Greyminster recommends you most highly, and from a cursory glance at your record, I did rather wonder why you had not been snapped up, as the vulgar phrase has it, by some rival establishment.’

  ‘Oh, I am pretty much retired these days, and had it not been for His Grace’s express request, I should never have thought about it now,’ I told him. ‘Indeed, I must confess that I have not had a teaching post for some ten years now, so I trust I shall not be too rusty.’

  ‘Ah, I see. You have taught mainly in the Colonies and Dominions, as I understand?’

  ‘In India, mostly, sir.’ Holmes and I had decided upon this fiction, partly because I had been to India and thus could field any questions on the place if need be, but mainly because it would be awkward if I claimed to have been teaching at Eton, shall we say, in such and such a year, only to encounter a master who had actually been there at that time.

  Dr Longton nodded, and went on, ‘We have one or two Indian princes here at the moment. Possibly you will find that you are acquainted with their people?’ I fervently hoped not, for most of the Indian princes I had ‘met’ had been looking at me over the business end of a rifle, but I did not say as much. Dr Longton shook my hand again, nodded, and said, ‘If you would excuse me? The first day back, there is always plenty to occupy one’s time. You know where the Third form room is?’

  ‘Mr Carstairs showed it to me.’

  ‘The boys will begin to arrive towards luncheon, and they will report to you there. Just tick them off the register as they give their names, and then they will go to their rooms and settle in. Any difficulties you have may be referred to Carstairs or Graves, the deputy head, or indeed to myself. And now, I must be off,’ and he suited the action to the words.