by Ashton, Hugh
“I was therefore sure that Lady Hareby’s child was somewhere in Hareby Hall, in the building itself. It was a hazardous business for her, to be sure, but with an invalid husband, and a father-in-law who found it difficult to climb stairs and who had the additional advantage of being somewhat hard of hearing, it may not have posed quite the danger of discovery that one might initially assume.
“A house of the period of Hareby Hall might well be assumed to have secret hiding places, especially given the history of the region’s nobility who held out against the Reformation either openly or covertly. Once Lady Hareby appeared as if by a miracle, apparently from a solid wall, it was clear that the priest’s hole that I suspected to exist had an entrance from that part of the house. You saw me pace out the length of the corridor on that floor, and that on the floor above. The corridor connecting the servants’ rooms on the floor above was appreciably shorter than that below. While you and Lord Darlington were at luncheon together in the library, I slipped outside and examined the exterior of the Hall. I discovered that part of the Hall on that upper floor was ‘blind’, in that there were no windows. From one angle, though, it was possible to see a skylight let into the roof, which argued a hidden chamber to me.
“It is always more amusing to let perpetrators reveal their secrets themselves than it is for me to reveal them, and I laid my plans accordingly. I gave the lad Robbins his instructions, which were to take a bucket of wet straw to the room end of the corridor where I was sure the priest’s hole was located, and to set light to it when he saw the group assembled around the well for the Ritual of the Mace, after first ensuring that Lady Hareby was present. There was no danger to the Hall, of course, but a sufficient quantity of smoke was produced to give the impression that a fire had broken out in that part of the house where I judged the infant to be hidden.
“As you know, a woman’s first instinct when faced with a fire is to rush to the object she values most, and attempt to save it. And so it proved in this instance. Despite her many serious faults, Elizabeth Hareby proved a loving mother to her daughter, and rushed to save her without prior consideration of the consequences. When she discovered the trick that I had played on her, she became angry at the deception, with the results that we observed.”
“That was hardly to be wondered at,” I remarked.
“Indeed so. In any event, now you see my train of reasoning that led to the discovery of the child.”
“Astonishing,” I exclaimed.
Holmes waved his hand. “Elementary. The facts of the matter were there for all to see.”
“Has any word of this leaked out? I have seen nothing in the newspapers regarding this business.”
“I am sorry to say that the rumours are already starting to fly. Lady Hareby’s death, despite attempts to portray it as an accident, is already being accounted a suicide, though none of the reasons being ascribed approach the truth. There is another rumour, based on truth, and I have no idea of its origin, that the boy at Hareby is a changeling. It may be some time before Lord Darlington feels he can show his face in public. The tongues of rumour are even implicating him in his son’s death.”
“How vile!” I exclaimed.
“He is in some ways guilty of neglect of his paternal duties and failing to control his daughter-in-law,” mused Holmes, “and those rumours may be said to be not altogether without some foundation.”
“And what of the child – I should say the children – now?” I asked.
“Their future is in some doubt. The girl is currently being cared for by a nurse appointed by the police. The nurse who had been employed by Lady Hareby at Finchley Park has been taken into custody as an accomplice. In the end, I am sure that Lord Darlington will take in the child and accept her as a member of his family. She is, after all, his son’s child, at least nominally.
“As to the boy, his future is less certain. It may well be that since it will prove impossible to trace any relatives, he will be cared for in the Darlington household, though whether as a member of the family or not, I cannot say. The fact that there are rumours and scandal spreading already about his substitution for another may well prevent his being fully accepted as a member of the family.”
“Poor child,” I commented. “It hardly seems like a good start to his life. I trust that he will find a loving home, no matter what society determines to be his final station in this world. I trust to Lord Darlington’s good nature in this, though.” A thought struck me regarding another aspect of the case which, as far as I was aware, had yet to be satisfactorily resolved. “Has there been any news of the jewellery that stolen from the cabinet when Lady Hareby took the Mace?”
“The police searched the Finchley Park house in which we found her, and discovered some of the Darlington jewellery in the room she was using as a dressing-room. Together with the jewellery was a list of the prices she had obtained for the missing pieces, which had been disposed of through the agency of John Clay.”
“Clay again!” I exclaimed.
“Yes, he appears to be a running thread throughout this story. Elizabeth Hareby seems to have been most meticulous in keeping financial records relating to her misdeeds, and this quality has allowed us to discover a little more of her actions. There is a record of the money she paid to Clay to procure the infant and deliver him to Hareby, and the money paid to both the midwife and the nurse for her daughter there as well as the expenses involved in the upkeep of the Finchley Park house.”
“And do you think that when I saw Clay in the Park that day, that was coincidence?”
“Almost certainly that was another of Lady Hareby’s machinations. Consider. She knew that I had discovered the Mace, and that she was now in my power. She had no reason to be friendly towards me, and she would want to know of my movements, and also yours, given that you had previously visited Hareby Hall without me. Since it was necessary for her to be at Hareby, and for various other reasons, including her condition, it was necessary for her to give this task to another. And who better than Clay, who was already in her service? Naturally she knew that Bouverie was in London on that day, and it is more than likely that she believed him to have consulted me, as indeed he did.”
“What of those you believe are controlling Clay?” I asked.
Holmes shook his head sadly. “Without being able to lay my hands on Clay, and without Lady Hareby to guide me in that, I am unable to proceed further with this side of the investigation. It pains me greatly to admit it, but I have to confess failure in this regard, as I must also admit a failure to protect poor Lord Hareby’s life.”
“Given the mental shock that nearly killed him a month before his death, I would be surprised if he had lived for very much longer.”
“But the manner of his death, Watson. I should have been able to prevent it.” From my past experience, I knew that it was useless to argue with Holmes when he was in this mood, and accordingly held my peace.
We sat in silence for a while longer, Holmes finishing his pipe, and I had not the heart to disturb him. After a while, I picked up the newspaper and started to read it, while Holmes lounged back in his chair, motionless, other than the movement of his pipe to and from his lips, apparently lost in thought. He surprised me after about twenty minutes of this melancholy stillness by leaping to his feet and exclaiming, “But no matter, Watson. Let us to Alberti’s. Or rather, given the very English nature of the case that has just ended, Simpson’s, if that is agreeable to you?”
I assented, and we made our way to the Strand, where we were soon seated, and ordered for ourselves the famous roast beef that is associated with that establishment. As I was spooning the horseradish onto the side of my plate, a thought struck me.
“Did the police ever discover the nature of the poison that was introduced to Lord Hareby’s tonic by his wife that nearly caused his death?”
“I gave the bottle to the Metropolitan Police laboratory, but as you might expect, they are baffled by its nature. It would appear that it
is some kind of venom extracted from a South Sea fish. I discovered a reference to such a poison in an account of Malay aboriginals, who have used something similar in their tribal wars. I would surmise that Lady Hareby obtained it as one of the fruits of one of her special friendships, quite probably the affair that she carried on with the Harley-street specialist.”
“And that,” I added with not a little feeling, “is the same poison that you caused me to ingest at that luncheon with Lord Hareby.”
“My dear fellow,” replied Holmes. “There was nothing in that horseradish at Hareby that should not have been there. I know this, because I questioned the cook closely, who had prepared it herself, witnessed by the kitchen-maids. I am satisfied that the ingredients that went into that relish were all as they should have been.”
“Then what...?”
“The power of suggestion, my dear Watson. Your mind was prepared for the worst, and your body accepted your mind’s suggestion. You scoffed at the placebos prepared by Dr. Brendell, but you reacted to my placebo, did you not?”
I was speechless for a moment, and then started to laugh. “I am relieved to hear it,” I said, “but why did you do it?”
“I had to bring home to Lord Darlington the fact that he was in danger. You had seen the effects of the poison on his son, and were therefore more susceptible to my suggestion in that regard.”
“I see, and I am delighted to hear that I was never in danger, but I beg you not to attempt anything similar in the future.”
“Have no fear, my trusty Watson,” replied Sherlock Holmes. “It will not happen again.” He took a pull at his wine, and continued. “This case, although a failure in some respects, has taught me one or two lessons, the chief of which is never to underestimate the power of a woman determined upon evil. Never again will I consider women as the weaker sex.”
That seemed to be his epitaph on the affair, and our conversation passed by mutual consent to other matters.
About the Author
Hugh Ashton came from the UK to Japan in 1988 to work as a technical writer, and has remained in the country ever since.
When he can find time, one of his main loves is writing fiction, which he has been doing since he was about eight years old.
As a long-time admirer of Sir Arthur Conan Doyle’s famous detective, Sherlock Holmes, Hugh has often wanted to complete the canon of the stories by writing the stories which are tantalizingly mentioned in passing by Watson, but never published. This latest brings Sherlock Holmes to life again.
More Sherlock Holmes stories from the same source are definitely on the cards, as Hugh continues to recreate 221B Baker-street from the relatively exotic location of Kamakura, Japan, a little south of Tokyo.
Look for Hugh’s other books:
Tales From the Deed Box of John H. Watson MD
More from the Deed Box of John H. Watson MD
Secrets from the Deed Box of John H. Watson MD
and
Tales of Old Japanese
(all from Inknbeans Press) as well as his novels:
Beneath Gray Skies
At the Sharpe End
Red Wheels Turning
All available as paperbacks and ebooks from fine booksellers everywhere. See http://hughashtonbooks.info
Contact Hugh at [email protected].
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