The Mad Judge (A Sherlock Holmes Uncovered Tale Book 3)

by Steven Ehrman

  “Exactly, and the Colonel has already demonstrated how adroit he is with sleight of hand trickery. It was child’s play for such a man to palm the key, and then pretend to have discovered it on the dead man.”

  “Then the game of noughts and crosses was a complete blind?” asked Inspector Wallace.

  “Certainly,” said Holmes. “It was also one of the first things that caused me to be suspicious of the Colonel. Honoria Upton said that the Judge had told no one else of his fears, yet Colonel North spoke of his rising paranoia, and only an old friend would have had knowledge of the Roberts case and their symbols. Remember all other members of the house are young, save Harold Chandler, and he was overseas at the time, so they would likely not have memory of the case and the paranoid Judge would not have confided his fears to any of them. However, he likely would confide in his oldest friend. Isn’t that all correct Colonel?”

  “It would have worked had it not snowed,” said Colonel North softly. “I was in such a state that I did not notice. It was so dark and I was half out of my mind. Since I have been here I have seen the madness growing on Simon and I feared just what he was capable of.”

  “So you confronted him,” said Holmes.

  “Yes. I saw him slip the note under the doctor’s door. I went down to the study after everyone had retired and found him there. I taxed him about the note and he admitted that he was certain that Honoria and Dr. Watson were having an affair. He was raving and he threatened to kill the doctor. I tried to calm him down. I had seen him in this humour before and it frightened me. I did no good though, as his rage only grew in the face of my arguments. He accused me of being in love with Honoria and he flew at me with letter opener. He slashed me across the chest with it. I managed to wrench it from his grasp, but in the struggle the blade plunged into his heart. He collapsed at once and crashed to the floor. The rest you know. I endeavored to make it certain that no one within the home would be suspected. Unfortunately I failed.”

  “Yet you flew to Mr. Evanston’s defense,” I said. I thought this most gallant, as I was certain that had the circumstances been reversed that the young American would not have done the same.

  “That was to your credit, Colonel,” Holmes pronounced. “One of the reasons that I accused Mr. Evanston was to see if you would confess, or at least spring to his defense.”

  “So you believe me that it was self defense?” asked Colonel North softly.

  “I do, sir. A true murderer would have been happy to see another in the dock for his own crime. You had only to say that, perhaps, someone had been in the room. Such doubt from you would have sealed Mr. Evanston’s doom. When you did not, I was convinced that I was dealing with an honorable man. Your only crime was in not coming forward at once.”

  “Colonel North,” I said. “You spoke of seeing the Judge in a similar humour before, and thus you were frightened. Of what are you speaking?”

  “Oh that…well it was nothing really, doctor. Just a feeling nothing more.”

  “Come now, Colonel,” spoke Holmes. “Is it, perhaps, another time when you were visiting the Judge and a death occurred?”

  “You are a magician, sir,” said the Colonel, in wonderment. “It is true that when dear Elizabeth died in the riding accident, I suspected Simon had engineered it. You see, Simon was in love with money. He was married to a rich woman, which was not quite the same as being a rich man. When she died I could prove nothing, but I vowed to watch over him to prevent further tragedy. I failed in that, of course.”

  “But, perhaps, was there another reason that the Judge may have killed his first wife?” asked Holmes. “Is it possible that he found out that you were having an affair with her? That would explain his continuing jealousy. Especially with you in the home.”

  “Elizabeth and I were not having an affair!” he nearly shouted. “It is true that I worshiped her, but she would never have been involved in anything as tawdry as an affair, and neither would I.”

  He made his statement with such conviction and plain honesty that a child could have seen that he was telling the absolute truth. Inspector Wallace stirred and approached the Colonel.

  “Colonel North, I must place you under arrest for the death of Judge Simon Upton,” he said, in an official tone of voice. “What final charge may be levied I know not, but you will have to come with me.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  The next day found Holmes and myself back at the Withers estate. Both father and son of the Withers clan sat with us in the study. The old squire was curious to no end of our adventure and peppered Holmes with questions. The great detective was in good humour and he indulged the squire amiably.

  “Mr. Holmes, I see now that your reputation does not do you justice,” said a beaming George Withers. “Were it not for you, who can tell how this may have ended.”

  “Sadly, the death of the Judge could not be prevented,” said Holmes.

  “Of course, of course. But, from what you have said, it appears poor Simon had gone completely round the bend. He might have killed the good doctor in a jealous rage.”

  “I believe that Colonel North did indeed save Watson,” Holmes agreed.

  “Tell me, Holmes,” I asked. “Just what was the business the other night when you tripped Evanston. Oh, and do not smile at me, Holmes. I know you too well. You pretended it was an accident, but I am certain it was well thought out.”

  “You do me too much credit sometimes, doctor. Even Sherlock Holmes can accidentally trip another, but I confess that you are correct. I was trying to determine if Evanston was indeed the son of the famous steel baron. Our little incident gave me the opportunity to check the labels on some of his clothes. As I suspected, they were from some of the finest houses in the states. I had already determined that the man was hiding something about his antecedents and the fine clothing was the final tell.”

  “Hard to believe that that rascal comes from such wealth,” cried John Withers. “I would have thought he was a common street lounger, what with all that radical talk. Do you think he actually believes that rot, Mr. Holmes?”

  “Perhaps not,” he mused. “In this age it is not uncommon for the young to reject the path of their elders. And I would remind all that it is easy to espouse the common man when one has a father’s millions on which to fall back on.”

  “Thorough bad hat,” John muttered under his breath.

  “It still seems to me, Mr. Holmes, that the Colonel took a tall chance hoping to be able to retrieve the thread he used to engineer the glass crashing. Had that been noticed, it would have thrown his entire plan into the dustbin.”

  “True, it was a chance, but remember that the Colonel has long experience with men and he knows how they will react. He counted on the fact that Watson was a former military man, and as such would run headlong into the room when he saw the body. The fact that they were joined by Captain Withers only heightened his expectations. They followed protocol, of course, and charged into the room.”

  “Theirs is but to do and die, Holmes?” I essayed.

  “But, we were only two and not six hundred, Watson,” said Withers with a chuckle.

  “In any case all the credit for solving this case goes to you, Holmes,” I said.

  “Not entirely, doctor,” said Holmes, with uncharacteristic modesty. “The Inspector played a part as well. Early on he mentioned that friends quite often are the perpetrators of such crimes. Those words caused me to reflect that the setting of the crime was an intimate one. The single clue in the room that was not a blind was the cigars. The Judge and Colonel North began smoking, and talking, before the encounter became violent. I tried to picture which one of the men it might have been. I eliminated the women because the Judge would never have offered tobacco to a lady. This left the men, and the logical choice for the person the Judge may have had a late cigar with was his old friend the Colonel.”

  “By Jove, you are the one, Holmes,” chortled the Squire.

  John excused himself on an err
and to speak to the staff about our noon meal. He had only been gone for a few minutes when a clatter from the drive announced a visitor in a carriage. Cecilia Upton was soon ushered into the room and she sat on the edge of a settee near Holmes.

  “Mr. Holmes,” she began. “I wish to thank you again, and the doctor, of course, for your aid in this matter. My stepmother is still at sixes and sevens, as you can imagine, but my brother and I know that you prevented perhaps an even greater tragedy.”

  My dear,” he said. “It was my honor to be of whatever assistance that I could provide.”

  “I did have one question for you. You said yesterday that you accused Robert of the killing because it served a purpose. Was the purpose only to gauge Colonel North’s reaction?”

  “Why do you ask, my dear?”

  “Because it has occurred to me that perhaps you acted out your play to demonstrate to me what a rotter Robert was. In your own way, I believe that you were performing the role of Dutch uncle to me.”

  “What, an insightful deduction, although I cannot confirm it.”

  “But, I notice you do not deny, Mr. Holmes. Oh, do not be sly with me, sir. Well, it matters not. I have turned Robert from the hall, and I imagine he is scurrying back to America with his tail firmly between his legs. In any case, whether or not it was your intent, I thank you.”

  “My pleasure, Miss Upton.”

  “Now, where has John gotten to?” she asked.

  “I believe you will find him instructing the staff in the kitchen. Do you need him for something?” asked the senior Withers.

  “Why, yes,” she replied. “We’re getting married.”

  “What?” cried the Squire. “John has said nothing to me.”

  “That is because he does not know yet.”

  “What is that that you say, Cecilia?”

  I looked to the doorway and saw the dumbfounded figure of John Withers. At his words Cecilia Upton arose and fairly skipped to his side.

  “I said that I have determined to accept your offer of marriage, dear John.”

  “But, I have never made such a proposal, Cecilia,” he said meekly.

  “Perhaps, not in words, John, but I have seen the love, and the question, in your eyes ever since I have returned. You will be happy to know that the answer is yes.”

  “But, my love, I have no money.”

  “Oh, nonsense and bother. I have plenty of money for the both of us to last five lifetimes. We will live in London as soon as we are married.”

  “But, what of your stepmother?” he asked. “With your father gone, will she not need your aid?”

  “Oh, haven’t you heard? Oh no, of course, you haven’t. Her Uncle Harold has decided to stay in England, and he promises to take care of any financial needs that Honoria has. It seems he is simply potty with money. Imagine that Cyril and I thought that he was a pauper coming to beg from her.”

  “I don’t know what to say, Cecilia.”

  “There is nothing to say, you silly fool. We are marrying and that is all that there is to say. Now let us return to the kitchen. I am certain that you have made a thorough mess of things with the staff. A house runs much more efficiently with a capable woman in charge, as you will soon find out.”

  On that statement Cecilia Upton and John Withers left the room arm in arm.

  George Withers was chuckling and shaking his head as the new couple exited.

  “I hope John knows what he is getting himself into,” he said. “Well, if this does not call for a drink I do not know what does.”

  Holmes and I declined politely, but this did nothing to discourage the Squire, as he helped himself to a generous glass of brandy. He was sipping contentedly as I was eyeing my friend.

  “Tell me, Holmes,” I said. “Was Miss Upton correct in her assumption of your accusation of Evanston?”

  “She is merely a young woman in love, Watson. That state in the female is incompatible with logical thinking.”

  “That is hardly an answer, Holmes,” I observed.

  “I disagree, doctor, but do we not have more pressing concerns at hand?”

  “Such as?” I asked.

  “Why, our return to London, Watson.”

  “But, what of your recuperation, Holmes?”

  Oh, but I feel quite restored. I must admit this holiday to the quiet countryside has been most refreshing. I am quite ready to return to our haunts on Baker Street.”

  “If that is your wish, then, of course, we shall return, but why the haste in our departure?”

  “Because I was informed by the energetic Inspector Wallace that the Jewel of Namibia was stolen last night from the estate of Lord and Lady Easterbrook. I have little confidence that Lestrade can cope with such a case. I rather fancy that we will find the forlorn Scotland Yard Inspector perched upon our door step upon our return.”

  I observed the fire of a new case burning within him and was carried along by his eagerness for the hunt.

  “Then the game is afoot again, Holmes?”

  “Indeed it is, Watson. Come, 221B Baker Street awaits!”

  The End

  Special Note

  If you’ve read and enjoyed The Sherlock Holmes Uncovered Tales please add a review at the site on which you purchased it. Reviews help sales of course, but they also provide a guide for those attempting to find books they might enjoy. A review from a reader, rather than the author or publisher, is often more reassuring to the potential reader because it comes from an unbiased source.

  Thank you,

  Steven Ehrman

  Table of Contents

  DEDICATION

  Works by the Same Author

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Special Note