"We wish to see Miss Eveline Reynolds on a most important matter. Please do not be alarmed, dear lady. A short interview will be greatly to her benefit."
The cloud gathering on her face disappeared immediately. "Please come in. My niece is in the next room sewing. Whom shall I say ...?"
Holmes leaned forward and whispered something in her ear. I saw a surprising change come over her face.
"I am sure she will be pleased to see you in view of what you have just told me."
She ushered us into a charmingly furnished oak-beamed parlour where a slim, golden-haired girl of some twenty-eight years was sitting at a sewing frame. She got up suddenly as we entered and looked enquiringly at her aunt.
"Please don't be alarmed, dear. These are friends of Mr Smedhurst."
The girl could not suppress the exclamation that rose to her lips. The aunt had silently withdrawn and Miss Reynolds came forward to shake hands formally, beckoning us into easy chairs near the welcoming fire.
"You have news of Aristide? I have been so worried about him ..."
There was such a pleading look on her face that I saw a dramatic change in Holmes himself.
"This is an extremely difficult matter, Miss Reynolds. But I am afraid we are forgetting our manners. I am Sherlock Holmes and this is my friend and colleague Dr Watson. I have asked your aunt not to reveal our identities and I would ask you to do the same."
He held up his hand as the girl started forward in her chair.
"Please let me continue. Mr Smedhurst is in some great difficulty and he has called upon me to help him. Am I to take it that your engagement has been broken off?"
The girl bit her lip.
"It is nothing of my doing, Mr Holmes. He has changed over the last year or so and become evasive. He no longer confides in me. He has taken to drinking rather heavily and now he has grown that ridiculous-looking beard!"
Little red spots of anger were starting out on her cheeks.
"Forgive me again, my dear young lady, but Mr Smedhurst appears to think that you have transferred your affections elsewhere."
The girl stared at Holmes in astonishment and then burst out laughing.
"You must mean Mr Jacob Ashton. He is ,a young Australian who came to the village a long while back. He is a surveyor by profession. My aunt and I occasionally lunch or dine at The George and Dragon and we made his acquaintance there. He is in practice here, but we are friends, nothing more."
"Ah, that is good news indeed, Miss Reynolds," said Holmes, rising abruptly from his chair. "I cannot confide in you at the moment but you may be sure that all will yet be well between you."
"Ah, if only I could believe you, Mr Holmes!"
"You may. And I might add that he was thinking only of you in his present troubles and did not wish you involved."
The girl shook hands with us warmly, and after Holmes had again asked her not to reveal his identity, we left the house with its occupants more cheerful than when we had arrived.
"Now Mr Smedhurst, Watson. I must prime him as to his role in our little drama. Ah, there is our man himself!"
He had just noticed our client's reflection in a shop window and, turning, we saw that he was making for The George and Dragon. We followed as quickly as possible, catching him at the entrance, where Holmes had a muffled conversation, before following him into the crowded restaurant. A waiter hurried forward as we sat down to order our meal when Smedhurst
gave an exclamation and said, "Why, there is young Ashton at the table yonder."
Holmes leaned forward and put his hand gently on our client's shoulder.
"You have no need to worry. Miss Reynolds and Ashton are merely friends."
With a muffled apology he rose from the table and I was astonished to see him make straight for the surveyor, who was lunching alone at a side table. He bent over, presumably to introduce himself and then beckoned me across.
"Please forgive this intrusion, Mr Ashton, but I understand you are a surveyor. Myself and my friend Mr Watson are hoping to buy a cottage down here and have found exactly what we require. Mr Smedhurst, who is lunching with us, as you have perhaps noticed, is anxious to sell and we wondered whether you would be kind enough to undertake the survey."
Ashton, who was a pleasant-looking man of about thirty with black curly hair, seemed embarrassed, I thought.
"Certainly, Mr Robinson," he stammered. "But this is the first I have heard of it. Miss Reynolds did not mention it."
"It was a sudden decision," said Holmes smoothly. "Mr Smedhurst is going to London for a few days this evening, but is leaving the key of the cottage with us. I have the address of your office. And now, I have interrupted your lunch long enough."
Ashton got up to shake hands with the pair of us.
"Honoured, my dear sir," he said with a smile. My hours are from nine-thirty a.m. until six p.m., unless I am out on survey. I look forward to seeing you soon."
"I cannot see, Holmes ..." I began as we regained our table.
"I seem to have heard you say that before, Watson," said my companion with a disarming smile. "I think the oxtail soup and then the steak will do admirably in my case."
And he talked of nothing but trivial matters until the meal was over.
5
"Now, you understand the procedures I have outlined to you, Mr Smedhurst," said Holmes as we regained the street. Our client nodded.
"I will leave Parvise Magna this afternoon, in daylight, with my luggage and make sure my departure is noted in the town, both by pony and trap and by train. I will give out that I am going to London for a week to see an aunt and make myself conspicuous on the platform. I will stay away for three nights. I will leave the cottage key behind a big boulder about thirty feet from the front door. You cannot miss it, Mr Holmes. There is a fissure at the back and I will place it there, well concealed."
"Excellent, Mr Smedhurst. Now there is just one thing more."
"What is that, Mr Holmes?"
My companion gave him a thin smile.
"Shave off your beard. Miss Reynolds does not like it."
I spent part of the afternoon reading in the smoking room of The George and Dragon, while Holmes was away on some errand of his own. Presently he rejoined me and we both noted with satisfaction the departure of Smedhurst as his pony and trap clattered down the main street on its way to the station. As gas lamps began to be lit in the street outside Holmes rose from his deep leather chair, his whole being tense and animated.
"I think you might fetch your revolver, old fellow. We may need it before the night is out. I have some provisions in my greatcoat pocket so we shall not go hungry."
"In that case I will bring my whisky flask," said I.
A quarter of an hour later we left the hotel and made our way inconspicuously through side streets, as though taking an innocuous afternoon stroll. Though there was still an hour or so of daylight the sky was dark and sombre as we cleared the outskirts of Parvise Magna and a pallid mist was rising from the drenched fields which skirted the rounded hills. We were both silent as we continued our walk and presently Holmes turned aside to avoid approaching our client's cottage from the front. When we could just see the roof of the property through the bare branches of leafless trees, we diverged from the path and in a few moments found ourselves on the overgrown track that led to the quarry. It was a grim place at that late time of day and we both paused as though possessed of the same impulse, and gazed down over the hundred foot drop.
"An awful spot, Holmes."
"Indeed, Watson. But I think there is a more agreeable approach yonder."
He pointed forward and I then saw what appeared to be a white thread which turned out to be a shelving part of the quarry that led downward in gentle slopes. Our feet gritted on the loose shale and after we had descended about halfway my companion gave a sharp exclamation.
He led the way across the face of the quarry to where a dark hole gaped. It was obviously man-made and had perhaps
provided shelter for the quarrymen in years gone by. I followed him in and saw that the cavern was about ten feet across and some twenty feet deep. There was a narrow shelf of rock on the left-hand side, about five feet in.
"Hulloa", I said. "Here is a candle, Holmes."
I bent closer.
"And recently used, I should say, judging by the spent matches which are perfectly dry and not wet as they would be had they been there a long time."
Holmes came to look over my shoulder.
"You are constantly improving, my dear fellow. You are not far out."
He went back into the rear of the cave which the failing daylight still penetrated.
"Someone has made a fire," I said, as he stirred the blackened ashes on the rough floor with his boot. "A tramp has been living here, perhaps."
"Perhaps, Watson," he said, as though his thoughts were far away.
Then he stooped to pick up a small slip of cardboard from the remains of the fire. I went across to see what he had found. I made out the faint white lettering on a blue background: carroll and co.
"What does it mean, Holmes?"
"I do not yet know," he said reflectively. "Time will tell. I think I have seen enough here to confirm my tentative theories. In the meantime we must get back to the cottage before it is completely dark."
And he led the way up the quarry at a swift pace. He put his finger to his lips as we drew close to our destination and
bending down behind the large boulder our client had indicated, he brought out the massive wrought-iron key. It was the work of a moment to open the cottage door and re-lock it from the other side. The key turned smoothly so it was obvious why Smedhurst's mysterious intruder had been able to gain entry so easily.
"Could we have a light, Holmes?" I whispered.
"There is a dark lantern on the table yonder, which I observed on our previous visit. I think we might risk it for a few minutes to enable us to settle down. If he is coming at all tonight our man will not move until long after dark. I have baited the trap. Now let us just see what comes to the net."
I could not repress a shudder at these words, and I felt something of the terror that Smedhurst had experienced in that lonely place. But the comforting feel of my revolver in my overcoat did much to reassure me. I lit the lantern, shielding the match with my hand, and when we had deposited our sandwiches and made ourselves comfortable in two wing chairs, I closed the shutter of the lantern so that only a thin line of luminescence broke the darkness. I placed it beneath the table where it could not be seen from the windows, and after loading my pistol and securing the safety catch I placed it and my whisky flask near at hand as the light slowly faded.
What can I say of that dreary vigil?That the dark cloud of horror which seemed to hang about the cottage that night will remain with me until my dying day. Combined with the melancholy screeching of distant owls, it merely emphasized the sombreness of our night watch. Holmes seemed impervious to all this for he sat immobile in his chair, for I could see his calm face in the dim light that still filtered through the parlour windows. Presently we ate the sandwiches and fortified with draughts of whisky from my flask, I became more alert. Several hours must have passed when I became aware that Holmes had stirred in his chair.
"I think the moment is approaching. Your pistol, Watson, if you please."
Then I heard what his keen ears had already caught. A very faint, furtive scraping on the rocky path that led to the cottage. I had the pistol in my hand now and eased off the safety catch. The clouds had lifted momentarily and pale moonlight outlined the casement bars. By its spectral glow I suddenly saw a ghastly, crumpled face appear in the nearest frame and I almost cried aloud. But Holmes's hand was on my arm and I waited with racing heart.
Then there was a metallic click and a key inserted from outside began to turn the lock. I was about to whisper to my companion when the door was suddenly flung wide and cold, damp air flowed into the room. We were both on our feet now. I vaguely glimpsed two figures in the doorway and then Holmes had thrown the shutter of the dark lantern back and its light flooded in, dispelling the gloom and revealing a dark-clad figure and behind him, the hideous thing that had appeared at the window. A dreadful cry of alarm and dismay, the pounding of feet back down the path and then the horrible creature had turned the other way.
"Quickly, Watson! Time is of the essence! I recognized the second man but we must identify the other."
We were racing down the tangled pathway now, stumbling over the rocky surface but the white-faced creature was quicker still. I discharged my pistol into the air and our quarry dodged aside and redoubled its efforts. Then we were in thick bushes and I fired again. The flash and the explosion were followed by the most appalling cry. When we rounded the next corner I could see by the light of the lantern which Holmes still carried, that the thing had misjudged the distance on the blind bend and had fallen straight down into the quarry.
"It cannot have survived that fall, Holmes," I said.
He shook his head.
"It was not your fault, old fellow. But we must hasten down in case he needs medical aid."
A few minutes later we had scrambled to ground level and cautiously approached the motionless thing with the smashed body that told my trained eye that he had died instantly. I gently turned him over while Holmes held the lantern. When he removed the hideous carnival mask we found ourselves looking into the bloodied face of young Ashton, the surveyor, whose expression bore all the elements of shock and surprise that one often finds in cases of violent death.
6
Holmes's hammering at the knocker of the substantial Georgian house at the edge of the town, presently brought a tousled house-keeper holding a candle in a trembling hand to a ground-floor window.
"I must see your master at once!" said Holmes. "I know he has just returned home so do not tell me that he cannot be disturbed. It is a matter of life and death!"
The door was unbolted at once and we slipped inside.
"Do not be alarmed, my good woman," said Holmes gently. "Despite the hour, our errand is a vital one. I see by the muddy footprints on the parquet that your master has only recently returned. Pray tell him to come downstairs or we shall have to go up to him."
The housekeeper nodded, the fright slowly fading from her face.
"I will not be a moment, gentlemen. Just let me light this lamp on the hall table."
We sat down on two spindly chairs to wait, listening to the mumbled conversation going on above.The man who staggered down the stairs to meet us was a completely changed apparition to the smooth professional we had previously met.
"You may leave us, Mrs Hobbs," he said through trembling lips.
He looked from one to the other of us while anger and despair fought for mastery in his features.
"What is the meaning of this intrusion in the middle of the night, Mr Robinson?"
"My name is Sherlock Holmes," said my companion sternly. "Your friend is dead. We must have the truth or you are a lost man!"
Amos Hardcastle's face was ashen. He mumbled incoherently and I thought he was going to have a stroke. I put my hand under his arm to help him down the last few treads and he almost fell into the chair I had just vacated. He looked round blankly, as though in a daze.
"Jabez Crawley's nephew dead? And you are the detective, Sherlock Holmes."
"Tell us the truth, Mr Hardcastle," said Holmes, a smile of triumph on his face. "Or shall I tell the story for you."
Something like anger flared momentarily in the lawyer's eyes. "My client ..." he began but Holmes cut him short.
"Must I repeat; your client is dead. He tried to kill Mr Smedhurst. That makes you an accessory."
The lawyer's face turned even whiter if that were possible.
"I knew nothing of that," he whispered. "Did you kill him?"
This to me. I shook my head.
"No. He fell over the edge of the quarry."
"I will have you disbarred for unprofessi
onal conduct and you will stand trial for criminal conspiracy and accessory to attempted murder," said Holmes sternly. "It was unfortunate for you that I recognized you by the light of the lantern."
"I beg you, Mr Holmes!"
"The time is long past for begging. Let me just try to reconstruct your dishonest sequence of events. I am sure you will correct me if I am wrong."
Holmes sat down in a chair opposite the crushed figure of the lawyer and eyed him grimly.
"Let us just suppose that old Jabez Crawley did not leave a proper will. Just a scribbled note or two, leaving the cottage to his nephew in Australia, his only surviving relative. And supposing he had hinted that there was something valuable hidden there, without indicating its whereabouts. Money perhaps, bonds or the deeds to properties. There were two keys to the cottage. There had to be or you and the nephew could never have gone there and made searches while Mr Smedhurst was out. But that is to run ahead. Am I correct so far?"
The old man nodded sullenly. He looked like a cornered rat with his hair awry and his muddy clothes.
"You wrote to the nephew in Australia at his last known address.You got no reply, I presume?"
"No, sir. More than eight months had passed and I surmised that young Ashton had either died or moved to some other country."
Holmes smiled thinly.
"You had many fruitless searches at the cottage in the interim — without result. So you sold it to Mr Smedhurst and pocketed the proceeds. You are a pretty scoundrel, even for a provincial lawyer."
Hardcastle flushed but said nothing, his haunted eyes shifting first to Holmes and then on to me.
"After a long interval you got a reply from the nephew. Your letter had gone astray or been delayed. All this is fairly elementary."
"I think it quite remarkable, Holmes," I interjected. "I had no idea ..."
"Later, old fellow," he interrupted. "So young Ashton made his way here and you gave him all the information at your disposal without, of course, telling him that he was the rightful owner of the cottage and that you had yourself sold it and kept the money."
The Mammoth Book of New Sherlock Holmes Adventures Page 41