The Sensible Necktie and Other Stories of Sherlock Holmes

by Peter K Andersson

  “I went up to the second floor, holding the weapon before me. I saw at once that the door to the fourth room had been opened, but there was no sign of the burglar. He must have made his way down to the first floor while I went down for the rifle, I thought, and as I came down to the first floor landing, I could see a silhouette running away down the corridor.

  “‘Halt!’ I shouted, and it must have been the excitement of the moment, for without meaning to, I pulled the trigger of the rifle, and to my great astonishment and alarm, a shot went off! There was a sound as of shattering glass, and I think I must have broken a window at the far end of the corridor. It was too dark up there to see clearly, but I think the intruder took advantage of the broken window, and climbed out that way.”

  Miss Landseer put a friendly hand on Miss Brill’s knee. “Connie scared them away,” she said with a tinge of pride.

  “This is a most curious business,” I remarked. “Who would want to break into a house that looks as dilapidated as this? Or is there anything of value in your possessions that might attract a thief?”

  “Not in the least,” said Miss Landseer. “I have lived on very little money since I was forced to settle my father’s debts.”

  “All the more strange,” I said, “because that precludes the eventuality that the burglar knew who was living here, and had set his eye on some well-known heirloom of yours. Don’t you think it strange, Holmes?”

  “I do, but it is hardly without sense. There is at least some logic in the way the burglar tried to force the weak parts of the house - the run-down upper floors - as the ground floor has a very thick front door that would take time to break in through, and the only windows, as I gather, are in the back rooms that you use as private quarters. He would not be able to get into the ground floor without running the risk of waking you up. The venture is helped, furthermore, by the shape of the house, making it quite easy to climb the exterior. It has numerous ledges and holes suitable for grabbing when you climb, and taken together with the wisteria, it means you do not even have to be very agile to be able to scale the wall. But tell me, has there been further attempts since this one?”

  “There was one more,” said Miss Landseer, “about four days later. This time, he seems to have given up the moment he heard Connie going up the stairs. I think he tried to force another one of the first-floor windows, but without success.”

  Holmes jumped in his seat. “Ha! This run-down house seems more solid than most of its kind.”

  “It is a very sturdy construction, Mr Holmes.”

  “Yes, but so, my experience tells me, is the perseverance of burglars. And have there been no further incidents since that time? This must have been several days ago.”

  The two women exchanged glances.

  “No, Mr Holmes,” said Miss Landseer, “there has been nothing. We were deeply unsettled by the events, however, and Connie wrote her letter to you the day after the last attempt. We live here in solitude and tranquillity, and do not take such intrusions lightly.”

  Holmes placed his forefinger across his lips. “But surely, Miss Landseer, you receive visitors to this day.”

  “How can you say?”

  “Because the chairs that Watson and I are sitting in have both been standing here for at least a few weeks, judging from the deep imprint they have made in the rug. One of them is surely for Miss Brill, but what about the other one?”

  The women looked at each other again, this time with a smile.

  “You are quite right,” said Miss Landseer, “we do receive a visitor. Mr Hutchinson, a retired furniture salesman who recently moved into one of the smaller houses down the road. He knocked on our door four nights ago, wishing to acquaint himself with his new neighbours.”

  “He was so utterly charming,” added Miss Brill, “that I could hardly refuse to let him in.”

  “Yes,” Miss Landseer smiled, “we became quite fond of Mr Hutchinson, and he has come back to chat with us over a cup of coffee every evening since then. But that is another matter entirely, and our business with you was the burglar.”

  Holmes studied the old woman’s placid face.

  “You will forgive me for prying, I’m sure, but I am fascinated by gentlemen who manage to carry themselves with such irresistible charm. I am quite a student of charm, is that not so, Watson?”

  I had no idea what he was rambling about, but he gave me no time to answer him.

  “Just what made this man so appealing to you?” he asked.

  “He is an impeccable gentleman, Mr Holmes,” replied Miss Landseer.

  There was a suggestion of impatience in her voice, as if she indicated that the gentleman who sat before her was less than impeccable. I had to bite my lip to keep from laughing.

  “He is so unselfish,” said Miss Brill. “He always insists upon seeing himself out when he leaves, and will not go until he has made sure we are continuing with our needlework, and that his visit has not interrupted us too much.”

  Miss Brill started to giggle a bit, and her mistress smiled approvingly.

  “It must be most satisfying to make an acquaintance after so long in isolation,” remarked Holmes.

  “As I am chained to this wretched chair most of my time,” said Miss Landseer, “it certainly is a blessing to be offered some diversion. I am glad this confinement has not driven me insane, although one does develop one’s quirks. For instance, I have grown accustomed to hearing Connie walk around in the house, and from the sound of her steps I can determine just where she is. And when Mr Hutchinson leaves, I can hear him walk out of that door, down the four steps in the foyer and then the muted sound of his shoes as he crosses the Persian rug just before he goes through the door. It is as if I was blind and had developed acute hearing. Do you know, I was disconcerted yesterday, when Mr Hutchinson left us.”

  “How so?”

  “Well, it is a most curious thing. I can hear so clearly the sound as he walks down those four steps. There are five distinct footfalls, one for each of the steps and then one as he comes down on the wooden floor. But yesterday there were only four!” She laughed to herself. “Can you imagine? As if he vanished into thin air before coming down the steps.”

  “I doubt the gentlemen are interested in these fancies, Miss Landseer,” said Miss Brill. “Perhaps you prefer to make an examination of the rest of the house?”

  “I was just about to suggest it,” said Holmes, and rose. “But there is no need for you to escort us. Watson and I will manage on our own.”

  I cannot claim to have been enthusiastic about this venture after hearing the ladies’ ghoulish story, but with Holmes at my side I was prepared for anything, and I was rather curious about this strange house. Climbing the stairs to the first floor also gave Holmes and me a good opportunity to air our thoughts on the case.

  “I must admit to feeling a bit doubtful to this business, Holmes,” I confessed. “In the end, it is but a common case of burglary. And as regards the eccentric aspects of it, I am sure you would find similar characteristics if you scrutinised any break-in up close.”

  “I see your point, Watson. There is perhaps more to be had for the student of curious interpersonal entanglements than for the student of grotesque crimes, but it is the obstinacy of this burglar that intrigues me. A burglar who seems to have set his mind on penetrating a house that to the uninitiated only looks like a deserted ruin, and to the initiated is only the home of two impoverished ladies. If a burglar scoured this area looking for suitable targets, he would find numerous other houses that from the outside look much more rewarding. This leads one to think that the burglar knows of something in this house worth taking. But there is nothing! Miss Landseer had a cracked teacup at her elbow, and her dress had been mended several times. Despite her illustrious past, this is not the home of wealthy people.”

  We looked into rooms t
hat had not been touched for decades, searching for traces of burglary or for something worth stealing, but the only signs of intrusion were mouse droppings. I inspected one of the windows, and found that the hooks were so thick as to be almost impossible to loosen.

  “No wonder he was struggling to break in.”

  “Yes, it is ironic, is it not? An impenetrable ruin. The window frames are exceedingly thick and strong, much like the front door. The house seems at one point to have been built to deter burglars.”

  “No need for such safety anymore. Oh Holmes, this is useless. There is nothing here.”

  “I agree with you. Nothing at all.”

  “What are we to do, then?”

  “I fear there is little we can do here now. I need to make some enquiries, and perhaps this will shed light on the only valuable clue that Miss Landseer provided us with.”

  “Only one valuable clue? And which is that?”

  “The mystery of the fifth footfall.”

  Holmes and I descended the stairs and bade the two ladies farewell. As we came out into the street, Holmes instructed me to take a cab home and be reunited with my wife, while he took one to Baker Street. I tried to explain that we could easily share one, but he was most insistent, and I appreciated that he wished to stay behind for a while, dwelling on the problem. The following day, my practice did not keep me quite as busy as it had the day before, and I was given time to ponder the business of the previous evening. My theories moved in the direction of squatters rather than burglars, suspecting that perhaps some tramp had come upon the house, thinking it deserted, and then tried to get inside. This did not explain why he kept trying to break in after learning that the house was inhabited, but it is possible that this would not have bothered him. In any case, I felt that the tumbledown appearance of Albany Place was a vital clue in solving the matter.

  My reflections had not advanced very far when I was handed a note at lunch. It was from Holmes, and it instructed me to go and join him in Tooting for the conclusion of the burglary business. My afternoon was free from appointments, and it was no strain for me to make a brief excursion. Holmes was waiting for me on a street corner as I came walking towards the house, and I was surprised to recognise on him the exact same clothes that he had worn when we had said goodbye the night before.

  “Your suspicious look does you credit, Watson. I have indeed spent the night in this neighbourhood, which accounts for my slightly sullied attire. After we left Albany Place yesterday evening, I was convinced that any investigations in connection with this business must be carried out in the neighbourhood and as soon as possible. I therefore stayed behind after you had left, not wanting to involve you in my plans and deprive Mrs. Watson of the safe return of her husband.”

  “But what in God’s name have you been doing all night?”

  “My first order of business, as so often, was to visit the local public house. It is quite close by, called The Raven and Writing Desk, and its proprietor is a pleasant and most informative man who has been doing business in the area for the last forty years. He had some interesting things to tell me about Albany Place and its history. The unusual form of the house has awarded it the nickname of the Tooting Pyramid among the local inhabitants. I also spoke to one of the patrons of the bar, who happened to live next door to Mr Hutchinson. When I had satisfied my appetite for information, I went back to the house and positioned myself in a beech tree in the garden from where I had a good view of anyone who approached the house. I was not surprised to experience that the night passed in tranquillity, and my first port of call this morning was to summon Inspector Lestrade, who unwittingly has come in contact with this case from quite a different entry point. He supplied me with the last pieces of the puzzle, and I immediately sent for you so that you could be present for the last act.”

  “You mean you have cracked it?”

  “Certainly. It was not such a great mystery, but it all hinged on one tiny little detail that most people would miss.”

  I could not get anything more out of him until we were back at Albany Place. Miss Brill once again escorted us into the drawing room where her mistress was sitting, just like the night before.

  “Mr Holmes,” she said with anticipation. “Am I right in thinking you have good news for us?”

  “Yes and no, Miss Landseer.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  “It will all be explained. But I prefer to give you my explanation with the help of a small demonstration. Could I ask you both to accompany me out into the hall?”

  Miss Landseer looked vexed at this request.

  “Is that absolutely necessary, Mr Holmes?” pleaded her loyal companion.

  “I am afraid so,” said Holmes unflinchingly.

  Miss Brill assisted Miss Landseer in rising from her chair, and, with the aid of a cane and the support of both Miss Brill and myself, she managed to leave the room that otherwise was her domain. In the hall, Holmes stood before us, below the four steps that divided the room.

  “Now then, Miss Landseer, you are absolutely certain that upon Mr Hutchinson’s last departure, you only heard four steps and then nothing?”

  “It is just as I told you.” Miss Landseer seemed a bit impatient.

  “Have you heard from Mr Hutchinson after that occasion?” asked Holmes.

  “No, we have not.”

  “I understand. You will observe now that the Persian rug that lies here between the front door and the steps is placed about two and a half feet from the steps. Is that where it is usually placed?”

  “Yes,” said Miss Brill. “That is exactly where it always lies.”

  “Then would you permit me to conduct a small experiment?”

  Holmes placed himself between the rug and the steps. He took hold of the end of the rug, and pulled it towards him, so that it reached all the way to the steps.

  “Watson,” he said. “Will you be so good as to walk in my direction?”

  I did as he instructed, and walked down the steps and onto the rug. The sound of my shoes on the four steps made a clear sound that was contrasted by the almost complete silence that followed as I stepped onto the rug.

  “Do you see?” said Holmes. “Four distinct footfalls, and then silence. Did it sound something like that, Miss Landseer?”

  “It sounded exactly like that.”

  “Did any of you move the rug?”

  “No,” said Miss Brill. “The rug is never moved. I have never seen it lying that close to the steps.”

  Miss Landseer trembled as she firmly held onto her stick.

  “What is the meaning of this, Mr Holmes?”

  “I was trying to demonstrate, Miss Landseer, that when Mr Hutchinson was walking out of your house that last time, the rug must have been moved like this, to account for the absence of a sound.”

  “It could mean that, although I find it highly unlikely. I mean, why would it suddenly be moved, and then moved back?”

  “That is precisely what we must find out.”

  Holmes stepped across the rug to the end closest to the door. Here, a large portion of the floor that had been covered by this old rug for years was suddenly revealed. Holmes fell down on his knees, and inspected this area. Within seconds, his hands had paused at one particular point, and then, to the astonishment of his audience, he opened a hatch in the floor, roughly the size of a dinner tray. Miss Landseer, by her own volition, staggered closer to be able to peer into the hole beneath it. The hatch covered a compartment a few feet deep, built into the floor like a wooden box. It was empty.

  “Good God,” whispered Miss Landseer. “I had no idea that was there. How did you know?”

  Holmes stood up and brushed a considerable amount of dust from the knees of his trousers.

  “I have been looking into the history of this house, Miss Land
seer. The man who built it, a Mr Claude Quiller, was for a very brief time one of England’s most sought-after portrait painters. He grew wealthy, and started to develop a tremendous fear of burglary, so that when he built this house, he made it into a fortress, with thick window frames and a front door that you cannot even knock on. His suspicions also prevented him from telling his friends and relatives where he kept his fortune hidden, and after his sudden death his family turned the house upside-down looking for it without success. The idea that the money was hidden in the house was abandoned, as was the house itself, and it fell into disrepair until you acquired it. The mystery of Quiller’s fortune was forgotten until a most diligent burglar, whose real name we might never know, through meticulous research became certain that he had unravelled the secret, and was most determined to test his theory. First, he did it the old-fashioned way, by attempting to break into the house at night. This proved fruitless, for the inhabitants of the house were fiercer than he had reckoned with. From your stories, however, it was clear that the thief only climbed to the upper floors because they were easier to break into, but that his real interest lay down the stairs, where he tried to go before being stopped by Miss Brill’s rifle. Exactly where on the ground floor he thought the treasure lay hidden became apparent to me when I understood the significance of the fifth footstep. You see, this burglar tried another method, and for this he required an accomplice. He would himself go into the house in disguise, posing as Mr Hutchinson, a new neighbour, and when he had gained the confidence of the two women, and sat chatting with them at length, his accomplice could sneak in through the unlocked door, open the hatch where the money was hidden, and run away with it undetected. Our thieves even had the patience to wait a few days until they had made sure that the two ladies had really fallen for his bluff. When the theft had actually taken place, however, Mr Hutchinson’s accomplice must have forgotten to pull back the rug to hide the hatch. Luckily, Hutchinson had made his hosts stay behind in the drawing room when he left, so that he could make sure on his own that there were no traces of the intrusion, and this was when he walked across the misplaced rug and then pulled it back into its rightful place before leaving Albany Place, never to come back.”