Mammoth Book The Lost Chronicles of Sherlock Holmes (Mammoth Books)

by Smith, Denis O.

  PART TWO: A RAINY AFTERNOON

  When I descended to breakfast the following morning, I found that Holmes had already gone out, without leaving any message. I took it that he was pursuing his research into the Boldero case, although where he might begin such an investigation, I could not imagine. Unable to make any sense of the matter, I endeavoured to dismiss it from my mind, but the story of David Boldero’s terrifying night at Hill House had gripped my imagination and returned unbidden to my thoughts throughout the morning.

  Just after one o’clock, a telegram arrived for me, which had been sent from Richmond. I tore it open and read the following: “DELAYED. MEET RICHMOND STATION 3.45. S. H”. Evidently, Holmes’s enquiries had taken him down to Richmond already. Knowing my friend’s amazing resources, I could not doubt that he had made progress, and I looked forward eagerly to hearing the results.

  I met David Boldero at Waterloo station as we had arranged, and we travelled down to Richmond together. It wanted ten minutes to the time Holmes had mentioned as our train pulled into the station, but there was no sign of him there, so we waited by the main entrance. It was a pleasant, sunny afternoon, with a light breeze blowing. Fresh green leaves adorned the branches of the trees, and in the air was the smell of spring.

  After a few minutes, I observed a thin, disreputable-looking man approaching slowly along the road. He was dressed in a tweed suit with a bright red cravat round his neck, and he carried a rolled-up newspaper under his arm. Even from a distance I could see that he was unshaven and that his face was red and blotchy. I observed him particularly because he was, so it seemed to me, keeping his gaze fixed steadily upon us.

  “That man appears to want something of us,” remarked Boldero to me as the stranger drew near. I was about to reply when the man approached us and spoke.

  “You are a little early, gentlemen,” came a clear and well-known voice.

  “Holmes!” I cried. “I had no idea—”

  “I judged it best to adopt this little disguise for my local research,” said he. “I am sorry if I startled you, Watson. You were regarding me so keenly as I approached that I was convinced you had recognized me. Now,” he continued in a brisker tone, “let us be down to business. There is a hotel across the street where you can order a pot of tea while I bid adieu to Albert Taylor, footman out of position, and bienvenue once more to Sherlock Holmes, consulting detective!”

  In ten minutes my friend had discarded his disguise and joined us in the parlour of the hotel, his appearance as neat and clean as ever.

  “I have had enough indifferent tea already this afternoon,” said he with a shake of the head as I made to pass him a cup. “As Albert Taylor, I have made the acquaintance of Miss Mary Ingram, known locally as ‘Mad Mary’, who is the woman Mr Boldero spoke to on his cousin’s path yesterday afternoon. I have consumed large quantities of tea with her and, I believe, gained her confidence. She is a little unhinged, it is true, but not quite so much as is generally believed. She witnessed Simon Boldero’s arrival at Hill House one afternoon in January, but never saw him leave, although she was at the house early the following morning. She had been told by Silas to make a bed up for the visitor, but when she saw it the following day, it appeared not to have been slept in, and she assumed that Simon had simply decided against spending the night there.”

  “But his muffler was in the bedroom,” said Boldero.

  “Precisely,” said Holmes in a grave tone.

  David Boldero put his head in his hands and groaned. Holmes reached out and put his hand on his shoulder.

  “Have courage,” said he. “I think we must accept that your brother is dead, and that his death occurred at the hand of your cousin, Silas. It is our duty now to ensure that that unpleasant old man is brought to justice!”

  “I shall wring the truth from him with my own hands!” cried Boldero in a suddenly impassioned voice, his eyes flashing with emotion.

  “That may not be necessary,” responded Holmes calmly. “There is now sufficient prima facie evidence, I believe, to lay the matter before the police. A slight snag is that Miss Ingram’s somewhat eccentric manner is likely to mean that her testimony is given less credence by the authorities than it merits. Fortunately, my enquiries have brought to light one or two other points of interest.”

  “I still wish to confront Silas myself,” said Boldero in a determined voice.

  Holmes glanced at his watch. “Come, then,” said he. “Let us be off to Hill House. I can give you the details of my discoveries as we go.”

  The breeze had freshened and the clouds were piling up ominously as we left the hotel and made our way through the little town.

  “There is a newsagent’s shop on the way to Hill House,” said Holmes as we walked along, “the window of which contains several interesting advertisements. Two of them, yellowing and faded, offer positions for hardworking servants in the establishment of Mr S. Boldero, one for a maid, the other for a male servant, duties unspecified. I enquired the details of the newsagent, representing myself as a footman seeking a post, and remarked that the advertisements appeared to have been in his window for some time. He acknowledged the truth of this observation.

  “‘Old Boldero’s establishment is not such as appeals overmuch to the average domestic,’ said he, sucking on his pipe. ‘His advertisements have brought few enough replies, fewer still have ever taken up a position there, and none of them has ever stayed long enough to make it worth Boldero’s while to remove the notices from my window. He’s reduced now to relying on the services of “Mad Mary”, a local woman. She goes in to the house most days, but she won’t stay there. She could tell you a thing or two about Hill House, I’d wager!’

  “I took this as my cue, and enquired Mary’s address, saying I should like to learn a little about Hill House before I applied for the position offered there. Thus it was that I came to make the acquaintance of that unusual lady, with the results I mentioned earlier. Here is the newsagent’s,” he continued as we approached a row of small shops.

  We stopped by the window, and Holmes pointed out to us the advertisements he had mentioned.

  “There is also this,” said he, directing our attention to a large piece of card towards the bottom of the window. The announcement on it ran as follows:

  MISSING: THOMAS EVANS, sometime footman to the Marquess of Glastonbury, butler to E. J. Archbould Esq. of Chelsea, and latterly butler to Mr S. Boldero of Hill House, Richmond Hill. Last seen on the morning of 14 November 1883, leaving his employment at Hill House. Will anyone having information as to the whereabouts of the said Thomas Evans please communicate with his sister, Miss Violet Evans, of Ferrier Street, Wandsworth.

  “Who can say whether Mr Evans ever really left Hill House?” remarked Holmes in a thoughtful tone as I looked up from the notice. “If Cousin Silas is the source of the information, I think we are justified in being sceptical of its accuracy.”

  “The more we learn of it, the worse the matter becomes!” I cried.

  Sherlock Holmes nodded his head gravely. “The sooner Silas Boldero and the Old Bailey make acquaintance with each other, the better for all concerned!” said he. “Come, let us make haste to Hill House!”

  “But we still cannot say,” remarked David Boldero in a puzzled voice as we walked briskly up the hill, “why Silas should wish to take Simon’s life, and attempt to take my own; nor, for that matter, why Simon went to visit him in the first place.”

  “I am now able to shed a little light on those questions,” responded Holmes. “You recall the aide-memoire that your brother had written for himself, and which you showed us yesterday?”

  “What of it?”

  “One of the items on his list was ‘Baker – see again’, in which the word ‘Baker’ was begun with a capital letter. This might, of course, have been of no importance: the word ‘Baker’ was the first word on the list, and there might have been no more significance to its capitalization than that, but it did at least make it possibl
e that the ‘Baker’ referred to was not the man who supplied your brother’s bread, but someone bearing the surname ‘Baker’. Who this man might be, however – if he existed at all – there was no way of telling.”

  “It all sounds a little unlikely to me,” remarked Boldero in a dubious tone.

  “No doubt, but you must remember that ‘the unlikely’ falls, by its very definition, within the bounds of the possible.”

  “But even if your supposition were correct, it seems a very trifling matter.”

  “My work is built upon the observation of trifles,” said Holmes. “Now, I had pondered last night what might have been your brother’s purpose in calling upon your cousin, an unfriendly and miserly man, whom he had no reason to regard with affection and every reason to detest. The only significant connection between the two men was their shared ancestry. Perhaps, then, I speculated, it was some family matter that brought Simon down here to Richmond. This suggested to me your father and grandfather, which in turn suggested to me your grandfather’s will, and I decided to see this document for myself. I therefore took myself down this morning to the Registry of Wills, and examined the copy of your grandfather’s will, which is deposited there.”

  “I have seen it myself,” Boldero interrupted. “It is very straightforward. Save that it gives away my family’s inheritance to our odious cousin, it is of little interest.”

  “That rather depends on what one is looking for,” said Holmes. “The will, I saw, had been drawn up by the firm of Valentine, Zelley and Knight, of Butler’s Court, Cheapside, and witnessed by two of their clerks there. The appointed executor of the will was a junior partner in the firm. What do you suppose his name was?”

  “I really have not the remotest idea,” replied Boldero.

  “Baker!” I cried.

  “Very good, Watson!” said my friend, smiling. “You have the advantage, of course, of having witnessed ‘the unlikely’ occur with surprising frequency in the course of my work! Yes, the executor was a Mr R. S. Baker! You will imagine the satisfaction this discovery afforded me. But why, then, should Simon Boldero wish to see the executor of his grandfather’s will more than twenty years after that will was proved? It appeared from Simon’s aide-memoire that he had seen Baker at least once already, and intended to see him again on the Friday, having, as I believe, visited his cousin Silas on the Thursday evening. Two such surprising appointments in the space of twenty-four hours must surely be related, I argued, and there must, therefore, be some connection between Baker and Silas Boldero. Upon consulting the Law Society records, I discovered that your cousin’s own career as a solicitor, which he abandoned many years ago, as you mentioned last night, was spent entirely with this same firm, Valentine, Zelley and Knight, and that he and this man Baker had been contemporaries.”

  “That is so, I believe,” remarked Boldero, “but Silas cannot have interfered with my grandfather’s will in any way, if that is the conclusion to which your argument is leading, for he had already left the firm a year or two before my grandfather died.”

  “Quite so,” responded Holmes, “as I confirmed for myself from the records. He could not, therefore, have interfered personally with your grandfather’s will. But he could, of course, have bribed another to do so, especially if that other was someone he had known well for nearly twenty years.”

  Boldero stopped abruptly and turned to Holmes.

  “Is such a thing conceivable?” said he.

  “Betrayal of his client’s implicit trust is the very worst crime a lawyer can commit,” said Holmes. “Regrettably, however, it is not unknown. But come, we must make haste, for it looks as if we are in for a heavy downpour!”

  I glanced up at the sky as we hurried on. The clouds had built up into a single, dark grey mass, and the wind was colder than before. After a moment, Holmes continued his account:

  “I was quickly able to establish that Baker was still in practice, and with the same firm, so I called round at their chambers late this morning. Baker is an elderly man, grey, wrinkled and distinguished in appearance, and his manner towards me was at first extremely supercilious.

  “‘I understand from this note on your card that you consider your business to be both urgent and personal,’ said he in a peevish tone, ‘but I do not know you.’

  “‘You know, at least, the man I represent,’ I returned: ‘Mr Simon Boldero.’

  “At the mention of this name, the old man’s face lost what little colour it possessed, his jaw sagged and he appeared in an instant to have aged ten years.

  “‘I have been expecting him for some time,’ said he eventually in a weak voice. ‘Has something prevented his coming in person?’

  “‘Indeed,’ said I, ‘but I am acting for him in the matter.’

  “‘I have had a long and honourable career,’ said he in a broken, defeated voice, ‘and had every hope of a respected retirement, but Mr Boldero found evidence of the one moral lapse of my life.’

  “‘The business of his grandfather’s will is a very serious matter indeed,’ said I in a grave voice. Of course, I knew practically nothing of the matter, but if you have ever played cards, you will know that it is sometimes possible to give the impression that your hand is stronger than it really is.

  “Baker nodded his head sorrowfully. ‘And now what is to be done about it?’ said he. ‘As you are probably aware, the will I executed after old Daniel Boldero’s death was one he made in a moment of stubborn anger, following a quarrel with his son, Enoch, who was Simon’s father. He soon repented of it, however, and before a month had passed he made a fresh, more equitable will, by which all his property passed to Enoch, as he had originally intended.’

  “‘That was the will that Silas Boldero bribed you to destroy,’ I ventured.

  “Again he nodded. ‘I was not a wealthy man, and he offered me a thousand pounds if I would do it. Many men would have been tempted.’

  “‘And many men would have resisted that temptation. So you destroyed the will.’

  “‘No, no!’ he cried in surprise, eyeing me with suspicion. ‘Was that not made clear to you? I could not do it! All my professional training – everything I held dear – rebelled at the thought of destroying a legal document! Instead, I concealed it where no one might find it, and after Daniel Boldero’s death, so far as the world knew, it had never existed. Of course, I have often regretted it bitterly, but what could I do?’

  “‘You could have told the truth.’ At this he fell silent, his head in his hands. ‘You must do exactly what Mr Simon Boldero proposed,’ I continued, feeling that my position was now a strong one. ‘It is your only chance.’

  “‘Mr Boldero was, I must say, surprisingly magnanimous considering the circumstances,’ Baker remarked after a moment. ‘He said – bless his kindness! – that he would rather there was no scandal, for the sake of the family. I gave him the will, and he said he would confront Silas with it and try to come to some arrangement with him. If Silas was amenable, then the whole matter could be dealt with privately and the world need never know of it, but if Silas refused to meet Simon’s terms, he would, he said, lay the matter before the authorities. This would, I need hardly add, mean ruin and disgrace for me. When Mr Boldero did not keep the appointment he had made with me, I feared the worst. But it seems, now that you are here, that everything will be all right.’

  “‘I am afraid not,’ said I. ‘It has now become a capital matter. Simon Boldero has disappeared, and all the evidence suggests that he has been done to death by Silas.’ At this, the old man’s lips turned white and I feared he would have a seizure. I waited a moment before continuing. ‘As a party to the original conspiracy, and having seen Boldero recently and perhaps, for all anyone knows to the contrary, having deliberately sent him to his death at his cousin’s house, you will of course be charged as an accomplice to this murder—’

  “‘No, no!’ he cried feebly. ‘I knew nothing of this, as Heaven is my witness! Is there no way I can convince you?’
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  “‘Unfortunately,’ said I, ‘if, as seems likely, Simon Boldero took the will to Richmond with him, Silas will have destroyed it by now. There is therefore no evidence remaining that you had repented your earlier crime and were assisting Simon.’

  “‘Wait!’ cried Baker, springing from his seat with an energy that surprised me. ‘At the time the original will was made, a copy was prepared, to be deposited at the Registrar’s office, but of course I never sent it. It is still here now, in a trunk of my private papers in the lumber room upstairs. It will take me some time to find it, I am afraid, but if you would not mind waiting . . .’

  “‘I have more important business to attend to,’ said I. ‘You have my card. If that document does not reach the address upon the card by four o’clock tomorrow afternoon, then I can protect you no longer from the full force of the criminal law!’

  “Baker seemed to visibly shrink as I spoke those last words. I declined the hand he held out to me, took my hat and left the chambers, feeling that I had done a good morning’s work.”

  “And so you have!” cried David Boldero in amazed admiration. “I can scarcely believe what you have discovered! I shall for ever bless the day that Farrow and Redfearn sent me to consult you!”

  “Well, well,” said Holmes, clearly moved by his client’s gratitude, “it is largely a matter of experience, and I am a specialist. Once you have examined two hundred little problems, the two hundred and first does not present quite the same difficulties to your brain as the first one. But I have timed my account well! Here is Hill House, and we must deal now with Cousin Silas!”

  “And here comes the rain,” said I, as the first icy drops fell upon us.

  Boldero’s face had set in a rigid mask of determination as we approached the house, and he made no remark as we pushed open the heavy wooden gate and entered the grounds. As we did so, the rain began to fall more heavily, making a soft drumming noise on the roof of the glass structure under which we made our way along the path. A movement off to the right caught my eye, and I peered through a murky pane of glass just in time to see some small dark creature slip swiftly beneath a bush.