Sherlock Holmes

by Lyn McConchie

  Holmes sat upright in his armchair and waited patiently as I continued.

  “His question may not have been answered had another spoken who did not know the foundations of the gossip, but the man in the hotel did know. When the fiancé cried out against him as a liar, he said that it must be the truth, for the wife of the girl’s own employer had said so. That he had it from his wife who had overheard Mrs. Addleton talking to her friends after church. Blanton faced Mrs. Addleton, saying that she had spread slander by reporting that Ellen had been meeting another man and had taken expensive gifts at his hands.

  “At which point Mrs. Danforth stepped in and called Ellen, taxing her with the charges and repeating carefully what had been said of her, as well as Mrs. Addleton’s evidence. Ellen spoke up clearly, saying that the only man she had met was her brother down from London, bringing messages of affection from her family and from Blanton, his friend. That yes, her brother too was in the Navy and had been in uniform. That the only gift she had received was the locket sent from her fiancé, delivered by her brother’s hand, and that she wore it always. At which time she opened it so all could see that it carried the likeness of the man before them.

  “She said that she had gone out to meet him in her own time instead of eating her lunch, something that was permitted her. Why would she hide the fact that she was meeting her own brother? She then asked of what she was accused and who had spread such lies against her. Blanton told her what had been said of her, by whom, and added that in consequence her name was being bandied about in public houses. She gave notice on the spot. He took her away as soon as she had packed her belongings, saying that the Addletons should hear more of this, and my informant says that they certainly did.”

  “An action at law?”

  “Yes, Loughton is a small place and the sister of my informant’s maid also worked for the Addletons. I gather she had been, and continued to be, quite forthcoming on the subject, having overheard many of the family’s deliberations. Blanton sued the Addletons for slander against his fiancée,” and here I smiled. “He called to witness several people, including the man who had attacked him, and named the man’s wife in particular, saying that she could give evidence of having heard the slander with her own ears and being a willing witness to that.” I added, “I suspect that Blanton said he would not give his attacker in charge if he persuaded his wife to testify.

  “The Addletons held out until the case was about to be called, at which time, so it is rumored, their lawyer warned them that they would lose, since the young lady could produce a certificate of virginity writ by her doctor only that week. Upon hearing this, the Addletons settled out of court for quite a large sum and a letter of apology that was published in the local paper. I saw the newspaper, and the apology was comprehensive. It must have been unpleasant: difficult to write and embarrassing to see appear. Ellen and Blanton married immediately after the settlement, and I was told that he is currently part owner and manager for his father’s shop, and they have three children.

  “The shop,” I added, allowing some of my amusement to show, “was enlarged after the Blantons’s marriage, using the money paid by the Addletons. That expansion was opened with a party once the work was completed, for which the Blantons sent out invitations. The Addletons received one such invitation with an enclosed note saying that as they had paid for the extension, they should be invited to see the results. My informant’s maid told her that the Addletons were furious, and that ‘mister upbraided missus, saying she were a loose-tongued fool of a woman, an’ that if her gossip cost them such a sum again the business could be lost and what would his father say? Missus said that she was not to know, that the girl should have told her, and that as it was her job to see that no maid was harmed under her roof, she could not see how she was at fault in this matter.’”

  “But he offered her no violence?”

  I saw where he would go with that. “None, nor have I heard any report that he has ever struck an apprentice or threatened a maid, nor has he made advances to any. There is general agreement that he is a pleasant man of equable temperament.”

  Holmes summed it up. “So Mrs. Danforth is kind and slow to assume the worst. When Mary was found where she should not have been, she spoke for her. Mr. Addleton has never shown violence to the knowledge of any about him, and is normally a good employer, if lacking imagination; he is yet diligent and even-tempered. Mrs. Addleton is prone to put her own construction on what she sees or hears and shares her conclusion as factual, no matter how far astray she may be or how damaging her claim may prove. There may be no specific malevolence, but such a person can cause injury without admitting how she has transgressed. I have considered Turner on my own account, and so far as may be ascertained from others, he is without malice or guile. He is industrious and interested in his work, of a poor but honest family who have always been in work, and then too he is convinced that Miss Mary is guilty.”

  “You think him unlikely to be involved?”

  “I think him unlikely to be involved to his knowledge. We must allow that he could have seen or heard something that means nothing to him, yet is important to clearing Miss Mary.”

  “What do you wish me to do next?” I queried him.

  “We have still to look at Mr. Addleton Senior, and the other apprentice.”

  “Who is on leave,” I commented. “If he has returned home, do we know where ‘home’ might be?”

  “Short of application direct to the Addletons who may know of the boy’s origins, no one else appears to be certain.”

  I straightened abruptly in my chair. “Holmes, surely that is strange. If I am talking at length with friends, a mention may occur of some place I have visited or lived. Naturally I mention I am familiar with it, and I may give reasons or speak of when I was there. I may even comment on what I did while visiting the town or area. But no one knows where the lad comes from? They have no idea, none at all?”

  “None,” Holmes said softly. “And like you, Watson, that gave me to think. But I was told the lad is naturally reticent. All that we know of him is that he is an orphan, and when I say ‘know,’ that was his statement and we have no way of being certain that it is the truth. Young Turner has told his family that while Michael Bishop is pleasant and polite and causes no trouble as a workmate, he tends to say nothing, not of himself, of his circumstances, or anything of his family and how they died. There are such people, Watson.” His smile glimmered. “They are a great trial to a humble detective.”

  I laughed. “They are indeed. Well, in the morning I shall go to ask about Mr. Addleton Senior. Do you know where I should begin? All I have been told is that he lives somewhere beyond Epping.”

  “I have asked Lestrade, who has promised to discover the man’s exact direction for me. In the meantime, let us repair to our beds and await more information in the morning.”

  Morning arrived, along with a message from Lestrade, who sent one of his men with a sealed letter. Holmes opened it and read aloud.

  I have discovered the whereabouts of Mr. Addleton Senior as you requested. He lives in the village of Epping Downland, a small farming community several miles from Epping Upland. I made some inquiries via my colleagues, and found little of particular note.

  The cottage was purchased some forty years ago, Addleton being then about thirty, with a small son and with a woman said to be his wife, who was perhaps five years younger. She left him when the boy was twelve, and the child was subsequently sent away to school, it was said. Since then the subject has mostly lived alone, save for occasional visits from the son. He goes away regularly to visit his son’s family. He lives comfortably, is believed to have had an excellent education, and to have some independent income. It should be noted that at the time he purchased the cottage, it was paid for in cash.

  Lestrade

  I freely admit to sitting at the breakfast table with my mouth open as Holmes read that out. All along Mr. Addleton Senior had been a cipher, a background. Now
he was revealed as a man who casually paid cash for a house, had an income from heaven knows where, was the possessor of a fine education, and well enough to do to send his son to a boarding school.

  “Do you think him to be a master criminal, Holmes? Could he have been the leader of a gang who chose to retire? Could his son perhaps be counterfeiting under the guise of a publishing house? But no, the apprentices would have guessed at that. Or,” I caught my breath. “Could it be that Miss Mary uncovered the truth, rather than one of the boys? Was that why she was convicted on false testimony?”

  Holmes sat back as Mrs. Hudson entered to clear the breakfast table. Once she departed he looked at me. “No, no, Watson. It is true that boys of the apprentices’ ages are often unnoticing, but I would think if large amounts of counterfeit money were being produced, one of them would still have seen something and talked of it. There is no printing done at Loughton Hall, you may recall, for it is all done at a printing works in London. That is why the younger Mr. Addleton goes up to town by train one day each week.”

  I was crestfallen. “You’re right, I had forgot. But she could still have discovered something. The father does sound as if he could have much to hide. I shall go at once to Epping Downland and ask questions.”

  Holmes pursed his lips. “Be careful,” was all he said. “If he has friends there, they may resent his being asked about.”

  I patted my pocket. “I have a friend, too.” And with that I went to make ready for my journey, quite forgetting to ask what Holmes might be doing while I was absent.

  I passed him as I departed, and seeing that he was again dressed as a laborer, I assumed that he intended to make further inquiries around the docks and public houses, perhaps to look into the Blanton family affairs. After all, it was possible that a grudge was still held. And who could blame them?

  The journey to Epping was easily accomplished, but reaching the village took longer. At Epping, the railway line wings away to the east and the village is over two miles from the town’s outskirts. Luckily, on asking at a public house I was introduced to a farmer who was returning to the village and ready to take me up in his cart. I could, he said, walk back quickly enough once I had finished my business, or it might be that another traveler returning might allow me a seat if I paid. I understood the suggestion and paid up generously enough that I was able to steer the conversation to the village and its inhabitants.

  “Are there any living there who were not born in the village? I find in London that there are strangers all around me, but you must know everyone and all of their family in Downland.”

  He ruminated over that. “Ah, ’tis true in the main, sir, but not entirely. There’s a farmhand on t’ Jessup farm as isn’t much known about. Discharged soldier, so he says, but who’s to know the truth. He do have a limp, but no matter, Jessup says he’s a good worker and he don’t care otherwise. Jessup has his farm along the boundary of mine, you see, sir. Then there’s old Mr. Addleton.”

  I forced myself to remain apparently relaxed while listening to each word.

  “His place is along after Jessup’s farm. Cottage that us’ter belong to the man as sold Jessup’s grandfer the farm. Us’ter belong to that chap’s old mother ’er sommat. Anyway, ’tis on a different title and was there to buy when Addleton come looking. He’s a gentleman, can’t mistake learning when a man talks. Not that he says much, an’ he don’t go to the public house, but he has Jessup’s wife in once a week for half a day. She cleans the cottage for him, and when the farm ain’t busy they send a farmhand over to work in the garden a day or two. Don’ get that wrong, Addleton pays, he ain’t close-fisted.”

  “He never goes to the public house?” I contrived to sound surprised.

  “Nay. Mrs. Jessup, she says as how he keeps fancy drink and glasses in a cabinet in his parlor. He don’t need to go out for it. Funny thing, too.” He considered that for several minutes before adding. “He’s got books in another cabinet. Three shelves of them, all bound in leather wi’ some gold sign on them.”

  “A gold sign?”

  “Aye, so she says. She can’t make head nor tail of what it is, it’s all mixed up, like. Sort of overlapping but it’s in gold right enough, he told her she ain’t never to touch the books, says they’re valuable, and polishing them can damage the binding. By which she thinks he means that sign, ’cos polishing good leather don’t do it no harm. Not by any manner of means, or my horses’ gear would be all ruin’t pretty fast.” Here he roared with laughter and I had to smile.

  Nevertheless I was excited, despite what Holmes had said. It seemed to me there was something odd going on with Mr. Addleton, and I was determined to discover more. I was set down outside the public house and entered, looking about me.

  4

  It was lunchtime and farmers are busy during the day, so as I expected, there were none of the usual peasantry to be seen. I ordered a light luncheon of bread, sausage, cheese, and ale, and since the place was mostly empty, fell into comfortable conversation with the landlord of the King George, as the place was called.

  “Ah, it’s a fair enough place, I bin landlord here twenty years now, and my lad’ll take over after me.”

  “And the local people?”

  “A decent bunch. They drink enough to make mine a good business, but it’s seldom that they take too much and cause trouble. There’s only room enough in Downland for one such place as mine. Many years back now, one came to try his luck opening another, but it failed. He wanted to sell to the carriage trade, to them as is a higher class wi’ more money.” He smiled.

  “And?” I prompted him.

  “And there ain’t enough of them. The fool discouraged what he said were the ‘lower orders’ from using his place, but they’re bread and butter for a man in our business. In winter they’re what keeps an inn going. An’ come winter he had no customers, for which of the nobs travels in winter, an’ his ‘lower classes’ was all here. He’d built the place onto a house that’d bin there, and I reckon he spent most of his money.” He grinned, showing a blacked tooth and a gap beside it.

  “And when he were in desperate straits, I took my savings and built on this room as you’re sitting in, sir, and three more. I added light meals, a private parlor, and a bar where them as is higher class could be served. And knowing the nobs, sir, I added an inside privy. It’s back of the parlor, but separate like. I made sure them as travels this road regularly heard of it and then I sat back, an’ they came. By summer he wasn’t getting but a handful of travelers, them as didn’t know of my place, and when he were desperate I bought up all his stock, and the squire bought the building.”

  “What does the squire use it for?” I asked, mildly interested in what one would do with a disused public house.

  “He pulled all the new portion down and moved it,” mine host said, comfortably. “He rebuilt it over by his house, says it does nicely for Christmas and other such times as all his family comes home. Truth to tell, sir, he paid little for it, and his men did all the work, so I doubt not that he counts it a fair bargain.”

  He might well, I thought.

  “As for the old house that were there first and which he left to lie, I bought that, sir, once t’ squire was done and would sell, an’ give it to my son an’ his wife and their childer. You may have noticed it when you arrived. It’s nobbut a step down the road, across from this place.”

  I had noticed it, since whatever else his son might be, the family was industrious. The house had gleamed with new whitewash and a scrubbed-spotless door-stone. Tubs of flowers stood to either side of that and the small windows also gleamed in the sun. I said so, congratulated him on his family and moved the conversation along.

  “So you have a squire. Are there any others of the gentry in Downland?”

  The landlord considered that. “Weeeel, there’s one, a newcomer, like.”

  I assumed that the landlord had been born here and his family had lived here for generations, if he was referring to old Mr. Addleto
n, who’d lived in the village for forty years. It would take a native son to declare him an incomer still after such a time. I was right, because the man broke off to serve a customer but soon returned to continue our gossip.

  “Aye, a man called Addleton. He came here around forty year now. A nice gentlemen, sir. Bought a cottage on the edge of the village.” His eyes widened. “He paid cash for that.” I allowed him time to marvel anew at such a thing before asking a question.

  “Does he come in here at all?”

  “Nay, sir. He have his own place. Missus Jessup, she cleans for him and she says he has a cupboard like, got all sorts of bottles and glasses in that and he takes a drink as he pleases.”

  Mrs. Jessup seemed to have told all who lived locally about that peculiarity, I reflected, and to the ordinary people in a small village it would have seemed the height of elegance.

  “Wouldn’t the squire do the same?”

  “Oh yes, sir, but he’s the squire. This Addleton don’t have an estate or much in the way of servants.”

  I thought that a man living alone in a cottage had no need of many, for he had Mrs. Jessup coming in for a half day every week and as the carter had told me, Mr. Jessup sent men over to work on the Addleton garden when work on the farm was slack.

  “None’t’less I reckon him to be a gentleman-born,” the landlord added decisively. “Hear him speak and it’s clear he’s one of them, he’s educated, he is. And none of us hasn’t never forgotten what happened twenty years gone.” I managed a fascinated look and he continued.