by Val Andrews
‘But, Holmes! What of the poor people he has defrauded?’
He nodded. ‘There will have to be some restitution, of course. An expensive business for Forrage, but that is his affair.’
‘And then, Holmes, what of the latest note? If Forrage did not send that, who did?’
‘Ah, there you have me, Doctor. That is the remaining element of the puzzle, and the most interesting one.’ He held up the note. ‘I confess that I erred in not examining this more closely. But now that I do, I see that it is quite different from the others.’ He handed it across to me, along with his powerful lens.
I made a pretence of studying the note. ‘Very interesting — oh! Yes, Holmes, even I can see that the letter “E” is worn at the bottom, so that it is almost an “F”. An older machine has been used.’
Holmes nodded. ‘There are six other indications, but that is the most obvious, “e” being, as you are aware, the most widely used letter in English.’
I was warming to my task. ‘And even then, the fact that the upper-case “e” is worn indicates that the machine has indeed seen much use, for the lower case is normally used more than the upper.’
He positively beamed at me. ‘The country air has done wonders for your powers of ratiocination, Watson.’
I ignored this. ‘That still tells us very little. For example, given that Forrage was trying to drive the shares down, why has some third party, as it were, stepped in and sent this last note? Why try to kill Forrage?’
‘That is surely obvious. Our mystery man observed that the shares were going down in consequence of the previous notes, and decided to make a little profit on his own account.’
‘But he could hardly know that Forrage would be first over the fence!’ I expostulated.
Holmes smiled. ‘It was not necessary that Forrage should break his neck, Watson. It was merely necessary that our man should not! Were any of the major shareholders to be thus killed, whoever it might have been, the share price would undoubtedly have fallen yet further. City men are a superstitious lot, you know, and a tragedy today would have added to that air of desolation which already surrounds Forrage’s shares. And if the heirs of the dead man had sold a large block of shares, at an already low price — well!’ He sighed. ‘We did very badly, I must say, Watson. Had I — or you, my dear fellow — been sufficiently alert, we might have seen who showed surprise at Forrage’s not tumbling off his horse. But I was sure that it was Forrage, and so I was watching him.’
‘You were right, though. It was Forrage, most of the time, so you can hardly blame yourself too much.’
‘You are too kind, Watson. Still, I must now try to redeem myself by deducing what I can from this latest note.’ He regarded me with a quizzical eye.
‘I can’t see that there is much to deduce,’ said I ruefully. Feeling this was rather lame, I added, ‘It must have been someone who could leave the note where Forrage would find it, of course. And he — our man, I mean — must have been here to fiddle with the jump — Holmes, he must be here! That is, he must be one of the guests here with us now!’
Holmes nodded. ‘Of course he must. We already knew it must be a major shareholder, and they are all at Henley Grange, as you observe.’
‘Well! Of course, one knew, in a theoretical way, so to speak, but still, it is hardly pleasant to think that one has just dined with a man who would not stop at murder!’
‘It is as well for your appetite that you did not know this earlier, I agree,’ said Holmes.
I ignored this slander. ‘I suppose that if we could examine the machine that was used to write the note — but then it might be any machine.’
‘Nay, for we have just deduced that the note was written by one of the guests here. A mere half-dozen machines to check.’
‘Even so, Holmes, a man does not carry a typewriting machine around with him when he goes to a house party for the weekend! He clearly typed the note before he left home.’ And before Holmes could speak, I added, ‘No, he did not! He typed it at his office, of course!’
Holmes raised an eyebrow.
I told him, ‘The worn upper-case “e”, Holmes. It is an office where they use the upper case for typing invoices and the like. It must be, to wear it so.’
He held out his hand. ‘You scintillate, Watson.’
‘You know my methods, Holmes. But I still cannot see how that helps, unless we break into each of their offices and check their typewriting machines!’
‘That will be unnecessary, I fancy. Have you a pencil and paper there?’
‘Of course, Holmes. I am a writer, after all. Oh, my pencil needs sharpening, though.’
‘Then pray sharpen it,’ said he, handing me his pocket knife. ‘And take this down — “Mr James Ellis begs the favour of a short interview with —” and leave a blank there, Watson, which we shall fill up as required — “and respectfully requests that a note of a suitable date and time might be sent as soon as practicable to him, care of 221B Baker Street”. That will meet the case, I think.’
‘And who, pray, is Mr James Ellis? Oh, I see, it’s to get a capital “e”, of course! If we said “Ebenezer Ellis”, that would give twice the evidence, you know.’
Holmes nodded. ‘I shall write a half dozen notes, one to each of the business addresses of the guests here, and post them on my return to London. We shall be most unlucky indeed if none of the typewriters is the correct one.’
‘The notes would look better typed, Holmes,’ I said. ‘Old Forrage probably has a typewriter here which I could borrow. I keep meaning to try one, but I’ve never had the nerve.’
He nodded. ‘That would be a kindness, Watson. And we shall await the favour of a reply, as the business phrase has it, with keen anticipation.’
Chapter Eight - The Stockholders’ Meeting
‘It is most irregular, Mr Holmes!’ said Sir Hubert Carding with some asperity.
‘Sir Hubert, I was engaged by Mr Forrage to investigate a most disturbing sequence of events. Events,’ said Holmes, sternly, ‘which have led to financial loss for many small investors, and which might have led to outright tragedy.’
Sir Hubert was somewhat mollified. ‘You say that you wish to address the board?’
Holmes nodded. ‘Purely unofficially, of course. Before your formal proceedings begin.’
‘And then to interview each one of us in turn?’
‘Merely a short interview with each of you.’
‘And the purpose of these interviews?’ asked Sir Hubert.
‘I have something to say to one of you.’
‘Then why not simply talk to the man concerned?’ Sir Hubert wanted to know.
‘Because I do not wish to identify the man,’ said Holmes calmly.
Sir Hubert shrugged his shoulders, and I fancy that I caught the words, ‘damned nonsense!’ or something very like them. But he said only, ‘Very well, Mr Holmes. If that is your price for solving our little problem, so be it.’
He led us into the board room, where the directors were gathered round a great oval oak table. ‘Mr Sherlock Holmes wishes to address us before we begin,’ said Sir Hubert.
‘Thank you,’ said Holmes. He glanced around the table. ‘You will be only too well aware that Forrage’s has been somewhat troubled of late,’ he began.
‘Too true!’ came from more than one of the listeners.
Holmes held up a hand and went on, ‘I can promise you that the danger is past. Or at least,’ he added, as there was a murmur at this, ‘it will be past once I have had a private word with each and every one of you.’ And he nodded, and stalked out of the room, with me at his heels, leaving some very puzzled men staring after him.
Forrage provided us with a little office, and the members of the board of directors, all major shareholders, trooped in one at a time. Forrage himself was the first to come in. He sat down, avoiding Holmes’s eye. ‘Solved it, have you?’ he asked gruffly.
Holmes nodded. ‘There must, of course, be restitution, repara
tion,’ he said. ‘Provided that is done, and provided that there is no repetition of this nonsense, then I can guarantee that all will be well. All will be hushed up, as it has so often in the past. Not for you,’ he added, as Forrage made as if to say something, ‘but for the smaller shareholders, those who have held on to their shares loyally through thick and thin. Were I to ruin you — and make no mistake, I could, and would, under different circumstances! — then they too would be ruined. And I have a soft spot, as Watson will tell you, for widows and orphans.’
Forrage stared at him, then nodded. ‘Very well.’ He hesitated. ‘Er — this reparation of which you speak,’ he added. ‘What does that mean, exactly?’
‘It means that you, or your agents, must sell back the shares you bought for the price you paid,’ said Holmes.
Forrage put a hand to his forehead. ‘But — how can I identify who sold the shares?’
‘There are records, are there not?’
‘True, but it will be an enormous task!’
‘You should have thought of that,’ said Holmes.
‘An enormously expensive task! I shall be ruined.’
‘You should have thought of that too! Regard it in the light of a penance, or fine for your misdemeanours,’ said Holmes. ‘At that it is better than seven years’ hard labour.’
Forrage shuddered, then recovered himself somewhat. ‘Ah, but what if they do not wish to buy the shares back?’ he asked, a sly look creeping over his face.
‘You will, of course, offer to sell at the current price —’
‘But I’ll take a massive loss!’ cried Forrage.
Holmes stared him into silence. ‘Seven years,’ he mused, as if to himself. Then, to the now thoroughly crestfallen Forrage, ‘And you will tell them that I, Sherlock Holmes, assure them that the trouble is over, that the shares should soon regain their former glory.’
Forrage groaned aloud. ‘Seven years!’ he muttered. ‘It would almost be worth it!’
‘Almost,’ agreed Holmes, ‘but not quite.’
Forrage put his head in his hands. ‘Very well,’ he said at last. ‘I agree. But what of that last note? Who was the villain responsible for that?’
‘You expect me to hush up your part in this affair,’ said Holmes. ‘You must accept that I shall extend the same discretion to the other man concerned.’
Forrage looked unhappy at this, but then reflected a moment, and nodded agreement. ‘Mind you,’ he complained, ‘it’s not a pleasant thought, to know that one of your fellow directors has been up to some hanky-panky!’
Coming from the instigator of the hanky-panky, I personally thought this was rich! But Holmes merely waved a hand to dismiss him. ‘Send in Mr Grundy-Smythe, would you?’
Grundy-Smythe came in, and Holmes asked him a few questions about his shareholdings, receiving the rather shame-faced information that Grundy-Smythe had sold ‘a few shares’ recently, rather than face a heavy loss. Holmes reassured him that things would improve, and the rather disloyal director mumbled something to the effect that he would ‘buy them back if he could.’
The other directors in turn came in, and Holmes talked to all of them much as he had talked to Grundy-Smythe. All, that is, until Sir Hubert himself came in last of all, and sat down.
‘Well, Mr Holmes?’
‘Well, Sir Hubert? How have you reacted to this fall in the price of Forrage’s shares?’
Sir Hubert frowned. ‘I don’t quite follow you, Mr Holmes. I’m damned annoyed, if that is what you mean.’
‘It was not quite what I was driving at, Sir Hubert. I meant rather to ask if you had sold any of your shares?’
‘Far from it! I’ve been buying them, as many as I can afford. Partly to try to support the price, partly because I knew they would be a good investment in the long term. Bound to come back, once this nonsense is sorted out. And now you say it is sorted out, so there you are!’ he concluded with an air of triumph.
I could tell that this was not what Holmes had expected. After a moment, he nodded. ‘That is what I have learned,’ he said, ‘and I confess that I find it odd.’
Sir Hubert stared at him in evident astonishment. ‘Odd that I should buy the firm’s shares? Oh, I see, you mean because of the fall in the price? Well, Mr Holmes, firstly, as I have just told you, I regard that as a purely temporary setback, a golden opportunity to buy shares which are, at bottom, a solid investment, at a knock-down price. I am, after all, a businessman.’
‘And secondly?’ asked Holmes.
‘Oh, there is a proverb about rats and sinking ships. Not that I’m calling any of my fellow directors rats, of course,’ said Sir Hubert hastily. ‘But I think one ought to support a firm in which one has shares, a firm of which one is chairman, don’t you?’
Holmes looked baffled. He took a sheet of paper from his pocket book, and handed it over to Sir Hubert. ‘That was typed on the machine in your own office in the City,’ he told him.
Sir Hubert raised an eyebrow. He glanced at the note. ‘It appears to be addressed to one Ebenezer Ellis, making an appointment for an interview,’ said he. He handed the note back. ‘I fear that the name is not immediately familiar to me.’
Holmes waved a hand. ‘Be that as it may, do you deny that it was typed on your office machine?’
‘Why the devil should I deny it? If you say it was, I’m happy to accept that such is the case. It is on my office notepaper, and it’s signed by Mr Chapman, who is my office manager, so I dare say you are right. But I ask again, what of it?’
‘And you do not deny buying Forrage’s shares?’
Sir Hubert stood up. ‘We have been through that. I think this interview is over, Mr Holmes, unless you have new questions to ask me?’
‘Forgive me, Sir Hubert, but I confess I am puzzled. This note —’ and Holmes stared at the note. ‘It is from your office, but —’ He shook his head. ‘Tell me, Sir Hubert, would you know if any of your employees have bought shares in Forrage’s?’
Sir Hubert sat down again. ‘This is important, Mr Holmes? Of course it is, I know your reputation. Well, I do not know if any of my own employees have bought shares in Forrage’s. But I should guess that if any of them had shares in this firm, they have probably sold them at a loss.’
‘H’mm. The threatening notes, Sir Hubert, and the little incidents — did you discuss them with anyone, apart from your fellow directors, that is?’
‘Hardly! After all, one would scarcely wish to add to the rumours that are already circulating.’
‘So you would not speak of it to your own employees? No, I see. Any information they had would be no more than was generally circulating. I confess it is a pretty puzzle.’
Sir Hubert regarded Holmes keenly. ‘I see that you attach some considerable importance to all this, Mr Holmes, but I admit its significance escapes me. My own employees, as you say, knew nothing more of the matter than was known by all and sundry. And then why should I not buy Forrage’s shares? As I say, at the lower price they were a good investment.’ He laughed. ‘I suppose now that everything is cleared up, I shall make a fair profit. Though I admit that I had half an eye to taking control of the firm, putting Herbert in as manager. The poor boy will be disappointed, but I expect he’ll get over it.’
‘Herbert?’ asked Holmes, sitting up.
‘Herbert Dawlish. My nephew. A good lad,’ said Sir Hubert, his face clouding slightly. ‘Though I’ll not deny he has a way with him. You know him,’ he added, ‘if only sightly. He was at old Forrage’s party at the weekend.’
I had a vague memory of a young man with an incipient moustache and a somewhat furtive air. Holmes, too, nodded as if recollecting young Herbert. ‘Your nephew works for you, at Carding’s?’ he asked casually.
Sir Hubert nodded. ‘Owed it to my sister,’ he said. ‘He’s not the best of workers, but I have hopes for him. My nearest relative, now that my sister’s dead. I never married or anything, so Herbert will inherit the lot.’
‘I see.’
Holmes stood up. ‘Where is Herbert now?’ he asked casually.
‘Here at Forrage’s, somewhere about the place. We’re dining together after the board meeting, and meantime he’s doing a bit of foraging, shopping and what have you. Help to swell the takings, you see?’
‘Thank you,’ said Holmes. ‘We shall not detain you further, Sir Hubert. Please reiterate to the board what I said earlier, that things will mend from now. Come along, Watson.’
As he led the way downstairs, I said, ‘Hubert and Herbert. Lack of imagination, there, Holmes. Sounds like a music-hall double act.’
‘Indeed. Though perhaps not quite so amusing as might at first appear.’ Holmes glanced round each floor as we went, pausing at gents’ outfittings, and saying, ‘That is young Herbert, if I am not mistaken?’
‘It is,’ said I.
Holmes went up to the young man, who was considering the merits of a tray of evening gloves. ‘Mr Dawlish?’
‘Guilty.’ He looked a question.
‘My name is Sherlock Holmes, and this is Dr John Watson.’
‘Ah.’
‘I see you have heard of us.’
Dawlish nodded towards the coffee lounge. ‘Perhaps we would be better in less crowded surroundings?’
‘I think you are right,’ said Holmes, leading the way. When we were seated in a quiet corner and had ordered coffee, Holmes went on, ‘I think you know what this is about?’