The Mammoth Book of New Sherlock Holmes Adventures

'It appears that the injunction no longer pertains, Watson,' Holmes said casually. 'Three weeks ago I received a letter from my friend out there, informing me that the Company has fallen upon bad times and gone bankrupt – and so the last obstacle to my telling of the tale is no more.'

He proceeded to fill his pipe with tobacco from the battered slipper he kept wedged down the side of his armchair. Soon we were enveloped in a pungent blue fug; I took a sip of brandy and made myself an audience, as I had on many an occasion before, to my friend's oratorical skills.

'You recall the extraordinary case of the Gloria Scott, wherein I was called to the aid of my university friend, Victor Trevor?'

'I most certainly do,' I said. It had been one of the cases I had written up during Holmes's long absence from these shores.

'For many years,' he said, 'I lost contact with Trevor. At length I heard through a mutual friend that he had set sail for Ceylon, with the idea of managing a tea plantation or some such. Whatever, I heard no more… No more, that is, until the year of '88, when I received a letter from my old friend, couched in such terms that made it obvious he was in need of my assistance. Indeed, he almost begged my presence on that far away island, and even went so far as to include a return ticket on a cutter of the East India Line and promise of payment for my troubles upon my arrival. He went on to outline the details of a case that had baffled himself and his employers, the Royal Ceylonese Tea Company, for a good three months.'

'Those details I found curious enough, and the pleas of my friend sufficient to warrant a trip to those tropical latitudes.You probably never missed me, my dear Watson, being too occupied with other things at the time: it was shortly after your marriage that I put my affairs in order, packed my bags and set sail aboard the Eastern Empress. For the duration of the voyage I absorbed myself in the analysis of the details of the case presented to me in Trevor's somewhat hasty missive.'

'The brothers Atkinson, Bruce and William, were neighbours of Victor Trevor in Ceylon. They had left England some ten years before, and set sail for the Far East with the intention of making their fortunes. For a decade they worked for the Royal Ceylonese Tea Company at various locations around the island, for the last two years managing an estate of some one hundred native workers near Trincomalee. They were by all accounts gentlemen of upstanding and personable character, well liked by both the Ceylonese and the expatriate community of fellow planters and other businessmen. My friend Victor Trevor was a regular social visitor to the plantation; in his own words the brothers were the salt of the earth'. They never married – a situation not uncommon among those of their chosen vocation – and lived for their work. They had no enemies.'

'Their disappearance was as sudden as it was mysterious. It occurred presumably in the early hours of 1 February: suffice to say, they were seen by their house-boy prior to turning in the night before, but in the morning they were gone. They did not appear for breakfast at six, nor show up to do their rounds of the plantation at seven. Their absence was reported to the Colonial Police at Trincomalee at nine o'clock that morning, and it was not until noon that my friend Trevor heard of their disappearance. He headed over to the plantation and arrived minutes before a Sergeant from the police. Together they searched the house, and found nothing to suggest anything amiss other than a broken gas lamp and an overturned table in the lounge room. The investigating officer suggested that these were suspicious, indicative of a struggle and foul play, but Trevor noted that the table had been positioned near an open window through which the wind disturbed a heavy curtain. It was conceivable that the wind had caused the damage.'

'They searched the plantation, and even the neighbouring country, but found nothing and no one. They questioned the under-managers and local workers, who reported nothing suspicious or noteworthy. From that day, 1 February 1887, to the day Trevor penned the letter, the brothers Atkinson had neither been seen nor heard. It was as if they left the house that morning and vanished from the face of the earth.'

'Of course, Trevor's account was selective and inconclusive – there was much that I wished to know of the affairs of the

brothers before I might begin to give an opinion on the case. By the time the Eastern Empress docked at the port of Jaffna I was eager to set about my investigations.'

'Victor Trevor met me on the quay, and we drove south in his trap to Trincomalee. The passage of time had done little to take the shine off the youth of my university friend, and for the duration of the journey we exchanged information concerning our exploits during the intervening years. I was to stay at the Atkinson's plantation itself, which Trevor was overseeing in the absence of the brothers. It was late by the time we arrived, and I had little time to question my friend as to the details of the case before he suggested that we turn in and discuss the reason for my presence in the morning.'

'The miracle of dawn in those climes, Watson! I was up early the following morning to witness the rapid transformation from night to day from my verandah. One minute the land was clothed in darkness, the next a golden sunlight exposed the deep shadows of the valleys and the bright green expanse of the tea bushes. My friend was already risen, and we partook breakfast excellent kippers and poached eggs – around the vast oak table of the dining room.'

'I see the brothers Atkinson were fond of a game of cards,' I observed, gesturing to the table-top. 'Bridge, if I am not mistaken.'

'Your powers of deduction are as sharp as ever,' Trevor remarked. 'Recall how you amazed my father upon that first meeting? Now, an explanation, if you please.'

'Simplicity itself: observe the marks of wear upon the polish of the table-top. Note the scuff mark where a hand would be picked up, and the two smaller indentations at either side of where the pack resides at the centre of the table, made when the pack would be lifted at the end of a hand.'

'Remarkable.'

'Further, three of the four players are right-handed, the fourth not so. This much is obvious from the slight groves in the patina of the polish, worn either to the right or left of the player. You are left-handed, Victor, and I deduce therefore that you were a frequent guest on bridge nights.'

'Twice a week for the past two years, Holmes,' said he shaking his head.

'I can tell, also, that penny bets were placed upon the outcome of the games. The scratches here and here attest to that.'

'At this my friend coloured. 'Why,' he blustered, 'you're right, Holmes. A little wager added interest to the contests.' '

'I am not a gambling man myself,' I said. 'I find that the scientific analysis of the pursuit results in the fact that one can never win, only break even, except when luck intervenes. And I have never been one to trust in the happy felicity of luck.'

'We finished our breakfast, and I asked then to be shown around the house, and expressed the desire to questions the Atkinsons' head house-boy and house-keeper.'

'Victor showed me into the lounge, a spacious room affording a magnificent panorama across the sun-soaked terraces of the estate. Hanging above the fireplace was an oil painting of the brothers, tall, flaxen-haired men in the middle-thirties, posing with their rifles on either side of a prostrate tiger.'

'I have left everything in place, as found on the morning of the brothers' disappearance. Observe the table and gas-lamp.'

'As Trevor had mentioned in the letter, there were no suspicious circumstances to be drawn from the toppled table and lamp. A wind stirring the curtains through the open window might easily have occasioned the damage.'

'Were the doors locked upon the night of the disappearance?' I asked.

'It is uncommon in these parts to take the precaution of locking doors. If we trust our staff, then we see no need…'

'We passed through the house from room to room, and I noticed nothing amiss or noteworthy as we did so. At length we stood upon the verandah and gazed out over the verdant hills of the estate. 'Tell me, Victor – were the brothers in the habit of taking hikes, or taking off on travels without notifying friends and staff?'

'Most certainly not. They had the interests of the estate at heart. They were most conscientious in the running of the business. They would go nowhere without first notifying one of their managers. Twice a year they took a boat up to Madras to call on acquaintances for a week, at Christmas and again six months later at the end of June.' '

'So therefore their disappearance in February cannot have been simply a trip to Madras?'