‘My pleasure, sir. I have your coat and your gloves…’
Out in the garden, Holmes showed himself to be in an unusually jaunty mood. He strode across the lawn, inhaling the afternoon air and rejoicing in this brief escape from the city, for none of the fogs of Baker Street had followed us here. At this time, there were parts of Wimbledon which were still very much akin to being in the country. We could see sheep huddled together on a hillside beside a grove of ancient oaks. There were but a few houses dotted around us and we were both struck by the tranquillity of the landscape and the strange quality of the light which seemed to throw everything into sharp focus. ‘This is a wholly remarkable case, do you not think?’ he exclaimed, as we made our way towards the lane.
‘It strikes me as quite trivial,’ I replied. ‘The sum of fifty pounds has been taken along with an antique necklace. I can’t call this the most testing of your challenges, Holmes.’
‘I find the necklace particularly fascinating, given everything we have heard about this household. You have already arrived, then, at the solution?’
‘I would suppose that it all hinges on whether the unwanted visitor to this house was indeed the twin brother from Boston.’
‘And if I were to assure you that he was almost certainly not?’
‘Then I would say that, not for the first time, you are being thoroughly perplexing.’
‘Dear old Watson. How good it is to have you at my side. But I think this is where the intruder arrived last night…’ We had come to the bottom of the garden where the drive met the lane, with the village green on the other side. The continuing cold weather and the well-tended lawn had together created a perfect canvas on which all the comings and goings of the preceding twenty-four hours had been, in effect, frozen. ‘There, if I am not mistaken, goes the thorough and efficient Lestrade.’ There were footprints all around, but Holmes had pointed to one set in particular.
‘You cannot possibly know they are his.’
‘No? The length of the stride would suggest a man of about five foot six inches in height, the same as Lestrade. He was wearing square-toed boots, such as I have often seen on Lestrade’s feet. But the most damning evidence is that they are heading in quite the wrong direction, missing everything of importance — and who else could that be but Lestrade? He has, you will see, entered and left by the gate on the right. It is a perfectly natural choice for, on approaching the house, it is the first gate that you come to. The intruder, however, surely came in the other way.’
‘Both gates seem identical to me, Holmes.’
‘The gates are indeed identical, but the one to the left is less conspicuous due to the position of the fountain. If you were to approach the house without wishing to be seen, this is the one you would choose and as you will observe, we have only one set of footprints here with which to concern ourselves. Halloa! What have we here?’ Holmes crouched down and seized hold of the butt of a cigarette which he showed to me. ‘An American cigarette, Watson. There is no mistaking the tobacco. You will notice that there is no ash in this immediate area.’
‘The stub of a cigarette but no ash?’
‘Meaning that although he was careful not to be seen, he did not linger long. Do you not find that significant?’
‘It was the middle of the night, Holmes. He could see that the house was in darkness. He had no fear of being noticed.’
‘Even so…’ We followed the tracks across the lawn and round the side of the house to the study. ‘He was walking at a steady pace. He could have paused at the fountain to make sure that he was safe but he chose not to.’ Holmes examined the window that we had already examined from within. ‘He must have been a man of uncommon strength.’
‘The window would not have been so difficult to force.’
‘Indeed not, Watson. But consider the height of it. You can see where he jumped down when he was finished. He has left two deep imprints in the grass. But there is no sign of a ladder, nor even a garden chair. It is just possible that he could have found a toehold on the wall. The mortar is loose and some of the edges are exposed. But he would still have had to use one hand to cling to the sill while he jemmied open the window with the other. We must also ask ourselves if it was a coincidence that he chose to break into the very room in which the safe was contained.’
‘Surely he came round the back of the house because it was more secluded and there was less chance of his being seen? He then chose a window at random.’
‘In which instance he was remarkably fortunate.’ Holmes had concluded his examination. ‘But it is exactly as I hoped, Watson,’ he went on. ‘A necklace with three clusters of sapphires in a gold setting should not be hard to trace, and that should lead us directly to our man. Lestrade has at least confirmed that he took the train to London Bridge. We must do the same. The station is not far and it’s a pleasant day. We can walk.’
We made our way across the front of the house, following the drive. But before we could reach the lane, the front door of Ridgeway Hall opened and a woman hurried out, stopping in front of us. It was Eliza Carstairs, the art dealer’s sister. She had drawn a shawl across her shoulders, which she clutched to her chest, and it was clear from her features, her staring eyes and the wisps of dark hair that flew around her forehead, that she was in a state of consternation.
‘Mr Holmes!’ she cried.
‘Miss Carstairs.’
‘I was rude to you inside and for that you must forgive me. But I must tell you now that nothing is as it seems and that unless you help us, unless you can lift the curse that has fallen on this place, we are doomed.’
‘I beg of you, Miss Carstairs, to compose yourself.’
‘She is the cause of all this!’ The sister flung an accusatory finger in the direction of the house. ‘Catherine Marryat — for that was her name by her first marriage. She came upon Edmund when he was at his lowest ebb. He has always had a sensitive nature, even as a boy, and it was inevitable that his nerves would be unable to stand up to the ordeal he had been through in Boston. He was exhausted, infirm and — yes, in need of someone to take care of him. And so she threw herself at him. What right did she have, an American nobody with barely any money to her name? Out at sea, with days on board that ship, she spun a web around him so that when he returned home, it was too late. We could not dissuade him.’
‘You would have looked after him yourself.’
‘I love him as only a sister can. My mother too. And do not believe for a single minute that she died as a result of an accident. We are a respectable family, Mr Holmes. My father was a printseller who came to London from Manchester and it was he who opened the picture-dealership in Albemarle Street. Alas, he died when we were quite young and since then the three of us have lived together in perfect harmony. When Edmund announced his determination to ally himself with Mrs Marryat, when he argued with us and refused to listen to reason, it broke my mother’s heart. Of course we would have liked to see Edmund married. His happiness was all that mattered to us in the world. But how could he marry her? A foreign adventuress we had never met and who, from the start, was clearly interested only in his wealth and position, in the comfort and protection he could give her. My mother killed herself, Mr Holmes. She could not live with the shame and the unhappiness of this accursed marriage and so, six months after the wedding day, she turned on the gas tap and lay on her bed until the fumes had done their work and the kindness of oblivion had taken her from us.’
‘Did your mother communicate her intentions to you?’ Holmes asked.
‘She didn’t need to. I knew what was in her mind and I was hardly surprised when they found her. She had made her choice. This has not been a pleasant household from the day that the American woman arrived, Mr Holmes. And now this latest business, this intruder who has broken into our home and stolen Mama’s necklace, our most cherished memory of that dear, departed soul. It is all part of the same evil business. How do we not know that this stranger has not come here on her account rather than to pursue some vendetta against my brother? She was with me in the sitting room when he first appeared. I saw him from the window. Perhaps he is an old acquaintance who has followed her here. Perhaps he is more. But this is only the beginning of it, Mr Holmes. So long as this marriage continues, we will none of us be safe.’
‘Your brother seems perfectly content,’ Holmes responded, with a degree of indifference. ‘But setting that aside, what would you have me do? A man can choose whom he marries without the blessing of his mother. Or, indeed, of his sister.’
