Mike Ashley - The Mammoth Book of New Sherlock Holmes Adventures

"I am sure she will be pleased to see you in view of what you have just told me."

She ushered us into a charmingly furnished oak-beamed parlour where a slim, golden-haired girl of some twenty-eight years was sitting at a sewing frame. She got up suddenly as we entered and looked enquiringly at her aunt.

"Please don't be alarmed, dear. These are friends of Mr Smedhurst."

The girl could not suppress the exclamation that rose to her lips. The aunt had silently withdrawn and Miss Reynolds came forward to shake hands formally, beckoning us into easy chairs near the welcoming fire.

"You have news of Aristide? I have been so worried about him…"

There was such a pleading look on her face that I saw a dramatic change in Holmes himself.

"This is an extremely difficult matter, Miss Reynolds. But I am afraid we are forgetting our manners. I am Sherlock Holmes and this is my friend and colleague Dr Watson. I have asked your aunt not to reveal our identities and I would ask you to do the same."

He held up his hand as the girl started forward in her chair.

"Please let me continue. Mr Smedhurst is in some great difficulty and he has called upon me to help him. Am I to take it that your engagement has been broken off?"

The girl bit her lip.

"It is nothing of my doing, Mr Holmes. He has changed over the last year or so and become evasive. He no longer confides in me. He has taken to drinking rather heavily and now he has grown that ridiculous-looking beard!"

Little red spots of anger were starting out on her cheeks.

"Forgive me again, my dear young lady, but Mr Smedhurst appears to think that you have transferred your affections elsewhere."

The girl stared at Holmes in astonishment and then burst out laughing.

"You must mean Mr Jacob Ashton. He is,a young Australian who came to the village a long while back. He is a surveyor by profession. My aunt and I occasionally lunch or dine at The George and Dragon and we made his acquaintance there. He is in practice here, but we are friends, nothing more."

"Ah, that is good news indeed, Miss Reynolds," said Holmes, rising abruptly from his chair. "I cannot confide in you at the moment but you may be sure that all will yet be well between you."

"Ah, if only I could believe you, Mr Holmes!"

"You may. And I might add that he was thinking only of you in his present troubles and did not wish you involved."

The girl shook hands with us warmly, and after Holmes had again asked her not to reveal his identity, we left the house with its occupants more cheerful than when we had arrived.

"Now Mr Smedhurst, Watson. I must prime him as to his role in our little drama. Ah, there is our man himself!"

He had just noticed our client's reflection in a shop window and, turning, we saw that he was making for The George and Dragon. We followed as quickly as possible, catching him at the entrance, where Holmes had a muffled conversation, before following him into the crowded restaurant. A waiter hurried forward as we sat down to order our meal when Smedhurst

gave an exclamation and said, "Why, there is young Ashton at the table yonder."

Holmes leaned forward and put his hand gently on our client's shoulder.

"You have no need to worry. Miss Reynolds and Ashton are merely friends."

With a muffled apology he rose from the table and I was astonished to see him make straight for the surveyor, who was lunching alone at a side table. He bent over, presumably to introduce himself and then beckoned me across.

"Please forgive this intrusion, Mr Ashton, but I understand you are a surveyor. Myself and my friend Mr Watson are hoping to buy a cottage down here and have found exactly what we require. Mr Smedhurst, who is lunching with us, as you have perhaps noticed, is anxious to sell and we wondered whether you would be kind enough to undertake the survey."

Ashton, who was a pleasant-looking man of about thirty with black curly hair, seemed embarrassed, I thought.

"Certainly, Mr Robinson," he stammered. "But this is the first I have heard of it. Miss Reynolds did not mention it."

"It was a sudden decision," said Holmes smoothly. "Mr Smedhurst is going to London for a few days this evening, but is leaving the key of the cottage with us. I have the address of your office. And now, I have interrupted your lunch long enough."

Ashton got up to shake hands with the pair of us.

"Honoured, my dear sir," he said with a smile. My hours are from nine-thirty a.m. until six p.m., unless I am out on survey. I look forward to seeing you soon."

"I cannot see, Holmes…" I began as we regained our table.

"I seem to have heard you say that before, Watson," said my companion with a disarming smile. "I think the oxtail soup and then the steak will do admirably in my case."

And he talked of nothing but trivial matters until the meal was over.

"Now, you understand the procedures I have outlined to you, Mr Smedhurst," said Holmes as we regained the street. Our client nodded.

"I will leave Parvise Magna this afternoon, in daylight, with my luggage and make sure my departure is noted in the town, both by pony and trap and by train. I will give out that I am going to London for a week to see an aunt and make myself conspicuous on the platform. I will stay away for three nights. I will leave the cottage key behind a big boulder about thirty feet from the front door. You cannot miss it, Mr Holmes. There is a fissure at the back and I will place it there, well concealed."

"Excellent, Mr Smedhurst. Now there is just one thing more."

"What is that, Mr Holmes?"

My companion gave him a thin smile.

"Shave off your beard. Miss Reynolds does not like it."

I spent part of the afternoon reading in the smoking room of The George and Dragon, while Holmes was away on some errand of his own. Presently he rejoined me and we both noted with satisfaction the departure of Smedhurst as his pony and trap clattered down the main street on its way to the station. As gas lamps began to be lit in the street outside Holmes rose from his deep leather chair, his whole being tense and animated.

"I think you might fetch your revolver, old fellow. We may need it before the night is out. I have some provisions in my greatcoat pocket so we shall not go hungry."

"In that case I will bring my whisky flask," said I.

A quarter of an hour later we left the hotel and made our way inconspicuously through side streets, as though taking an innocuous afternoon stroll. Though there was still an hour or so of daylight the sky was dark and sombre as we cleared the outskirts of Parvise Magna and a pallid mist was rising from the drenched fields which skirted the rounded hills. We were both silent as we continued our walk and presently Holmes turned aside to avoid approaching our client's cottage from the front. When we could just see the roof of the property through the bare branches of leafless trees, we diverged from the path and in a few moments found ourselves on the overgrown track that led to the quarry. It was a grim place at that late time of day and we both paused as though possessed of the same impulse, and gazed down over the hundred foot drop.

"An awful spot, Holmes."

"Indeed, Watson. But I think there is a more agreeable approach yonder."

He pointed forward and I then saw what appeared to be a white thread which turned out to be a shelving part of the quarry that led downward in gentle slopes. Our feet gritted on the loose shale and after we had descended about halfway my companion gave a sharp exclamation.

He led the way across the face of the quarry to where a dark hole gaped. It was obviously man-made and had perhaps

provided shelter for the quarrymen in years gone by. I followed him in and saw that the cavern was about ten feet across and some twenty feet deep. There was a narrow shelf of rock on the left-hand side, about five feet in.