Mike Ashley - The Mammoth Book of New Sherlock Holmes Adventures

This to me. I shook my head.

"No. He fell over the edge of the quarry."

"I will have you disbarred for unprofessional conduct and you will stand trial for criminal conspiracy and accessory to attempted murder," said Holmes sternly. "It was unfortunate for you that I recognized you by the light of the lantern."

"I beg you, Mr Holmes!"

"The time is long past for begging. Let me just try to reconstruct your dishonest sequence of events. I am sure you will correct me if I am wrong."

Holmes sat down in a chair opposite the crushed figure of the lawyer and eyed him grimly.

"Let us just suppose that old Jabez Crawley did not leave a proper will. Just a scribbled note or two, leaving the cottage to his nephew in Australia, his only surviving relative. And supposing he had hinted that there was something valuable hidden there, without indicating its whereabouts. Money perhaps, bonds or the deeds to properties. There were two keys to the cottage. There had to be or you and the nephew could never have gone there and made searches while Mr Smedhurst was out. But that is to run ahead. Am I correct so far?"

The old man nodded sullenly. He looked like a cornered rat with his hair awry and his muddy clothes.

"You wrote to the nephew in Australia at his last known address.You got no reply, I presume?"

"No, sir. More than eight months had passed and I surmised that young Ashton had either died or moved to some other country."

Holmes smiled thinly.

"You had many fruitless searches at the cottage in the interim – without result. So you sold it to Mr Smedhurst and pocketed the proceeds. You are a pretty scoundrel, even for a provincial lawyer."

Hardcastle flushed but said nothing, his haunted eyes shifting first to Holmes and then on to me.

"After a long interval you got a reply from the nephew. Your letter had gone astray or been delayed. All this is fairly elementary."

"I think it quite remarkable, Holmes," I interjected. "I had no idea…"

"Later, old fellow," he interrupted. "So young Ashton made his way here and you gave him all the information at your disposal without, of course, telling him that he was the rightful owner of the cottage and that you had yourself sold it and kept the money."

One look at the lawyer's face told me that once again my companion had arrived at the right conclusion.

"You worked out a plan of campaign.The nephew would try and sow a little discord between Smedhurst and his fiancée, in the most subtle way, of course, at the same time keeping an eye on Smedhurst's activities. Then the pair of you invented the series of ghostly happenings. When you drew a blank there and further searches threw no light on old Crawley's secret, you resorted to stronger measures, with the apparition at the window and then, finally, a short while ago, the attempt at murder."

The old man wrung his hands.

"I can assure you, Mr Holmes…"

"Well, that is a matter between you and the police," said Holmes curtly. "We must inform them about the body in the quarry and the circumstances first thing in the morning, Watson. It is almost dawn, anyway."

"Of course, Holmes."

I glanced at my pocket watch and saw that it was almost four a.m. I felt a sudden weariness following the events of the night. "What about the cave in the quarry?" I asked.

"That was as clear as crystal, Watson. When carrying out his dangerous masquerade, Ashton needed a refuge and an opportunity for a ghostly disappearance. He found the place near the cottage which suited his purposes admirably. When he had made his escape and was sure no one had followed, he lit the candle and tidied his clothing. Perhaps he cleaned his shoes if they were coated with mud."

"But the fire, Holmes?"

He gave a thin smile.

"Why, simply to burn that huge papier-maché carnival mask, Watson. The fragment of label unburned, reading carroll and co. showed that the mask had been bought from a well-known

Soho emporium specializing in such things. Obviously, Ashton had bought a number of them."

"Yes, but how would he take them to the cottage, Holmes?"

"Why, probably in a large paper bag. No one would take any notice when he passed through the town in broad daylight. The early hours were another matter. He could not risk taking that mask through the town to his house at dead of night in case he were seen; he might even have been stopped and questioned by the local constable. Hence the fire. Correct, Mr Hardcastle?"

"You are a devil, Mr Holmes," was the man's broken reply. "But you are correct in every detail."

We left the shattered figure of Hardcastle huddled on the chair and walked back toward the centre of the town.

"How did you come to suspect Ashton?" I said.

"There was the irony, Watson. It could have been anyone in Parvise Magna. But then the idea grew in my mind. Ashton was young and personable; he had come from Australia; soon after the ghostly manifestations had appeared; and he had attached himself to Smedhurst's fiancée."

"Remarkable, Holmes."

"You do me too much credit, my dear fellow."

"I wonder what the secret of the cottage is?" I said.

He shrugged.

"Only time will tell. Otherwise, a very obvious affair".

And so it proved. Some weeks later I came to the breakfast table to find Holmes smiling broadly. He passed a cheque across to me and my eyes widened as I read the amount above Smedhurst's signature.

"Our artist has struck lucky at last, Watson," he said. "His letter is full of news. He has shaved off his beard and is reunited with his fiancée."

"Excellent, Holmes."

"And there is more. Just glance at these two newspaper cuttings."

The first related to the preliminary police court proceedings against Hardcastle, which Holmes and I had attended, and his subsequent striking off the legal rolls.The opening of the inquest on Ashton, which we were also required to attend had been held in camera due to the involvement of Hardcastle in these proceedings also, and had been adjourned sine die. Therefore there had been no reports of these proceedings in the Dorset or national newspapers. During the inquest a high-ranking police officer had informed Holmes that a sporting rifle with one spent cartridge in the breech had been found at Ashton's home, together with a number of carnival masks.

The second cutting was even more sensational than the first. It was a lurid tale of an artist who had discovered £20,000 in golden guineas in a series of tin boxes beneath the oak flooring of his studio. There was no mention of Holmes, as I had expected, and the report merely concluded with the information that the discovery had been made by a carpenter carrying out work for Smedhurst.

"And here is something for you, Watson."

Holmes passed across a small buff envelope.That too was from Smedhurst and was an invitation to his wedding celebrations a month hence. I glanced up at Holmes's own invitation on the mantelpiece.

"Will you be joining me, Holmes?"

My companion gave me an enigmatic smile.

"I think not, Watson. Marriage is a very uncertain and risky business. But you may give the bride and groom my best wishes and a suitable gift from Garrard's if you will."

And he reached out for his violin.

Eighteen ninety-five also saw the recorded cases of "The Solitary Cyclist", "Black Peter" and "The Bruce-Partington Plans", as well as several unrecorded cases, amongst them that of Wilson, the notorious canary trainer and the sudden death of Cardinal Tosca. There have been many attempts at recounting the episode of the notorious canary trainer and I an: suspicious of all of them. And since there was no Cardinal Tosca, I have as yet not been able to identify what case Watson was referring to.