Denis Smith - The Mammoth Book of the New Chronicles of Sherlock Holmes

‘Who has access to this office you refer to?’

‘Anyone, really. The door is never closed.’

‘Is there always someone present in the office?’

‘No, not always. It is the centre of activities for the minor canons, and people are coming in and out of it all day; but quite often, when we are all busy elsewhere in the cathedral, it is left unoccupied.’

‘I see. And is it anywhere near where you hang your coat up?’

‘Yes. There is a short corridor just outside the office, leading to the cathedral yard, in which there is a row of coat-hooks. All the minor canons hang their coats up there.’

‘I suppose the coats all appear very similar,’ remarked Holmes after a moment. ‘Do they ever get muddled up?’

‘It does happen occasionally. Of course, the coats are all marked somewhere with their owners’ names or initials, but these marks are not all in the same place and sometimes, when people are in a hurry, they don’t trouble to look for the mark, but just guess which coat is which.’

‘I see. So, if, as you say, there was no legitimate reason for the cheque to be in anyone’s pocket, it could not have been a simple accident, but must have been put there deliberately, for some reason. Do you consider you have any enemies, Mr Zennor, anyone who might wish to incriminate you?’

Our visitor shook his head. ‘I am absolutely sure I do not. Of course, there is sometimes a certain degree of mild rivalry among the minor canons, but on the whole, I believe, we rub along very well together. No one could possibly gain anything by trying to besmirch my reputation.’

Holmes frowned and sat in silence for several minutes. Then he put down his pipe and took out his note-book. ‘Perhaps,’ said he, ‘you could give me a list of all the minor canons at the cathedral. I think I shall have to speak to them, for it may be that, although innocent of any direct involvement in this puzzling matter, one or more of them may have seen or heard something which could cast a little light on it.’

‘Certainly,’ replied our visitor. ‘There are six of us altogether. Apart from myself, these are Stafford Nugent, Wallace Wakefield, Hubert Bebington, Michael Earley and Henry Jeavons. We are all under the supervision of Dr Glimper, who is in overall charge of most day-to-day matters at the cathedral and who answers directly to the Dean himself.’

‘Is there any seniority among the minor canons?’

‘No. Except, of course, for Dr Glimper, we are all on a level footing.’

‘What sort of a rule does Dr Glimper exercise over you?’

‘When I was first there,’ replied Zennor after a moment, ‘I heard how ferocious and harsh he was to those under him; but in fact I have not really found him so. He is certainly strict, with regard to adherence to rules and regulations, and an absolute stickler for the observance of all formalities, both great and small, but behind his rather forbidding exterior, I believe he is quite kind and understanding of one’s occasional failings.’

‘What is his view of the present business?’

‘He is convinced that it must be some kind of bizarre accident or mischance, although he can suggest no convincing explanation for it.’

‘He believes in your innocence?’

Our visitor hesitated. ‘I think so,’ he replied after a moment, ‘but I am not certain of it. I was interviewed on the matter late last night by the Dean’s private secretary, Dr Wallis, with Dr Glimper in attendance. Dr Wallis was very sharp in his questioning, I must say. “This is a very serious matter, Zennor,” said he, “and if you do not tell the truth, the consequences may be disastrous for you.” I insisted that I was telling the truth and knew no more about the matter than anyone else; but he did not appear satisfied. Dr Glimper suggested that one of the cleaners might have accidentally knocked the envelope containing the cheque off the shelf and into a dustpan, and then, not noticing it until in the corridor outside the room, might have believed it had just fallen from one of the coats and thus – erroneously – replaced it in a random overcoat pocket.’

‘How did Dr Wallis respond to that suggestion?’

‘He described it as the least convincing explanation he had ever heard for anything in his life. Later, Dr Glimper told me that he could not protect me unless I told the absolute unvarnished truth. I do not wish to do my superior an injustice,’ Zennor added after a moment, ‘but there was an expression on his face that suggested to me that he is more concerned with protecting his own office, and the good name of the minor canons in general, than with my own personal fate. I saw a similar expression on the features of my colleagues, yesterday evening. No one will say to my face that they think I am guilty, but it is clear that most of them feel that I have brought shame on them all, unjust though that is. I thus find myself, through no fault of my own, utterly friendless in my hour of greatest need.’

‘That is unfortunate,’ responded Holmes. ‘It is certainly one of the most desolate of experiences, to be accused – or even suspected – of something of which one is perfectly innocent. But, why does anyone suppose you would commit such a crime, Mr Zennor? What do they believe you intended to do with the money?’

‘Unfortunately for my case, I have spoken once or twice recently of the somewhat straitened circumstances in which my mother and sister find themselves since my father died, and it is believed by some, I think, that I intended to give the money to them. Of course, it is absurd to suppose that I should steal money belonging to the cathedral to give to my relatives, and just as absurd to suppose that, were I to do so, my relatives would accept it.’

Holmes nodded. ‘But if people are determined to find an innocent man guilty, they will always manage to find some plausible motive to ascribe to him. Now,’ he continued, with a glance at the clock, ‘there are other questions I wish to ask you, but I also wish to interview your colleagues while the events of yesterday are still fresh in their minds. Do you think I will be able to see them today?’

‘Yes, that should be possible. Almost everyone was out on some business or other yesterday, but – apart from Jeavons, who is away all week – everyone should be there today.’

‘Excellent!’ cried Holmes, whose energy and enthusiasm appeared to have returned in full measure at the prospect of an interesting case. ‘What I suggest, then, is that we catch the next train down to Kent and continue this discussion as we travel.’

Thus it was, that, forty minutes later, the three of us were seated in a fast train, as it made its way down through the damp-looking Kent countryside.

‘If you would tell us everything that happened to you yesterday,’ said Holmes, ‘and everything of which you are aware that happened to your colleagues, then we might be able to form a mental picture of how Sir Anthony Ingoldsby’s cheque came to be in your pocket. Omit nothing, however trivial, which might conceivably have a bearing on the matter.’

‘Very well,’ said Zennor. ‘Probably the first notable thing that happened was that Jeavons left for the railway station very early – about seven o’clock – as he was travelling up to Grantham in Lincolnshire, where his parents live. His father has been ill recently and he was given special permission to take a week’s leave of absence to visit him. You have asked me about the overcoats and whether they ever get muddled up, and, oddly enough, such a mistake did occur yesterday morning, for, about an hour after Jeavons left, I heard Earley saying that he thought Jeavons must have taken his coat, as he couldn’t find it anywhere.

‘At about half past eight, Earley and Wakefield left together for the railway station. The former was going to see someone in Ramsgate, the latter was travelling to Rochester, where he was to be interviewed for a vacant position.’