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

‘This is Jeavons’s room,’ said Earley, opening one of several doors in the corridor, and we followed him into a small bedroom. In a moment there came a murmur of satisfaction from Holmes, as he found a black raincoat thrown over the back of a chair, and almost hidden under a dressing-gown. For a moment, he searched the coat for some sign of ownership, then pointed to a clear ‘H.J.’ printed on the inside of the left cuff. Again he took out his note-book and made a brief note in it.

We were just leaving Jeavons’s bedroom when we heard rapid footsteps on the stairs, and a moment later a pleasant-faced, dark-haired young man appeared on the landing.

‘Ah, Zennor,’ said he. ‘There you are! Dr Glimper has been looking for you! But who are these gentlemen?’

Zennor introduced the newcomer to us as Stafford Nugent and explained to him our purpose in being there, at which Nugent nodded his head. ‘I’m sure if you wish to ask me any questions about yesterday, I will do my best to answer them,’ he said, addressing us.

‘If you could just give us a brief account of your day,’ said Holmes, ‘from about half past eight in the morning until you arrived back here in the afternoon.’

‘It is soon told,’ said Nugent. ‘I left here about a quarter to nine and got back about five o’clock in the afternoon, and nothing of any significance happened all day.’

‘That’s not quite right, Nugent,’ said Zennor. ‘You walked halfway to the railway station with me, but then came back here for that book and I didn’t see you again.’

‘Oh, of course,’ said the other. ‘I was forgetting that. Besides, I didn’t realise you wanted every little detail. Very well, then. I left here in a hurry, just after quarter to nine, caught Zennor up in the street and we walked on together for a few minutes. Then I remembered that I’d forgotten a book I’d borrowed from the library at Lambeth Palace, which I had intended to take back, so I came back here to get it.’

‘What time was that?’ asked Holmes.

‘About nine o’clock. I got the book from my room, which only took a few moments, and was leaving once more, when I noticed as I passed the coat-pegs downstairs that there was a raincoat hanging there which looked somewhat more like mine than the one I was wearing, which didn’t seem to fit me properly, so I took that one off and put the other on, and dashed off to the station. I was too late to catch the train, however, which had gone at five past nine, so I spent about forty minutes drinking tea and reading, until the next London train came in, at about ten to ten.

‘I reached London shortly before twelve, stood talking for a while to a friend I met in the street outside the station and got to Lambeth Palace just after one o’clock. I concluded my business there quite quickly, but then spent a long time in the library, talking to the chief librarian. I borrowed another book and left about quarter past two. I then got a fast train from Charing Cross and was back here by five.’

‘When you were hanging your coat back up downstairs,’ said Holmes, ‘did you notice whose coat it was?’

Nugent shook his head. ‘I’ve no idea,’ he said; ‘but I’m not going to apologise for it: if someone hadn’t already taken mine I shouldn’t have had to take someone else’s. That’s the only thing I know for certain about it, that it wasn’t my own.’

‘How can you be so sure?’ asked Holmes.

‘Because one of the buttons on my coat is very loose – hanging by a thread, in fact – and the buttons on the coat I’d been wearing were all firmly attached.’

‘Well, that is very interesting,’ said Holmes.

Nugent looked surprised. ‘I shouldn’t have thought the state of the buttons would be of any great interest,’ said he.

Holmes smiled. ‘Something can be interesting,’ he returned, ‘not because of its own intrinsic qualities, but because of its relation to something else.’

There had come the sound of heavy footsteps on the stairs as they had been speaking. Now we all turned, as an older, dignified figure appeared at the head of the staircase. The young men fell silent and still, waiting for the newcomer to speak.

‘What is all this noise up here?’ he asked at length, in a deep, grave voice. ‘And who are these gentlemen?’

‘Dr Glimper,’ said Zennor, taking half a step forward and addressing the older man: ‘this is Mr Sherlock Holmes and Dr Watson. They are looking into the mystery of Sir Anthony’s cheque on my behalf.’

‘What!’ cried Dr Glimper, in a voice like thunder. ‘Do you mean to say that you have gone behind our backs and hired some sort of detective? You add the insult of contempt for the Dean and myself to the shame and disgrace of what has already happened? You two,’ he continued, addressing Nugent and Earley, ‘be about your business at once! I am surprised at you, permitting yourselves to be embroiled in such behaviour! As for you, Zennor: be in my office in three minutes’ time! These men have no business here. Visitors are strictly forbidden without express permission, as you are fully aware, and they must leave the premises at once! At once, do you hear?’

‘Yes, Dr Glimper,’ said Zennor in a subdued tone, as the older man turned and descended the stair. Nugent and Earley quickly followed him, and, for a moment, Zennor, Holmes and I were left alone. ‘You had better go at once,’ said Zennor. ‘I seem to have only made everything worse. All this talk of buttons and raincoats has got us nowhere at all. I am still the one in whose pocket the stolen cheque was found. I am still the one condemned, though I am perfectly innocent.’

‘On the contrary,’ said Holmes in a reassuring tone, ‘I now believe I know what happened yesterday, although I cannot yet prove it. Do not permit yourself to become down-hearted or disconsolate, Mr Zennor, for it will achieve nothing. Believe me when I tell you that all will be well! Now, I have three quick points to make to you. First, how can I speak to Hubert Bebington? It is important that I see him. It will complete my investigation here.’

‘He will be in the library. It is part of his duties. You had better not go along there yourself, but I can ask him to meet you outside the main gate, before I go in to see Dr Glimper.’

‘Very good. Second, do not, under any circumstances, mention to anyone at all that little scrap of paper that you found in your pocket and which is now in my own pocket-book. Not a word, you understand, not a syllable!’

‘I will do as you wish. What is your third point?’

‘That you come to our chambers tomorrow, by lunch-time at the very latest.’

‘That may prove difficult.’

‘But you must, Mr Zennor! The whole future course of your life may depend upon it!’

‘Very well. I will do all I can to be there. Now you must leave and I must face Dr Glimper.’

For several minutes we waited in the street outside the main gateway and were almost on the point of giving it up, thinking that either Zennor had not been able to communicate with Bebington, or Bebington had declined to see us, when, abruptly, a freckled face surmounted by a mop of sandy hair appeared round the corner of the archway and a young clergyman stepped into view.

‘Ah, there you are!’ said he. ‘You are Mr Holmes, I take it. Zennor says you wish to ask me about yesterday. There’s not much to tell,’ he continued, as Holmes nodded. ‘I was in the library most of the day. It was very quiet. Everyone else had gone off somewhere for the day, so I was all by myself.’

‘But I understand you went out to the stationer’s shop,’ said Holmes.

‘Yes, that is so. I went there first thing in the morning, but was out less than fifteen minutes, and after that I never left the cathedral all day.’