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

‘What does it mean?’

‘It means I must take a short walk on this beautiful evening,’ said he in a cheery tone, looking out of the window at the cloudless blue sky. ‘Would you care to accompany me?’

‘With pleasure!’ I said, laughing aloud at the sudden improvement in his mood.

‘Good man! Your hat and coat, then, old fellow, and let us be off before the daylight fades! I will explain where we are going as we walk!’

A few moments later, we set off up Baker Street, crossed the Marylebone Road and headed north towards St John’s Wood. At St John’s Wood Church we turned westwards and along past the cricket ground. Now that the rain had passed away and the sky had cleared, it was a warm and pleasant evening.

‘You see,’ said Holmes, ‘as soon as I realised that the letter in the note was not an “X” – which had made no sense to me at all – but a “t”, it at once struck me that it might well be an abbreviation for “terrace”, which supposition was strengthened by the fact that the “t” had a full stop after it. And as soon as that had occurred to me, I at once thought of Hamilton Terrace, which, as you have probably surmised, is our present destination. There are dozens of other street-names in London which begin with the syllable “Ham”, but very few suitable candidates for “Ham-something Terrace”. Now, I know for certain that there is a fairly large church on Hamilton Terrace – a handsome edifice, as I recall. It is not very old, but has a certain solidity and quiet dignity. I have passed it several times in a cab, but have not had reason to stop there and cannot recall what name it bears. If it is St Mark’s, Watson, then I am sure we have solved the riddle of that little note!’

We had turned northwards again as he had been speaking, into Hamilton Terrace itself, and now proceeded in the soft evening sunlight up this very broad road, lined on either side by handsome villas. After a few moments, we could see a church in the distance, on the right, and as we approached it I could sense an increasing tension in my companion’s manner. In a few minutes, we had reached a cross-roads, where Hamilton Terrace is crossed by Abercorn Place, and on the north-east corner of this cross-roads stood the church. Behind the low wall round the churchyard, a large sign proclaimed that this was St Mark’s.

All my friend’s tension seemed in an instant to evaporate and he clapped his hands together in delight. ‘Q.E.D.!’ cried he in triumph. ‘Now, my dear fellow, I suggest we continue our walk down that hill over there to the Edgware Road, where we can probably pick up a cab to take us to a decent restaurant. I think that our efforts today have merited a good supper!’

Our involvement with the case was not yet finished for the day, however, for when we returned to Baker Street, we found a letter from Zennor awaiting us, which had been delivered earlier in the evening by special messenger. With an expression of surprise, Holmes tore open the envelope. The letter within ran as follows:

MY DEAR MR HOLMES,

I had thought that it might prove difficult for me to keep our appointment tomorrow. However, a fresh development has rendered that somewhat easier, although the development itself is an unwelcome one. In short, I have now been suspended from all my duties at the cathedral and placed on indefinite leave, until the Dean and Chapter have had an opportunity to consider the whole matter in detail. I am therefore writing this note to you from my mother’s house at Brixton and will call at your chambers tomorrow lunchtime, as you requested. Do not take it amiss if I say that I have little confidence that I shall ever be cleared of the false charges against me. The matter seems so dark and inexplicable, and I have almost given up all hope.

‘Poor fellow!’ I said, as I finished reading. ‘He must feel that his whole world has collapsed about him.’

‘Let us hope, then,’ said Holmes, ‘that we shall be able to lift his spirits a little tomorrow!’

In the morning, a fresh band of rain had blown in across London and I awoke to the patter of raindrops against my bedroom window. It was clear that it had rained heavily in the night, for the plane tree behind our house had a drenched and bedraggled appearance. By the time we had taken breakfast, however, the rain had stopped, although the sky remained grey and overcast. After breakfast, Holmes’s attempt to return to his bedroom for further rest was this time successful and I did not see him again for two hours. I passed my own morning in writing up the case as I saw it so far, although, in truth, I could make little sense of it. It was clear from what I had seen of the hieroglyphics in Holmes’s own note-book that he regarded the muddle over the minor canons’ overcoats as an important part of the case, but I could not really see how that helped us. The envelope with the cheque in it had undoubtedly been found in Martin Zennor’s own coat, and he had undoubtedly been wearing it at the time, so the fact that some of the other young men had taken the wrong coats did not seem to make any difference. Zennor stated that he had not put the envelope in his pocket, and I saw no reason to doubt that, so therefore someone else had done so, but who, when and why?

When Holmes eventually re-emerged from his bedroom, he appeared refreshed and was clearly in good spirits. He ordered a four-wheeler for three o’clock, remarking that although it would mean a long wait for us at St Mark’s, he wanted to make sure that we arrived there well before anyone else did.

Zennor arrived promptly at lunchtime, and shared our simple meal of cold meats, bread and cheese. He appeared very pale and nervous in his manner, although he cheered up a little as Holmes plied him with questions, about his various duties at the cathedral, about his family and about the families of his colleagues. Whether any of the information Holmes elicited by these questions was of any relevance to his view of the case, or whether he was simply trying to distract, and thus cheer, his client, I could not say, but so lively and enthusiastic was his conversation that the time flew by, until, at five to three, a ring at the front-door bell announced the arrival of our cab.

‘Your hats and coats, gentlemen!’ cried Holmes, springing to his feet. ‘Courage, my dear sir!’ he said to Zennor, clapping him lightly on the shoulder. ‘Your ordeal is almost at an end!’

‘I wish I knew what was going to happen,’ returned his client, as he took his hat and coat from the peg.

‘We none of us know precisely what is going to happen, even two minutes in the future,’ said Holmes; ‘but I think I can promise you this, at least, Mr Zennor, that by the end of this week you will have returned to your duties at the cathedral without the slightest stain on your character!’

It took us less than ten minutes to reach our destination. As we approached the cross-roads, Holmes instructed the cabbie to drive slowly past the front of St Mark’s and continue on towards the north end of the road, where it meets Carlton Hill.

‘No sign of anyone at present,’ said Holmes, as we passed the churchyard, ‘but let me know at once if you see anyone loitering about.’

Zennor looked out of one side and I looked out of the other, but there seemed to be no one at all about in the whole of that broad, quiet thoroughfare. When we reached the end of the road, Holmes told the cabbie to turn his cab round, take us halfway back to the church and let us down there. ‘We’ll walk the rest of the way,’ said he, as we alighted and he paid off the cab. ‘It seems to me that the north corner of the building, where there is some projecting masonry and a large laurel bush, will be the best place for us to wait. It is impossible to say from which direction anyone will come, but whichever it is, we should be well-enough hidden there.’