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

We did as Holmes suggested, positioning ourselves behind a large buttress and, as we did so, a fine drizzle began to fall. This was not very pleasant, but it did not appear to trouble my friend, who kept his eyes fixed on the churchyard before us and the road beyond. In truth, there was little enough to be seen there, for very few people passed by, and I rapidly formed the conclusion that Hamilton Terrace must be one of the quietest large roads in the whole of London. Because of this, our vigil seemed an inordinately long one, although, in reality, it was little more than forty minutes.

All at once, when my thoughts had drifted far away, a man – a dirty, rough-looking individual – appeared from the right, from the north end of the road. I felt Holmes’s hand on my shoulder, pulling me in a little more behind the laurel bush. We watched as this man glanced furtively this way and that, as he approached the gateway into the churchyard. Then, in one swift movement, he had opened the gate and slipped in; but instead of walking up the short path to the church door, he quickly crouched down behind the low wall, just to the side of the gateway, so that he could not be seen from the road. Moments later, a large delivery van clattered by, and as it did so he raised his head slightly, to see over the wall and watch its progress. Again he looked furtively to left and right, and then bobbed his head down again to hide. Whether this man had anything to do with our reason for being there, I had no idea, but it seemed clear that he was fearful of being discovered by someone. Holmes touched Zennor on the arm and, with a raise of his eyebrow and a nod in the direction of the newcomer, made a silent enquiry; but Zennor shook his head, his features expressing complete ignorance as to who the man might be. Holmes frowned and a variety of emotions passed quickly across his face; but before I had time to consider the matter further, we heard the rapid approach of a cab from along Abercorn Place. It slowed down at the cross-roads, then swung round sharply into Hamilton Terrace and pulled up at the gate of the churchyard.

A moment later, a man stepped down from the cab who was instantly recognisable as Dr Glimper, the supervisor of the minor canons at Canterbury Cathedral. What he might be doing here, I could not imagine, and I wondered if he had followed someone – possibly Holmes’s client – to London. Whatever his purpose in being at St Mark’s, it looked as if he was about to receive an unpleasant surprise, for as soon as he opened the gate, he would see the man hiding behind the wall. He put his hand on the gate and pushed it open, and at that moment the man behind the wall sprang up. Dr Glimper took a step backwards in alarm and I thought for a moment that the other man was about to attack him, but then the two of them began to talk animatedly, walking slowly up the short path towards the church door.

Abruptly, they stopped, evidently as a result of something that Dr Glimper had said, for the other man began to remonstrate with him violently, waving his arms wildly in the air. For several moments they stood there, speaking in raised voices, although I could not catch what they were saying. Then, abruptly, they stopped again, and looked hurriedly this way and that, as if they had heard something.

‘Come on!’ said Holmes. ‘This has gone on long enough!’ He stepped briskly forward, into the open, at which the two men looked round in alarm.

‘You traitor!’ cried the rough-looking man to Glimper. ‘You have betrayed me!’

‘No, no!’ returned Dr Glimper. ‘I assure you, I have no idea who these men are!’ But even as he spoke, he evidently caught sight of Zennor, behind us. ‘Zennor!’ he cried. ‘What on earth are you doing here?’

‘So,’ said the other man, raising his arm aggressively, ‘you do know these people! So you’re a liar as well as a traitor! You stinking, slimy scug!’ He then concluded his remarks with a string of foul oaths.

‘We have come,’ said Holmes, addressing Dr Glimper, and ignoring the other man’s outburst, ‘to learn why you attempted to steal the cathedral’s cheque.’

Dr Glimper’s mouth fell open, his eyes were wide and wild, and his whole expression was one of the utmost terror. Before he could respond, however, there came the most surprising interruption. The rapid clatter of hooves and the jingle of harness came from somewhere to our right, from the north end of Hamilton Terrace, and an instant later, a large police van came into view travelling at tremendous speed. It drew to an abrupt halt at the church gate and three policemen sprang down.

‘You swine!’ cried Dr Glimper’s companion, and, launching himself forward, struck the clergyman full in the face with his fist. Then, as Glimper fell to the ground with a pitiful cry, the other man bolted and sprang over the side-wall of the churchyard into Abercorn Place. Two of the policemen at once gave chase, while the third, in the braided uniform of an inspector, approached us and introduced himself as Inspector Jackett.

‘Are you the vicar of this church, reverend?’ he asked Glimper, as he helped him to his feet.

‘No,’ replied Glimper, touching his cut and bruised face gingerly with his hand. ‘I am the brother of that poor wretch you are chasing.’

‘What!’ cried the policeman in astonishment: ‘the brother of Jake Sligo, the most notorious burglar in north London!’

‘I didn’t know he was using that name. His real name is Jacob Glimper.’

‘Well, well,’ said Inspector Jackett. ‘I know he’s used several aliases, but I’ve never heard that one before! You do know,’ he continued, ‘that we have been on his trail for weeks? No? Well, I can tell you he is wanted for questioning for at least eight burglaries, five violent assaults and two counts of attempted murder. We finally tracked him down to an address in Kilburn, but when we went there this morning, he’d already left. We’ve been hunting for him all day and finally got a tip from a carter that he had seen a suspicious-looking individual hiding in this churchyard.’

‘I swear I knew none of this,’ said Dr Glimper in a tone of utter dejection. ‘I do not live in London, but in Canterbury, where I am connected with the cathedral. I have neither seen nor heard from my brother in many years. But I recently got a letter from him, from an address in Kilburn, telling me that he was in serious trouble and begging me to bring some money to him here today, so that he could get away and start a new life elsewhere. I assumed that he owed money to someone, that is all.’

‘And did you bring him any money?’ asked Inspector Jackett.

‘No,’ said Glimper. ‘I was just telling him that I had been unable to get any, when you arrived.’

‘Who are these gentlemen?’ the inspector asked, turning to us.

‘They have nothing to do with the matter,’ replied Glimper; ‘at least, not directly. I suppose it must all come out,’ he continued after a moment, in a tone of resignation. ‘I attempted – unsuccessfully – to take some money from the cathedral office to give to my brother. He sounded so desperate, and I thought if I didn’t give him something he might come down to Canterbury and ruin my life as he has ruined his own. These men must have been following me, and witnessed what happened here.’

‘Are they inquiry agents?’

‘One is, I believe.’

‘Do you agree with what he says?’ the policeman asked, turning to us.

‘Not exactly,’ said Holmes. ‘This young man here,’ he continued, indicating Zennor, ‘has been falsely accused of trying to steal the money that Dr Glimper mentioned. He asked me to look into the matter, and when I did so, my enquiries led me to suspect that the true culprit was Dr Glimper himself. We also found a note, naming this place and time for a meeting of some kind, so we made sure we arrived here first, so we could see for ourselves what the meeting was about.