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

‘“But why should he stage a pretend burglary? What could he possibly hope to achieve by it?”

‘“The removal of things that were a danger to him.”

‘“What ‘things’?”

‘“The tile that had the name of Tacitus on it and the Roman coin he claimed to have found in his garden.” I told Uncle Moreton then of the occasion when I had observed Crompton and Staunton meeting in a nearby lane, and of how angry Crompton had appeared at the other man. “We had heard that the expert on Roman remains was coming soon from Cambridge,” I said. “Perhaps Mr Staunton, who is also something of an expert on the classical period, knew that Mr Crompton’s ‘discoveries’ were fraudulent and had warned him that he would expose him if he persisted in making his claims. There certainly appeared to be great ill-feeling between the two men.” I then described to Uncle Moreton the occasion when Sylvie and I had seen Clashbury Staunton peering through the garden hedge at our relatives. “Mr Staunton seems to have an odd taste for spying on people and prying into other people’s business,” I said. “Perhaps he had observed Mr Crompton making the ‘Tacitus’ tile himself, in the course of those experiments with the local clay deposits that he described to us.”

‘“It is possible, I suppose,” conceded Uncle Moreton in a reluctant tone. “But what, then, of the attempted burglary at Mr Stainforth’s house? What could be the point of that?”

‘“I doubt there was anything there that Mr Crompton wanted. I think that by forcing a window open there, he was just trying to add support to his claim that there were burglars active in the district, and thus make the break-in at his own house seem simply part of a general pattern and not a special case in any way.”

‘Uncle Moreton considered the matter in silence for several minutes. “What you say is certainly plausible, Sherlock, but there seems rather a lot of extravagant speculation in it. Is it not equally possible, considering the ill-feeling between them, that it was Staunton that stole Mr Crompton’s tiles and coins?”

‘I shook my head. “My theory is the only one that can properly account for all the facts. If Mr Staunton – or Mr Pigge, for that matter – had taken the tiles and coins, there would have been no reason for Mr Crompton to have staged the break-in at Mr Stainforth’s, as I’m sure he did. He could not possibly have supposed that his friend, Mr Stainforth, had had anything to do with the theft of his possessions. In any case,” I added, “there is another very good reason to suppose that Mr Crompton took the tile himself.”

‘“Oh? What might that be?”

‘“If anyone else had stolen it, either for gain or simply out of spite, he would only have taken the tile with Tacitus’s name on it. All the other tiles were plain and of no particular interest or value. Yet Mr Crompton said that several tiles had been taken, including, of course, the one bearing the name of Tacitus. There would seem no point to that, unless there was also something special about the other, plain tiles that were taken. I think that, like the ‘Tacitus’ tile, they had been made by Mr Crompton himself, probably to surround the ‘Tacitus’ tile, so that the inscribed tile didn’t stand out as obviously different from the tiles next to it. If so, he wouldn’t have wanted the expert from Cambridge to see them.”

‘“You seem to have thought of everything,” remarked Uncle Moreton after a moment. “You have observed things closely that no one else has even noticed at all. But what makes you think that there was anything fraudulent about the coin that Crompton said he had found?”

‘“Chiefly because it was ‘stolen’ along with the tile,” I returned. “If it had been a genuine discovery, Mr Crompton would not have needed to have it disappear.”

‘“I see. That certainly makes sense. But if so, Crompton must have bought not one but two coins from the coin-dealer in London.”

‘“That is what I believe,” I said. “I think it likely he himself damaged and disfigured the coin he claimed to have found, for the same reason, I imagine, that he damaged the ‘Tacitus’ tile: to give it an air of verisimilitude which a ‘perfect’ discovery might not have had. Of course, both of the coins had to be ‘stolen’ together, as a real burglar would not have taken one and left the other. But Mr Crompton was probably reluctant to lose everything, and no doubt it was he himself who threw the ‘purchased’ coin over the hedge into the field, where he could, so he hoped, pretend to find it later.”

‘Uncle Moreton rose to his feet. “Come along, then,” said he. “Let us see if we can decide the matter one way or the other.”

‘The door of High Grove was opened by Crompton’s housekeeper, a melancholy expression on her face. She showed us into the study, a large room at the back of the house, where we were joined a moment later by Crompton’s sister, Ethel. Her face, too, was marked by sorrow and it was clear she felt the loss of her brother very keenly.

‘“I am sorry to intrude upon you at such a time,” Uncle Moreton began, “but I wondered if I might see the Roman coin – a denarius, I believe – which your brother bought from the dealer in London – the one that was found in the field. I wanted to familiarise myself with it in case I chanced across the other one, which I know was fairly similar.”

‘“So I understand,” returned Miss Crompton. “Yes, I should be pleased to show it to you, and you need not apologise for the intrusion. I am sure my brother would have been delighted at your interest.”

‘She took a small silver coin from the corner of the mantelpiece and handed it to Uncle Moreton. “My brother was a very fine man,” she continued as we examined the coin, “a fine scholar and a great intellect. One of his deepest regrets was that, living where he did, he had so little opportunity for intellectual conversation, and he told me how much he had enjoyed his discussions with you and your family.”

‘“Rest assured, madam, that the pleasure was entirely ours,” responded Uncle Moreton. “His death is a great loss, not only to his family and friends, but to the parish in general. I wonder,” he continued after a moment, “if you have the invoice from the dealer that came with this coin. I am no expert on such things and should like to know as much as possible about it.”

‘“I think my brother kept such documents in here,” said Miss Crompton, opening the lid of a large bureau that stood by the wall. For a few moments she sifted through a pile of papers, then extracted a sheet. “I think this may be it,” said she, passing it to Uncle Moreton.

‘He took it to the window and held it so that I could see it, too, as he read the coin’s description aloud. “‘A silver denarius of the reign of Hadrian, minted in Rome about AD 120,’” he read, followed by some technical details regarding the silver content and so on, but as he did so his right index finger indicated to me the “quantity” column. To my very great dismay, this stated, not “two”, as I had hoped it would, but just “one”. It seemed that my theory was false. A moment later, however, and my disappointment had vanished. I leaned over and pointed with my own finger at the date of the invoice, which was May the fifth, more than a month before Crompton had claimed to have found a coin on his property, and more than two months before he said he had bought a coin from a dealer. As he continued to read, Uncle Moreton put his free hand on my finger and moved it away from the date. “Thank you very much for showing us these things,” he said to Miss Crompton as he finished reading. “It is very kind of you.”

‘We had walked some way back along the road before Uncle Moreton spoke. “It seems pretty clear, then,” he said at length, “that Crompton did purchase two coins, although not both at the same time, and that the one he claimed to have found was as much a purchase as the other one. No doubt the excitement and interest generated last year by his discovery of the remains of the villa had abated, and, disappointed by his failure to make any further significant discoveries, he succumbed to the temptation to fabricate a couple for himself.”