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

‘We appear to have reached a dead end,’ said Potter, in a tone of disappointment, when the major had left us.

‘We have met with a temporary check,’ corrected Holmes. He leaned back in his chair and lit his pipe. ‘It is clear,’ he continued after a moment, ‘that someone wants something that is within this house. There was a burglary shortly before you moved here. Whether anything was taken on that occasion we cannot say, but we must suppose that the enterprise was not entirely successful, for the attention devoted to the cottage has not ceased. It seems certain that the visit you had a couple of weeks ago from the man calling himself Jonathan Pleasant was devised solely to give him an opportunity to search the house for something. That something, to judge by his mode of search – moving pictures on the wall, peering under the furniture, and so on – was this safe. Clearly, he knew of the safe’s existence, but not its whereabouts. Now, it would appear, from your account of the matter, that the safe remained on that occasion undiscovered. We cannot, therefore, expect all this mysterious activity to come to a halt, and must prepare ourselves for further attempts upon the premises. Our chief problem is that our opponent – or opponents, perhaps, for we do not know how many of them may be involved – may decide to lie low for a while, and wait for a suitable opportunity. This might suit them, but it does not suit us. I think we must try to force the pace a little, to flush our quarry out into the open, and the only way we can do this is to oblige our opponents to burgle the house at a time not of their choosing, but of ours.’

‘How on earth can we do that?’ asked Potter in a tone of puzzlement.

‘What I propose,’ responded Holmes, ‘is that you send a note to Lloyd’s, informing them that you will be unable to be present tomorrow to attend to your duties. You must then spend tomorrow disseminating as widely as possible the following information:

‘One, that you and your family will be away tomorrow night, staying at your old house in Lewisham. Two, that upon the following day, workmen will be arriving to render Juniper Cottage more proof against burglary. Three, that an expert locksmith from the safe company will also be coming that day to open your uncle’s safe. You must then take your family to Lewisham at five o’clock tomorrow afternoon, and meet us upon the down platform of Lewisham station at seven o’clock prompt. Is that all clear?’

Potter nodded his head, but there was an expression of bewilderment upon his face.

‘It must be made perfectly clear to any aspiring burglar,’ explained Holmes, ‘that tomorrow night represents the best, perhaps the only opportunity to break into Juniper Cottage. We must force him to come – and we must then be here to meet him!’

‘I understand,’ said Potter; ‘but how do you propose that I should disseminate the information you mention?’

‘Oh, there are many ways. You must sow the information broad-cast across the district – at the village shop, at the post office, at the railway station, and so on. You might also call in at the Rose and Crown for a glass of beer and inform the landlord of your plans. That alone should guarantee that everyone in the parish is privy to your arrangements before the day is out.’

‘Very well,’ said Potter. ‘I will do my best.’

‘What of the business of the books?’ I queried. ‘Why did Pleasant follow Mr Potter to the bookshop? I presume that it was he that instructed the bookseller to attempt to appropriate one of the volumes, although I cannot think why. What bearing, if any, do these incidents have upon the case?’

‘We cannot yet say for certain,’ returned Holmes. ‘Their significance may be central to the matter, or only peripheral. I have examined the book which appears to be the particular focus of interest – Hardiman Smallbone’s copy of the Old Testament – without discovering anything especially remarkable about it. I could essay at least seven possible explanations for Pleasant’s interest in it, but until we have more data, such speculation is both futile and dangerous. It is a capital error to theorise in advance of the data, for it biases the judgement, and one finds oneself unconsciously attempting to twist the facts to fit one’s theory. However, I have hopes that tomorrow night will furnish us with the data we require!’

We waited for some time at Woolwich Arsenal station for a train to take us back to town, and for much of this time Holmes sat in silence, as if lost in thought. A fast train from London had just pulled in, and I was idly watching the crowd of passengers who had alighted on the opposite platform, when my companion abruptly spoke.

‘I have my suspicions,’ said he.

‘Of what?’ I queried as he paused.

‘I suspect,’ he continued after a moment, ‘that in some profound way, which our limited intellects cannot fully grasp, Democritus and Heraclitus are both correct.’

‘Oh?’ said I, surprised by this digression in his thoughts from the business that had brought us out to Woolwich.

‘Yes,’ said he. ‘Watson!’ he added abruptly, in a more urgent tone, nodding his head in the direction of the down platform.

The train there was drawing out of the station, and we could now see the passengers clearly, making their way along the platform. I followed my companion’s gaze, and descried a tall man, wearing a heavy overcoat with the collar turned up, and with a soft hat pulled down over his brow. His shoulders were hunched, and he hurried along the platform, as if anxious not to be observed or recognised. At the last moment, however, as he was leaving the platform, he turned his head slightly, and I saw, to my very great surprise, that it was the commanding officer of the Royal Medway Regiment, Colonel Headley.

‘Now, what do you suppose that Colonel Headley has been doing up in London?’ said Holmes. ‘And why is he trying so hard to avoid being seen?’

‘I seem to recall,’ I remarked, ‘that when we saw him earlier, he said that he was paying a call on some local officer.’

‘So he did,’ agreed Holmes, nodding his head in a thoughtful way.

The following day was cloudy and dull, and darkness was falling by the time we reached Lewisham station. After a short wait, we were joined by Mr Potter, and caught the next train out to Woolwich, by which time the night was pitch black. We walked briskly up from the town, meeting no one on our way, until we reached the long, quiet lane which led up to Juniper Cottage. Some distance along a road to our right a light indicated the position of the Rose and Crown, but all else was utter blackness.

‘There are no lamps up here,’ remarked Holmes, ‘which suits our purposes admirably; for it is vital that we are not seen. Come! We must not speak again until we are safely in the cottage garden!’

A long, slow walk up the deeply rutted track brought us at length to the garden gate, where Holmes paused a moment, listening intently for the sound of any movement, before passing through and following the path round the side of the house to the rear garden. In a few moments we were in position, crouching among a clump of laurel bushes at the side of the garden, close by the orchard.

‘From here we should be able to see anyone who comes,’ whispered Holmes. ‘Now we have only to wait.’

And a long, cold wait it was, too. Faintly, I could hear a distant church clock strike the half-hours, and each time it struck, the temperature in the garden seemed to have dropped another degree. Holmes had brought with him a small flask of brandy, which he passed to us, and its warmth has never felt so welcome to me as on that icy night. From the hiding-place in which we crouched, like hunters of heavy game awaiting the arrival of some mighty and ferocious beast, we had the whole of the back of the house in view. Holmes’s opinion was that the French windows of the study presented the most likely point of entry for a burglar; but had an attempt been made to break in at any other part of the house, there is no doubt we should have heard it clearly, for, save the occasional hoot of an owl, the night was utterly silent and still.